Linsha wanted to mingle among the people, listen to their worries, and gather what news she could, but she knew Sir Morrec wanted his escorts together. It made a stronger impression. She watched all the faces and the way people moved their bodies. She studied the dragon’s guards who stood about the courtyard, and she noted the emotions that flowed from person to person. She did not need her talent to read auras here. The tension that flowed in the courtyard was thick enough to pour over porridge. Linsha looked forward to learning what Varia overheard. The owl was already ensconced out of sight in some tree.

Fortunately, Iyesta had made arrangements to help make people comfortable. In the west end of the courtyard in the shade of three large trees, trestle tables and benches had been set up. Covered plates of sweet cakes and fruit waited beside cooled flagons of a light, fruited wine, ale, and for the strong of stomach, the Plains equivalent of the Khurish kefre sweetened with milk and honey.

As there was no sign of Iyesta and the doors of the throne room were closed, those attending the council made their way over to the tables and helped themselves while they waited for Iyesta to come. Sir Morrec and the Solamnics, looking resplendent in their blue and silver uniforms, claimed half an empty table for their own in the deepest shade and with the best view of the courtyard. They drank sparingly and ate only enough to be polite. Linsha barely touched anything.

When most of the people were seated and quietly talking among themselves, silver Pallitharkian and gold Desiristian appeared and took their places by the palace doors. Without fanfare, they opened the double doors together and bowed their heads as Iyesta emerged. Her shadow darkened the courtyard. In almost perfect unison, the gathered people bowed low before her.

Linsha was impressed. The great brass had obviously cleaned and polished her already beautiful scales until they dazzled with gold fire in the sun. She stood resplendent, the embodiment of power and grace and authority, and stared down the length of her snout at the people with her large gleaming eyes. If this doesn’t brace up the confidence of the population of the realm, Linsha thought, nothing could.

The huge dragon took her place front of the gathering, folded her wings, and lowered her head to hear what would be said. The other two dragons took up positions beside and slightly behind her.

“Lord Mayor,” said Iyesta. “Let us begin.”

For the next several hours, the leaders of the civil and military orders in Mirage discussed the latest news of Thunder’s perfidity and all it could mean to their city. Many people believed like Sir Remmik that the rumors of Thunder’s army had been blown out of proportion and that there was really little to worry about from the blue. Sable, they said, or Malys was the greater danger. But the naysayers did not argue that the Missing City needed more preparation. They made further plans for defense, including strengthening the city walls, increasing the food supplies in the warehouses, forging more arms, and stepping up the training of new recruits in the militia. More scouts would be sent out to watch every inland approach to the city, and the centaur patrols would be doubled.

Iyesta listened to the talk and added several changes to the plans, but most of the time she merely listened, observed, and occasionally offered her approval.

Linsha said little during the long discussions. She, too, sat and watched and listened and made mental notes to continue further discussions with specific people over the next couple of days. There were questions she wanted to ask that she knew would not be answered before a large group and suggestions that she could make more tactfully over a mince pie and a beer at the nearest tavern. To be honest, it was a relief to see other people finally shared her feelings of apprehension. Maybe now that the city was alert, things could get done and her unsettling intuitions would settle down and go away.

She poured herself another drink and tried not to sigh too loudly. The air was still and stiflingly hot under the trees. It gave her a headache that pounded behind her eyes and threatened to split her skull with increasing pressure. She rested her head in her hands and rubbed her temples, but nothing seemed to help. After several hours of talk, she stopped listening and turned her attention inward to the pain. All she wanted to do was go back to the Citadel, take some feverfew, and go to sleep.

The sun was an hour from sunset when Iyesta brought an end to the council. Weary, hot, and thankful it was over, the humans, centaurs, elves, and half-elves made their farewells to the brass and went their separate ways. Most were satisfied at the progress that had been made. All they needed was time and effort to complete the plans.

Sir Morrec, gritting his teeth, stayed until most of the guests were gone then went to Iyesta to pay his respects. The big dragon accepted his remarks gravely, and her red-gold eye stared at him unblinking. Iyesta knew how Sir Morrec felt about dragons, but she liked the man nonetheless.

After the Solamnics left Iyesta’s lair they rode without speaking. Linsha and Sir Morrec led two columns. The first part of their way passed through ruinous areas of the old city left deliberately unsettled by order of Iyesta. The phantom images of Gal Tra’kalas hovered around them, showing pleasant homes, flowering gardens, and elves preparing for evening.

Linsha watched the scenes around her for a little while, hoping the idyll peace would ease her headache, but it seemed to only grow worse. She felt breathless as if the air were thick and heavy and too difficult to breath. She had to force herself to sit straight in the saddle and not slump over her horse’s neck. The stillness of the evening around them became oppressive. The horses’ hooves echoed with an uncanny sound through the ruined streets.

A sudden gust of wind swept around them causing Sandhawk to tremble and toss his head. Linsha calmed the horse with her hands and knees, but her eyes stared in surprise at the ghostly scenes around her. The gust of wind that startled her horse had stirred the phantom trees and whipped up swirls of ghostly dust and debris in the vision of the elves’ old city. That wasn’t supposed to happen that she knew of. The old familiar feeling of apprehension suddenly bit her.

Another gust blew over them, a sucking wind from the east that stirred the sunken heat and sent dust devils dancing. In Gal Tra’kalas, a young elf maid ran by with her hand clutched to her head scarf and her eyes wide with dismay. A phantom dog dashed along the street, barking furiously. Other figures could be seen hurrying for shelter, closing windows, and rushing children under shelter.

“My lord,” Linsha heard one of the Knights call out. “You should see this.”

As one, the group reined to halt and followed the direction indicated by the Knight’s hand. They looked up beyond the ruins, beyond the images of the Missing City, to the western sky where the sun sat like a fiery egg on the edge of what looked like a sullen black mountain range of jagged, soaring peaks. On the nearly flat and treeless grasslands around Mirage, the phenomenon was startling.

“Kiri-Jolith’s glory!” one Knight exclaimed. “What is that?”

“Maybe it’s a dust storm,” said another.

“An eruption of volcanoes?” ventured a third.

“Could Thunder be doing that?”

After the long meeting they had just endured, the blue dragon was close on everyone’s mind, but Linsha, eyeing the odd-looking formations, doubted he was involved. For one thing, the clouds seemed to be expanding. Already the gray-black mass stretched from north to south and billowed upward at a frightening rate.

Worried, she said, “Sir Morrec, I don’t think Thunder has the power to do something like that, and I don’t believe that is a dust storm either.”