When Crucible, Lanther, and Linsha finally came to the opening by the old pool, Varia flew down to meet them. By that time, the sun had arched over to late afternoon. As they stood at the bottom of the narrow stairs and looked up the stair shaft, they saw the faint glow of golden light gleaming through the cracks in the pool chamber.
Lanther and Linsha looked back at Crucible and knew there was no possibility of a dragon his size passing through that exit. Iyesta had shapeshifted to a woman to get through. Crucible was obviously going to have to do the same or risk bringing tons of sand and rock into the tunnel.
Linsha waited expectantly. This was her chance to see what he might look like as a man. But when the dragon’s spell was complete and the glow of magic faded, Linsha stared at the place where she expected to see a man about six feet tall and saw nothing. Her gaze dropped.
In the dragon’s place sat an orange-striped barn cat.
Varia chuckled.
“A cat?” Lanther exclaimed. “Can’t he do better than that?”
Linsha laughed for the first time in too long and scooped up the cat in her arms. It was like seeing an old, dear friend. “If he goes out there as a dragon, he will be seen and killed. Thunder would never suspect a dragon would hide as a cat. Besides, bronzes like small, fluffy animals.”
“But a barn cat? Why not a tiger? A lion? A griffin for that matter. At least he could fly.”
“He’s injured,” Linsha said reasonably. “He can’t fly even in a different shape.”
Lanther threw up his hands and stalked up the stairs ahead of them.
Crucible squirmed out of the woman’s arms. He fell heavily on his injured leg, but he scurried up the steps and scooted in front of the Legionnaire. Just in time.
The water weird reared out of the pool like a snake out of the grass. Its simple upright form was shaped from water, and like water, its strength was deceptive. Two arms detached from the torso and reached for Lanther’s throat.
The Legionnaire gave a yell and went for his sword, but the cat crouched by the water’s edge and hissed a furious command.
Immediately, the water weird drew back. It spit water at Lanther, then slipped sulkily beneath the surface of its pool.
“Not bad for a barn cat,” Linsha said behind him.
Lanther chuckled, a little shakily, and made a short bow to the orange cat. “My thanks, Crucible.”
This time, he waited until the cat went ahead of him up the short stairs to the crack in the ruined stone.
As soon as they were outside in the afternoon sun, a shape detached itself from the meager shade of a nearby outcropping.
“Lady Linsha! Lanther!” called Mariana. The half-elf hurried over. She studied their faces for the answer to her unspoken question and found it in the tension in their faces and the sadness in their eyes. “The eggs are destroyed,” she said flatly.
“Not destroyed,” Lanther told her. “Gone. Purestian is dead, her skull taken. We believe Thunder is responsible.”
“Why take the eggs?” Mariana asked. “Why wouldn’t he just smash them?”
Linsha remembered the pride she had heard in Iyesta’s voice when she spoke of the eggs, and she shuddered. “I don’t know. He’s vindictive enough to keep them for himself or use them as a threat against us.”
Mariana looked appalled. “Why would he keep them? Can he do anything beyond killing them?”
Lanther sat on a rock to ease his aching leg and looked south toward the city and the dragonlord’s lair. The scar on his face looked livid in the sunlight, and his visage was dark with suppressed anger. “Maybe. If he had enough power.”
“Which he could get if he increases his skull totem,” Linsha said fiercely. “Any more skulls just add to the power. I don’t think he has a bronze skull yet.”
Mariana glanced around and behind them. “Where is Crucible? Did he not come back with you?”
“He is here.” Linsha pointed to the cat, who sat down and began to lick his injured leg.
The captain’s eyes fell on the torn. “That’s a cat.”
“Yes. One of Crucible’s more intriguing forms. I knew him as a cat before I realized he was a dragon.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good, because General Docket left me to tell you: First, what is left of his forces have moved to the Scorpion Wadi. He is sending out scouts to gather any refugees or survivors they can find. Second, he asks if there are other entrances into the labyrinth from within the city, and if so, could they be used to pull out any of those trapped between the lines of fighting-especially Falaius and his forces.”
The two humans shrugged, but the tomcat nodded.
“Will you help us?” Mariana asked the cat.
“I will carry you if your leg hurts too much,” Linsha offered. Like bronzes, she had a weakness for small, fluffy animals.
The torn meowed and twined around her ankles. Varia guffawed as only an intelligent owl can.
“Since you are in good company,” Lanther said, “I will leave you to your mission and go on one of my own. Perhaps a new prisoner or two can tell us what Thunder has done with the eggs.”
He pulled his broad brimmed hat out of a small pack, threw on his tattered robe over his dirty, bloodstained clothes, and drew his long body into a compact slouch. Suddenly the tall, straight Legionnaire became the lame beggar. He leered at the women and shuffled away toward the city to find some talkative prisoners.
Linsha, Mariana, and Varia followed the cat back into the darkness of the labyrinth.
Sometime during the short summer night, the Missing City fell to attacking forces of the blue dragon. There was no official surrender or final battle. The defenders of the city just seem to give up and melt away into the darkness, leaving the streets to the Brutes and the mercenaries. Skirmishes broke out in all four districts as pockets of resistance continued to fight, but the last large companies of the militia and the Legion and its commander just disappeared. The mercenaries didn’t care. They were pleased to have the city in their hands and the fighting over. Now, they felt, they could loot and celebrate and enjoy their victory as they saw fit. The Brutes, on the other hand, were puzzled. They had been impressed by the tenacity and courage of the city’s defenders, and they could not understand how or why the militia had simply left.
The Brute general, commander of the overall attack, took no chances. Working with his trusted second-in- command, he set his warriors to work consolidating their hold on the city. He had his best trackers carefully sweep the streets and buildings for the wounded, for anyone wielding a weapon, or for any officers of the militia and city watch. His troops strengthened their defenses, repaired the gates and walls, and interrogated prisoners. He set up roadblocks, posted guards, and established observation posts. Then he went to see Thunder.
The great blue had already laid his claim to Iyesta’s lair. He sat in the courtyard and watched while the remains of the palace roof were removed from the throne room. Prisoners from the city had been impressed by the mercenaries to do the backbreaking work of hauling out the tons of rock and debris. They worked in long lines with ropes and sledges, under the watchful eyes and cruel whips of their guards.
Thunder saw the Brute and his guard approach. His attention went back to the work on the throne room. He planned to do the last excavation himself to clear the stairs to the treasure room, and he wanted no interference.
The general made a short, almost insolent bow. “Your lordship, the city is ours.”
“Good.” The dragon stamped a foot on the ground in emphasis. “Soon Iyesta’s defeat will be complete. Her lair and her hoard will be mine.”
The Brute general nodded, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His ceremonial gold mask shone in the reflected firelight of the torches. “I hear, too, that the eggs are yours,” he said casually.
The dragon was not really listening. He was too busy gloating. “Yes. On your information, I looked for them last night. They are in my keeping now.”
“But you did not see fit to seal the tunnels or do anything to prevent the city’s forces from escaping through the labyrinth,” the general said coldly.
