She stood before him unafraid, even unimpressed, though he could have cracked the lithe, frail body with the flick of a claw. He had teeth that were bigger than this human.
“So you are the Healer, the Bringer of Death, the Conqueror of Elves,”
he grunted.
“No,” she said. “I am Mina.”
As she spoke, she lifted her gaze to meet his. He looked into the amber eyes and saw himself inside them. He saw himself shrunken, a lizard of a dragon. The sight was disquieting, made him ill at ease. He rumbled deep in his massive throat and arched his great neck and shifted the immense bulk of his body so that the mountain shook, and he felt reassured in his might and his strength. Still, in the amber eyes, he was very small.
“The One Who Heals, the One Who Brings Death, the One Who Conquers is the One God,” Mina continued. “The One God I serve. The One God we both serve.”
“Indeed I have served,” Skie said, glowering. “I have served faithfully and well. I was promised my reward.”
“You were given it. You were permitted to enter the Gray to search for her. If you have failed in your search, that is not the fault of the One God.”
Mina shrugged and slightly smiled. “You give up too easily, Skie. The Gray is a vast plane. You could not possibly have looked everywhere. After all, you did sense her spirit—”
“Did I?” Skie lowered his head so that his eyes could look directly into the amber eyes. He hoped to see himself grow large, but he failed. He was frustrated now, as well as angry. “Or was it a trick? A trick to get rid of me. A trick to cheat me of what I have earned.”
He thrust forth his great head near her, exhaled a frustrated, sulfurous breath. “Two centuries ago, I was taken from my home world and brought in secret to the world known as Krynn. In return for my services it was promised that I would one day be granted the rulership of this world. I obeyed the commands given me. I traveled the Portals. I scouted out locations. I made all ready. I now claim the right to rule a world—this world. I could have done so thirty-eight years ago, but I was told that now was not the time.
“Then came the great red Malys and my cousins, and again I demanded my right to assert my authority. I could have stopped them, then. I could have cowed them, made them bow before me. Again, I was told, it is not the time. Now Beryl and Malystryx have grown in power that they gained by killing dragons of my own kin—”
“Not your kin,” Mina corrected gently.
“My kin!” Skie thundered, his anger swelling to rage. Still, in the amber eyes, he remained small. “For over two hundred years I lived among blue dragons and fought alongside them. They are more my kin than those great bloated wyrms. Now the wyrms divide up the choicest parts between them. They extend their control. Be damned to the pact that was made. I—I am shunted off to the Gray on some wild kender chase.
“I say I was tricked!” the blue snarled. “I say I was deluded. Kitiara is not in the Gray. She was never in the Gray. I was sent there so that another could rule in my stead. Who is that other? You, girl? Or will it be Malys? Has another pact been made? A secret pact? That is why I came back—long before I was expected, seemingly, for I hear you are to now march upon Solanthus.”
Mina was silent, considering.
Skie shifted his great bulk, lashed his tail so that it thumped against the walls of his lair, sending tremors through the mountain. Though the ground quaked beneath her feet, the human remained complacent. She gazed steadily at the dragon.
“The One God owes you nothing.”
Skie drew in a seething breath. Lightning crackled between his teeth, sparked, and smoldered. The air was charged. Mina’s cropped red hair rippled like that of a stalking panther. Ignoring his display of anger, she continued speaking, her voice calm.
“You abrogated your right to rule when you forgot your duties and forsook your oath of allegiance to the One to whom you owed everything, choosing instead to bestow your love and loyalty on a mortal. You rule the world!” Mina regarded the dragon with scorn and cool contempt. “You are not fit to rule a dung heap! Your services are no longer needed. Another has been chosen to rule. Your followers will serve me as they once served you. As to your precious Kitiara, you will never find her. She has passed far beyond your reach. But then, you knew that, didn’t you, Skie?”
Mina’s eyes fixed on him, unblinking. He found himself caught in them. He tried to look away, to break free, but he was held fast, the amber hardening around him.
“You refused to admit it,” she went on, relentless, her voice digging deep beneath his scales. “Go back to the Gray, Skie. Go there to seek Kitiara. You can return anytime you want. You know that, don’t you? The Gray is in your mind, Skie. You were deluded, but not by the One God. You deluded yourself.”
Skie would send his answer to the One God—a charred lump.
He unleashed his lethal breath, spat a gout of lightning at the girl. The bolt struck Mina on her black breastplate, over her heart. The fragile body crumpled to the cavern floor, frail limbs curled, contorted as those of a dead spider. She did not move.
Skie watched, cautious, wary. He did not trust her or the one she served. It had been too easy.
Mina lifted her head. A bolt of light flashed from her amber eyes and struck Skie in the center of his forehead.
The lightning burned his scales, jolted through his body. His heart clamored painfully in his chest, its rhythm knocked wildly askew. He could not breathe. Mist, gray mist, swirled before his eyes. His head sank to the stone floor of his lair. His eyes closed upon the gray mist that he knew so well. The gray mist where he heard Kitiara’s voice calling to him. The gray mist that was empty . . .
Mina stood up. She had taken no hurt, seemingly, for her body was whole, her armor unblemished. She remained in the cave for several moments, watching the dragon, imprisoning his image behind her long lashes. Then she turned on her heel and walked from his lair. The blind beggar remained crouched in the darkness of his hiding place while he tried to understand what had happened. He had arrived in Skie’s lair at about the same time as Mina, only Mirror had come in by one of the back entrances, not by the front. His astonishment on hearing and recognizing Mina’s voice had been immense. The last time he had seen her, he had met her on the road leading to Silvanost. Though he could not see her with his eyes, he had been able to see her through her voice. He had heard stories about her all along his road, and he had marveled that the orphan child he had known at the Citadel of Light, the child who had disappeared so mysteriously, had returned even more mysteriously. She had recognized him, known him for the silver dragon who had once guarded the citadel.
His astonishment at seeing her here, speaking to Skie, was not so great as his astonishment at their conversation. He was starting to understand, starting to find answers to his questions, but those answers were too astounding for him yet to comprehend them fully.
The silver dragon felt the Blue’s fury building. Mirror trembled for Mina, not so much for her sake as for the sake of the orphan child she had been. Mirror would have to be the one to return to tell Goldmoon the horrible fate of the child she had once so loved. He heard the cracking of the lightning, bent beneath the shock wave of the thunder.
But it was not Mina who cried out in agony. The voice of pain was Skie’s. Now the great blue dragon was quiet, except for a low, piteous moan.
Footsteps—booted, human footsteps—echoed in the lair and faded away.