was long gone. It was something Thunder would do. The big blue could not fight Iyesta face to face and hope to win. His move would be a surprise, in the dark, in a tight cramped place where Iyesta could not use her wings or size to the best advantage. The great storm had come from the west, so it passed over his realm first. He could have followed the storm to use it as a shield and a diversion as it raged over the Missing City. He might have lured Iyesta down here, and killed her, and taken her head to add to his totem of skulls. Linsha hoped she was wrong.
Voices echoed up the corridor, drawing Linsha’s dark thoughts back to the present. She and Mariana walked to the arched doorway and waited for the approaching company. Neither of them could find words to say. There would be much to do and much to discuss with the leaders of the city, but Linsha could not participate as long as she was wanted by the Solamnic Order, and Mariana knew she would have to hand over the investigation of this tragedy to her superiors-not that she truly minded. Until the torches came to flood the cavern with light and the people came to crowd around the corpse and mourn, they had the darkness and the dead to themselves. They used the time to say goodbye in their own hearts to the dragon they both loved and respected.
An hour later Linsha walked out of the tunnels into the hot sunshine and blessedly fresh air. She dropped the Solamnic cloak in the nearest dark hole she could find and stripped off her outer tunic. If only she could change the rest of her clothes so easily and take a long bath. She knew she reeked of death and decay. She could still smell it on everything.
Lanther waited for her in the courtyard, his rugged face grim. “I heard the news,” he said. “The city elders have sent out criers to spread the word.”
“How are people taking it?” Linsha asked wearily. She sat down on a stone bench and put her head in her hands.
“Not well. Most are terrified and appalled. First the storm, then the murder of the Solamnic Knights, now the death of Iyesta. The mayor is running around in a panic. Falaius is badly shaken. I have never seen him look so old.” He looked closely at her hunched shoulders and pale face. “Is it that bad?” he asked softly.
She glanced up at him, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It is beyond bad. Iyesta is nothing but a withered, beetle-chewed hulk. I could not even tell how she died, Lanther. It was horrible! And I don’t… I don’t know how to avenge her.”
The Legionnaire came to put an arm around her shoulders, caught a whiff of her clothes, and changed his solicitous gesture to a pat before he moved upwind. “I’ve seen patrols of Knights out in the city this morning searching for you. We need to get you out of sight. And Falaius wants to talk to you.”
“Could you get some clothes, too?” Linsha asked, a faint spark back in her red-rimmed eyes.
“Absolutely.” He thrust a bundle into her arms. “I’ve already taken care of that.”
She untied the bundle, and for the first time in days, she laughed when she saw the bright colors and flimsy fabrics of the clothes he had brought. “A courtesan? Whose bits did you steal?”
“Borrowed. They’re Callista’s. She said the last thing the Solamnics would expect you to wear is a veil and courtesan pants.”
She held up the flimsy, baggy pants and the tight corset favored by many of the courtesans in the city. She had to agree it would be a good disguise. As a thirty-six-year-old Knight with sword calluses on her hands, she was hardly courtesan material. With a wry smile, she ducked into a nearby building and changed into the outfit.
When she came out, Lanther gave her such a slow appraisal from head to slippered foot that her cheeks burned. “You missed your calling, Lady Knight,” he said.
Linsha adjusted the bright gold veil over her curls and across her mouth and nose so only her eyes were showing. “I hardly think so,” she replied tartly. “Now, how am I supposed to get to your headquarters? I can’t ride in this… this…” She waved wordlessly at the pants.
Lanther’s eyebrow rose to herald the quirky expression that often passed for a smile. He snapped his fingers. From around the open gateway of the wall came two men carrying a covered sedan chair with gauze curtains. Lanther pulled open a curtain and beckoned her inside.
15
Trying to look demure, Linsha stepped inside and sat down on the cushioned seat. The chair swayed and rose as the men lifted it and set off at a humpy trot. Linsha gripped the armrests of the chair in alarm. The conveyance jerked and swung like an obstinate colt. After a while, seeing the chair remained upright, she relaxed a little and tried to enjoy the novelty. She flicked open the curtain just enough to see the city streets.
“Comfortable?” Lanther’s voice called from the outside.
“I’d rather walk,” she admitted.
“Not yet, my lady.” His voice suddenly took on a quiet note of caution. “A patrol of Knights is approaching as I speak.”
She pulled the curtains closed and leaned back in her chair, trying to look relaxed. The curtains were thin enough to reveal the outline of a person within and opaque enough to hide the details. With luck, the Knights would see only a woman inside and not bother to examine the chair’s occupant more closely.
Especially since she had none of the jewelry, perfume, nail decorations, or face paints the real courtesans preferred. Only smudges of dirt and a pervading smell of rot and decay.
“Halt!” ordered a male voice.
Linsha felt her heart beat faster. It was Sir Hugh, and the man was nothing less than thorough. Would he recognize Lanther’s face or her profile through the gauzy fabric?
“Yes, my lord,” whined a second voice. Linsha started. Did that nasally, obsequious voice belong to the Legionnaire?
“Where are you going with that chair?”
“My master sent me to escort this lady to a place unknown to his wife.” He made an obscene gesture even Linsha could see through the curtains. “If you get my meaning, Sir Knight.”
Linsha held her breath. She could make out Sir Hugh’s outline through the curtain, and she could see he was staring intently at her. She leaned forward and blew a kiss at him.
“Let’s get moving,” Sir Hugh snapped. Without a backward glance, he reined his horse away and led his patrol up the street toward the North Quarter.
Linsha let her breath out in a sigh. For just a moment she thought he had recognized her… but, no; surely he would have spoken. She opened her mouth to say something to Lanther when a long horn blast came singing on the wind and stopped her words in her throat. The sound was picked up by another horn and another until the city rang with the clarion warning. In every street people stopped in their tracks and stared fearfully toward the sea.
“The signal is given,” Lanther said. “The ships have been sighted.”
Muttering an oath, Linsha thrust aside the curtain and swung her legs around to hop out.
Lanther’s hand clamped around her ankle. “Where do you think you are going?”
Linsha froze. In those seven simple words she heard a steely edge of command that would not tolerate even the thought of disobedience. She had never heard that tone coming from him before, and it startled her enough to make her pause.
He made use of her hesitation to push her feet hack in the chair and pull the curtains closed. “Stay in the chair. There are Solamnics just up the road. These men will take you to our safe house.”
“I want to know-”
He cut her off. “I know you do. I will find out what I can.”
The horns had finally stopped blowing, and an eerie silence held its breath in the city. The morning sun beamed clear and hot over Mirage, but everyone felt the chillness of the shadow of fear. There were no more dragons to protect the people, no more ghostly images to fill the streets and act as a mirror to hide behind. The dragonlord they had counted on for so many years was dead, and the city council was in a panic. A fearful storm had left buildings damaged, people dead, and the militia scattered. Now a strange fleet of ships drew near, and no
