With care Linsha picked up the round scale. It was slightly smaller than the one Lord Bight had given her and of a brighter, more reddish tint. Pleased, she turned it over in her hands. She would find a jeweler and have this one edged with gold to match the bronze scale, and it would hang on the gold chain around her neck—a precious gift with a heartfelt obligation; an obligation she hoped fervently she would never have to fulfill.
She stretched her tired limbs and took a deep breath. The weariness she had fought off the past hours came trudging back. There were only a few hours left until she had to report for duty. In that time, she had to return to the Citadel, clean her uniform, find something to eat, and get some sleep. She would have to hurry.
Perhaps it was the heat and bright light after the hours in the cool darkness; perhaps it was her exhaustion. Whatever it was that dragged at her heels, Linsha found she could not hurry. Still deep in thought, she collected her horse and rode, slower this time, back through the busy streets of Missing City. Her mind was so rapt in other matters that she did not notice when Varia left her to seek a more congenial and comfortable place to nap.
Nor did she notice when a stooped beggar in a wide brimmed hat fell in beside her horse. He limped alongside the ambling Sandhawk for two blocks before Linsha jerked herself out of her reverie and noticed him.
“I could have slid a blade between your ribs and been long gone,” Lanther told her.
Linsha gave herself a mental shake. He was right. She needed to be more alert. “My fault,” she said with a yawn. “It’s too hot, and I haven’t slept lately.”
He regarded her critically, noting the dark circles that framed her clear green eyes and the smudges of dirt that marred the blue of her uniform. “Busy day with Iyesta?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“She’s very upset. The triplets are missing.”
“Missing? How do you misplace three dragons?”
Linsha rubbed her temples with her free hand. She could feel a headache gathering momentum in the back of her head. “Iyesta believes Thunder is involved somehow.”
Lanther made a rude noise. “That incompetent? She has him terrified of his own shadow. He wouldn’t do anything to rouse her ire.”
“Maybe not, but she took Chayne, Ringg, and me to see Thunder this morning.” She glanced down to see his reaction.
The man was good, she had to admit. The surprise had already vanished behind his usual mask of imperturbability.
“What did you learn?” he asked.
She shrugged. “That Thunder is hiding something. We’re not sure what, though. We saw what looked like more than a few men scurrying to get of sight. And Thunder was more tense and brash than usual.”
The Legionnaire hooked his hand around her stirrup and let the horse take some of his weight off his bad leg while he walked. “Did they look numerous enough to he an army?”
“Hard to tell,” said Linsha, taking care with her words. “We did not see more than a few hundred I’d guess. Of course, there is no telling how many made it out of our sight before we noticed them.”
“A few hundred,” he repeated. “Were there any other dragons around? Other blues? Thunder’s inimical personality has hardly attracted hordes of underlings.”
“No.” Linsha stared into the distance. She understood where he was taking his questions. They were the same questions she had asked herself. Plainly stated, she knew there simply was not enough evidence to be certain that Thunder was plotting war or had even harmed the triplets. He might be planning to cause trouble in some petty way, but unless he had an army of thousands and the help of other dragons, he did not stand a snowball’s chance in the desert of defeating Iyesta and her militia, her guards, and her companion dragons. He would be insane to attempt it.
“So what is he up to?” she said softly. “Where are the triplets?”
“Two excellent questions,” said Lanther.
“And no answers.” She reined Sandhawk to a halt and stared at the man without really seeing him.
He chuckled, a rare sound from him. “Go back to your castle. Get some sleep. Let the next few days take care of themselves. Thunder will not attack in the next day or two. Maybe things will look clearer after a good meal and a long sleep.”
She gripped his hand briefly. “For a flea-bitten beggar, you have some good ideas. Iyesta asked me to pass on her concerns to the Legion, so please tell Falaius what I told you. Let us see what we can do to unravel this mystery.”
“I will alert the Legion. We need to coordinate with the militia, too. Let me handle that.”
“Into your competent hands I leave it.” Grinning, she reached into her belt purse, pulled out two coins, and flipped them into his hands. “Buy yourself a bath.”
With a wave, she kneed Sandhawk into a trot and turned his nose toward his stable.
The Council
7
True to Lanther’s word, Sir Morrec and his escort, looking dusty and weary, returned late the next day from their conference with a group of exiled elves outside the Silvanesti shield. The Knights rode into the Citadel and dismounted in front of the main hall. At the top of the stairs by the door stood Sir Remmik, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully arranged into a pleased welcome.
Across the yard, Linsha watched gladly as the Solamnic commander dismounted, handed his reins to a groom, and saluted the officer of the watch. The old man looked well, she thought. Of course, he usually did. For a man in his sixth decade of life, he had more energy and enthusiasm than many of the younger men under his command. While the other Knights walked stiffly around to work out the kinks of a long day’s ride, Sir Morrec bounced up the stairs and greeted Sir Remmik with a hearty slap on the back.
Linsha stifled a laugh at the look that passed over the fastidious Crown Knight’s face. Sir Remmik’s time of sole command was over for now, thank the absent gods, and he would subside back into his normal duties and be the charming, competent organizer Sir Morrec believed him to be. The pompous dictator in his mind would retreat back into the shadows until the next time Sir Remmik found himself in command.
“Good riddance,” Linsha muttered. She was more than ready for things to return to normal. Well, as normal as things could get around here. She needed to apprise Sir Morrec of the latest developments and Iyesta’s request for a council.
Little had changed since yesterday—that she knew about. Iyesta had put her militia on alert, and she and the other dragons had swept the length of the realm searching for the three missing dragons. Thus far, their search had been fruitless. Lanther had brought word to Linsha that the body of the missing elder had not yet been found, but the city was peacefully about its business of preparing for the Midyear Festival in two days’ time. There was nothing else suspicious happening that anyone had been able to discover. The Legion was taking Iyesta’s worries seriously, of course, within cautious reason. Falaius had sent out more operatives to try to infiltrate Thunder’s so-called army, but he warned Linsha not to expect news in the near future. It took time to gather information from an enemy encampment so far away.
Her odd feeling of uneasiness still lingered in the back of her mind, but it abated somewhat with the homecoming of Sir Morrec and the other Knights. Probably, she reasoned, because she knew if disaster struck, she greatly preferred the Knight Commander to be in charge than Sir Remmik. Now that he was back, he would help her put things in perspective. She thought about talking to him immediately, then changed her mind. Sir Remmik would demand his time for at least the next hour to tell him about every minute of every day that he was gone, then the Knights would want to eat. She would talk to him then, before she reported for night duty.
* * * * *
A messenger found Linsha before the hour had expired and asked her to attend the Knight Commander at his meal in the hall. Tidying her uniform, she made her way to the main keep to report to Sir Morrec. As she suspected, Sir Remmik sat beside him, talking ceaselessly while the man tr
ied to eat.
Sir Morrec glanced up when she entered the hall and gave her a warm greeting. He gestured to the table laden with platters of food and to an empty chair across from him. Linsha preferred not to ruin her appetite by dining near Sir Remmik, but nevertheless she accepted the commander’s invitation and sat down. She nodded coolly to the second-in-command without actually looking at his face, and then held a wine glass out for the winebearer to fill.
Sir Remmik sat back in his chair, his expression cold, and launched into a detailed description of Linsha’s alleged transgressions that occurred while Sir Morrec was absent. Knowing he had planned this deliberately, Linsha ignored him and helped herself to a few small servings of the fish and vegetables that lay on platters close at hand.
Sir Morrec finally held up his hand to stem the flow of words. He watched Linsha eat her meal for a minute, then asked, “Is any of this true?”
Linsha lifted her eyes from her food and met his straightforward gaze. “Most of it. The situation in the Missing City has taken several interesting turns, and I have been trying to get a clear idea of what is going on.” She decided to omit any petty or childish remarks on the subject of Sir Remmik’s obsessive and shrewish demands.
“Tell me,” the Knight Commander said over his glass of wine.
In less time than Sir Remmik had taken, Linsha told her commander about her suspicions, the intruder she followed, the centaurs, the reports from her contacts and the Legion, her flight to see Thunder, the missing brasses, and Iyesta’s rage and concerns. The only part she did not mention was her journey through the labyrinth to see the eggs.
Sir Remmik glared at her as if he suspected she was making it all up, but Sir Morrec sat still, his long elegant features bathed in firelight, and watched her intently without interrupting her.
When she had completed her report, he asked, “What more does Iyesta plan to do about this?”
“I don’t know. I have not talked to her today because she has been searching for the triplets. Yesterday, she decided to call a council of her militia, the Legion, and the Solamnics. She is only waiting for you to return.”
The briefest spasm of dismay crossed the Knight’s face. Although he quickly dampened it, it was there long enough for Linsha to notice. “I have just returned from a lengthy journey. I have a great deal to do. When does she wish to have this council?”
“I’m sure she would hold it now if she was available. Sir, I would not put this off. Iyesta is deeply concerned and furious. We need to plan a defense for the city, coordinate our efforts with the Legion, offer our services to the militia, and extend our efforts in learning the truth behind these rumors.”
Sir Remmik could not contain himself any longer.
“Utter nonsense,” he snapped. “Just because a few brass dragons decide to leave the realm and Thunder has actually managed to gather a few men long enough to masquerade as an army of sorts doesn’t instantly spell disaster.”
“I agree, sir,” Linsha said, fighting to remain cool. “But it could spell the possibility of disaster. I don’t believe the three brasses left of their own accord, nor do I believe Iyesta will take Thunder’s posturing lightly. We need to be prepared.”
“We are prepared,” the Crown Knight insisted. “These Knights are the best trained, best supplied fighting men on the Plains. They are magnificent. Nothing can defeat them.”
“There is more to preparation than a stocked fortress and a strong Knight,” Linsha said. “We cannot fight here alone. We need the Legion, the centaur patrols, the tribesmen who ride the desert, the militia who guard the city’s walls. We need Iyesta.”
Sir Morrec steepled his fingers. “Will it not serve for you to attend this council in my place?”
Linsha had expected this. Although she greatly admired Sir Morrec for his fearlessness, his compassion, and his open-minded attitude toward the city and the Legion of Steel, he had one weakness: a deep-seated resentment toward dragons of all colors. A survivor of the Chaos War, the Dragon Purge, and several dragon attacks, he carried an antagonism toward all things relating to dragons and would do almost anything to avoid any contact with one. He tried to control his animosity and had even developed a grudging respect for Iyesta, but he usually left most of the Solamnic dealings with the brass up to Linsha.
“Not this time, Sir Morrec. We need to show a unified face to the dragon and the city.”
Reluctant though he was to face dragons, Sir Morrec understood his duty. Without further hesitation, he nodded once and helped himself to more mutton. “Of course. Make the arrangements.”
Satisfied, Linsha finished her meal and hurried to relieve the duty officer. She sent a message to Iyesta’s lair, notifying her of Sir Morrec’s return and asking for a time for the council. By dawn she had her reply. Midafternoon. She was expected to attend.
When her duty finished after sunrise, Linsha spoke briefly with Lanther outside the stable and confirmed the Legion, too, would be in attendance. Varia told her the area was quiet and Iyesta had settled into her lair for some needed rest. Linsha retired to her own bed, content in her mind that for at least the morning she could sleep in peace.
* * * * *
Midafternoon lolled around hot, sultry, and redolent with dust and flies. Linsha, Sir Morrec, and an escort of six Knights rode to Iyesta’s lair and arrived just as a contingent of centaurs trotted into the courtyard.
Someone called out to Linsha.
She looked over the shining hides and strong torsos and recognized the young buckskin, Leonidas. She waved a greeting to him before his stern uncle hushed him.
“Another friend of yours?” Sir Morrec asked as he dismounted.
Linsha pointed to an imaginary tear in her tunic. “The centaur with the crossbow.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Indeed. You certainly make friends in odd ways.”
Linsha did not comment. Her basic philosophy was one learned from her grandfather: You make friends where you can find them, because you never knew when a friend could offer invaluable aid, or even save your life.
Leonidas was not the only friend she saw in the group gathering in Iyesta’s courtyard. There were several other centaurs she knew and liked, Lanther, Falaius, and three Legionnaires she had worked with since her arrival in Mirage, and various acquaintances from the city council.
A fair-haired half-elf named Mariana Brownstem she met with occasionally caught her eye and nodded. The lean half-elf wore the uniform of a militia captain and stood protectively at the edge of the crowd. She kept her eyes moving over the people and her hands close to her weapons.
Linsha wanted to mingle among the people, listen to their worries, and gather what news she could, but she knew Sir Morrec wanted his escorts together. It made a stronger impression. She watched all the faces and the way people moved their bodies. She studied the dragon’s guards who stood about the courtyard, and she noted the emotions that flowed from person to person. She did not need her talent to read auras here. The tension that flowed in the courtyard was thick enough to pour over porridge. Linsha looked forward to learning what Varia overheard. The owl was already ensconced out of sight in some tree.
Fortunately, Iyesta had made arrangements to help make people comfortable. In the west end of the courtyard in the shade of three large trees, trestle tables and benches had been set up. Covered plates of sweet cakes and fruit waited beside cooled flagons of a light, fruited wine, ale, and for the strong of stomach, the Plains equivalent of the Khurish kefre sweetened with milk and honey.
As there was no sign of Iyesta and the doors of the throne room were closed, those attending the council made their way over to the tables and helped themselves while they waited for Iyesta to come. Sir Morrec and the Solamnics, looking resplendent in their blue and silver uniforms, claimed half an empty table for their own in the deepest shade and with the best view of the courtyard. They drank sparingly and ate only enough to be polite. Linsha barely touched anything.
When most of the p
eople were seated and quietly talking among themselves, silver Pallitharkian and gold Desiristian appeared and took their places by the palace doors. Without fanfare, they opened the double doors together and bowed their heads as Iyesta emerged. Her shadow darkened the courtyard. In almost perfect unison, the gathered people bowed low before her.
Linsha was impressed. The great brass had obviously cleaned and polished her already beautiful scales until they dazzled with gold fire in the sun. She stood resplendent, the embodiment of power and grace and authority, and stared down the length of her snout at the people with her large gleaming eyes. If this doesn’t brace up the confidence of the population of the realm, Linsha thought, nothing could.
The huge dragon took her place front of the gathering, folded her wings, and lowered her head to hear what would be said. The other two dragons took up positions beside and slightly behind her.
“Lord Mayor,” said Iyesta. “Let us begin.”
For the next several hours, the leaders of the civil and military orders in Mirage discussed the latest news of Thunder’s perfidity and all it could mean to their city. Many people believed like Sir Remmik that the rumors of Thunder’s army had been blown out of proportion and that there was really little to worry about from the blue. Sable, they said, or Malys was the greater danger. But the naysayers did not argue that the Missing City needed more preparation. They made further plans for defense, including strengthening the city walls, increasing the food supplies in the warehouses, forging more arms, and stepping up the training of new recruits in the militia. More scouts would be sent out to watch every inland approach to the city, and the centaur patrols would be doubled.
Iyesta listened to the talk and added several changes to the plans, but most of the time she merely listened, observed, and occasionally offered her approval.
Linsha said little during the long discussions. She, too, sat and watched and listened and made mental notes to continue further discussions with specific people over the next couple of days. There were questions she wanted to ask that she knew would not be answered before a large group and suggestions that she could make more tactfully over a mince pie and a beer at the nearest tavern. To be honest, it was a relief to see other people finally shared her feelings of apprehension. Maybe now that the city was alert, things could get done and her unsettling intuitions would settle down and go away.
[Linsha 01] - City of the Lost Page 7
