"She is ambitious," Sara mused.
Cobalt snorted. "She is dangerous." He bent his head down closer to Sara. "Are you thinking of going to Neraka?"
"I don't know."
"When you decide, you tell me, because I will not let you go away again without me. I have lost one friend and rider. I will not lose another."
Sara did not reply. She could not. No words could escape past the tightness in her throat. She banked her fire for the night, collected her blanket, and settled down against the dragon's warm side to sleep. That was all the answer he needed.
Sara felt stiff and sore the next morning, the result, she knew, of not practicing with her sword for two weeks and sleeping on the ground. The old bay did not feel much better. His gallop down the trail was the most exercise he had had in years. Together they walked gingerly along the trail until their muscles grew limber and the sun warmed their backs.
Cobalt huffed and grumbled at the delay, then went off to hunt.
His departure was most propitious, for as soon as he was out of sight, a party of travelers from Daron appeared at the top of a hill. Sara pulled off the trail and waited for them to pass.
There were five, four men and a young woman, bound for Palanthas-to visit family, they told Sara. They waved to her and remarked on the fact that she was traveling alone.
She just grinned and warned them to watch out for thieves. But their presence on the trail reminded her that it would not be safe for Cobalt to fly about the mountains In broad daylight. While a few travelers could not hurt him, news could spread to the wrong ears, including those of Khellendros. She had heard in Palanthas that the huge blue was killing dragons of all colors in the territory he considered his, and she did not want Cobalt's skull added to his pile.
When the blue returned, she insisted they stop and travel only at night. Cobalt irritably asked again if he could eat the horse.
Instead of getting angry, Sara just patted the smooth scales of his neck. "I lost one dragon when Flare left me," she said. "I do not want to lose you."
Cobalt backed down and did not grumble again the rest of the journey home.
It took Sara three more days to lead the old bay home, traveling at night and skirting around Daron to avoid any confrontations between humans and the dragon. During those nights, she had ample time to think about the Knights of Takhisis and the news she had heard.
The thought that the order was rebuilding bothered her far more than she thought it would . She believed the world had suffered enough injustice and cruelty and evil at the hands of the Dark Knights. Now that Krynn was entering a new age, Sara did not want to accept the possibility that the Knights of Takhisis could have an important place in it. Their influence was dead; let it stay dead! she thought over and over.
So, what if the brigands were right, that a new, ambitious general had taken over the knighthood and was planning to restore it to its former power? Was she as strong and capable as Lord Ariakan? Or was she simply a usurper who would topple in short order? Were there enough knights left to make this attempt successful?
Someone should go, Crysania's words echoed in Sara's thoughts. Someone should go see what was going on.
But Sara's mind rebelled. "I can't," she said to the horse plodding by her side. "I have a new life now. I have responsibilities and friends. I have a home where people need me, a house and garden that need tending. The potatoes should be dug before a freeze. My loom must be restrung. I can't go back among the knights. It just one of them recognized me, they'd kill me. I am too old. I couldn't pull it off."
The old horse just flicked an ear at her and kept quiet.
But if her horse was quiet, a small voice in her heart was not. Yes, such a journey to Neraka to investigate the knights would be dangerous, it told her. They could discover who she was; they could kill her as a spy or traitor. But who else would be better to go than a woman who had spent ten years learning the original organization from bottom to top? If she could keep her wits about her and no one recognized her, there was no reason the knights would be suspicious of her. She could slip into Neraka, blend in for a short while, learn all she could and slip out again. She could take her information to the Solamnic Knights, if she could find them. Or maybe Caramon Majere would know whom to contact. It would take a few weeks at the most, if Cobalt flew her there and back. This could work, the little voice said. Someone should go.
Her internal debate lasted the entire trip home and for days after. She dug her potatoes and restrung loom, tended the villager's animals, and took care of Cobalt, but her thoughts were always elsewhere, and even the most obtuse farmers noticed she was terribly distracted. Her friends tried to ask her what was wrong, but she refused to talk to anyone.
Then the inevitable happened. Someone spotted Cobalt in the mountains and brought the news back to the village. A shepherd had taken his dogs into the high hills to track a rogue wolf that had been killing his sheep. Instead of the wolf, he found dragon tracks and the scattered bones of deer, elk, and, to his horror, sheep. In the distance, on a high promontory, he saw the blue dragon sleeping in the sun. The shepherd was furious and scared and smart enough to know he needed help to rout the dragon out of the region. He called off his dogs and raced back to Connersby to sound the alarm. Word spread quickly, and the villagers began to gather near the village well to make their plans.
Sara heard the news that evening while she was putting a poultice on a cow's sore leg. It took every bit of her self-control to keep her voice bland and her hands from shaking. Quietly she tied the cloth that held the poultice and patted the cow's tan hip.
"You're coming, aren't you, Sara?" the farmer asked excitedly. "We're meeting to decide how to deal with the brute. We can't have the likes of that dragon lurking around here and eating our stock."
"No," she answered slowly, "you certainly can't."
Ignoring the farmer's curious gaze, Sara put her things back in the bag. "Change the poultice in the morning and keep the wound clean," she mumbled, and she walked out without another word.
She walked home lost in a daze of thoughts and emotions, and worry for the dragon. After the door closed behind her, she leaned against the cool wood and drew in a deep breath. Now there was no more time to debate or procrastinate. She had known somehow, from the instant Crysania spoke those words in the night, that she would eventually go to Neraka. All she needed was some impetus, a kick in the pants, to get her over the threshold of her fear. The danger to Cobalt-and the villagers she liked so much-was impetus enough.
She knelt by her clothes chest and dug down through the clothes and the linens to the hard bundle that lay at the bottom. It was heavy and cumbersome, and she dumped nearly all the contents of her chest on the floor before she hauled the package out and laid it on her bed. One after another, she untied the strings that held the bundle together. The covering fell away to reveal something deep blue trimmed with black fur. It was a cloak, a gift long ago from Lord Ariakan. She unwrapped the cape and pulled out several more items, laying them side by side. Gloves, a helm, boots, and leather breeches – the kit of a dragon rider.
One more item fell into her lap, a large brooch wrought in mother-of-pearl, another gift from the late, unlamented Lord Ariakan. Sara picked it up and turned it over in her hands, almost loath to touch its four gleaming petals. It was a black lily, the emblem of the Knights of Takhisis. She curled her lip and almost flung the brooch into the cold fireplace. But, no, it and the blue dragon could be her passport into Neraka. With deliberate care, she pinned the brooch to the blue-black cloak and began to pack.