“Yes,” she replied wearily. “It’s an old form of humiliation and division. I didn’t tell him anything, Lanther. He already knew the answers he wanted. And no-” she added quickly when his eyebrows drew together in a silent question-“I did not give him anything else.”

She went to an empty place by the wall and sagged down into a sitting position, her legs stretched out.

He fetched water for her and a few crumbs of bread he had saved from their meager dinner, and they talked softly for several hours, comparing information and questions and conjectures about the Tarmaks. They tried to decide who the spy in their midst could be, but they came no closer to identifying a suspect.

“I would like to think it is Sir Remmik,” Linsha said with a grimace. Her hand still hurt from the punch she had given the Knight Commander, and her pride still hurt from his insult. “He would do almost anything to preserve his reputation and the Circle.”

“Including betray the militia?” Lanther asked with interest. He didn’t like the Knight anymore than Linsha did. “He was questioned rather extensively today.”

She sighed. “I know he doesn’t truly care about the militia. But he lives for the letter of the law. His entire set of beliefs rest solely in the Oath and the Measure. And the Oath and the Measure do not allow for betraying one’s allies. Besides,” she said with a tired chuckle, “if he had been feeding the Tarmaks information from the beginning, he would have worked a deal to save his beloved citadel.”

Lanther grunted. “I suppose you’re right. Being a traitor does seem beneath his dignity. Perhaps it is someone outside the militia, one of the townspeople who came to the Wadi? Perhaps this person is already dead.”

Linsha slipped down until she was lying on her back. “Perhaps. Whoever it is knows a great deal about me and Varia and Crucible. I think the Tarmaks are hoping Crucible comes back.”

The Legionnaire looked at her, interested by her statement. “Why do you say that?”

“The general thinks Varia went to get him.”

“Did she?”

“I don’t know. But I think they still have the Abyssal Lance somewhere, and Crucible is the only dragon likely to give them trouble right now. All the others seem to be busy with their own problems or are missing… or dead. Now that the mercenaries, the militia, Thunder, Iyesta, and her companions are gone, there is no one left but Crucible who can stop them from spreading across the Plains.”

“What if Crucible stays in Sanction?”

Memories of a tall, blond lord governor teased Linsha’s mind. “I hope he does,” she replied. “Lord Bight needs him more.”

She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to dwell in Sanction for a time. She had faced many difficulties and disasters in Sanction, but there had been a few joys as well. Her unexpected friendship with Lord Bight had been one of those. He was not an easy man to know, prone to arrogance and temper and hidden secrets. Nevertheless, she respected him and liked him in spite of his erratic moods, and she liked to think he cared for her too.

After a while, when she said nothing more, Lanther leaned over her and realized she had fallen asleep. He studied her face for a short time, noticing the new lines and shadows on her lovely features. Hesitantly he reached out and traced a finger along her cheekbone and jaw. He did not think he would ever forget the memory of her standing over the prone Knight with her fist clenched and her green eyes alight with fury. She was a woman worthy of much more than a prison cell and slavery. With a slight grin on his face, he lay down beside her and joined her in sleep.

It took Varia six days to fly from Missing City to Sanction. During that time she passed over the noxious swamp of the black dragon, Sable, and was chased by a foul winged creature with no feathers, leathery wings, and the head of a lizard. She found herself over Blцde the fourth day and was shot at by ogres. On the fifth and sixth days she flew through the passes and valleys of the southern Khalkist Mountains until at last she saw the smoking peaks of the Lords of Doom. Weary and wingsore she flew past Mount Ashkir and circled warily over the city of Sanction. She was relieved to see little had changed since her brief visit three months ago. Many of the ships in the harbor still flew the Solamnic flag. The city walls were still standing; the moat of lava still flowed like a fiery necklace around the city, and the Knights of Neraka still camped outside the city walls in the mouths of the two passes to the east and the north. There were no signs of heavy damage to the city buildings and no apparent indication of imminent disaster. The population moved freely about the city streets and harbor, making the best of another day in a long, bitter siege.

Varia cooed a sound of relief. The sight of the city reassured her that things had changed little since her last visit here. She was about to fly to the Governor’s Palace to find Lord Bight when her sharp eyes caught the glint of something metallic where the light of the setting sun gleamed on the steep side of Mount Thunderhorn. Tipping a wing, she flew toward it.

The dragon sat on a broad ledge that cut across the flank of the peak. Behind him a large crevice opened into a cave that had once been the lair of a red dragon. Now it served the bronze as a shelter when he needed it and gave him a vantage point that looked out over the entire city. Above him, the massive crown of the volcano spewed lava into the air and sent smoke boiling into the sky.

Varia glanced nervously up at the peak before she came to a landing on the dragon’s long wing. He didn’t seem to notice she was there, so she hopped across to his crossed front legs and rested on his forearm. Still he said nothing while he gazed silently across the panorama of the city below him. His long face looked pensive, and his golden eyes seemed lost in some ancient memory. She turned her head to look down at Sanction. Shadows of evening slowly filled the streets, and twinkling lights were starting to appear like fireflies along the buildings and the harbor. The golden rivers of lava glowed a deep yellow-orange in the gathering dusk. In the east pass near the base of Mount Thunderhorn, she could see the watchfires of the Dark Knights burning.

“I am losing the city,” Crucible said, his deep voice resonant with sadness.

Varia swiveled her head up to look at him then looked at the city again. It appeared no different to her. There were no Dark Knights in the streets. No fires burned out of control. No warriors swept up to the walls to kill the city.

“I can hear her voice,” he said so softly that the owl had to concentrate to hear him. “She is out there, calling. The chromatic dragons are answering her call. The dead listen and obey her. I can feel her will bending toward Sanction, and I can do nothing about it. She will take it from me.”

The owl stared up at the big dragon in amazement. Who was he talking about? Linsha? She flipped her wings and hooted a question.

The dragon’s big head tilted down toward her. “I thought she was gone, but now I know she has been here all along. I heard her voice in the great storm, and now I hear it again. She is coming.”

“Who?” The owl screeched.

“Takhisis.”

Varia nearly slipped off his scaly leg in surprise. What was he talking about?

“The dark goddess left with the others after the Chaos War.”

Crucible tilted his head as if he was still listening to a faraway voice. “I don’t think so. I think she is still on Krynn, in hiding maybe. She wants Sanction back.”

Varia’s eyes grew to round globes. She did not doubt the validity of the dragon’s belief. She, too, remembered that horrible storm and the terrifying voices in its winds. Although she had no feeling yet of the goddess’s presence in the world, if Crucible insisted it was true, she would not argue with his feelings. “What will you do?” she asked.