Sanctuary
Table of Contents
Raves for
Sanctuary:
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
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.”
Joust
in fine style, remaining true to the characters and their world.”
—
Booklist
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
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
Romantic Times
SANCTUARY
NOVELS BY
MERCEDES LACKEY
available from DAW Books:
MERCEDES LACKEY
available from DAW Books:
THE HERALDS OF VALDEMAR
ARROWS OF THE QUEEN
ARROW’S FLIGHT
ARROW’S FALL
ARROWS OF THE QUEEN
ARROW’S FLIGHT
ARROW’S FALL
THE LAST HERALD-MAGE
MAGIC’S PAWN
MAGIC’S PROMISE
MAGIC’S PRICE
MAGIC’S PAWN
MAGIC’S PROMISE
MAGIC’S PRICE
THE MAGE WINDS
WINDS OF FATE
WINDS OF CHANGE
WINDS OF FURY
WINDS OF FATE
WINDS OF CHANGE
WINDS OF FURY
THE MAGE STORMS
STORM WARNING
STORM RISING
STORM BREAKING
STORM WARNING
STORM RISING
STORM BREAKING
VOWS AND HONOR
THE OATHBOUND
OATHBREAKERS
OATHBLOOD
THE OATHBOUND
OATHBREAKERS
OATHBLOOD
BY THE SWORD
BRIGHTLY BURNING
TAKE A THIEF
EXILE’S HONOR
EXILE’S VALOR
BRIGHTLY BURNING
TAKE A THIEF
EXILE’S HONOR
EXILE’S VALOR
VALDEMAR ANTHOLOGIES:
SWORD OF ICE
SUN IN GLORY
CROSSROADS
SWORD OF ICE
SUN IN GLORY
CROSSROADS
Written with
LARRY DIXON:
LARRY DIXON:
THE MAGE WARS
THE BLACK GRYPHON
THE WHITE GRYPHON
THE SILVER GRYPHON
THE BLACK GRYPHON
THE WHITE GRYPHON
THE SILVER GRYPHON
DARIAN’S TALE
OWLFLIGHT
OWLSIGHT
OWLKNIGHT
OWLFLIGHT
OWLSIGHT
OWLKNIGHT
OTHER NOVELS:
THE BLACK SWAN
THE DRAGON JOUSTERS
JOUST
ALTA
SANCTUARY
JOUST
ALTA
SANCTUARY
THE ELEMENTAL MASTERS
THE SERPENT’S SHADOW
THE GATES OF SLEEP
PHOENIX AND ASHES
THE WIZARD OF LONDON
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
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.
All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any
other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable
by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not
participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable
by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not
participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
First Paperback Printing, May 2006
eISBN : 978-1-101-11905-1
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTEREDU.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
S.A.
Dedicated to the Lunatics.
You know who you are.
You know who you are.
ONE
IT
was 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.
was 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?
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.
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.
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