“If they are planning a campaign for this year,” General Dockett replied, “they will have to move before winter.”
Linsha stirred, remembering what Falaius had told her. The centaur had come with news of his own. “What about your people? What is the news from Duntollik?”
A look of frustration marred the centaur’s face. “We are watching and preparing what we can. Something is happening in Qualinesti. There have been large troop movements over the border and a great deal of activity among the dwarves in Thorbardin. Sable has been quiet, but we heard disturbing news from Schallsea.”
The men bent over their maps again, intent on gleaning every bit of information from Horemheb’s news. Soon they were asking questions of their own, jabbing at the maps, and talking to the centaur.
Linsha listened for a moment, hoping to hear the news about Schallsea, then felt herself pulled back by a hand on her arm. “Come see this prisoner who spoke of the eggs,” Lanther whispered. “He won’t last much longer.”
She turned to go, but Horemheb stopped her with one last question. “Lady, where is this Abyssal Lance you spoke of? Do you still have it?”
Linsha could not speak for a moment through the welter of emotions that suddenly assailed her. Anger, shame, dismay, and regret whipped on by a deep-seated fear-all charged through her thoughts.
“I don’t know where it is,” she said at last. “We were forced to leave it in Thunder’s body, and when we returned to retrieve it, it was gone.”
She said nothing more, nor did she wait to hear any possible disappointed comments or critical remarks from anyone. She’d already heard them all or said them to herself. She turned and walked away with Lanther, leaving Leonidas, Horemheb, and the men to finish their discussion.
4
The prisoner huddled against the wall of the stone cell. There were only three holding cells in the Post, all carved into the rock wall of the canyon and all large enough to hold at least five large men. The prisoner, the sole occupant of his cell, looked small and pathetic on the floor, like a pale pile of bloody rags.
Linsha eyed him critically. “Another one?” she said with some disapproval.
Lanther was not known for his ability to treat enemy prisoners with kid gloves. He was usually a patient and deliberate man, but almost two years ago he had spent too many days in the hands of Sable’s guards after they caught him in the swamp. He still bore the limp and the scars to prove it. Since that time he had little patience or mercy left to offer uncooperative enemy prisoners.
He shrugged at her question. “In truth, we found him like this. I think the mercenaries left him out in the Rough to die.”
The Rough, the rock-strewn, scrubby grasslands on the outskirts of the Missing City certainly would have finished off a wounded man-if the wild dogs, the lions, or the ants did not find him first.
Linsha looked closer at the prisoner and realized the tatters and rags she had taken for his clothes were just an undertunic and some leggings. There was no sign of boots, cloak, outer tunic, vest, jerkin, or even armor. The man had been stripped of everything but his undergarments.
“Did your men take-?”
“We would have if he’d had any, but he was left the way you see him. I think he irritated someone.” He pulled the rough wooden door open further, lifted a torch from its bracket, and thrust it into the gloom.
The two stepped inside. Varia dropped from Linsha’s shoulder and glided into the darkness of the cell. Extending her taloned feet, she landed gently on the wounded man’s back. The prisoner did not move. The owl craned her neck to study the man’s face half-hidden by his out-flung arm.
“This one is dead,” Varia hooted softly. She hopped to the ground close to his head.
Lanther swore and hurried over. Rolling the man over, he held the torch over the slack, battered face.
A stink of urine, sweat, and old blood rose from the body. The corpse’s face stared glassily through half- closed lids. He was a young man, Linsha noticed, too short to be a Tarmak and too well fed and heavily muscled to be one of the townsfolk still living in the city. A mercenary, probably. He had been viciously beaten on his head and torso and whipped across his back. She also noticed some odd burn marks on his temples. What had he done to deserve such treatment?
She knelt beside the body and closed the bruised eyelids. “Leonidas mentioned the eggs?”
Lanther irritably pushed a hank of dark hair out of his eyes and glared down at the corpse. “Gods blast it. I wanted you to hear this man’s story from his own lips.”
“Does it matter? Did you think I wouldn’t trust you? Since he can’t, you tell me.”
With an abruptness marked with annoyance, Lanther rolled the body back onto its stomach. “He claimed the Tarmaks have moved the dragon eggs back into the labyrinth. He didn’t know why, and he was hazy about where. Apparently he wasn’t supposed to be down in the tunnels-none of them are because some of Iyesta’s guardians are still loose down there. But he said they-meaning the mercenaries-went down there often through Iyesta’s throne room to look for more treasure.”
“I can believe that. They were not happy when the Tarmaks cleared out the treasure during our attack.”
“No,” Lanther agreed.
“So he stumbled on the nest?”
“No. He overheard a large party of Tarmaks moving through the tunnels. He told me he followed them for a short way because they were carrying large baskets.”
Linsha lifted the owl back to her shoulder and walked with Lanther out of the cell. “How did he know they had the eggs?” she questioned, continuing their conversation as he left the door open and replaced the torch in its bracket.
“He wanted to get close enough to see if they were carrying treasure, but when he heard them discussing eggs, he hightailed it out of there.”
“So who beat him?”
They walked into a small adjoining room.
“His captain,” Lanther answered. “He didn’t say why.”
Her arms crossed, Linsha gazed silently at the wall of the small guardroom that served the men who kept watch on the cells. It was empty at that moment and very quiet. The news of the eggs rolled around and around her head. As questionable as it was, this was the first clue she had of the eggs that was more solid than the hints, hopes, and rumors she had heard before. Was it worth checking?
“You’re not thinking of going, are you?” Lanther said with no sign of alarm. He poured a cup of weak wine from a small supply that had been set aside for the officers. He gave it to her.
She pulled her mouth into a wry grin and lifted the cup in a mock salute. “You knew I would. You wouldn’t have told me any of this if you had been deeply concerned about the truth of the matter. You would have let him die in silence.”
“True.” He poured another cup of wine and saluted her in turn. “Your sense of honor is something I admire and can depend on.”
“Will you go with me?” she asked, knowing he would. His sense of honor was equally as predictable, and despite his limp, he was an excellent companion to have on a clandestine quest.
“Of course.”
“This could be a trap. The Tarmaks know we want the eggs. They could have planted that man out in the Rough for us to find.”
“Agreed. We should take some centaurs with us in case we find the eggs. If we find them, we can bring them back here.”
“Good idea. Leonidas wouldn’t want to be left out.”
Linsha felt that old feeling of subdued excitement steal back into her thoughts. It was a tense, exhilarating
