At last he wiped his mouth on his greasy vest, which did nothing to clean his face, and tucked the dishes in his bag. "You nice for human," he told her. "Come. I know where your dragon is."
Sara looked startled. "How do you know that?"
"I see lots of things," he said mysteriously. He tugged on her pants leg and led her down the street toward the outskirts of the city.
"I know you fight again," Fewmet said, his tone serious. "Last time you fight bad knight I tell you something. I see fight. I see you knock bad knight down. What I told you helped."
"Yes. Yes, it did," Sara responded thoughtfully. What was he leading up to? she wondered.
The gully dwarf took her past the main gates and toward the open fields near the Red Quarter. His stumpy legs had to take three strides to her one, but he trotted gamely beside her and continued to talk breathlessly.
"People pay small attention to gully dwarves," Fewmet went on. "We get kicked or hit or people drive us away sometimes. Most times they not know we are there. We see many things." He looked at her sideways through his greasy forelock. "I see general fight. She is good. She is best. But her dragon hurt long ago. His right wing is not strong."
Sara stared at him as the information sank in. "Fewmet, if I survive this battle, would you like to come with me to Solace? You can leave this city and come where people will appreciate you."
He broke into a cackling laugh. "People not appreciate me anywhere. Only you have been nice to Fewmet. I have never left city. I would not know what to do in strange place. Thank you, Sara. Dragon over there. Fight well." He sketched a bow and trotted away.
Sara watched him go and sent a silent blessing after him. Perhaps it was for the best. She couldn't imagine how she would have convinced Cobalt to carry a gully dwarf.
She found the blue dragon waiting for her near the ring of tents. He crouched on the ground, his head held high to look out for her, his tail twitching with agitation. As soon as he saw her, he lumbered toward her. Steam curled from his nostrils, and his yellow eyes burned like fire.
"Be patient, you said," he hissed at her. "Be patient. That was all! If I had not overheard that rat dung, Treb, tell everyone all about the trial, I would have torn the city apart looking for you."
"And been killed by the other dragons for your pains," she said. She tugged his head down and hugged his neck, then scratched his ears soothingly. "I would have gotten a message to you if I could, but they put me in a dungeon cell until just a little while ago."
"I know," he grumbled. "Treb said-" The dragon paused, and his eyes burned whiter in anger. "She's had the others arrested, all but Kazar."
Sara did not indulge in any exclamations of anger or curse words heaped on Treb's head. Anything she could say now would be a waste of effort. But her anger ignited to a slow burn and began to build within her like a fire-storm about to erupt. "Do you know where they are?" she asked between clenched teeth.
"They're in camp, under guard. They're to stay in their tents until after the battle. Then Treb intends to take them before the adjudicator for violations of the Code." Cobalt lifted his lips in a draconian sneer. "Before we leave here, I would like to eat her liver."
"All that bile would probably give you indigestion," Sara said. "We will deal with her later." She hesitated before broaching her next question. Dragons could be haughty at times, and they preferred to work with their riders as partners or allies. Sometimes they refused to fight if it did not suit their purposes. If Cobalt was not willing to fight in this trial, she could be in a real predicament. After a moment's consideration, she asked, "So Treb mentioned the trial by battle?"
"Yes."
"Did she say it is on dragonback?"
"Yes."
She tilted an eyebrow and looked up at his reptilian face. "You're not making this easy for me."
He tilted his nose up and looked smugly down at her. "Serves you right for scaring me like that."
Sara laughed. "True enough. Will you fight with me?"
For an answer, he turned sideways so she could see his dragonsaddle. The two-man saddle she had used to go to Solace with Derrick and had ridden back was gone. In its place was a one-rider fighting saddle fashioned of lightweight wood and leather and fully accoutred with a rider's lance, a shield, and a crossbow. A breastplate and a helm hung from the saddle's straps.
Pleased, Sara ran a hand over the armor. It was old and well worn, but someone had taken the time to polish it and replace the straps with new ones. Best of all, it was unadorned. It did not bear the hateful death lily or any of the emblems of the dark knighthood.
"Who helped you?" Sara asked.
"General Abrena," Cobalt answered briefly. Sara looked so startled that he elaborated. "The general wishes this to be a fair battle. She wants to kill you in a matched fight, not in an execution. A matter of pride."
Sara did not ask more. She knew Mirielle enough to know she could trust the weapons and armor provided for her.
Swiftly she donned the armor and was glad to see it fit well enough. She pulled the fighting helm over her silver hair. It was nearly noon.
Before she mounted Cobalt, she paused and touched the star jewel hanging on its chain against the metal breastplate. In the past, before the Second Cataclysm, she had been in the habit of saying a prayer or two to Paladine when she felt in need. Even after the gods' departure, when she had felt empty and bereft, she had prayed in the hope they would hear her somehow. But after that night in the Tomb of the Last Heroes, she no longer felt the need to petition a vanished god. She had found a strength in herself, a cause to believe in. It did not make a difference to her how Steel had come or who had sent him. The only thing that was important to her was that he had come, and he had left her his token so she would know his love would always be with her.
Sara climbed to Cobalt's back and drew her sword. This battle she was about to fight was not just to save her life. It was also the first test of the validity of her vision. The Legion of Steel was going forth to face its first real challenge, and if it was to survive, she would have to emerge victorious.
Cobalt spread his great wings and took to the sky. He winged south, skirting the inside edge of the tent ring, and flew over the city wall and into the Arena of Death. The sand floor of the arena was empty, which Sara expected. The haughty governor-general would certainly want to make her own entrance.
The seats of the arena were crowded again, and hawkers were doing a thriving business in the stands. A few groups cheered Sara; many more jeered her.
She instructed Cobalt to land at one end of the oval. He descended with a roar and a rush of wings that sent dust swirling into the stands and crowds of people rushing back from the wall.
The dust raised during Cobalt's landing had barely settled when a shout went up from the audience and a large shadow passed swiftly over the arena. At half speed, Mirielle's dragon, Cerium, circled around and cruised over the arena a second time. Every eye was upon him. Coming in to land across from Cobalt, he beat his wings and stirred up a great cloud of dust and sand that whirled through the arena.
Sara clapped a handful of sleeve over her nose and mouth. She could hear Mirielle laughing. When the dust settled, Sara finally had a close look at the veteran dragon who bore the governor-general.
Cerium was a mature male, slightly larger than Cobalt at more than forty-eight feet in length, and bulky, with bulging muscles. His thick horns were the color of polished steel, and his hide was an iron blue. He stamped his powerful forelimbs and dug out great gouges of dirt with his claws. His scaly frill flared out around his wedge-shaped head to show off his fearsomeness. His roar shook the arena.