“But what if I need to get down there and find them again?” Linsha protested. “I will defend them as I would my own kin, but I need to know how to get to them.”

“Crucible can take you. Or, if he is not here, you can enter through that door.” She pointed to the ruinous building they had just left.

Linsha glanced around for the first time and realized they were in an overgrown section of the palace where Iyesta made her lair. A brilliant light suddenly flared beside her, and she scrambled out of the way as the brass returned to her dragon form. The dragon’s shadow fell over her.

Iyesta dipped her great head and scraped her cheek over a crumbling stone lintel. A small scale as bright as polished brass fell to the ground.

“If you take this,” Iyesta said, “it will help you find your way and protect you from the guardians. Don’t forget to warn the Legion.”

Iyesta then departed back to her lair and left Linsha standing bemused in the hot sunlight.

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.

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.