Mercedes Lackey - Sanctuary

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

Raves for Sanctuary:

“In Lackey’s well-crafted third Dragon Jousters book, wing-leader Kiron, the former serf known as Vetch, and a disparate group of refugees from the countries of Alta and Tia flee to the desert, to a hidden refuge that the gods have uncovered and named Sanctuary. Spot-on dialogue and just the right amount of exposition mark this rip-roaring adventure as superior fantasy fare.”— Publishers Weekly

“The tension is palpable throught as Lackey wraps up the trilogy begun by Joust in fine style, remaining true to the characters and their world.”— Booklist

“Fans of dragon-powered fantasy sagas will thoroughly enjoy how Lackey delves into the legendary creatures and their relationship with their human riders.”

— The Barnes & Noble Review

“One of Lackey’s trademarks is her sympathetic characters, and she doesn’t disappoint here. Fans will enjoy this satisfying conclusion to the ‘Dragon Jousters’ series.”— Romantic Times

SANCTUARY

NOVELS BY MERCEDES LACKEYavailable from DAW Books:

THE HERALDS OF VALDEMAR

ARROWS OF THE QUEEN

ARROW’S FLIGHT

ARROW’S FALL

THE LAST HERALD-MAGE

MAGIC’S PAWN

MAGIC’S PROMISE

MAGIC’S PRICE

THE MAGE WINDS

WINDS OF FATE

WINDS OF CHANGE

WINDS OF FURY

THE MAGE STORMS

STORM WARNING

STORM RISING

STORM BREAKING

VOWS AND HONOR

THE OATHBOUND

OATHBREAKERS

OATHBLOOD

BY THE SWORD

BRIGHTLY BURNING

TAKE A THIEF

EXILE’S HONOR

EXILE’S VALOR

VALDEMAR ANTHOLOGIES:

SWORD OF ICE

SUN IN GLORY

CROSSROADS

Written with LARRY DIXON:

THE MAGE WARS

THE BLACK GRYPHON

THE WHITE GRYPHON

THE SILVER GRYPHON

DARIAN’S TALE

OWLFLIGHT

OWLSIGHT

OWLKNIGHT

OTHER NOVELS:

THE BLACK SWAN

THE DRAGON JOUSTERS

JOUST

ALTA

SANCTUARY

THE ELEMENTAL MASTERS

THE SERPENT’S SHADOW

THE GATES OF SLEEP

PHOENIX AND ASHES

THE WIZARD OF LONDON

And don’t miss:

THE VALDEMAR COMPANION

Edited by John Helfers and Denise Little

Copyright © 2005 by Mercedes R. Lackey.

All rights reserved.

DAW Books Collectors No. 1326

DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA).

All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

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Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

First Paperback Printing, May 2006

eISBN : 978-1-101-11905-1

DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

—MARCA REGISTRADA

HECHO EN U.S.A.

S.A.

http://us.penguingroup.com

Dedicated to the Lunatics.

You know who you are.

ONE

ITwas the silent, blue time before dawn. The air hung cool and still above the pale sand, not a hint, not a breath of breeze, so still one could hear the tick of grain against grain as a thin trickle at the crest of a dune. The desert stretched out all around Sanctuary, as if beneath the calming hand of a god. Or a goddess, perhaps; Nofet, whom the Altans called Nefer-et, the Goddess of Night, had not yet withdrawn the hem of her robe from the land. Re-Haket, the sun, still lingered in the Summerland beyond the Star Bridge.

It would not be cool for much longer, nor still.

Kiron stood on the roof of one of the four buildings that surrounded a courtyard that had been given over for use as the dragons’ sand wallow and leaned on the parapet to watch the dawn come in over the desert. Not difficult; at this point, although there were still refugees finding their way here all the time with the help of the Bedu (also called the Veiled Ones), there was no structure in the entire city that was more than three buildings away from the open sand.

He was, given a choice, not usually awake at this time. But in a little while, the dragons would, slowly, begin to rouse from their slumber, and they would be hungry. Here in Sanctuary, unlike in Alta and Tia, there was no butchery from which to feed them, no Temple sacrifices to provide the carcasses. If the dragons wished to eat, they must hunt like their wild brethren. Hunts were always more successful when the Jouster and dragon hunted as a team. So if the dragons wished to eat, their riders must waken and go out with them.

Kiron might be the first one awake and out today, but by now, the others of his wing were stirring at the very least. He generally didn’t beat the rest by very much. Besides, the terrible heat of the desert at midday in the middle of the Dry meant that their schedules were much changed from Alta. Here, they flew at dawn and dusk, and spent the hottest part of the day well away from the burning rays of the sun.

The sun: Altan Re-Haket was not the kindly Solar Disk, the bringer of life here—oh, no—not “beautiful with banners.” He was not even the Re-Haket that the Tians knew. Here in the desert, he wore the harsher visage of Se-ahketh, the Tester, the Scourge of Fire, he who had no mercy, only an unwinking Eye that tested to destruction. Even the dragons sheltered beneath a canopy from His Eye at midday. Sometimes Kiron wondered—was this where the Magi of Alta had gotten the idea for their unwinking Eye, their scourge of fire?

Kiron preferred to greet Avatre with a clear head and unclouded eyes, this morning especially, because it was all the more needful on this day that each dragon of the wing fly to the hunt and return with prey before the sun reached its zenith. Because today, they had another reason besides the sun’s implacable hammer to be well in shelter. There would be a great sandstorm today, so said Kaleth, and Kiron saw no reason to disbelieve him.

And when Kaleth meant a “great” sandstorm, he was not speaking of a quarter day of wind and blowing sand. Kiron and the others had not yet weathered a “great” sandstorm, but the Veiled Ones had, and so had Kaleth; the Midnight kamiseen, the storm without rain that brought the darkness of night at midday. The Bedu spoke feelingly of a sky black at midday, of wind too strong to stand against, of air so thick with dust and grit you could not breathe——of a storm full of sand like millions of miniscule knives that flayed clothing from the body, and flesh from bone, and packed every open orifice with wind-driven dirt. Get in the shelter of a rock or a dune, and you might survive, if you could get a clear space for your face, breathe through cloth, and manage to keep from being buried alive.

There was no sign of such a storm. The thin, clear light and the cloudless sky held nothing but peace.

Kiron did not trust the promise of such “peace.” He trusted Kaleth.

Kaleth was, without a doubt, god-touched. Had he not led them all here, to the once-buried city of legend they now called Sanctuary? If he said such a storm would blow up, Kiron would believe him. Certainly the Veiled Ones did. Those within the area of the storm had either taken themselves out of its path, or moved into the city, little though they liked living within walls even for a single day.