Linsha had to be content with that. She asked for weapons, but all they could give her was an old dagger with rust on the blade. She shoved it in her belt. It was better than nothing. She paced in the house and tried to help in the small vegetable garden in back to distract her mind. She helped feed the chickens and fix food for the evening meal, and all the time she could only see ships in her imagination and hordes of warriors flooding to shore to burn and kill.
By the time evening came and the sun was settling into the west, Linsha was ready to slip out of the house and into the coming dark and find out for herself what was going on, in spite of the Knights’ patrols. Before she could find an excuse to absent herself, though, Lanther appeared at the door, his rugged visage lined with exhaustion and concern. He sank down in a chair at the small dining table and gladly took a mug of ale offered by one of caretakers. Linsha and the three Legionnaires sat down at the table with him, their expressions anxious.
“The ships are out there,” he said without preamble. “About sixty-five by rough count. They are anchored in staggered rows around the bay, cutting off the harbor. Nothing can get past them.”
“Who are they?” Linsha asked. “Have they made any demands yet?”
“We don’t know who they are. I’ve never seen ships quite like them. They’re lean and fast-looking and rigged for the open sea. They fly no colors and have sent no delegations. There have been no demands, no requests, nothing. The ships just sit out there like they are waiting for something. We can see men onboard, and they are busy working on something, but we can’t tell what they are doing.”
“Has anyone tried to make contact with them?” one of the three inquired.
Lanther sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Oh, yes. The mayor sent an envoy out with a small escort to greet the strangers. They were all shot at close range by arrows and their boat set alight. None survived.”
“So what is everyone doing?” Linsha said impatiently.
Lanther began to tick off on his fingers. “Falaius has been named temporary lord governor because Iyesta is gone, and he and the Legion were here first. For now, he is in charge of the defense of city. The mayor was so distraught over the murder of his delegation that he has resigned and is packing to leave. The city council and the city watch declared martial law and turned over their authority to Falaius. The commanders of the militia and the dragon’s guard spent a good part of the day arguing with the Legion and the city council about who should be in charge, and the dragon’s guard finally decided they would stay at Iyesta’s lair and guard the premises. I’m not sure from whom.”
He sounded disgusted, but Linsha was pleased to hear the dragon’s guard would still be watching the lair. That meant no one would make unauthorized visits into the tunnels to desecrate Iyesta’s body, steal the scales, or worse, find the eggs.
She refilled his cup with the golden ale and pushed a plate of oat cakes to him. “What did the militia do?”
“They fell in line. Finally. Dockett, the general of the militia, is a wise man who saw the wisdom of bowing to the inevitable.” He drank his ale then relaxed and grinned at his audience. “Falaius offered him the position of second in command. They have groups scattered all along the western borders of the city where they were keeping watch for Thunder and long-range patrols that need to be called in, and the general told Falaius that he had more men under muster in the city. Falaius is also a wise man. Our meager one hundred is hardly a match.”
Linsha crossed her arms. There was one group Lanther seemed to be leaving out, and she had a feeling she knew why. “What about the Solamnics?”
“They returned to their citadel, locked the gates, and will not come out. We sent a messenger up there to invite them to our council, but Sir Remmik refused. He claims his Knights are not ready to commit themselves. He said, and I quote ‘The true course in conducting military operations is to make no-’ ”
“-movement until the preparations are complete,” Linsha finished for him. “It is one of his favorite quotes. It’s from an old military manual in the Solamnic Castle at Uth Wistan. It’s a load of manure coming from him. He couldn’t have that citadel more prepared.”
“Maybe he is the one who is not prepared.”
Linsha’s eyebrows rose. She had not considered this view. Could it be possible that the man who organized, trained, and supplied a superb circle could not decisively lead it into battle? She thought back over the bits of information she knew about him and the few records she had seen, and she realized she had never heard him associated with a war, a battle, or a skirmish of any kind. He was trained to fight, but perhaps he never had. That explained some things about him. Solamnic leaders led by reputation, rank, and skill-of which Sir Remmik certainly had plenty-but they were also chosen by the Knights in the circle. How much longer, Linsha wondered, would the Knights of the Mirage circle put up with Sir Remmik’s inflexible inactivity? It would hardly do their reputations any good to be known as the circle who hid in their shiny new castle while the town around them fought to defend itself. She grinned. If she hadn’t already been put in the penal cells for murder, she’d probably be in there now for insubordination and disobeying a superior officer.
“So what is going on now?” asked another Legionnaire.
“Falaius and General Dockett are reorganizing their forces,” he said with a yawn. He added to Linsha, “Falaius sends his regrets. He hopes you are comfortable for now.”
She nodded to the other Legionnaires so as not to hurt their feelings. “For the moment. But I will not hide here if the city is attacked.”
“I know. You would be a formidable ally if you were in command of the Citadel,” said Lanther. He rose to go and gave Linsha a mock salute. “Tomorrow, Lady Knight, if you choose, I will bring you weapons and armor and make a Legionnaire out of you.”
She returned his salute. “I don’t suppose you have seen my horse.”
He checked and said with a snap of his fingers, “No, but I have seen your owl. She was the one who told me about your trial and how you were imprisoned in the fortress.”
The others looked at him astonished.
“She told you?” Linsha exclaimed. “She never talks to anyone else.”
“You have an owl that talks?” said one of the three.
“She must have believed it was important to tell someone who could help you,” Lanther said, ignoring the question.
“Where is she now?” Linsha asked.
He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I don’t know. She left me, and I have not seen her since.”
Linsha swallowed her disappointment as she said goodbye to Lanther. Varia did know about the trial and was worried enough to risk her safety to talk to Lanther. After that, she must have left, as she was no longer at the Citadel, the lair, or any of her other favorite perching spots. Perhaps she had finally decided to leave her companion. Linsha was still not certain why Varia chose to stay with her, so it should be no surprise if the owl grew tired of her and left to seek quieter or less dangerous surroundings. But her absence saddened Linsha more than she expected. With her heart heavy and her head aching with too many unshed tears, Linsha bid goodnight to the caretakers and sought solace in sleep.
Five hours after midnight, just before the rising of the sun, Linsha awoke to a crack of thunder. It was so loud it boomed over the city, shaking people awake and echoing among the towers. Linsha bolted upright in her bed. She could hear the other people in the house calling to one another in consternation. Surely this was just a common thunderstorm, not another storm like the one six nights ago. To be sure, Linsha pulled her tunic on over her shirt and padded barefoot outside to look at the sky.