Mary Herbert: City of the Lost

She said nothing more as her thoughts revolved back to her place in the Missing City. She wished Ulin was there so she could ask him about the forebodings that discomfited her mind, but he was far away, probably back in Solace by now. There was only Lanther. He had been her friend for over a year, and if anyone in this city could understand her misgivings it might be him.

Still she stayed quiet while she thought of the right words. There were many things she wanted to ask him, but she wanted to phrase them in the right words. “Lanther,” she said, “you have been in Missing City for two years. You know this city as well as a native and you know what the Legion is doing.” She paused, then went on. “Have you noticed anything different lately? Does the Legion suspect something or have any apprehensions about this city?”

If he was surprised by her questions, he did not allow it to show in his expression. “No,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Something is bothering me. You may laugh, call it woman’s intuition, but I have survived many years on my gut instincts. I can’t put a shape to it.” She lifted her hands in a gesture of frustration. “It is like a whiff of smoke on the wind. Strangers in town who make my skin crawl. Dead or missing civilians. Militia on alert. I see no link in any of it, and yet I feel something is wrong.”

Lanther, a survivor of many undercover operations and battles in hard places, did not laugh at her admission. “I will ask around,” he said. “Discreetly.”

Linsha went back to grooming the gelding. She had to be content with that. At least Lanther did not ignore her like Sir Remmik or try to brush her off with light statements and a joke. If he said he would ask, he would do just that. Something might come of it.

A clatter of boots and voices outside announced the arrival of Linsha’s escort—three Knights who would ride with her to see the dragonlord. They crowded into the aisle in front of the stalls, calling for their horses.

Lanther stayed to visit while Linsha blanketed and saddled her horse. He talked of inconsequential Legion activities and the city council’s plans for the Midyear street festival in Little Three Points, then with a wave, he swung his dingy cloak around his shoulders and limped away down the hill toward the streets of Mirage.

Linsha watched him go. She liked Lanther very much, admired his courage, his convictions, and his determination. He had a roguish sense of humor and a cool charm. And yet, in some things he was still an enigma. He rarely talked about himself but preferred to listen to other people and, like many Legionnaires, he liked to work alone.

She wondered if the Legion knew she had been summoned to Iyesta’s lair. She decided they probably did. There was little that escaped the Legion’s notice.

A whisper of wings stirred the air by the manger, and Varia landed noiselessly by the chestnut’s head. Sandhawk had been trained to disregard the owl. He flicked an ear at her and continued eating. She said nothing while the stable boys were close by, simply sitting and staring down at Linsha like any normal, trained pet owl. Once the bridle was on the gelding’s head and Linsha was leading him out the door, Varia glided down and out the wide double doors.

The Knights, young and—to Linsha’s mind—inexperienced, hooted at the owl and laughed among themselves as they mounted their horses and fell in behind the Rose Knight. With a shake of her head, Linsha kneed the chestnut into a canter and let the escort follow as best they could.

Iyesta’s lair lay in the ruins of the old city in an area of the garden district kept deliberately untouched and unsettled by the servants of the great brass. Long ago it had been the palace of an elf prince. Much of its former beauty could still be seen in the graceful lines of the crumbling walls and arches and in the splendor of its vast expanses of halls, roofless chambers, stables, overgrown gardens, and patches of wild woodlands. The dragon had chosen the throne room, the only chamber large enough to hold her, and had ordered its roof repaired and its interior returned to its former grandeur. Everything else she’d left alone, partially as camouflage for her lair and partially because she liked the contrast of the old ruins set against her neat, well ordered city.

Iyesta was a dragon of contrasts herself. The largest brass dragon in Ansalon, she had a achieved her gargantuan size by preying on evil dragons during the Dragon Purge, yet the extent to which the other dragonlords, especially the five great overlords, disrupted life on the Ansalon horrified her, and she worked actively to undermine their authority. She could be charming, gregarious, a skilled conversationalist, then be viciously aggressive in the defense of her realm.

Because of her efforts on the behalf of the people under her care, she was held in high esteem by those in the brass clan and by other metallic dragons. Several dozen young metallics, mostly silver, gold, and brass accepted refuge in Iyesta’s city and helped guard her borders or aided in her operations against the overlords. Three young brass dragons, born of the same egg, had earned a special place as Iyesta’s personal attendants and made it their duty to guard her throne room when she was in residence. Usually, at least one of those young brasses sat out in front of her lair every day and screened the petitioners who came to see her.

This morning though, Linsha was surprised to see the large double doors were open and the space was empty. The wide expanse of courtyard before the chamber was in an uproar. Iyesta crouched in the large space bellowing orders as troops of her militia, palace guards, and others Linsha couldn’t readily identify ran around in frantic haste trying to obey her. Two other dragons, a young gold female named Desiristian and a silver male Linsha knew as Chayne were winging in for landing nearby. The Knights reined their horses to a halt beside the smooth, paved road that led to the palace. A half-elf, serving in one of the dragon’s loyal regiments, came to meet Linsha and take her horse.

“What’s going on?” Linsha asked as she handed Sandhawk’s reins over to the guard.

The half-elf looked worriedly toward the palace. “Her ladyship is furious. Dathylark, Korylark, and Thassalark are missing, and she’s worried sick. I don’t know what she’s planning, but she’s sending out search parties in every direction to find them.”

Linsha whistled softly under her breath. All three missing? The brass triplets were inseparable and telepathically bonded. It did not seem possible that something could happen to all three of them. Maybe they had left on a secret mission of their own without telling Iyesta. If that was the case, Linsha pitied their hides when they returned home.

Linsha turned the three Knights of her escort. “You three wait here,” she ordered.

She walked with deliberate care along the sweeping carriage way up to the old palace, giving the dragon plenty of time to see her through the gates of the courtyard. Soldiers and servants of the dragonlord recognized Linsha and made no move to stop her as she walked through the gates. She stopped perhaps twenty feet away from the huge brass and waited for Iyesta to acknowledge her. There was certainly no point in trying to shout over the dragon’s thundering ire.

While Linsha waited she stared up at the huge brass and felt again her deep awe and admiration for the big dragon. Iyesta was well named Splendor. Over three hundred feet long, she was gracefully built with a short neck, a long, arched back and a tail nearly a third of her length. She carried a wingspan of more than four hundred fifty feet and had a delicate head with a mouth of curving teeth. Her scales had the warm, burnished look of polished brass that gleamed like golden fire in the morning sun.