“Who are you?” Linsha asked in a daze.
First Mariana was murdered and now Lanther, her trusted friend, revealed himself to be an enemy. Her mind could hardly deal with such blows.
His lips lifted in a cold smile. “I am Lanther Darthassian, son of Bendic Darthassian, who served as Lord Ariakan’s ambassador and liaison to the emperor of the Tarmak empire.”
“You’re not a Legionnaire then,” she said, her thoughts whirling in confusion.
He laughed. Standing straight with his shoulders thrown back and his head held high, he stood taller than many men, but not quite as tall as most of the Tarmaks. When he pulled his lank hair back out of his face and tied it behind his head with a strip of leather, his entire expression turned more harsh and arrogant.
“Of course I am a Legionnaire. I was once a Knight of Neraka, as well. Long enough to learn the arts of the dark mystics, long enough to realize the Knights of my father’s day no longer existed. They are weak and ruled by a greedy, self-centered clerk. So I joined the Legion. They are not so rigid, so suspicious.”
Linsha felt a flicker of anger ignite in her head that burned away some of the confusion. Her eyes narrowed as she thought about what he had said, and had not said, and the truth became bitterly apparent.
“You are the spy who helped the Tarmaks.”
Lanther lifted one eyebrow.
“You are the spy we have been looking for all along.”
Sir Remmik stared at her, but she ignored him, focusing on the friend who had suddenly become a cold- blooded stranger, a stranger who betrayed Iyesta and her city and who leaked information that led to the massacre of hundreds of people. Again, Lanther agreed.
Linsha felt the betrayal like a knife in her gut. How could she not have seen it? He had been lying to her for a year and half and she never caught on. Never even suspected! What a fool she had been. She had given him her friendship, her trust, and her help. The only thing she had not given was her love. At least she had not fallen for him like Ian. Gods, would she ever learn? Images of their time spent together ran through her head, memories of things they had done, talked about, and witnessed as friends. She saw again in her mind the way she had seen him many times, the way he walked, his gestures, and the tones and timbres of his voice. Suddenly another memory settled into place like a puzzle piece into a long-empty hole. When he had spoken in the language of the Tarmaks, his voice had changed, becoming harsher and more guttural. Her hurt fueled her anger to a flame.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” she said in a rush of fury. “I thought the voice sounded familiar, but I just excused it as my imagination.
Lanther glanced at Sir Remmik with a sardonic twist to his lips. “Yes. Sir Morrec was a more dangerous leader. I needed to dispose of him. I was also hoping to keep the Solamnic Knights occupied and get you out of the Citadel before Thunder destroyed it. Sir Remmik played nicely into my plans.”
The Knight Commander went deathly pale, aware at last of the depth of the lies he had accepted.
Linsha lifted the sword again and shoved the point at Lanther’s neck. “Why?” she screamed. “Why did you do this? Why pretend to be a Legionnaire, a defender of the city, a friend to all of us? What kind of a bastard are you?”
“I am an adopted son of the Tarmak nation, and I owe them my allegiance. My honor. And I am a loyal servant of her dark majesty, the Queen of Dragons, the Lady of the Night, the goddess Takhisis.” His fingers gripped the sword point and forced it aside. “Beyond that, I will have to tell you later. We have much to do today.”
He snapped something to the guards beside him and Linsha found half a dozen swords suddenly poking the skin at her throat. Stinging frustration and anger battled with her common sense. She could see the pulse of his blood throb in the vein of his neck. It would be possible to ram her sword home into his traitorous throat… if she was ready to die with him.
Cursing under her breath, she lowered the Akkad-Ur’s sword and dropped it on the ground. Sir Remmik let go of his as well.
Lanther nodded to the warriors standing around the small group and spoke to them in their own tongue.
The Brutes growled like a pack of wolves and turned on the three Solamnic Knights with all the anger and vengeance they had kept in check. The two wounded Knights hardly knew what hit them, but the uninjured Knight stared in horrified terror at the warriors descending on him and tried to throw his body over his friend. All three men died together, pierced and hacked by a dozen swords.
Linsha turned away, her eyes clouded with tears. “Paladine preserve us,” she whispered.
Lanther took her arm and steered her in the direction of a group of watching Tarmaks on horseback.
From their size and the deeper color of their body paint, she guessed these were some of the officers. “Let us go,” he ordered. “We need to inform the army and a bronze dragon of a change in command.”
“You?” Linsha spat.
“Of course. It was my plan to conquer the Plains of Dust. I fully intend to carry it out. The Akkad-Ur was my friend and my general, but I was his second-in-command.”
Although he was shoving her ahead of him toward the officers, she twisted her head around and saw Sir Remmik being escorted behind her. In the churned sand of what once was a dueling square, she saw four warriors pick up the body of the Akkad-Ur and carry him reverently to a wagon. Good riddance, she thought with grim hatred. She was still stunned by Lanther’s revelation, but at least the truth was out. She knew who the spy was who had betrayed Iyesta and Missing City, she knew who killed Sir Morrec, and somewhere in a very small corner of her brain a tiny selfish thought noted with satisfaction that Sir Remmik now knew all of this, too.
She stood silently, conscious of many eyes upon her, while Lanther spoke to the Tarmak officers. His use of the Tarmak language was fluent, she observed, and the manner of the officers in his presence was respectful and attentive. What had he done, she wondered, to earn such consideration from such a martial race? To say he was intelligent was putting it mildly. He had hoodwinked an entire city, the dragon’s militia, Thunder, the circle of the Knights of Solamnia, the Legion of Steel, and even one small intelligent owl who had allowed herself to trust him. He was also cunning, ambitious, and probably a highly skilled warrior. He had survived the Dark Knights, after all, and while his limp was fake, the scar on his face was not. Instead of being a trusted ally, he had become a dangerous enemy. Linsha knew she had to gather her wits and find some way to escape from his grasp.
Crucible was waiting with barely concealed impatience by the edge of the Tarmak camp when a capricious wind whisked by and brought him a scent he had not caught in many days. His horned head snapped alert, and his nostrils flared to search the breeze for another hint of that smell. There it was again, coming from somewhere near the east end of the camp where the Akkad-Ur had disappeared some time ago. It was growing stronger. He leaped to his feet, his torn wings partially unfurled, and watched intently down the long lines of waiting Tarmaks and half-loaded wagons.
From his height, he saw her coming long before the Tarmaks around him realized the party was approaching. A low, rumbling growl started in his chest and vibrated up his long neck. Something was wrong. He could not smell or see the Akkad-Ur, but he could smell blood, and he saw Linsha following someone he had never liked. All at once he clamped his ears to his head, furled his wings tightly against his sides, and laid his belly on the ground, his front legs crossed. He did not know what had happened, but he had survived enough odd circumstances to sense when he needed to tread with care.
He watched through slitted eyes as the Tarmak officers, with Lanther, Linsha, and Sir Remmik in their midst, came into the place where the Akkad-Ur’s tent still stood. He tried not to show any surprise when the Tarmak guards by the tent saluted Lanther. What was going on? Crucible studied Linsha avidly to see if she was well and unharmed, or if she could give him any clues, but all she did was return his gaze with infinite sorrow. Her hands were tied, and her tunic was spattered with fresh blood.
Crucible heard someone speak and jerked his attention away from the woman. To his astonishment and dismay, Lanther strode over to Linsha and dragged her in front of him.
“The Akkad-Ur is dead, killed in a duel with the Solamnic Knight, Sir Remmik,” Lanther said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I am now commander of the army. I am the Akkad-Dar, and I hold the secret of the power over this dragon.”
Crucible’s eyes narrowed even further. This man was not a Tarmak, yet not one of the Brute officers or
