“He is here.” Linsha pointed to the cat, who sat down and began to lick his injured leg.

The captain’s eyes fell on the torn. “That’s a cat.”

“Yes. One of Crucible’s more intriguing forms. I knew him as a cat before I realized he was a dragon.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, because General Docket left me to tell you: First, what is left of his forces have moved to the Scorpion Wadi. He is sending out scouts to gather any refugees or survivors they can find. Second, he asks if there are other entrances into the labyrinth from within the city, and if so, could they be used to pull out any of those trapped between the lines of fighting-especially Falaius and his forces.”

The two humans shrugged, but the tomcat nodded.

“Will you help us?” Mariana asked the cat.

“I will carry you if your leg hurts too much,” Linsha offered. Like bronzes, she had a weakness for small, fluffy animals.

The torn meowed and twined around her ankles. Varia guffawed as only an intelligent owl can.

“Since you are in good company,” Lanther said, “I will leave you to your mission and go on one of my own. Perhaps a new prisoner or two can tell us what Thunder has done with the eggs.”

He pulled his broad brimmed hat out of a small pack, threw on his tattered robe over his dirty, bloodstained clothes, and drew his long body into a compact slouch. Suddenly the tall, straight Legionnaire became the lame beggar. He leered at the women and shuffled away toward the city to find some talkative prisoners.

Linsha, Mariana, and Varia followed the cat back into the darkness of the labyrinth.

Sometime during the short summer night, the Missing City fell to attacking forces of the blue dragon. There was no official surrender or final battle. The defenders of the city just seem to give up and melt away into the darkness, leaving the streets to the Brutes and the mercenaries. Skirmishes broke out in all four districts as pockets of resistance continued to fight, but the last large companies of the militia and the Legion and its commander just disappeared. The mercenaries didn’t care. They were pleased to have the city in their hands and the fighting over. Now, they felt, they could loot and celebrate and enjoy their victory as they saw fit. The Brutes, on the other hand, were puzzled. They had been impressed by the tenacity and courage of the city’s defenders, and they could not understand how or why the militia had simply left.

The Brute general, commander of the overall attack, took no chances. Working with his trusted second-in-command, he set his warriors to work consolidating their hold on the city. He had his best trackers carefully sweep the streets and buildings for the wounded, for anyone wielding a weapon, or for any officers of the militia and city watch. His troops strengthened their defenses, repaired the gates and walls, and interrogated prisoners. He set up roadblocks, posted guards, and established observation posts. Then he went to see Thunder.

The great blue had already laid his claim to Iyesta’s lair. He sat in the courtyard and watched while the remains of the palace roof were removed from the throne room. Prisoners from the city had been impressed by the mercenaries to do the backbreaking work of hauling out the tons of rock and debris. They worked in long lines with ropes and sledges, under the watchful eyes and cruel whips of their guards.

Thunder saw the Brute and his guard approach. His attention went back to the work on the throne room. He planned to do the last excavation himself to clear the stairs to the treasure room, and he wanted no interference.

The general made a short, almost insolent bow. “Your lordship, the city is ours.”

“Good.” The dragon stamped a foot on the ground in emphasis. “Soon Iyesta’s defeat will be complete. Her lair and her hoard will be mine.”

The Brute general nodded, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His ceremonial gold mask shone in the reflected firelight of the torches. “I hear, too, that the eggs are yours,” he said casually.

The dragon was not really listening. He was too busy gloating. “Yes. On your information, I looked for them last night. They are in my keeping now.”

“But you did not see fit to seal the tunnels or do anything to prevent the city’s forces from escaping through the labyrinth,” the general said coldly.

“Did they?” The dragon did not even look at him. “That is your problem, General. I brought you here to capture the city. You have done so. If you wish to wipe out the rest of those so-called defenders, you may chase them across the Plains. I have other things to do.”

The man thought fast. He had not become general of a warrior race because of his blue skin paint. He was intelligent, strong, cunning, and merciless when the need arose. If his informant was correct, the forces that slipped out of the city were exhausted, demoralized, and nearly wiped out. However, they had found refuge in a place that would be very difficult to attack without Thunder’s help, and if they stayed there long enough, they could rebuild their strength and mount a counteroffensive. What he needed was something to lure them out into the open where they could be captured or wiped out completely-including the bronze dragon. Ideally, he would like it if they could rid him of Thunder in the process, but he did not believe they were capable of such a deed. At least not without a little help.

He would have to speak to his informant.

He bowed briefly to the blue dragon, who did not notice, and backed out of his presence. He’d like to know the whereabouts of those eggs. The brass dragon eggs would bring those people out of their holes. If the dragon had found the eggs the night before, the general surmised, they still had to be close by. Thunder, he knew, was moving the contents of his lair in the Plains to this place, so it would be here that the dragon would hide the eggs. The dragon was stupid with overconfidence.

The general smiled beneath the mask. The campaign, he thought, was shaping up well. What he had to do now was ensure the militia knew where to look, then he would know where to find the militia.

The Scorpion Wadi lay in the stark, barren sand hills north and west of the Missing City. It had earned its name not only for the vicious little black scorpions that lived in its dry beds but also for its curved shape. Centuries ago griffin riders had reported the eroded dry river bed looked like the tail of a scorpion from the air. The name had stayed long after the elves disappeared. It was a place of overhanging ravines, washes, crumbling cliffs, undercut caves, and sculptured, narrow canyons. With the right force and enough water, it could be defended for months.

To this hot, arid sanctuary, Linsha, Mariana, Varia, and Crucible led the remnants of Iyesta’s once proud militia and dragon’s guard, a few battered survivors of the city watch, some civilians, the surviving Solamnics, and Falaius with a small contingent of Legionnaires. The general and the commander, the Solamnic Knights and the Legion, centaurs and civilians met in the shaded canyon at dawn. They silently gazed at one another, hollow-eyed and exhausted, unsure of what to do. They had all suffered a calamity, but this was the first time they had all gathered in one place and faced it together.

Linsha watched them, wondering if they could unite after all they had suffered. General Dockett moved forward with a smile and a cup of wine and greeted Falaius with undisguised relief. With the help of those already settled, the newcomers were treated for their wounds, fed, and given places to sleep in the shelter of a large undercut cave.