Linsha strode into the darkness away from the infuriating man and entered the barracks attached to the main keep.
Going into her small niche, she lit an oil lamp on the narrow table that was one of only three pieces of furniture in the room. A narrow bed crowded against the left wall and a wooden chest sat at its foot. Linsha had learned early to travel light and forego the encumbrances of too many personal items. Her room was bare and utilitarian; it contained all she needed to sleep and dress.
She tossed her torn shirt in the chest for one of those cold winter days when she had nothing else better to do than mend clothes, then she pulled out her uniform. Remmik’s words came to her again. Slovenly. Gallivanting. By the absent gods, that man was a fool. For the sake of this garrison, she hoped nothing would happen to Sir Morrec that would put Remmik in charge.
Linsha toyed with the idea of a transfer as she pulled on the blue pants and the blue and silver tunic. Had she served enough time here for the Grand Master to consider her request? Would her request even make it past Sir Morrec? The old man liked her and respected her abilities. One of his greatest strengths as a leader was his skill in bringing out the best efforts of his Knights and allowing them to do their work. She had to admit, even as much as she despised him, Sir Remmik performed excellent work and was superbly placed for his abilities. It was just a shame he was such a rigid, unforgiving, unpleasant example of a Solamnic Knight.
Linsha paused and ran a thumb over the ornate embroidered crest on her jacket-a crown over a kingfisher perched on a horizontal sword decorated with a rose. The design had been sewn, at Sir Remmik’s request, in silver threads on all the uniforms of those serving the citadel. It was rather flashy, Linsha decided, but the symbols of the Solamnics represented almost two thousand years of dedicated service and sacrifice. They were the emblems of an Order she had dedicated her life to serve. To serve with honor. How honorable would it be to request her way out of here?
No, she would not request a transfer. That was only the wishful thinking of a tired, out-of-sorts mind that had seen death in the point of a crossbow bolt only a short hour ago. Linsha laughed at herself. After all, the Measure promised that all who made the supreme sacrifice for the sake of their country would be rewarded in the afterlife. Maybe learning to put up with Sir Remmik would earn her at least a day of celestial feasting or something.
A sharp tap disturbed her thoughts, and she hurried to the window slit and opened the wooden shutter. A large owl, delicately patterned with creamy bars and spots, sidestepped through the narrow opening and walked carefully onto Linsha’s outstretched wrist. Agate black eyes stared down at the woman and a soft raspy voice said, “You could have opened the window. There is no perch out there.”
“I’m sorry, Varia,” Linsha said, her voice hushed. “I was distracted.”
A throaty chuckle vibrated in the owl’s throat. “Remmik again. I watched you follow him around like a disobedient squire.”
“It was his idea of punishment.”
Linsha lowered the bird to eye level and gently laid her face against the owl’s pale breast feathers. The warm smell of bird, pine trees, sun, and desert wind filled her nostrils-the familiar scents of an old friend.
“It is good to see you. You have been gone too long.”
Varia nibbled Linsha’s auburn curls and bobbed her head a time or two in her own greeting. Her dark eyes gazed unblinking into the woman’s green ones. Two tufts of feathers grew on either side of Varia’s round head like horns; they rose and fell according to her mood. Now they were flat in contentment as she settled comfortably into place.
Varia was similar to the elusive talking Darken Owls in that she could communicate with humans, and she was an excellent judge of character, but she was the size and coloration of a normal owl. Linsha had never learned if Varia was one of a kind or part of a species somehow related to those Darken Owls. Not that it truly mattered to her. Varia had found Linsha during a reconnaissance ride into the Khalkist Mountains nearly six years ago, and after a careful scrutiny, the owl had attached herself to a companion worthy of her friendship. Linsha had been surprised, then delighted, and they had been together ever since. Even during Linsha’s incarceration by the Solamnic council, Varia had found shelter in the hayloft of a nearby stable and patiently waited for her to be released.
“I do not have much to tell you,” Varia said in her whispering voice. Although the owl was a virtuoso of sounds from faint whispers to demonic screams, no one in the garrison knew she could talk. The other knights thought Linsha simply had a fondness for pet owls, an ignorance Varia preferred and Linsha found useful.
Linsha sat on the edge of her bed and lowered the owl onto her knee. She knew she should be hurrying, but Varia had been gone for three days on what she liked to call a spy flight, and Linsha was anxious to hear her news. She stroked a fingertip down the bird’s soft, spotted chest. “Tell me.”
“Everything looks normal. I flew a path around the city from the cliffs near Barddeath’s Creek, over the Scorpion Wadi, up past Sinking Wells, as far as the edge of the Silvanesti Forest, and south again to the big bluffs at Kirith Head. I saw nothing out of the ordinary. There are a few nomads out there. The drovers are moving their herds out into the summer pastures. Centaur patrols are everywhere. I saw a small hand of elves camped near the Shield keeping watch, and a small caravan from City of the Morning Dew is headed this way.”
“How does the country fare?”
“The hest I have seen it. The grasslands are green and lush. The wells and oasises-”
“Oases,” said Linsha.
“What?”
“It’s oases, not oasises.”
“You humans.” Varia ruffled her feathers and gave a long blink. “Anyway, the oases are full. The herds of cattle and goats do well. I heard a farmer say this could he an excellent harvest for the olives, grapes, and corn.” She clicked her beak appreciatively. “Which means, of course, it will he a good season for mice.”
When Linsha did not respond, Varia tightened her talons lightly against the woman’s knee until her gaze focused once again.
“What exactly are you looking for?” asked the owl.
“Nothing,” Linsha admitted. “Something. I don’t know. Maybe I am just turning into a nervous old woman. For some days I’ve had this odd feeling that something is wrong. I feel as if someone is watching me. I see enemies in the marketplace. I hear rumors of disaster. I see shadows everywhere. Am I imagining things?” She didn’t want to ask, “Am I going crazy?”
Varia tilted her head in a thoughtful way. “This is a city out on a limb. Iyesta works very hard to keep Mirage safe, but any day another dragon could sweep over and chop that limb off. That is not fancy.”
“I know,” Linsha murmured. She thought of the centaurs and the tension on their faces, their longer patrols, and the array of weapons they carried. Perhaps their increased activity was nothing more than the orders of a new leader faying to prove his vigilance. Maybe the man in the marketplace had not been a spy but a mere brigand or sellsword checking out the territory. Maybe these feelings of gloom were nothing more than homesickness or loneliness or a growing irritability with the whole situation. After all, she was getting older whether she liked it or not, and she had spent the past ten years in one tense and dangerous situation after another. Someday she wanted to go back to Solace to see her family, eat a meal at the Inn, visit her grand-mother’s grave, and just rest for a while.
Linsha felt her thoughts begin to run in circles. She could “maybe” herself to death and still go nowhere. She either had to find some solid evidence to back up her imaginings or she should relax and let things be as they were.
Not tonight though. She had wasted enough time and angered Sir Remmik enough for one day. With care and some reluctance, she lifted the owl to a perch she had installed close to the open window. Varia fluffed her feathers once then settled down for a nap before her evening hunt.
“I am summoned to Iyes
ta’s lair tomorrow. Do you want to come?” Linsha asked as she moved toward the door. When Varia gave her a sleepy yes, Linsha added, “Meet me in the stable then, at sunrise.”
A tired hoot was the only reply.
Linsha spent the rest of the night in the Solamnic headquarters in the keep. The room was spacious enough for several desks, rows of shelves, and a large fireplace. It was comfortable enough even in the winter, well protected by stone walls, and centrally located so the officer of the watch could supervise the changing of the guards and be available for any emergency, late night advice, or minor disasters.
During the long, quiet hours before dawn Linsha read several reports left for her by three of her contacts.
As an erstwhile member of a clandestine circle, Linsha had learned how to make contacts, find snitches, and gather information not readily available to a circle of armed Knights. She knew the beggars who would watch the docks for a few coins, the fearless boys who would follow a suspect through the busy streets, the courtesan who sold her favors to the captain of the City Watch, the maid of the city’s busy mayor, the stable lads in the militia’s stables, and more importantly, those Legionnaires who were friendly to the Solamnic Knights. With charm, friendliness, a sincere interest, and a knack for finding just the right price, Linsha had set up a network of information gatherers in and around the Missing City that rivaled Iyesta’s in its efficiency.
It was mostly because of this network that Linsha began to see little things that did not make sense. A patrol of Iyesta’s militia was massacred, and no one could find out who was responsible. Another esteemed elder in the city council had disappeared, leaving his family behind. What did that make now? Two elders and a merchant who had disappeared lately without a trace. Then there was a shipment of iron bars ordered by one of the local blacksmiths that was stolen. Strangers were seen prowling around the streets for no obvious reason and then mysteriously vanishing. Did any of these things tie in together?
Most alarming of all, to Linsha’s mind, was the silence emanating from Thunder’s neighboring realm.
Stenndunuus, or Thunder, was aptly named. Loud, clashing, and brash, Thunder was one of the most malevolent of the minor dragonlords. He coveted Iyesta’s grasslands and fertile river valleys, but he was too wary of the aggressive brass to challenge her face to face. Instead, he constantly threatened and plotted and voiced his hatred for her at every opportunity. Lately though, he had been very quiet, and very little news had leaked out of his realm. Linsha wondered if the big blue was up to anything, or if he was just laying low to keep out of the attention of his neighbor, Beryl.
At least there was one dragon neighbor who seemed to be complacent for now. Since the end of the Dragon Purge a few years ago, black Sable had spent more and more of her time in her lair in Shrentak where she indulged in her passion for experimentation and the study of parasitic beings. Her gruesome and revolting creatures had grown so numerous of late that no one in Iyesta’s realm ate anything brought out of Sable’s loathsome swamp or went anywhere near it. Although Sable was still a threat to Iyesta’s territory, Linsha did not believe Sable was planning anything more complicated than her next meal or another addition to her foul zoo.
A slight smile came to Linsha’s face at the memory of one creature she had seen delivered to the great black. During her brief duty as a bodyguard to Lord Governor Bight in Sanction, she had accompanied the governor through secret tunnels and passages under the mountains to trade a particularly nasty creature called a cuthril slug to Sable for information. She remembered her incredulity at the exchange and Lord Bight’s secret smile. She remembered, too, trying to explain this trade to the Solamnic Council. Few people could understand why Hogan Bight would make the effort to leave his city to take Sable a slug. Why did he do it? Why did Sable leave him alive?
It wasn’t until Linsha came to the Missing City and became friendly with Iyesta that she understood better the reasons behind Lord Bight’s occasional meetings with Sable. By luring her into face-to-face contact, Lord Bight was able to gather information from the dragon and spread his own news and gossip that kept her distracted and wary and too uncertain to move either north toward his domain or south toward Iyesta’s. From her place in the Plains of Dust, Iyesta did the same thing. Using lies, rumors, the occasional mention of Malys’s name, and a show of her own force, Iyesta had kept Sable away from the Plains for years and made her too wary of exposing her backside if she turned and attacked Sanction. A few herds of cattle sent periodically to Shrentak helped sweeten the precarious stalemate.
If only, Linsha thought for the countless time, there could be someone on the western side of Thunder to help keep him in line. Unfortunately, there was only Beryl, and she was too vicious and untrustworthy to pin any hopes on her. If she weren’t so busy plotting against the elves in Qualinesti, she probably would have looked to her east and tried something devious against Thunder already.
Linsha threw the reports on her desk and sighed. The political and draconic connections across Krynn were endless, mind-boggling, and tangled like a hag’s knitting. Even the wise could not sort them all out. If someone was plotting against Iyesta, or the Knights of Solamnia, or the Legion, or the city, or anyone for that matter, Linsha could not see yet who it was. She was too weary and too morose to think clearly this early morning.
Tired of her own thoughts, Linsha climbed the steps to the high wall and watched the sun rise beyond the red hills. People born before the Chaos War thirty-eight years ago told her the sun had changed when the gods departed and the war ended. It was strange, smaller and paler than before. Yet it was the only sun she had ever known. It seemed adequate enough to her. After all, what could you do about a burning sun far beyond your grasp? Complaining didn’t change anything. Even the mages in the height of their power could not change the sun. There were just some things you had to accept.
An image of her father came into her mind as he had been the last time she saw him. He had made a special journey to Sancrist to visit her in the Solamnic prison. Palin had been strong then, still filled with his magic, and his presence had been a blessing to her. He had listened quietly to her tale of Sanction-and she had told him almost everything-and when she finished he hugged her close and approved of her decisions.
She’d heard since then that life had not fared well for him. Last year she received a message from her brother, Ulin, that their father had been captured by the Dark Knights. She wanted to go home then, but by the time she arranged for an emergency leave and transportation she received another note telling her he was alive and home again. The last word she had from Solace told her of her grandmother’s death. She wondered how her father was faring. Where was he? How was he adjusting to these changes in his life when there were no gods to pray to? He had always told her that he truly believed the gods would return some day. What would he tell her now?
She watched the cool gold light of day swell and fill the sky, sweeping like a tide over the city, bringing it to life. The faded gray and black of night passed into brilliant colors-the blue of the bay, the red of the hills, and the green of the fields and meadows. Traffic began to fill the streets of Mirage, and at the gate of the Citadel, a silver horn blared a greeting to the new day. Around her, the banners of the Knights of Solamnia filled and fluttered from the battlements in the new breeze. It would be another warm day, a delightful day to a city accustomed to cold winters and short summers; a perfect day to prepare for the Midsummer Festival that was just a few days away.
Footsteps behind her brought her out of her pensive thoughts and she turned to face a young Knight striding toward her.
“Lady, there is a beggar at the gates who wishes to see you,” he told her without a blink. The Knights of the garrison were used to greeting odd people at the gate for the Rose Knight.
“Send an escort to the stable to meet me. I will ride to the overlord’s palace in twenty minutes.”
She turned back to the wall and stared silently at the
brightening skies. To the north lay the vast expanse of the Plains of Dust. Beyond those miles of grassland, savannah, and desert was Sanction and Solace. An odd yet fitting choice of names for two places she desired to be.
A flash of light caught her eye from somewhere just beyond the distant ragged edges of the ruined city. Bright and yellow as brass, it caught the morning sun, dipping and soaring on the wind fresh from the sea. Linsha smiled. The big brass dragon was out enjoying a morning flight. Knowing the dragon as she did, Linsha assumed she had some spare time before Iyesta would be back in her lair and waiting for her. Linsha watched the dragon fly for another moment or two, then left the wall and returned to the headquarters to turn the watch over to the day officer. There was no time left for brooding thoughts or endless reflections on things she could do little about. Morning had come, and with it were a myriad of things she had to do before she could snatch a little sleep before reporting for duty again. With luck, Sir Morrec would be back today and she could get a little respite from Sir Remmik’s pompous lectures on the subject of obedience.
With a lighter heart Linsha walked to the gate to meet her visitor.
4
The Beggar and the Dragon
Linsha recognized the hunched and ragged figure waiting for her at the gate. She gave him the briefest nod and continued walking past the guard towers and along the path to the garrison’s main stables located in the large field to the north of the citadel. There was a stable available in the fortress itself, but it was small and its stalls were limited to horses used for message delivery and errand-running. Most of the Knights who had their own horse for personal use kept them in the bigger stable where the horses could be released into nearby pastures for exercise and fresh grass.
Knowing the beggar would follow her, Linsha continued along the path to the barn and walked into the dim interior. The stable lads were already up and hard at work cleaning stalls and feeding horses, but they had not reached her horse’s box yet. She waved one lad off who offered to help and fetched her own brushes and saddle. She poured a small scoop of fragrant grain into the horse’s trough and began to brush his coat while he ate his breakfast.
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