City of the Lost

11 After the Storm

Midyear’s Day came and went almost unheeded in the Missing City. Those few who did think of it usually did so when they saw a battered remnant of the garlands and banners hung on the streets of Little Three Points where the festival would have been held, or the flooded race grounds where the horses would have raced that day, or a special bit of finery that would have been worn. Most people, though, thought only of loss and grief and stunned confusion.

The hardest part for many people was the bizarre feeling of unfamiliarity in their own community. The images of Gal Tra’kalas had been irritating, confusing, interesting, and amusing all in their turn, but the phantom city had been a part of the life in the real city for as long as the inhabitants had been there, and its disappearance left a wrenching hole. Nothing looked the same. The streets were emptier, the grounds looked a little shabbier, and there was nothing to hide the almost overwhelming destruction of the great storm. The Storm of 38 it would be called forever in Mirage. The year the Missing City became truly lost.

The following day came in warm and windy, and the city slowly dried out. Because of the efforts of the townspeople, the Legion, and Iyesta’s militia, almost all the dead had been accounted for and the injured had been tended to. The debris in the harbor was being cleared, as was the ruined waterfront. Plans were already underway to replace the docks. Sadly, the city’s small fishing fleet would be harder to replace. Only two fishing boats survived, and those were found among the wreckage and flotsam on the beach where they had been flung after their anchor chains snapped. The others were sunk, and their crews gradually washed ashore in ones and twos at the changing of the tides.

Across the four quarters, the sound of hammers and saws filled the streets. While people sorted through the damage and salvaged what could be saved or reused, others hauled the trash and debris out of the city to be burned, and many more began the laborious task of rebuilding. The dead were quickly buried in a mass grave on a hill overlooking the city. In the open market, a few vendors opened their stalls and sold food or whatever could be found to sell. Mirage slowly resumed a semblance of its normal activity.

Only one other thing truly hung like a pall over the peoples’ reviving spirits. The missing dragons. Iyesta and her companions had not yet returned to Mirage from wherever they had gone, and people were growing worried. Could it be possible, they wondered, that Iyesta had abandoned her realm and left for some unknown destination? Maybe she had gone back to the Dragon Isles. Maybe she was hunting Thunder. Maybe the disappearance of Gal Tra’kalas and the dragons were linked. The speculations ran rampant.

A few people thought of Linsha and her friendship with the big brass, and they came to the Citadel to ask if they could talk to the Rose Knight. Word of the massacre had flown around the city, and many people grieved the death of Sir Morrec, hut few knew of the charges against Linsha. They were sent away at Sir Remmik’s orders, who said only that Linsha was unavailable.

The head of the Legion in Mirage, Falaius Taneek, came to the Citadel to talk to Sir Remmik about Linsha, the assassination, and the Solamnics’ reluctance to help. His Order was stretched thin, and he wanted the help of the Solamnics. He left after a short while, his swarthy face suffused with anger.

Sir Remmik paid little attention to the Legionnaire’s ire or to the pleas from the city for help, information, or anything the Solamnics would be willing to give. To him, there was only the Circle. They had dead to bury and a trial to complete. The Citadel itself had sustained some damage from lightning and wind and would need to be repaired. After these duties had been completed, then he would consider the Legion’s request for help.

The new Solamnic commander debated with himself about holding Linsha’s trial that day, then he changed his mind. The seven dead Knights had to be buried—and fairly quickly due to the summer heat. He wanted them interred properly and with the honor befitting their stations. A proper burial with all its pomp and ceremony for a fallen commander and his escort would not allow for a trial in the same day. Nor did Sir Remmik want to besmirch the memory of the fallen with any thought of the one responsible for their deaths. Linsha’s trial was postponed for a day.

The Knights dug a grave in the field behind the Citadel. The six Knights of the escort, their bodies cleaned and dressed in mail and uniform, were laid side by side. Sir Morrec had a grave of his own just a pace away. After the rituals of burial had been completed, the two graves were covered with stones and heaped with earth to form a single mound. Seven spears were placed upright on the grave, and a single Knight sang a dirge for the dead.

As soon as the burial was completed, the Knights returned to the castle and went about their duties. Sir Remmik returned to the commander’s office and thought for a long while about justice, law, and the organization of a council legal enough to judge the charges against a Rose Knight. He would have to justify his actions in a report to the Grand Master in Sanction. He decided to put the trial off one more day. The extra time could be put to good use questioning others in the Citadel who might know reasons why the accused would do such a terrible thing. There was no question in his mind that this killing had been a murder. He just couldn’t understand why she would risk it. Sir Morrec had been more than tolerant of her aberrant behavior. Maybe he had come to learn something about her that she could not allow to be revealed. Maybe he just got in the way of some plot she was hatching. Remmik had to find out and prove it conclusively to the circle and the city. He was not going to allow this woman to evade punishment this time. By the symbol of the crown he wore, he would rid the order of this troublemaker once and for all.

The morning of the 25th of Corij came hot and breezy and dry enough to evaporate the last puddles in the streets of the Missing City. Outside the headquarters of the Legion of Steel, not far from the waterfront, Falaius Taneek tilted his head back and watched his workers repair the roof of their two-story building.

“Have the scouts reported back yet?” he asked the dark-haired man beside him.

Lanther barely shook his head. “I expect them back any time.”

“Do you believe this rumor?”

“I have no reason to distrust my informant.”

“If you’re right, this city could be in serious trouble.”

Lanther grunted. “What about the Solamnics?”

“They are still busy with their own affairs,” Falaius replied. “I have tried to talk to Sir Remmik, but he is single-minded to say the least.”

“Is there nothing we can do? I cannot believe she is responsible for this death.”

“We cannot interfere in Solamnic affairs.”

“He will do his best to dishonor her,” Lanther warned.

“I know.”

“It means execution.”

“I know.”

“Could we get her out?” Lanther whispered.

Falaius did not look around or react in any obvious way. He continued to stare at the roof. “As commander of this cell I am not permitted to authorize such a flagrant infringement of Solamnic jurisdiction.”

“Unless, of course, you don’t know about it.”

“If something is done without my knowledge, I cannot voice an opinion on it.”

Lanther understood. He nodded to the plainsman and took his leave to collect his latest disguise. He could not attend the council to learn of Linsha’s fate, but he had a way to get into the Solamnics’ stable to hear the news from the grooms. They would know almost as soon as the verdict was passed. In the meanwhile, he would wait for the scouts he had sent along the coast and take care of a few details of his own.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs leading to the subterranean prison level. Linsha lifted her head from the bed. This sounded more official than the guard bringing her tray of bread and water. This time there was more than one and she could not hear them talking, which meant this was probably the official council guard who would escort her to the trial. Finally.

Linsha lay back for a moment and waited for them. It had been four days since Sir Remmik had arrested her, and she had been expecting this moment since the first day. She was almost surprised he had taken this long to try her. She closed her eyes. By turning her head slightly she could hear the guards walk down the short corridor and come to a stop by her cell door. She did not make it easier for them by opening her eyes.

One Knight cleared his throat. “Rose Knight Linsha Majere, you are ordered to attend a council of your fellow Knights to determine your guilt or innocence in the charges brought against you by Knight Commander Sir Jamis Uth Remmik.”

Good. He sound slightly embarrassed. She cracked open her good eye, the one that was not black and blue and still swollen. “What?”

The Knight in charge repeated the order. Two other men stood to either side of him. All of them were Knights of the Crown. None of them looked satisfied with their orders.

Well, too bad. Linsha was in no mood to be accommodating. She was dirty, hungry, and thirsty; her head still hurt, her uniform was filthy, and her anger had been building for four days. She swung her feet around off the slab of a bed and stood up.

“May I have a moment to return to my barracks to clean up and change my uniform?” She was still in the formal uniform she had worn to the meeting with Iyesta, and now it was fit only to burn. The amount of water they had given her had not been enough to slake her thirst let alone clean herself or her uniform.

The leader shook his head. “Sir Remmik ordered us to bring you now.”

“Stupid bastard,” Linsha said with venom, not clarifying if she meant the commander or the Knight. She shoved the man out of her way and bulled past the other two out of the cell, down the corridor, and up the stairs. She strode through the guardroom past the surprised guards while her three escorts tried to catch up.

“Lady Linsha!” one of the Knights called. “You do not need to be in such a hurry.”

Linsha made a suggestion that caused the man to blush. She continued outside, her jaw clenched, her hands balled into fists. Daylight hit her like an invisible force. Although the late afternoon sun had fallen beyond the walls, the days in near darkness and the swelling of one eye had weakened her eyesight. She blinked a few times before she could see where the council was to be held, then she headed there without wavering toward the water trough, the barracks, or the kitchen. A small crowd of Knights stood outside the open doors of the main keep, silently watching as she approached.

She knew now why Sir Remmik would not give her time to make herself presentable. He wanted her to look disheveled, dirty, and something less than the other Knights. Well, his petty inconsideration would not work. She was Linsha Majere, the daughter of Krynn’s greatest sorcerer, the granddaughter of heroes. She was the first woman to attain the rank of Knight of the Rose, and by the gods, she was not going to grovel at the foot of a makeshift council.

The Knights quietly moved aside as she and her hurrying guards went to the doors. They kept their expressions blank, she saw, but at least there was no open hostility or condemnation on their faces.

A quiet hush enveloped her as she entered the hall. The furniture in the large room had been carefully arranged to resemble the council room in Castle uth Wistan in Gunthar where the Solamnic council usually heard such important cases. All but three trestle tables had been stacked against the walls. One table rested on a dais nearly three feet above the floor and overlooked a four foot square, or dock, marked off by a crudely built barricade. A huge Solamnic flag hung on the wall behind. Two other tables sat left and right of the dais. Four of the highest-ranking Knights in the circle sat on the council, two at each table. As senior Knight, Sir Remmik took the seat of the council judge on the dais. The remaining Knights who were not on duty sat on benches before the tables. They, too, watched quietly as she paused at the door then strode to the dais.

Sir Remmik frowned down at Linsha’s guard and pointed a stern finger to the dock.

For a moment she hesitated. Her skills in hand to hand combat far exceeded those of the three Knights beside her. She could incapacitate all of them, and they knew it. But as she looked at the four men who sat to either side of Sir Remmik, her heart sank. The Knight Commander had chosen his council carefully and well, picking the four Knights who most exemplified his ideal of the unbending, law-abiding, unimaginative Knight. They also happened to be four who firmly believed in Sir Remmik’s precepts and would not dream of questioning his word.

Linsha decided not to start her trial by antagonizing the council. She allowed the three guards to walk with her to the dock and stand behind her as she stepped inside.

Sir Remmik wasted no time. He listed the charges against Linsha so everyone knew exactly why she was on trial: murder, conspiracy, and treason. Then he launched into a long-winded explanation of her alleged motives, the events of the night of the storm as he saw them, and the evidence he had found to back up his charges.

Linsha’s skin grew hot and her eyes widened as she listened. Her head began to pound with tension. This wasn’t right! While her memory was still fuzzy on the attack in the storm, four days of rest and quiet had helped clear her mind and restore most of her memories. She knew their group had been ambushed, Sir Morrec had been murdered with her dagger, and she had been left alive for some unknown reason while the rest of the escort had been massacred. In every fiber of her body, she knew she would not knowingly kill Sir Morrec. He had been one of her few reasons to stay in the Missing City.

Still, in the corners of her mind where the pain still shadowed more memories of the attack, lurked that insidious uncertainty. She had struck out at someone, some figure she thought was an enemy. What enemy? Who had attacked them and why? Why wouldn’t someone investigate that? She desperately wanted to know the truth. If she had killed Sir Morrec by accident, then the Measure provided other penances to pay and ways that she could make up for the tragedy. But because she was still alive, Sir Remmik assumed murder and conspiracy, and that was all he wanted to know.

Her hands clenched into fists. The whole trial was so maddeningly vague. Would no one else see that? Would no one else stand up for her? Surely not everyone in the circle believed this trial was fair.

Nevertheless, as Sir Remmik picked up her dagger and described to everyone who had not been there exactly how Linsha had been found knocked unconscious over the body of the man she had just allegedly killed, a murmur of voices rumbled in the ranks behind her.

Linsha gritted her teeth. She was not allowed to dispute the charges until the judge finished the case against her, but by that time she had a feeling Sir Remmik would be hammering the nails down on her coffin. His belief in the law would not allow him to lie outright or manufacture evidence. All he had to do was cleverly twist everything she had said and done in the past few months into a sordid conspiracy to kill Sir Morrec and discredit the position of the Knights of Solamnia in the Missing City, and because of his reputation and rank, everyone would believe it. Her reputation was already marred by the previous charges against her, and she had not been in the Missing City long enough to overcome Sir Remmik’s dislike of her. One hundred years would probably not be long enough.

Was there no one from the city to argue her case? She glanced around at the people behind her. All she saw were the faces of Solamnic Knights. There were no civilians, no representatives of the dragonlord, no members of the Legion. Was it possible Sir Remmik had closed the council to anyone who might be able to help her? Linsha felt the truth like a cold ache in the pit of her stomach.

“Does the defendant have anything to say in her defense?” Remmik said. Her hands gripped the board in front of her.

“Est Sularas Oth Mithas,” she said firmly, her eyes pinned on Sir Remmik’s stiff face. “My honor is my life. I have lived that oath for nearly twenty years and not once have I ever broken my oath or regretted keeping it. By my honor as a Knight of the Rose, I admired and respected Sir Morrec. I would not kill him. I did not plan the ambush or tip off those who did. I have always had the best interest of the Circle in mind.”

“Lies are easy when you are confronted with the truth,” Sir Remmik interrupted.

“The truth is easy when you have nothing to fear from it,” she retorted. “Can you say the same? This council has only heard your version of this killing. It was a pretty tale, but I see you did not bother to corroborate any of it with Iyesta, or the Legion, or anyone in the city.”

The senior Knight looked down at her with ice in his eyes, secure in his mind about her guilt. “Iyesta has not yet returned from wherever she took herself, and this council is no business of the Legion’s.”

Linsha leaned forward, the fear for herself suddenly lost in flood of worry. “Iyesta is not back yet? There has been no word?”

“No,” one of the other Knights answered. “People are beginning to think the dragonlord has left for good.”

“That’s impossible. Iyesta would never leave this realm willing—” Linsha broke off there, reconsidering the possibilities. A troubling thought occurred to her. Iyesta might not leave the Missing City willingly, but what about unwillingly? Had something forced her to leave without a word to any of her loyal followers? Had the golds and silvers gone with her? What about the eggs under the city? The questions fell into Linsha’s mind like boulders crashing down a slope. She needed answers. Would Purestian, the brass guarding the eggs know what happened to Iyesta? Worst of all, would Thunder know?

“The dragonlord has more important things to do than be in town when you are brought before the council,” Sir Remmik said. He had never had a good relationship with Iyesta, only a mutual dislike.

Linsha slammed her fists on the rail and said with all her pent up frustration and anger behind it, “Why are you so convinced I killed Sir Morrec? Why do you do him such disservice as to even imagine that one of his officers would kill him? Why do you not investigate this more thoroughly? I never wanted him dead! Look at the results! Do you seriously think I’d want you in command?”

She regretted those words the moment she uttered them.

Sir Remmik’s elegant silver brows lifted. “Were you planning to take over control of the circle yourself?” he said in a cool, insinuating voice. “Did these unknown attackers exceed their orders and leave you too incapacitated to complete your coup? When were you planning to assassinate me?”

Right now would be good, Linsha’s rebellious mind thought.

More hushed talking filled the spaces behind her. Linsha could feel the Knights’ stares on her back, and she guessed what they were thinking. Without another voice to defend her, no one would listen to her. They would believe their Senior Knight, the Knight who had handpicked most of them, trained them, cared for their needs, and gave them the best billet south of Solace. All of them seemed ready to take his word at face value. No one wanted to investigate who would ambush the Knight Commander of the Solamnic Circle, or why. No one showed any real curiosity about the odd storm that obliterated Gal Tra’kalas, the disappearance of Iyesta, or even the rumors about Thunder. They shoved those matters aside, obeyed their orders, and kept to their insular world behind the walls of the Citadel. Linsha felt ashamed for them.

Sir Remmik leaned back in his tall chair. “Sir Knights, it is time for your judgment. Is the Knight before you guilty of the transgression of murder and conspiracy?”

“Sir Remmik, one moment,” came a voice from the audience. Sir Hugh stood and looked around as if he was hoping for some support. “Sir, I feel I must protest the manner in which this council has been called. It is too soon. The accused has not been allowed time to organize a defense, and the ambush of our men has not been properly investigated. I call for a postponement of the verdict to allow for these to be done.”

“Paladine bless you to the third generation,” Linsha whispered.

“I regret any misconceptions you may have, Sir Hugh, but I assure you, this Knight’s offenses have been fully investigated.”

“Like Chaos’s chausses they were,” said Linsha acidly.

Sir Remmik ignored her. “As for its hasty convening, I had reason to hurry this along. I have received word this noon that a large fleet of ships has been seen sailing this way. They have not been identified, nor do they look friendly. In case they mean to attack Mirage, we must be prepared. We do not need to drag out this council or have it dangling over our heads. Let us dispose of the traitor in our midst and move on to plan our defense.”

A dead silence met his pronouncement.

Linsha could only stare in disbelief. A fleet of approaching ships. Ye gods. It had to be true. Sir Remmik would not make up a tale like that, but to use it as an excuse to shove her into an execution was intolerable.

Of course, no one else appeared to think so. The onlookers began talking excitedly among themselves, and only Sir Hugh had the decency to look angry as he sat down.

The council members went through the motions of talking among themselves and all too quickly reached a verdict.

“Guilty,” they all said in turn.

Linsha felt too numb to react. Her anger drained away like water in a shattered barrel.

Sir Remmik banged on the table for silence. “In accordance with the Measure, the law of the Solamnic High Council recommends execution in the case of murder of a superior officer. Therefore it is the decision of this council that Linsha Majere shall be stripped of her rank and hung on the gallows until dead.” He stood up and saluted the Solamnic flag. “So let it be done before noon tomorrow. This council is over.”

Linsha’s three guards took her arms and quickly tied her hands behind her back. She did not try to fight them. This was not the time or the place to try an escape, nor was she prepared to make the effort. Her mind was reeling. The world shifted beneath her feet. When she had walked into this hall, she had been a Rose Knight and these young guards had not dared do this to her. Now she was nothing to them. She was dishonored and was to be hanged like a common brigand for a crime she had not even imagined, without any hope of time to clear her name.

Her guards took her arms, pulling her roughly, and led her out to go back to the tower guardroom. When she stepped outside, she scanned the walls and towers for any sight of Varia. She wanted to tell the owl what had happened, what was going to happen, but she saw no sign of the bird.

A shove to the middle of her back sent her staggering. “Keep moving,” snarled one of the guards. Because her hands were tied behind her back, she lost her balance and fell to her knees.

The three Crown Knights moved in. They shoved her and buffeted her, inflicting pain and indignation while staying just short of an actual beating. If any other Knights watched the assault, they made no move to interfere.

Except one.

“Enough!” A voice cut through the afternoon heat. Sir Hugh’s compact form broke into the middle of the group and shoved the three younger men aside. “Where is your honor?” he said in a low, furious voice. He pulled Linsha to her feet. “You are excused. Report to your duty officer.”

“But, sir, the prisoner—” one tried to say.

“I will take her to the cells.” His voice was flat and brooked no argument. Chagrined, the three hastily saluted and left Sir Hugh with Linsha.

Linsha found herself gasping for air. She ached in every part of her body. The Knights’ roughness had not been brutal, but it had aggravated the injury on her head and the other bruises on her body.

Sir Hugh caught her elbow to hold her steady. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice as they walked toward the guard tower.

She forced a faint smile past the pain in her face. “It’s a relief to know someone is willing to stand up for the honor of this Circle.”

He grimaced. “We have not stood strong enough this day.”

Linsha swallowed hard. Her mind felt disconnected and dizzy; she was having trouble focusing on the castle around her. “Have you seen my owl?”

“Not since Sir Remmik ordered her to be driven off. I think she left on her own accord.” He remembered the creamy round eye circles framing the dark eyes that had looked down on him from the roof and winked. “She seemed to know.”

Linsha bowed her head to hide the sudden glitter of tears in her eyes. “If she comes back, tell her what happened. She will understand.”

He said nothing else until he had escorted her down to the cells. Slowly he opened the heavy door and stood fidgeting with the key. “Sir Remmik has ordered a gallows to be built just outside the castle. Apparently, he intends to use you as an example.”

“An example of what?” She sank to the bed slab. “Is it true there is a fleet of ships out there?”

“A messenger from the Legion came around noon today with a message for the commander. If that was the news, Sir Remmik did not tell us until the council.”

“In his own good time,” Linsha muttered. “Will you untie me?”

A spasm of anger passed over Hugh’s strong features. “Sir Remmik ordered the officers of the watch to keep you tied so you do not try to escape. He wants to chain you as well, but it seems chains for the prison cells have not yet been made.”

“Lucky me,” she muttered. A thought came to her, and she had to blink fast to keep back the lingering tears. “I know you’re on duty tonight,” she said hurriedly. “Please let me write a letter to my parents. My father must know the truth.”

Sir Hugh locked the cell door behind him and said softly through the bars in the small window. “I will bring you paper tonight, and I will see your letter is sent.” He turned on his heel and left her alone in the damp darkness.

Linsha stared at the glow of faint light from the lamp left burning at the foot of the stairs. Her hands felt numb from the ropes around her wrists. Slowly she took a deep breath and forced her tears away. Self-pity was weakness. Tears were a waste of time. She still had about eighteen hours until the hanging. Anything could change in that length of time. With her self-pity, she added her fear and all thoughts of the feeling of a rope around her neck, the fall, the crushing force at her throat. She balled these together and locked them out of her mind. She had to concentrate on other matters, such as easing the pain in her head, calming her breathing, and focusing on escape. She would not go easily to that rushed sentence without knowing the truth.

She lay down on the slab on her side. Her fingers moved clumsily but they could move, and she put them to work on the knots of her bindings. Beneath her filthy tunic, the two dragon scales on their chain slipped down to rest against her breast. Their shape and feel gave her comfort and strengthened her resolve. Iyesta needed help, and Linsha was not going to let the overlord down.