Linsha beamed. Children had never been a strong wish for her, but the pride in Iyesta’s voice was infectious. She studied the cavern from the graceful curving roof to the wide sandy floor.
“Where is the light coming from?” she whispered. “And why is it so warm in here?”
“Purestian and I used spells to set glow lights in the roof. They keep the eggs warm. I come down here once in a while and renew them. Come. We must go.” She walked hack up the corridor.
Linsha took one last look at the gleaming eggs. She knew what an honor Iyesta had bestowed on her by showing her the nest, and she knew, too, what a responsibility that knowledge laid upon her. She stayed deep in her own thoughts as the dragon led her back to the surface of the city by another long, circuitous route.
It wasn’t until they stepped out into the slanting sunlight of the late afternoon that Linsha spoke out.
“You have shown me your eggs and taken a chance that I will not reveal your secret. But what do you expect me to do?”
The dragonwoman touched a finger to Linsha’s tunic where the bronze scale hung beneath the fabric. “You and Crucible and the golds and silvers in my realm are the only ones who know the eggs are there. You are also the only one who knows yet that the blue is plotting war. If something happens, I trust you to do what you can to protect the eggs. I would not ask this of another two-legs. Only you have the honor and the instincts to protect my children.”
“But what if I need to get down there and find them again?” Linsha protested. “I will defend them as I would my own kin, but I need to know how to get to them.”
“Crucible can take you. Or, if he is not here, you can enter through that door.” She pointed to the ruinous building they had just left.
Linsha glanced around for the first time and realized they were in an overgrown section of the palace where Iyesta made her lair. A brilliant light suddenly flared beside her, and she scrambled out of the way as the brass returned to her dragon form. The dragon’s shadow fell over her.
Iyesta dipped her great head and scraped her cheek over a crumbling stone lintel. A small scale as bright as polished brass fell to the ground.
“If you take this,” Iyesta said, “it will help you find your way and protect you from the guardians. Don’t forget to warn the Legion.”
Iyesta then departed back to her lair and left Linsha standing bemused in the hot sunlight.
With care Linsha picked up the round scale. It was slightly smaller than the one Lord Bight had given her and of a brighter, more reddish tint. Pleased, she turned it over in her hands. She would find a jeweler and have this one edged with gold to match the bronze scale, and it would hang on the gold chain around her neck-a precious gift with a heartfelt obligation; an obligation she hoped fervently she would never have to fulfill.
She stretched her tired limbs and took a deep breath. The weariness she had fought off the past hours came trudging back. There were only a few hours left until she had to report for duty. In that time, she had to return to the Citadel, clean her uniform, find something to eat, and get some sleep. She would have to hurry.
Perhaps it was the heat and bright light after the hours in the cool darkness; perhaps it was her exhaustion. Whatever it was that dragged at her heels, Linsha found she could not hurry. Still deep in thought, she collected her horse and rode, slower this time, back through the busy streets of Missing City. Her mind was so rapt in other matters that she did not notice when Varia left her to seek a more congenial and comfortable place to nap.
Nor did she notice when a stooped beggar in a wide brimmed hat fell in beside her horse. He limped alongside the ambling Sandhawk for two blocks before Linsha jerked herself out of her reverie and noticed him.
“I could have slid a blade between your ribs and been long gone,” Lanther told her.
Linsha gave herself a mental shake. He was right. She needed to be more alert. “My fault,” she said with a yawn. “It’s too hot, and I haven’t slept lately.”
He regarded her critically, noting the dark circles that framed her clear green eyes and the smudges of dirt that marred the blue of her uniform. “Busy day with Iyesta?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“She’s very upset. The triplets are missing.”
“Missing? How do you misplace three dragons?”
Linsha rubbed her temples with her free hand. She could feel a headache gathering momentum in the back of her head. “Iyesta believes Thunder is involved somehow.”
Lanther made a rude noise. “That incompetent? She has him terrified of his own shadow. He wouldn’t do anything to rouse her ire.”
“Maybe not, but she took Chayne, Ringg, and me to see Thunder this morning.” She glanced down to see his reaction.
The man was good, she had to admit. The surprise had already vanished behind his usual mask of imperturbability.
“What did you learn?” he asked.
She shrugged. “That Thunder is hiding something. We’re not sure what, though. We saw what looked like more than a few men scurrying to get of sight. And Thunder was more tense and brash than usual.”
The Legionnaire hooked his hand around her stirrup and let the horse take some of his weight off his bad leg while he walked. “Did they look numerous enough to he an army?”
“Hard to tell,” said Linsha, taking care with her words. “We did not see more than a few hundred I’d guess. Of course, there is no telling how many made it out of our sight before we noticed them.”
“A few hundred,” he repeated. “Were there any other dragons around? Other blues? Thunder’s inimical personality has hardly attracted hordes of underlings.”
“No.” Linsha stared into the distance. She understood where he was taking his questions. They were the same questions she had asked herself. Plainly stated, she knew there simply was not enough evidence to be certain that Thunder was plotting war or had even harmed the triplets. He might be planning to cause trouble in some petty way, but unless he had an army of thousands and the help of other dragons, he did not stand a snowball’s chance in the desert of defeating Iyesta and her militia, her guards, and her companion dragons. He would be insane to attempt it.
“So what is he up to?” she said softly. “Where are the triplets?”
“Two excellent questions,” said Lanther.
“And no answers.” She reined Sandhawk to a halt and stared at the man without really seeing him.
He chuckled, a rare sound from him. “Go back to your castle. Get some sleep. Let the next few days take care of themselves. Thunder will not attack in the next day or two. Maybe things will look clearer after a good meal and a long sleep.”
She gripped his hand briefly. “For a flea-bitten beggar, you have some good ideas. Iyesta asked me to pass on her concerns to the Legion, so please tell Falaius what I told you. Let us see what we can do to unravel this mystery.”
“I will alert the Legion. We need to coordinate with the militia, too. Let me handle that.”
“Into your competent hands I leave it.” Grinning, she reached into her belt purse, pulled out two coins, and flipped them into his hands. “Buy yourself a bath.”
With a wave, she kneed Sandhawk into a trot and turned his nose toward his stable.
The Council
7
True to Lanther’s word, Sir Morrec and his escort, looking dusty and weary, returned late the next day from their conference with a group of exiled elves outside the Silvanesti shield. The Knights rode into the Citadel and dismounted in front of the main hall. At the top of the stairs by the door stood Sir Remmik, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully arranged into a pleased welcome.