Sturm went to the sumptuous table. The gnomes were gorging themselves on baked apples, dove stuffed with bacon and chestnuts, wild rice with saffron, whole sweet onions glazed with honey, venison steaks, blood pudding, pickled eggs, breads, punch, wine, and ale.

Kitiara had taken her injured arm out of its sling and let it rest on the table. With her coat falling off one shoulder and the flush of new ale on her cheeks, she looked quite wanton.

She sniffed when her eyes met Sturm's, and she popped a whole pickled egg in her mouth.

'You're missing a feast," she said after swallowing. "The old emperors of Ergoth never ate so well."

"I wonder what it's made from?" Sturm said, picking up a warm roll and letting it fall back into its tray. "Sand? Poi sonous mushrooms?"

"Sometimes you are tiresome beyond belief," said Kitiara and quaffed a three-gulp swallow of ale. "If the dragon wanted to kill us, he could do it without resorting to the sub tleties of poison."

"Actually," Cutwood said, leaning across the table and spewing bread crumbs with every syllable, "brass dragons traditionally are not aligned with evil."

"Have we nothing to fear from this creature?" Sturm asked the table at large. He glanced up at the darkness that held the dragon, and lowered his voice. "Our ancestors on

Krynn fought long and hard to eliminate dragons from the world. Were they all wrong?"

"The situation here is completely different," said Stutts.

"Lunitari is this dragon's home. He has taken a kindly inter est in our plight. We shouldn't refuse his help because of ancient prejudices that have no application at the present time."

'What does he want from us?"

"He hasn't told us yet," Stutts admitted. "But he, ah, won't let us leave."

"What do you mean?" Sturm said sharply.

"Birdcall, Flash, and I wanted to go searching for you. We rerouted the engine control sufficiently to make short ascents – hops, really – but Cupelix refused to allow us out of the obelisk. He claimed it wasn't safe, and that he was taking steps to bring you all here."

"Well, we're here now," said Kitiara, reaching for another broiled dove. "And we'll soon be on our way."

"Will we?" Sturm asked, craning his neck again to peer into the dim heights of the obelisk. "Now that he has us all, will he let us go?"

Chapter 20

A New Age

Aften Kitiara and thee gnomes had their fill, they stole off to the Cloudmaster for a nap. Only Stutts remained with

Sturm. The two of them strolled around the interior of the vast obelisk, and Sturm related the story of Bellcrank's death.

"It was pure chance that Bellcrank died instead of Kit or

Sighter." They paused in their walk as Stutts plucked a handkerchief from his vest pocket and dabbed at his nose.

Sturm told of Rapaldo's death, and how they placed Bell crank in the middle of the mushroom garden.

"He and I were at gear-making school together, you know," Stutts said softly. "I'll miss him a great deal." They passed under the bow of the flying ship, and Sturm saw a smooth round hole, eight feet wide, bored in the hard mar ble floor. He asked Stutts what it was.

"The Micones live in a cavern below," Stutts said. "They enter and leave by these holes." He indicated two others not far away. Sturm stood on the lip of one of the holes and looked down. There was a feeble bluish glow below, and he could see the jagged shapes of stalagmites. A faintly bitter smell wafted up from the depths.

"Did the Micones build this place?" Sturm asked.

"Not as far as I can tell," Stutts replied, resuming his walk.

"The Micones are a rather new addition to this place. Cupe lix hints that he created them, but I don't believe he's that powerful. But to address your question: The obelisk was here even before the dragon."

"How do you know that?"

"By observing Cupelix. While a healthy adult specimen of a brass dragon, his features are in many ways molded by the fact that he grew up inside this obelisk. Notice, for example, his short wings and powerful legs; he spends all his time perching on the ledges rather than flying. He can jump tre mendous distances, even straight up." Stutts stopped, seeing that Sturm was studying him. "What?" asked the gnome.

'You're so changed," said Sturm. "Not just the lack of a stutter; you seem so calm and collected."

Stutts blushed pink under his neatly trimmed beard. "I suppose we gnomes must appear awfully disorganized and impractical to you humans."

Sturm smiled. "Not at all."

Stutts returned the grin. He said, "Being on Lunitari has changed me – all of us. The flight of the Cloudmaster, while erratic, has been the first true success in my life. I spent years in the workshops of Mt. Nevermind, building flying machines. They all failed. It wasn't until I learned of Bell crank's experiments with ethereal air that the Cloudmaster became possible." Mention of the lost chemist quelled con versation for a moment.

"Be at peace," Sturm finally said. "He was avenged."

They passed below the tail of the flying ship. A mixed chorus of snores issued from the open portholes. Stutts ges tured toward the sound.

"They are a fine band of colleagues," he said. "They deserve to go home to the cheers of all Sancrist."

"Do you think we'll ever see Krynn again?" Sturm asked.

"That all depends on Cupelix and what he wants. I have a theory – "

A wind flowed over them. With a customary metallic ringing, the dragon alighted on the lowest sill, perhaps fif teen feet above Sturm and Stutts. The gnome sidled away from Cupelix.

"I trust you are satiated," Cupelix said to Stutts.

"The meal was excellent, as always," Stutts replied. He yawned. "It weighs a bit heavy on my stomach, though. I think I shall join my colleagues." With a polite nod, Stutts returned to the ship. Cupelix loomed over Sturm.

"So it is you and I, Master Brightblade. What shall we talk about l Let us debate our philosophies, knight to dragon. What do you say?"

"No magic?"

Cupelix laid a burnished claw on his breast. "Dragon's honor."

"How is it," Sturm wondered, "that you speak so fluently the Krynnish tongue!"

"Books," replied the dragon. "My nest on high is plentiful ly supplied with books by authors mortal and immortal.

Now I shall ask a question: What is it you seek from life?"

"To live honorably and in the manner befitting an Oath-taken knight. My turn. Have you always lived inside this tower?"

"From the days when I was a dragonlet no larger than a gnome, I have been the Keeper. I have never seen outside these walls, save what I spy by the doors and windows." His broad pupils narrowed. "Do you ever question the tenets of the Knights' Oath or Measure? After all, the Order of

Solamnus was not revived after the Cataclysm."

Sturm folded his arms across his chest. "If you are well read, then you know the Cataclysm was not caused by any thing the knights did. They accepted the blame of the com mon people, as all preservers of order must do when that order breaks down. Where did the Micones come from?"

"They were created to serve me. The Lunitarian tree-folk did not prove reliable." Cupelix flicked out his tongue. "Are you in love with the woman, Kitiara?"

Cupelix's pointed query threw Sturm off guard. "I have some affection for her, but I'm not in love with her, if you understand the difference." The dragon nodded, human fashion. Sturm continued, "So the tree-men and the

Micones were created in succession as your servants, the tree-men being a failed effort. Who created them?"

"Higher powers," replied Cupelix evasively. "This is won derful! I wish people had come to Lunitari centuries ago! But hark now: If you're not in love with the woman, why is she so predominant in your thoughts? Behind many of your spoken thoughts is an image of her."