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another get rid of the riders.”
    The trapdoor burst open. They all jumped. But it was only Amara, her eyes wide, her hand clutched hard around her wand. “Wouldsomebody please tell me what’s going on?”
    The question was for all three of them, but her eyes were on the lightning-wielder, she of the miraculous powers.
    â€œI think I can venture a guess,” said the lightning-wielder, her voice low and tired, the laughter in her eyes gone.
    The moment she spoke, Titus understood the conclusion she had arrived at—and it chilled him from head to toe. Kashkari put a hand against the wall, as if he too were feeling unsteady.
    â€œThe Bane did this,” came Fairfax’s inexorable explanation.
    Amara recoiled. “Why? Why would he kill his own loyal troops?”
    â€œBecause they heard His Highness accuse him of sacrificial magic. I don’t know what kind of reputation the prince has among the Atlanteans, but he is still the Master of the Domain, and he made that accusation to the Bane’s face, so to speak.”
    Amara’s other hand clenched too. “But an experienced wyvern rider is very valuable—to train one takes years.”
    â€œHave you heard that the Bane can resurrect?” Fairfax asked.
    â€œThere have long been rumors.”
    â€œThe Atlantean woman in my residence house had never heard of it—and she had lived outside Atlantis for a number of years. Granted, she probably always had to take care not to mix with the wrong people and lose her assignment, but doesn’t that tell you something about the kind of information control the Bane wields over his own people?
    â€œAnd it isn’t necessary that they believe the prince completely. Asensational claim like that was bound to be repeated, however surreptitiously, to family, friends, colleagues in other regiments, and perhaps to strangers when one’s had a bit too much to drink. Now multiply that dissemination by the hundreds.
    â€œAnd notice that it is only the wyvern riders who have been eliminated—they heard what the prince said. The pilots inside the small armored chariots herding the lindworms would have been wearing special helmets that only let them hear instruction from their battle commanders—they were recalled and spared.”
    Amara rubbed a hand across her face. “If what you deduce is true . . . I’ve been a part of the resistance since I was a child, and this is the first time I’ve ever been afraid.”
    â€œMy guardian once told me, ‘Sometimes fear is the only appropriate response,’” said Fairfax kindly.
    Amara shook her head and seemed about to say something when she stopped and felt her pocket. “Excuse me.”
    Out came her two-way notebook. “It’s a message from a patrol—she was caught about ten miles from the base when the bell jar dome came down. When the second batch of armored chariots went by just now, she decided to follow them as far as she could. And she writes that they have just crashed into the desert.”
    The observation post was entirely silent as she wrote a response. Titus could hear her breathe as she stared at the page, waiting for the answer.
    She exhaled carefully as she looked up. “Your allies say they had nothing to do with it.”
    The Bane again.
    Amara turned to Fairfax. “Why them too?”
    â€œBecause if they were to learn that their compatriots died in the wake of their flight, they would have suspicions too.” Fairfax gripped Titus by the arm. “And you know what? The Bane will want to pin the deaths on something else. Someone else. So he will send others to come and witness the carnage.”
    They had all better get out while getting out was still possible.
    â€œThe air is being analyzed right now. If it’s safe to travel through with our breathing masks on, I will call for a general evacuation,” said Amara. “Your Highness, Miss Seabourne,