Linsha’s eyes narrowed, and she stared hard at the Akkad-Ur with a suspicious new thought. The last time he brought her into his tent and turned chatty, he’d manipulated her into stealing the Lance. What was he trying to accomplish now?
“Speaking of eggs, where are they?” she asked, trying to sound casual. She turned slowly to keep him in view while he walked over to his work table.
“They are safe. The ones that are left. We find them very useful.” He picked up something from the table, then turned and approached her.
Linsha almost ran. Only the thought of the guards just outside the tent and the strength of her own pride kept her standing in place. What would be the point of trying to run and making a fool of herself? Her eyes remained fixed on his golden mask, and her hands clenched into fists.
“Then what are you doing to Iyesta’s lair?” she asked, hoping to gain a little more time.
“Tearing it down so it will not be a temptation to other dragons or treasure-seekers. The tunnel entrance will be buried, the throne room destroyed.”
He stopped only a few inches away from her and looked down at her through the holes of the mask. “Your courage is almost equal to ours. It is a pity you are not a Tarmak.”
His hand lifted to her head, but he did not touch her body or lay his fingers on her face. Something gold slid over her head and slipped by her eyes. A thin, strong chain with two dragon scales fell neatly across her neck and into their familiar place on her chest.
She glanced down in surprise. “Why-”
The Akkad-Ur cut her off with a sharp command. Two guards entered the tent and took her by the arms. Before she could receive a reply, they hurried her out and returned her to the prison.
She stood bemused in the darkness of the old storehouse while the guards closed and barred the door behind her. Her hand went to the scales on the chain and touched them carefully. They felt the same with their familiar bumps and lines and smooth places, but who knew what the Tarmak might have done to them? When daylight came, she would try to examine them more carefully.
After a few minutes she became aware that the men in the prison were staring at her. The light from the torch just outside the door fell across her, setting her in a glow that made her very visible to men already accustomed to the dark. She glanced down at her clean clothes, and her heart sank. It didn’t take a wise man to know what they were thinking. She silently cursed the general into several generations.
Sir Remmik was the first to move. He walked over to her and studied her different clothes, the cleanliness of her skin, the glint of gold light on the dragon scales. His thin lips curled in a sneer.
“You have obviously been cooperative,” he remarked acidly. “That is another transgression to add to your record.” He picked up the dragon scales and turned them over in his fingers. “Were you trying to preserve your safety by trading favors with the Tarmak?”
For the first time in her life, Linsha struck a superior officer. The humiliation and apprehension she had felt in the Akkad-Ur’s tent, the frustration and misery she had endured in the cage, and the hatred she had felt for Sir Remmik since her arrival in the Missing City erupted like one of Sanction’s volcanoes. At the spurious insult to her honor, she pulled back a fist and punched him in the face.
The blow was so unexpected that the Knight Commander stumbled backward and fell to the ground, stunned. Linsha stepped over him. She leveled a glare at the rest of the Knights and the Legionnaires.
“Does anyone else have anything to say?” she snarled.
They eyed her warily like cattle eye an approaching lioness. No one said a word.
Only Lanther laughed. He climbed to his feet, stiff and dusty, and limped to greet her.
“Is this a new form of torture?” he called out. “Baths and clean clothes? Bring it here! Torture me!”
Her frown lightened. “You could even suffer the exquisite agony of Callista performing your torture.”
His eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. He took her elbow and led her aside. “Did she really?”
The others chuckled halfheartedly and let the matter slide for now. They were really too tired to deal with a furious woman. Lanther would get to the truth of the matter.
Linsha looked at his hollow eyes and thin face, at the livid scar on his cheek, and at the indomitable spirit she saw in his blue eyes, and she forced her cracked lips into a grin of sorts. She had forgotten Lanther had been one of Callista’s admirers.
“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.
11
