He glanced up the fiery display of the volcano above them. “I thought of loosening my control of the Lords of Doom and letting the mountains take back what I fought to save. There would be little left of the city to leave for the Dark Queen.”

Varia hooted softly. “You cannot. You are not like her.”

“No,” he agreed. “I cannot.” A silence settled over him, and he stared again down at the city he worked so hard to build.

He said nothing for a long while, and Varia let him he, knowing he would speak in his own good time. Beneath him, the ground trembled from the violent energies of the volcano and the roar of its voice filled the evening with a steady rumble of distant thunder.

“Since you are here, I must assume things are not going well in Missing City,” he said at last.

Varia agreed that no, things were not, and she told him of the massacre and Linsha’s capture by the Tarmaks. “She told me not to come. She worried for you. But they are torturing her. I fear if they do not kill her, they will enslave her-or worse, ship her away.”

Crucible’s large eyes blinked slowly as he pondered what the owl had said. “Stupid to fall for a trap like that. She cares so much for those eggs.” He fell silent again then went on. “So I must choose between a city and a woman.”

“A city you said was already doomed,” Varia pointed out.

She knew how much the dragon cared for both and how the loss of either would wound him deeply, but she also knew Sanction had a larger voice, a longer history, a deeper hold on the dragon’s soul. This was his home, his lair, his territory. No dragon would give up a lair without a fight for anything less than a very powerful reason. Linsha, on the other side, had only one small owl to speak for her, and Varia was not going to leave without her best effort of persuasion.

“If what you fear is true,” she forced herself to go on, “if the Dark Queen is back in our world, then nothing you can do will save Sanction. Her temple was here years ago, and to this place she is naturally drawn. She will come here, her Knights will take the city, and they will kill you.”

He snorted a jet of agitated steam. “I will not abandon my city just to save my life. I do not know with a certainty that Takhisis will come here.”

“I don’t suppose you have heard the voices of any of the other gods?” Varia asked hopefully.

“No. She is alone… gathering her armies.”

Varia clacked her beak in anger. She despised the dark goddess Takhisis with all her being. She hoped that the dragon was wrong, that he was just suffering from a difficult day or depression or loneliness. On top of everything else this long-suffering world dealt with, the goddess was the last thing they needed. She tried one more time.

“Linsha needs you, Crucible. You don’t have to stay. On your wings you can fly to Iyesta’s lair, free Linsha, and be back in Sanction before the Dark Knights miss you. Give your life to that evil bitch if you must, but help your friend first.”

He climbed to his feet, causing the owl to flutter off his leg. “I will think about it. There is much to decide. Go to the palace and wait there.”

Varia knew better than to argue. She flew off the ledge and angled down the mountain. She glanced back once in time to see the bronze’s tail disappear into the darkness of his cave.

The palace was in an uproar. Doors slammed and booted feet ran up and down the halls. Men shouted orders, and servants scurried everywhere. Outside, the governor’s guards locked and sealed the doors and gates and positioned themselves along the walls and the roof.

In an embrasure of a window in Lord Bight’s room Varia sat and listened to the noises. Something was obviously happening. The governor’s palace was not usually so chaotic. She stared out the leaded glass window to the courts below and watched the guards in their red tunics. They were all fully armed, and those who were not manning the walls seemed to be searching the grounds for something. What was going on?

A small noise drew her attention away from the window in time to see a panel slide open in the wall close to Lord Bight’s large bed. The Lord Governor stepped through and, holding the panel open behind him, gestured to the bird.

Curious, Varia flew to his arm and sat quietly while Lord Bight stepped back into a narrow passage and closed the panel. Without speaking, he carried her down narrow stairs and down dim and musty passages until they reached the lowest level of the palace cut deep into the bedrock of the hill. They came to another stone wall that slid aside under Lord Bight’s hand, and proceeding with caution, he stepped out into a dark tunnel.

“What is happening?” Varia said at last.

“I had to make a few arrangements,” Lord Bright replied, his voice curt.

“Where are we going?”

“Mount Thunderhorn. Crucible will go to Missing City.”

He said nothing more, but Varia was satisfied. She gripped his arm and rode quietly while he carried her down deeper into the maze of tunnels and passages that cut underneath the city of Sanction. Here in the realm of the Shadowpeople, he slipped silently through, unseen by his people above, and came at last to the tunnel that linked the lower levels with the cavern that was Crucible’s lair.

“The dragon cannot stay long on the Plains,” Lord Bight said as he climbed the long stairs. “You understand that. Much is happening. I fear a greater war than our small siege is about to descend on Ansalon. Crucible must come back.”

Varia hooted her agreement.

They reached the back entrance to the cavern close to a deep cleft that dropped down into a stream of lava. The cave was deadly hot and reeked of molten rock. A deep rumbling noise vibrated the rocks around them. The noxious fumes and the heat did not seem to bother Lord Bight, but Varia was forced to fly out of the cave and wait. Moments later, the bronze dragon emerged, stretching his stout legs and unfurling his long wings. He looked like he had just awakened from a nap.

He waited until the owl found a safe perch on his back, then he leaped off the ledge. He rose high above Mount Thunderhorn, his wings outstretched to catch the hot air boiling off the volcano. With a flip of his tail, he turned south and soon left Sanction behind.

To the people who lived in the region of Missing City and to those travelers who crossed the Plains, Sinking Wells was an oasis, a resting place, and a source for tales. Called a well, it was actually an old sinkhole created thousands of years before when an underground cavern collapsed. Through the centuries it slowly filled with sand, dirt, dead animals, and wind-blown debris until it dropped only thirty feet at its deepest end. The only thing that sank was the water level that rose or fell according to the rainfall and the underground water table. During some years the water would brim near the banks of the oval-shaped hole, and other times the water dropped out of sight below ground, forcing visitors to trek down a slippery path to an old well shaft that pierced down into the earth at the bottom of the sinkhole.

As Linsha well knew, Sinking Wells was not a fortress. It was a gathering place. It had no fortified walls, protective landmarks, or even heavy brush where people could hide. All it had was water and a central location in the region around Missing City. Now, a few days after the massacre at Scorpion Wadi, it also had twenty-six survivors, scouts, messengers, and outpost guards-the last remnant of the city’s proud defenders.