Mercedes Lackey - Sanctuary

They walked on in silence under a sky blossoming with stars. And something else odd occurred to Kiron in that moment. In Alta and in Mefis, both, people had been afraid of the night, afraid of the hungry ghosts that haunted it, the spirits of those who could not cross the Star Bridge into the afterlife. Sanctuary of all places should have been awash with haunts.

So why was it that no one feared to walk in the night here?

He was thinking about this so hard that when a voice came out of the dark, he nearly leaped out of his skin.

“It seems I am not the only one who is looking for a little peace.”

Gan recovered first. “Kaleth?” he said incredulously, peering into the shadows in the lee of their building.

“The same.” A long, lean shadow detached itself from the rest, and moved toward them, resolving into Kaleth. “It seems that there will be a celebration, and I dislike being the skeleton at the feast.” Kaleth approached them, slapping Kiron lightly on the back and Gan on the arm. “I thought I would come spend some time with my friends who I have seen far too little of lately. Besides, there is a slight difficulty in being the one who speaks for the gods. When people are sober, they look at you out of the corners of their eyes and are afraid to speak to you. And when the date wine has flowed too much, they suddenly wish you to trot out your trick, like a prize flute girl who can play while bent over backward.”

“Well, that’s one trick I can do without,” Gan said fervently. “Unless the gods are telling you how we are to feed all these new mouths.”

“Ah! I don’t need the gods for that. Come up on the roof and we’ll catch the evening wind, and I’ll tell you.” Kaleth sounded a lot more cheerful, and Kiron felt some of his own melancholy melting. They all went up onto the roof as he had suggested, and sprawled on the warm stone with him. Baked in the sun all day, though the temperature of the wind off the desert was dropping, the stone under them—and the sands of the dragon pen below—radiated heat, and would for the rest of the night. Down below, the sounds of the dragons dozing recalled nights that seemed a thousand years in the past, when they had gathered in one or another of the pens while the dragonets slept.

“We have water, which is the main thing,” Kaleth said, after a long silence. “Some of those folk that Ya-tiren brought with him are growers, and not the usual sorts of Altan swamp farmers either. These are the fellows that cultivated his city manor gardens. They know how to grow things in containers, with a trickle of irrigation. And in all that maze that the storm just uncovered is a manor where things were grown in just that way. But we won’t be growing food.”

“We won’t?” asked Gan.

Kiron found a wind-smoothed curve of stone that just fit his back, and tucked himself into it. Kaleth sounded more like his old self tonight than he had in a very long time.

“No. We’ll be growing things worth more than food—yes, even here, in the desert. Spices. Medicines.”

Oset-re laughed. “Ha! Now I know why Lord Ya-tiren was cosseting trees across the desert! Incense!”

“Exactly so,” Kaleth replied. “Incense, which is far more valuable than gold or turquoise. There are young incense-trees and seeds for spices and herbs in the packs Ya-tiren brought with him.” Kiron glanced over at Kaleth and saw that he was nodding. “There is no reason to try to grow what doesn’t suit this place, when with care, we can grow what does, and is worth so much that traders will bring us whole caravans of foodstuffs in exchange for what a single camel can carry away.”

“But that won’t be for another growing season, surely,” Huras protested mildly.

“True enough. But the gods do provide. And until we have that precious crop, they have provided.” Kiron could hear the smile in his voice. “The sandstorm also uncovered another treasure trove. It’s enough to feed us all for some time, even with our population doubled.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was afraid we’d be out hunting from dawn to dusk.” Gan shook his head. “As it is, if we aren’t going to overhunt our territories, I think we’d better start ranging out a bit farther.”

“Ah, that brings up another thing. Who ranges to the east the farthest?” Kaleth asked.

“I do, I suppose,” Kiron volunteered. “Ari goes farthest to the south; we have the two oldest and biggest dragons, after all.”

“Then I want you to range farther than you already have, into the wadi country. There’s another abandoned city there that used to be allied with this one, and we’ll want to colonize it for the dragons and Jousters eventually.” Kiron didn’t ask how Kaleth knew that; after all, Kaleth had been the one who’d found Sanctuary.

“Well, what am I looking for?” he asked. “And can you give me some direction?”

“Only that you should follow the game into the wadis, and you’ll find it.” Kaleth sighed, and tilted his head back against the stone of the parapet that supported his back. “This business of being Winged is not as clear as any of us would like. In many ways, it is as if someone handed me a box of shards from several shattered jars. I can see a face I recognize here, the curve of an arm or a bit of a duck or a latas flower, and sometimes I can make out what the shape of the vase—that is, what the shape of the future will be, but unless one of the gods actually chooses to speak through me, or a moment that I have foreseen comes to pass and I can say something pertinent, often it is just images that I can put no real meaning to. Until, of course, something actually happens, but by then it’s a bit too late to do anything about it.”

No one seemed to have any good answer to that, so there was, for a moment, an uncomfortable silence. Kaleth himself broke it again.

“I would very much like to be able to see things afar, as others in the Temple of the Twins could, but that is not within my power either,” he admitted. “So I cannot do as I very much wish to, and see what is toward with any of your families. What I See—well, when it isn’t like a pile of shards, it is like looking at the Great Mother River at Flood, when she is full of silt and what she has swept away. Anything could be hidden beneath the surface; I can only see what the direction will be, what floats to the surface, and sometimes those things that influence the direction.”

Menet-ka let out his breath in a huge sigh. “Well. That is somewhat less than useful for us mere mortals! Next time you talk to the gods, tell them I am severely disappointed in their performance and planning!”

It was a moderately feeble joke, but good enough that they all laughed, which lightened the mood considerably.

And Kiron reflected after a moment that the fact that Kaleth had not “seen” anyone’s relations might actually be a good sign, because it meant that they were going to be quiet enough that they made no impact on the course of the future. Right now, where the Magi were concerned, it was best to be unnoticed.

A burst of laughter from the other side of Sanctuary made them all look up. “I am glad they are weary,” Kaleth said feelingly. “Dawn comes too soon, and an all-night celebration is not what I wish to be next to when it’s time to sleep.”

“Yes,” agreed Huras. “And I am glad that I will not be there when they realize life here is not as it was in Alta. There will be much wailing, I warrant. And bitter complaining.”

At least we all knew how to work, Kiron thought. Those who had come to Sanctuary first had no illusions about what the conditions were. In fact, their expectations had been lower than reality. No one had anticipated water in such abundance, which made a great deal of life much easier than it would otherwise have been. He closed his eyes and let the warmth of the stone bake into his back.