unnatural angle, forcing him to his knees. Her green eyes turned to flint.
“How many eggs are here?” she snapped.
His face screwed up in agony and his reddish skin turned pale. “Nine,” he croaked. “The Akkad-Dar took two with him.”
“That bastard,” she swore, unconsciously putting more pressure on the priest. Something snapped. He moaned and flopped to his side. Linsha let him go, for at that moment she noticed the eggs. “They’re different! These are darker and duller,” she said. “Where are the brass eggs?”
She hauled the priest to his feet again and shoved him close to a hot brazier that glowed under a metal tray containing a layer of sand and one egg.
“We’ve been treating them,” the priest admitted. His eyes rolled back to see the brazier and his hands plucked nervously at her wrists.
“Treating them? Treating them with what?”
There was a tremendous shout in the corridor and the door slammed open. Sir Hugh and the rebels charged in prepared to rescue Linsha. When they saw her, her expression fearsome and her prisoner well in hand, they skidded to a halt in relief and surprise.
“What have you been treating them with?” Linsha repeated. She glanced at the soldiers around her and nodded. Several hurried away.
“I don’t know,” the priest gabbled. “A mixture the Akkad-Dar gave us.”
Linsha threw up her hands, shoving him aside. “Kill him,” she said to Sir Hugh. “He won’t cooperate.”
The knight drew back his sword to strike the priest, but Shurnasir cowered down. “All right! We’re treating the eggs with a special potion to make them hatch faster.”
Linsha couldn’t believe her ears. “Is that possible?” she asked the elves.
The four Qualinesti studied the eggs for a moment, looked at each other, and shrugged. “We have never heard of such a thing,” one said.
“But they do look as if they are ready to hatch,” commented the elder. “I have seen a clutch of brass eggs at this stage and they hatched within days.”
“Why would you do this?” Linsha demanded. “Those eggs aren’t supposed to hatch for years. You could be destroying the embryos.”
“Not so far,” the priest said, a touch of smugness creeping into his voice. “We have examined several the past few months, and their progress has been excellent.”
Linsha’s anger flared again. “Examined them!” she exclaimed. “I’ve seen your examinations. It’s a wonder there are any left at all! Why would you do this?”
He quailed back from her anger and the power he felt in her. “The Akkad-Dar wants them to hatch early so he can use them.”
“Use them for what?”
Sir Hugh glanced uneasily out the door and said, “Linsha, I think we need to take those eggs and go. If Lanther is really on his way, we don’t have much time.”
The reminder was like a bucket of cold water dashed on her head. Her temper cooled and reason returned. Her head still throbbed from the priest’s spell and her own surge of magic, but she knew Hugh was right. There was still much work to do. “Tie him up. We’ll let Lanther deal with him.”
The priest’s eyes grew huge, and he groaned. He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door. Two arrows struck him at the same time and sent him spinning to the floor.
Linsha nodded to the elves. “That was probably far kinder than anything Lanther would have done to him,” she said.
The company quickly got to work. Linsha found a pair of heavy gloves, and using those to lift the eggs from their hot nests, she placed them carefully on heavy wool blankets. The eggs were wrapped, put in thick feed sacks, and carried gently outside. When the last egg was removed, Linsha took a final look around the stone vault. Sir Hugh stood beside her, his face flushed as if with a fever.
“You know, you were rather scary,” he said. “I’ve never seen you that angry.”
“Dratted eggs,” she said, rubbing her aching temples. “They’re worse than children.”
He laughed. “You’ll be a good mother.”
“The gods forbid,” she said, turning on her heel. “Those eggs aren’t supposed to hatch for years.”
She pulled the door behind her and just before it swung completely closed, she tossed the key inside.
“Those eggs will hatch in a matter of days,” Crucible snarled when Linsha stepped out the front door. “What happened to them?”
Linsha told him what the priest had said while she walked around the bundle of eggs. The three undercover Legionnaires had done a fine job, she noted. They had brought a large fishing net, as well as the blankets and bags, and while the eggs were being brought up they had spread the net out on the ground and piled on more blankets. Now the eggs were securely tied in a tight, warm bundle in the middle of the net, ready to be carried out.
Crucible grumbled at the Keenas’ unprecedented experiment, but there wasn’t much to be done about it except get the eggs away.
“Can you manage it?” Linsha asked, worried for his wings.
“Of course. They are not that heavy.”
They heard the clatter of hoofbeats and saw some of their centaurs come along the street with a string of horses. The elves and the men quickly mounted. Those too wounded to ride were loaded in the wagon with Callista. Mae stood beside the wagon, holding the horses’ reins.
She handed the reins to Sir Hugh and joined her two companions. “Good-bye!” she called. “Good luck.”
Linsha was startled. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No. We agreed. We’re staying here. We can help more in the city and gather better information this way. Tell Falaius we’re here, if he needs us.”
Linsha and Callista waved farewell just before the three Legionnaires disappeared into the mist and darkness.
“Let’s go!” Linsha called. She climbed onto the wagon seat beside Sir Hugh. The mounted men and elves, the centaurs, and the wagon headed north on a road that led into the Artisan’s District and eventually out of town.
Crucible waited until the horses were out of sight before he sprang aloft. Carefully he grabbed the net with his feet, lifted it above the roof line, and winged into the foggy night.
20
The Akkad-Dar stood at the threshold of the Treasurer’s Guild and frowned. Dead guards and priests lay slumped on the floor, on the front portico, and in the halls. Blood was everywhere. The front hall was a scorched mess, littered with burned debris and scattered bodies. Some of the bodies had been stripped of their cloaks, weapons, boots, or clothes, and several piles of tattered rags lay on the floor.
Lanther kicked one ragged tunic with his toe, knowing full well what it meant. Beside him, the city
“So,” the Akkad-Dar said in a voice edged with steel, “the bronze dragon is still alive. Good. I can kill him myself.” He strode into the hall and worked his way through the mess to the stairs leading down to the vault. He knew what to expect, but he wanted to see for himself. The
“These priests were brave, I’ll give them that,” Lanther muttered. He stepped over the bodies and pushed open the door. The emptiness mocked him. The eggs were gone, every one of them. There were only empty trays and the body of his chief priest lying on the floor.
