Midyear’s Day came and went almost unheeded in the Missing City. Those few who did think of it usually did so when they saw a battered remnant of the garlands and banners hung on the streets of Little Three Points where the festival would have been held, or the flooded race grounds where the horses would have raced that day, or a special bit of finery that would have been worn. Most people, though, thought only of loss and grief and stunned confusion.

The hardest part for many people was the bizarre feeling of unfamiliarity in their own community. The images of Gal Tra’kalas had been irritating, confusing, interesting, and amusing all in their turn, but the phantom city had been a part of the life in the real city for as long as the inhabitants had been there, and its disappearance left a wrenching hole. Nothing looked the same. The streets were emptier, the grounds looked a little shabbier, and there was nothing to hide the almost overwhelming destruction of the great storm. The Storm of 38 it would be called forever in Mirage. The year the Missing City became truly lost.

The following day came in warm and windy, and the city slowly dried out. Because of the efforts of the townspeople, the Legion, and Iyesta’s militia, almost all the dead had been accounted for and the injured had been tended to. The debris in the harbor was being cleared, as was the ruined waterfront. Plans were already underway to replace the docks. Sadly, the city’s small fishing fleet would be harder to replace. Only two fishing boats survived, and those were found among the wreckage and flotsam on the beach where they had been flung after their anchor chains snapped. The others were sunk, and their crews gradually washed ashore in ones and twos at the changing of the tides.

Across the four quarters, the sound of hammers and saws filled the streets. While people sorted through the damage and salvaged what could be saved or reused, others hauled the trash and debris out of the city to be burned, and many more began the laborious task of rebuilding. The dead were quickly buried in a mass grave on a hill overlooking the city. In the open market, a few vendors opened their stalls and sold food or whatever could be found to sell. Mirage slowly resumed a semblance of its normal activity.

Only one other thing truly hung like a pall over the peoples’ reviving spirits. The missing dragons. Iyesta and her companions had not yet returned to Mirage from wherever they had gone, and people were growing worried. Could it be possible, they wondered, that Iyesta had abandoned her realm and left for some unknown destination? Maybe she had gone back to the Dragon Isles. Maybe she was hunting Thunder. Maybe the disappearance of Gal Tra’kalas and the dragons were linked. The speculations ran rampant.

A few people thought of Linsha and her friendship with the big brass, and they came to the Citadel to ask if they could talk to the Rose Knight. Word of the massacre had flown around the city, and many people grieved the death of Sir Morrec, hut few knew of the charges against Linsha. They were sent away at Sir Remmik’s orders, who said only that Linsha was unavailable.

The head of the Legion in Mirage, Falaius Taneek, came to the Citadel to talk to Sir Remmik about Linsha, the assassination, and the Solamnics’ reluctance to help. His Order was stretched thin, and he wanted the help of the Solamnics. He left after a short while, his swarthy face suffused with anger.

Sir Remmik paid little attention to the Legionnaire’s ire or to the pleas from the city for help, information, or anything the Solamnics would be willing to give. To him, there was only the Circle. They had dead to bury and a trial to complete. The Citadel itself had sustained some damage from lightning and wind and would need to be repaired. After these duties had been completed, then he would consider the Legion’s request for help.

The new Solamnic commander debated with himself about holding Linsha’s trial that day, then he changed his mind. The seven dead Knights had to be buried-and fairly quickly due to the summer heat. He wanted them interred properly and with the honor befitting their stations. A proper burial with all its pomp and ceremony for a fallen commander and his escort would not allow for a trial in the same day. Nor did Sir Remmik want to besmirch the memory of the fallen with any thought of the one responsible for their deaths. Linsha’s trial was postponed for a day.

The Knights dug a grave in the field behind the Citadel. The six Knights of the escort, their bodies cleaned and dressed in mail and uniform, were laid side by side. Sir Morrec had a grave of his own just a pace away. After the rituals of burial had been completed, the two graves were covered with stones and heaped with earth to form a single mound. Seven spears were placed upright on the grave, and a single Knight sang a dirge for the dead.

As soon as the burial was completed, the Knights returned to the castle and went about their duties. Sir Remmik returned to the commander’s office and thought for a long while about justice, law, and the organization of a council legal enough to judge the charges against a Rose Knight. He would have to justify his actions in a report to the Grand Master in Sanction. He decided to put the trial off one more day. The extra time could be put to good use questioning others in the Citadel who might know reasons why the accused would do such a terrible thing. There was no question in his mind that this killing had been a murder. He just couldn’t understand why she would risk it. Sir Morrec had been more than tolerant of her aberrant behavior. Maybe he had come to learn something about her that she could not allow to be revealed. Maybe he just got in the way of some plot she was hatching. Remmik had to find out and prove it conclusively to the circle and the city. He was not going to allow this woman to evade punishment this time. By the symbol of the crown he wore, he would rid the order of this troublemaker once and for all.

The morning of the 25th of Corij came hot and breezy and dry enough to evaporate the last puddles in the streets of the Missing City. Outside the headquarters of the Legion of Steel, not far from the waterfront, Falaius Taneek tilted his head back and watched his workers repair the roof of their two-story building.

“Have the scouts reported back yet?” he asked the dark-haired man beside him.

Lanther barely shook his head. “I expect them back any time.”

“Do you believe this rumor?”

“I have no reason to distrust my informant.”

“If you’re right, this city could be in serious trouble.”

Lanther grunted. “What about the Solamnics?”

“They are still busy with their own affairs,” Falaius replied. “I have tried to talk to Sir Remmik, but he is single-minded to say the least.”

“Is there nothing we can do? I cannot believe she is responsible for this death.”

“We cannot interfere in Solamnic affairs.”

“He will do his best to dishonor her,” Lanther warned.

“I know.”

“It means execution.”

“I know.”

“Could we get her out?” Lanther whispered.

Falaius did not look around or react in any obvious way. He continued to stare at the roof. “As commander of this cell I am not permitted to authorize such a flagrant infringement of Solamnic jurisdiction.”

“Unless, of course, you don’t know about it.”

“If something is done without my knowledge, I cannot voice an opinion on it.”

Lanther understood. He nodded to the plainsman and took his leave to collect his latest disguise. He could not attend the council to learn of Linsha’s fate, but he had a way to get into the Solamnics’ stable to hear the news from the grooms. They would know almost as soon as the verdict was passed. In the meanwhile, he would wait for the scouts he had sent along the coast and take care of a few details of his own.