a chance to see that for themselves, since she had already been under the control of the Masters by the time they had returned to Braejr. But Alessa now seemed every bit as fair and conscientious as Solveig had insisted, and the awareness that the Flaem had been enslaved and manipulated by the Masters distressed and enraged her greatiy.
They brought Alessa into the kitchen, where they could sit her down at the table and give her something warm to drink. She was beginning to get a headache, and Sir George hurried to fetch a small bottle from his collection of medicines and magical potions. He brought back a small brown bottle that he popped open, then instructed her to sniff the white vapor that rose from the container. She felt better almost at once.
'That's a hangover potion I got from Perrantin a few years ago,' he said. 'I've never needed it myself, but I thought it would work for your problem.'
'I should be grateful it wasn't poison,'-Alessa remarked sourly.
'Nonsense. We want you to talk before we kill you,' Thelvyn said teasingly. 'Tell us about the Masters.'
'I wish I could tell you more,' she said. 'Unfortunately, I was never privy to their secrets. They had no need to explain anything to me, only to ask me for information and give me their instructions. I never thought to question anything. I only wanted to serve him, because he spoke to me in ways that made that seem like the right thing to do.'
'Who is the Overlord? I know about the Masters, and one of the wizards mentioned this Overlord, but that's all I know. I suspect I may have talked with him tonight.'
'Possibly,' Alessa said. 'I know almost nothing of the Masters because my dealings were never with them. I suspect the Masters serve the Overlord, since he speaks as if everyone serves him.'
'Is he one of the gemstone dragons?'
Alessa shook her head firmly, her eyes wide. 'No. I've seen the gemstone dragons in my dreams, when the Overlord usually spoke to me. When he spoke in my dreams, I sometimes saw a vision that looked vaguely like a dragon, but far more horrible.'
Kharendaen looked confused. 'What's horrible about a dragon?'
'In your dreams?' Thelvyn asked, ignoring Kharendaen's question. 'Did you dream of a desert world where a cold wind always blows and the sky is always dark?'
'Why, yes,' Alessa agreed, surprised. 'I believe that's the world where the Flaem lived before we came here. Where we lived for many years as slaves with other races and strange beasts gathered from many worlds. We were forced to tend fields sheltered from the wind and the sand by tall mountains, and we built many strange devices of metal in dark fortresses. I've seen such places in my dreams. They seemed more like memories that were blocked from our minds when we were sent here as unwitting slaves to make ready for the invasion.'
Thelvyn nodded. 'I've suspected as much.'
'This fortress that you described, where you found the Collar of the Dragons,' Alessa continued. 'It's nothing more than an outpost. In my dreams, I've seen far greater fortresses somewhere north and west of there … a vast complex of massive stone buildings, where the Masters live among their armies of slaves. That is the place of the Overlord.'
'That could be a useful thing to know,' Thelvyn said. Sir George looked somewhat concerned.
'There are a few other things I can tell you, but you must understand that I am only guessing now,' Alessa said. 'I suspect there is an even larger worldgate somewhere in our world, one that corresponds to the gate in the main stronghold of the Masters, from where they will launch their invasion. I suspect they have many gates opening into different parts of our world.'
'I thought as much,' Thelvyn said. 'That explains how they were able to attack so many places in our world at the same time and disappear again. The Masters must have scouted this world thoroughly before they made their first attack. I've always wondered why the Fire Wizards spent so much time and effort assembling that huge library. It never seemed to do them any good. Now I wonder if the real purpose was to provide information to the Masters.'
Sir George shrugged. 'That seems reasonable. Did you learn anything from your litde talk with the Overlord?'
Thelvyn looked smug. 'Yes, I think I did. . more than the Overlord intended, at any rate. He told me a couple of things that didn't make sense until just now. He said that he had no involvement in the first attempt of the gemstone dragons to conquer our world, and Alessa suspects that he himself is not a gemstone dragon. I wonder if, whep they fled this world, the gemstone dragons met up with the Overlord and fell under his control. They might be just another of his race of slaves and, like Alessa, don't suspect it even yet.'
'Could we find some way to break his control?' Solveig asked. 'If we could do that, perhaps we could turn his own armies against him.'
'That could be,' Thelvyn said cautiously. 'If we can block his will, or if I can destroy him, then our worries are over. Otherwise, I doubt we can do anything to stop him short of defeating his armies.'
'How can we possibly fight the gemstone dragons?' Alessa asked, obviously still unsettled over what had happened. 'Especially without the support of the dragons.'
'As it happens, we do have their support,' he told her. 'When I told you the dragons had rejected me, it was only because that was what I wanted the Masters to hear.'
Alessa sat up straight, staring at him. 'What are you saying?'
'Thelvyn is the Dragonking,' Kharendaen explained. 'He has the support of the Nation of Dragons, and they are preparing for war. The Masters have underestimated us, and we prefer to keep it that way.'
'We'll have to move quickly to make use of any advantage,' Thelvyn said, then glanced over at Solveig. 'I don't want to be a bother, but can you put those griffons somewhere else and convert the warehouse back into a lair for Kharendaen?'
'I can have it done tomorrow if you want,' she agreed. 'Why?'
'Because the time has come for me to be a dragon. After tonight, I won't be taking this form except when I must.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
The first hint of trouble came from the sentries along the northern border of Rockhome, where from their posts in the mountains they could see out across the steppes of Ethengar. They thought at first that the steppes might be on fire, in spite of the spring rains. They could see a haze of dark smoke just beyond the horizon, and after a time, herds of frightened horses thundered over the plains, fleeing some terror from the north. Not far behind the herds, the clans of the Ethengar were retreating across the steppes as well, setting aside their old rivalries with one another in their desperation to escape a common danger. They were still many long miles out on the steppes, but they were fleeing as quickly as they could. And there was no indication that they would stop until they left the grasslands behind, heading straight into the mountains.
Soon a delegation from the Ethengar appeared out of the steppes, seven young warriors, each from a different clan but riding together in a common cause. Each of the riders led two horses in reserve, so that their mounts would always be rested and able to keep a quick, steady pace. They rode directly up
the trade road to the main dwarvish stronghold of Fort Den-warf and requested permission to ride on to Dengar. They claimed to bear important news for the dwarves as well as a plea for their own people. After speaking hurriedly with the captain of the fort, they were issued special papers of safe conduct and allowed to pass.
The Ethengar rode well into the night, changing their horses frequently until none of the poor beasts could run any farther. Only then did they stop for a time, making a simple camp through the deepest part of the night. They were on their way again well before dawn, so that midmorning found them approaching the gate of Dengar. Crews were still at work on the walls, repairing the damage from the night of the attack. The riders presented themselves to the guards at the gate, showing the papers they had been given at Fort Den-warf the day before. They were led through the city at once to the stables of the main garrison, where their horses would be tended to. Most of the riders chose to stay with their mounts, but their spokesman and two of his companions were immediately escorted down the long, winding passage to the lower city.
