Phytos cantered to her side. "Thou would have us abandon these poor folk here, Mynx? They are destitute, as anyone with eyes can see."

"Abandon them? I would have you kill them!"

The centaurs, and the slaves on their backs, burst out in fresh protests. The trio in the path did not move, but the two women glared daggers at Mynx.

"Let me ask them just one question," Mynx demanded.

Phytos nodded. "One question, then."

Mynx faced the trio again. "What spice is in Otik's specialty, the one the fried sausage is known for? If you have truly eaten at the Inn of the Last Home, you will know. It is an easy question. Hurry, now."

I…" The women exchanged glances. The crone frowned at the younger woman, who then turned back to Mynx and snapped, "Pepper! The spice is hot pepper. Now can we get some help from you, or will you make us talk all night while my son dies?"

"Well?" Phytos asked quietly.

"Wrong!" Mynx sang out. "It's not pepper. In fact, it's not even sausage. Otik is known throughout Solace for his spiced potatoes. Anyone who had ever been near the city would know that. Moreover, the Inn is not next to the town square, as this woman said. You've been ensorceled, centaurs!"

For an instant, the centaurs milled about uncertainly. Some drew their bows, while others fingered their war clubs, and still others continued to counsel patience. The slaves, even Ceci Vakon, likewise seemed confused.

Then the fog melted away.

At that instant, the three fugitives vanished. In their places stood three haggard old women. Two, Mynx's height, had greenish skin, while the third, at least half again as tall as the others, had a deep blue complexion. All bore moles and warts, stringy hair, and withered faces. Their teeth were black. Their hands ended, not in finger shy;nails, but in long claws that looked to be as strong as iron.

"Hags!" shouted one of the centaurs. "An annis hag and greenhags! Fellow centaurs, Mynx is right. We've been magicked! Attack!"

The centaur, a slender male carrying a young man, dashed forward. The largest hag calmly reached out, clasped the man-horse around the torso with both hands, and crushed him. She flung the body away with a laugh, chased down the centaur's rider, and did the same to him.

"Next?" she taunted, her foul breath polluting the air.

Three centaurs let fly with arrows at the same instant. The hags leaped aside.

"By the gods," Phytos cried. "The speed! The strength!"

Another half-dozen centaurs, wielding clubs, leaped toward the hags. The wizened crones deftly outran them, closing and grappling when the opportunity arose. Soon two slaves and three more centaurs lay crushed on the ground, victims of the annis hag. Mynx, caught without a mount in the melee, sought to fight her way to the rear of the surging crowd. Finally Phytos grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to one side.

The other centaurs continued to do battle, but the hags were too quick. They always managed to sidestep the cen shy;taurs' clubs.

The hags finally drew back. Another centaur let an arrow fly, but the greenhags merely disappeared. The annis hag deflected the arrow with one hand.

"They don't need to fight us," Phytos said. "They merely seek to delay us. Thou wast right, Mynx. Hederick must have sent them."

"But Hederick hates magic!" Kifflewit cried.

"Unless he has some necessary use for it," Mynx mur shy;mured. She probed her memory for information about hags. How to stop them? "Where are the two greenhags?" she asked suddenly.

A cry from the centaurs answered her question. One of the centaurs to Mynx's left suddenly grasped his neck, where invisible hands had crushed his windpipe. He went down, gagging and kicking. The woman who'd been astride him leaped away.

"Phytos!" Mynx shouted. "The gem!"

Phytos looked confused.

"The gem they gave you. It's a hag's eye. It's magical. Destroy it!"

Phytos looked in his hand, where the mud-colored jewel still nestled. Then he flung it to the ground and stamped upon it with his forehooves.

Three screams sounded through the forest. The annis hag clapped her hands over her eyes. "Sisters, I'm blind!"

she cried. The two greenhags reappeared. They, too, were pawing at their eye sockets.

It took but three centaurs armed with clubs and arrows to slay the hags.

Mynx found the female centaur who had been carrying her. "Hurry!" the thief shouted. "We may be too late already!" Her hand reflexively went to her neck, to where she'd placed the Diamond Dragon for safe-keeping.

Her fingers found… nothing. Mynx immediately cried out and countermanded her own order.

The centaurs pulled up, protesting, as Mynx groped under her armor for the Diamond Dragon. Perhaps it and its thong had slipped under the armor's gorget, she thought. Phytos caught the panic-stricken look in her eye and understood immediately.

"Thou hast lost it?" he cried. "The magical artifact?"

"I don't know," Mynx returned. "I was pushed and shoved in the battle. Perhaps it fell off."

The centaurs and humans lost valuable time searching for the Diamond Dragon.

Finally, Kifflewit Burrthistle found it, stomped into the mud. "Here it is!" he chirped. He bolted over to Mynx and handed it to her with a flourish. Hands shaking, she retted it around her neck.

"Hurry!" she shouted. "We've no time to waste."

The slaves remounted. The centaurs leaped into a can shy;ter, and then a gallop. Trees flew by. To the east, a yellow glow announced the arrival of day. Mynx glanced down; the Diamond Dragon sat serenely atop the gorget of her mismatched armor.

Mynx frowned. One of the diamonds was missing. She found herself hoping it wouldn't make any difference in the artifact's power. At any rate, there was no time to backtrack and search some more.

"Hurry!" she repeated. "Oh, please hurry!"

The longtime thief found herself breathing the first prayer of her life.

Meanwhile, on a nearby centaur, Kifflewit Burrthistle patted one of his pouches. Yes, the diamond was still in there. It had sure been loose when he picked up the arti shy;fact. What a lucky thing he had been there to pry the jewel out of its setting and keep it safe.

Who knew what trouble there might be if it were lost, he thought.

Outside Tarscenian's cell, footsteps scuffled on the flag shy;stones. A temple guard.

Tarscenian stood and faced the door of his prison cell. The footsteps stopped. Hands rattled the tiny window in the door and slid it aside.

Hederick's face peered in at Tarscenian. The older man inclined his head and waited for the High Theocrat to speak first.

"I have come to offer you clemency," Hederick said.

"Ah. But at what price, Hederick?"

"Tell me where the Diamond Dragon is," the High Theocrat ordered. "If you do this, I will let you go."

As near as Tarscenian could guess, the magical artifact was probably waltzing through Krynn in the pouch of a carefree kender, but the old man would die before he'd tell Hederick that. "I do not know, High Theocrat."

"Of course you do," Hederick snapped.

"If I knew where it was, why would I have ventured into the temple? Into your quarters?" Tarscenian asked reasonably. He gazed at Hederick. There was no sign of the frightened boy he once had been.

"Remember the giant lynx, Hederick?" Tarscenian asked quietly. "Remember how we fought it off together? You fought fair, once."

"Don't change the subject," the High Theocrat spat out. "If you came into the temple, it must be because the Dia shy;mond Dragon is hidden here somewhere. That's it, isn't it, Tarscenian? Tell me where it is, and I'll arrange to have my minions transport you safely away from Erolydon."

Tarscenian shrugged. "As a dead body, no doubt."

Hederick drove his fist into the thick door. "I will kill you slowly, false priest! I will torture you, I swear. It will take you days to die. No one defies me. Everyone in Solace will witness your humiliation."