A gasp escaped Linsha before she could stop it. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The lord governor had a unit of personal bodyguards to prevent that very thing, and she had risked her career and her life to save him from a Dark Knight assassin.

“He survived,” the dragon went on. “Sergeant Hartbrooke took the dart instead.”

Linsha searched her memory and found a face of one of the guards she vaguely remembered. She had not served in his squad, but she had seen him several times and noticed him at his post when she went to Sanction a year and a half ago. She remembered he had lost his wife in the plague that struck the city.

“He is dead.” It was a statement, not a question.

“He was buried with honor.”

“Will Lord Bight be able to handle the siege in Sanction without you?”

He gave a snort that was both resigned and contemptuous. “The Knights of Solamnia are there. They will have to deal with whatever comes their way.”

They walked together in quiet companionship for several minutes through the dark, wide tunnels while Lanther trailed behind. Here in this section of the labyrinth, the high, rounded tunnels had been too tight for Iyesta, but Crucible was smaller than the brass dragonlord. By lowering his head and stretching out his long body, he fit through the passages without too much trouble.

After a while, Linsha’s weary mind began to sort through the events of the past three days. Something nagged for her attention, something that had been in the back of her mind for some time. She rubbed her eyes and tried to concentrate her thoughts. She was so tired she could hardly stay upright, but somehow she had to think, she had to recall what was wrong. Something about the dragons. The triplets. A certain smell.

She stopped in her tracks so fast Crucible nearly stepped on her. There was a faint odor in the air. She thought it had been a residue of decay from the carcass of Iyesta, but what if the smell was from something else?

“Lanther,” she cried out. “You said your prisoners told you Thunder knew about the eggs, and he certainly knew about the tunnels under the palace. Is it possible he also knew the full extent of the labyrinth? Maybe what he was looking for was the egg chamber.”

There was a silence from the back, then Lanther said reluctantly, “That may be so. The men I talked to were not very clear.”

“Thunder learned about the labyrinth?” Crucible trumpeted. His voice was so loud it echoed back to him from distant tunnels.

Linsha waved at the air around them. “Do you smell that?”

The bronze sprang past her and charged down the tunnel. The small flame of light went with him. Linsha listened to him go.

“Now how do we get there?” Lanther said, coming up beside her.

She took a long breath and let it out unsteadily. “We follow our noses.”

Hand in hand so they would not be separated, the two walked carefully through the intense darkness. Ah too soon the smell filled the tunnels and became a stench. From somewhere not far ahead, they heard a bellow of grief and rage.

Linsha knew then with sick certainty what she would see when she and Lanther reached the end of the tunnel and peered into the huge chamber.

She could not bear it. As they stepped into the great cave, she closed her eyes and leaned on Lanther’s shoulder. She had seen enough.

The huge mound of sand sat barren and empty in the warm light of the magic glows on the roof. Behind the mound stood Crucible, his entire body quivering with rage. At his feet lay the withered hulk of the brass mother, Purestian. Carrion beetles gorged on her remains, and her scales lay in heaps around her corpse. Like Iyesta, she lay sprawled as if she had simply fallen down. There was no sign of a battle or a struggle. And like Iyesta, she was missing her head.

Making Plans

21

When Crucible, Lanther, and Linsha finally came to the opening by the old pool, Varia flew down to meet them. By that time, the sun had arched over to late afternoon. As they stood at the bottom of the narrow stairs and looked up the stair shaft, they saw the faint glow of golden light gleaming through the cracks in the pool chamber.

Lanther and Linsha looked back at Crucible and knew there was no possibility of a dragon his size passing through that exit. Iyesta had shapeshifted to a woman to get through. Crucible was obviously going to have to do the same or risk bringing tons of sand and rock into the tunnel.

Linsha waited expectantly. This was her chance to see what he might look like as a man. But when the dragon’s spell was complete and the glow of magic faded, Linsha stared at the place where she expected to see a man about six feet tall and saw nothing. Her gaze dropped.

In the dragon’s place sat an orange-striped barn cat.

Varia chuckled. Coward.

Shut up, bird. The cat meowed. Like the owl, he could communicate telepathically when he chose to.

“A cat?” Lanther exclaimed. “Can’t he do better than that?”

Linsha laughed for the first time in too long and scooped up the cat in her arms. It was like seeing an old, dear friend. “If he goes out there as a dragon, he will be seen and killed. Thunder would never suspect a dragon would hide as a cat. Besides, bronzes like small, fluffy animals.”

“But a barn cat? Why not a tiger? A lion? A griffin for that matter. At least he could fly.”

“He’s injured,” Linsha said reasonably. “He can’t fly even in a different shape.”

Lanther threw up his hands and stalked up the stairs ahead of them.

Crucible squirmed out of the woman’s arms. He fell heavily on his injured leg, but he scurried up the steps and scooted in front of the Legionnaire. Just in time.

The water weird reared out of the pool like a snake out of the grass. Its simple upright form was shaped from water, and like water, its strength was deceptive. Two arms detached from the torso and reached for Lanther’s throat.

The Legionnaire gave a yell and went for his sword, but the cat crouched by the water’s edge and hissed a furious command.

Immediately, the water weird drew back. It spit water at Lanther, then slipped sulkily beneath the surface of its pool.

“Not bad for a barn cat,” Linsha said behind him.

Lanther chuckled, a little shakily, and made a short bow to the orange cat. “My thanks, Crucible.”

This time, he waited until the cat went ahead of him up the short stairs to the crack in the ruined stone.

As soon as they were outside in the afternoon sun, a shape detached itself from the meager shade of a nearby outcropping.

“Lady Linsha! Lanther!” called Mariana. The half-elf hurried over. She studied their faces for the answer to her unspoken question and found it in the tension in their faces and the sadness in their eyes. “The eggs are destroyed,” she said flatly.

“Not destroyed,” Lanther told her. “Gone. Purestian is dead, her skull taken. We believe Thunder is responsible.”

“Why take the eggs?” Mariana asked. “Why wouldn’t he just smash them?”

Linsha remembered the pride she had heard in Iyesta’s voice when she spoke of the eggs, and she shuddered. “I don’t know. He’s vindictive enough to keep them for himself or use them as a threat against us.”

Mariana looked appalled. “Why would he keep them? Can he do anything beyond killing them?”

Lanther sat on a rock to ease his aching leg and looked south toward the city and the dragonlord’s lair. The scar on his face looked livid in the sunlight, and his visage was dark with suppressed anger. “Maybe. If he had enough power.”

“Which he could get if he increases his skull totem,” Linsha said fiercely. “Any more skulls just add to the power. I don’t think he has a bronze skull yet.”

Mariana glanced around and behind them. “Where is Crucible? Did he not come back with you?”