The guards and the militia soldiers were quite willing to obey, anything to get out of that chamber of reeking death. They took one of the lanterns and departed to their tasks, leaving Linsha and Mariana alone in the darkness that rustled and clicked with the sounds of thousands of carrion beetles.
Linsha stifled a shudder. This was so unbelievable.
How could Iyesta be dead? She was vibrantly alive and well and… invincible!.. only six days ago. What had happened to her?
Linsha heard an odd, stifled sound and turned to see Mariana wipe tears from her eyes. Her strong shoulders were shaking. Linsha felt like weeping herself, but not here, not yet.
She strode around the corpse to the opposite side to examine it from a different angle and to allow the half-elf a measure of time to grieve alone. She lifted the lantern and began a careful and gruesome examination of the corpse under the feeble light. There wasn’t much to see. Except for the missing head, the dragon’s body was fairly intact despite the beetles. She had not been blasted or burned with sorcery or seared with another dragon’s breath weapon. It looked to Linsha as if the dragon had walked into the chamber and dropped dead in her tracks. A few hours ago, Linsha would have said that was impossible. Of all the possible clues or evidence Linsha had hoped to find down here, a dead dragon had never occurred to her.
A sickening thought suddenly struck her like a blow to the ribs. The dragon eggs. Iyesta had trusted them to her. What if they, too, had been destroyed? And what of the guardian, Purestian? For that matter, Linsha’s thoughts bolted up another path, where were the gold and silver dragons who had befriended Iyesta and stayed in her realm to serve her? Anger, grief, and blinded frustration swarmed into her heart like giant wasps stinging her to tears. She shook her head savagely.
The fact that Iyesta’s head was missing and the body withered pointed a finger to Thunder. Linsha could not believe that any one of the monstrous dragon overlords would have slipped into the Missing City unnoticed, killed Iyesta, taken her head, drained her magical energy, and left. Those dragons would have erupted into the city like comet, blasting death and destruction. They would have fought the brass for the thrill of the kill and, after taking her head, they would have burned Mirage to the ground.
No, this killing was done in secret by an assassin who did not wish to be found or even suspected until he was long gone. It was something Thunder would do. The big blue could not fight Iyesta face to face and hope to win. His move would be a surprise, in the dark, in a tight cramped place where Iyesta could not use her wings or size to the best advantage. The great storm had come from the west, so it passed over his realm first. He could have followed the storm to use it as a shield and a diversion as it raged over the Missing City. He might have lured Iyesta down here, and killed her, and taken her head to add to his totem of skulls. Linsha hoped she was wrong.
Voices echoed up the corridor, drawing Linsha’s dark thoughts back to the present. She and Mariana walked to the arched doorway and waited for the approaching company. Neither of them could find words to say. There would be much to do and much to discuss with the leaders of the city, but Linsha could not participate as long as she was wanted by the Solamnic Order, and Mariana knew she would have to hand over the investigation of this tragedy to her superiors—not that she truly minded. Until the torches came to flood the cavern with light and the people came to crowd around the corpse and mourn, they had the darkness and the dead to themselves. They used the time to say goodbye in their own hearts to the dragon they both loved and respected.
An hour later Linsha walked out of the tunnels into the hot sunshine and blessedly fresh air. She dropped the Solamnic cloak in the nearest dark hole she could find and stripped off her outer tunic. If only she could change the rest of her clothes so easily and take a long bath. She knew she reeked of death and decay. She could still smell it on everything.
Lanther waited for her in the courtyard, his rugged face grim. “I heard the news,” he said. “The city elders have sent out criers to spread the word.”
“How are people taking it?” Linsha asked wearily. She sat down on a stone bench and put her head in her hands.
“Not well. Most are terrified and appalled. First the storm, then the murder of the Solamnic Knights, now the death of Iyesta. The mayor is running around in a panic. Falaius is badly shaken. I have never seen him look so old.” He looked closely at her hunched shoulders and pale face. “Is it that bad?” he asked softly.
She glanced up at him, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It is beyond bad. Iyesta is nothing but a withered, beetle-chewed hulk. I could not even tell how she died, Lanther. It was horrible! And I don’t… I don’t know how to avenge her.”
The Legionnaire came to put an arm around her shoulders, caught a whiff of her clothes, and changed his solicitous gesture to a pat before he moved upwind. “I’ve seen patrols of Knights out in the city this morning searching for you. We need to get you out of sight. And Falaius wants to talk to you.”
“Could you get some clothes, too?” Linsha asked, a faint spark back in her red-rimmed eyes.
“Absolutely.” He thrust a bundle into her arms. “I’ve already taken care of that.”
She untied the bundle, and for the first time in days, she laughed when she saw the bright colors and flimsy fabrics of the clothes he had brought. “A courtesan? Whose bits did you steal?”
“Borrowed. They’re Callista’s. She said the last thing the Solamnics would expect you to wear is a veil and courtesan pants.”
She held up the flimsy, baggy pants and the tight corset favored by many of the courtesans in the city. She had to agree it would be a good disguise. As a thirty-six-year-old Knight with sword calluses on her hands, she was hardly courtesan material. With a wry smile, she ducked into a nearby building and changed into the outfit.
When she came out, Lanther gave her such a slow appraisal from head to slippered foot that her cheeks burned. “You missed your calling, Lady Knight,” he said.
Linsha adjusted the bright gold veil over her curls and across her mouth and nose so only her eyes were showing. “I hardly think so,” she replied tartly. “Now, how am I supposed to get to your headquarters? I can’t ride in this… this…” She waved wordlessly at the pants.
Lanther’s eyebrow rose to herald the quirky expression that often passed for a smile. He snapped his fingers. From around the open gateway of the wall came two men carrying a covered sedan chair with gauze curtains. Lanther pulled open a curtain and beckoned her inside.
15
The Wait is Over
Trying to look demure, Linsha stepped inside and sat down on the cushioned seat. The chair swayed and rose as the men lifted it and set off at a humpy trot. Linsha gripped the armrests of the chair in alarm. The conveyance jerked and swung like an obstinate colt. After a while, seeing the chair remained upright, she relaxed a little and tried to enjoy the novelty. She flicked open the curtain just enough to see the city streets.
“Comfortable?” Lanther’s voice called from the outside.
“I’d rather walk,” she admitted.
“Not yet, my lady.” His voice suddenly took on a quiet note of caution. “A patrol of Knights is approaching as I speak.”
She pulled the curtains closed and leaned back in her chair, trying to look relaxed. The curtains were thin enough to reveal the outline of a person within and opaque enough to hide the details. With luck, the Knights would see only a woman inside and not bother to examine the chair’s occupant more closely.
Especially since she had none of the jewelry, perfume, nail decorations, or face paints the real courtesans preferred. Only smudges of dirt and a pervading smell of rot and decay.