The dragon looked at Lemborg, who looked back, panting.
“I see,” said the dragon, and was silent for a minute more.
The gnome began to fidget, looking nervously around the room.
Without further ado, the gleaming dragon came to its feet. It was terrific in size. Its wings stretched out for a moment, twin metal fans as large as clouds. Lemborg looked up from the floor in amazement and awe, as well as with a greatly renewed sense of fear.
“Let us go see your ship,” said the dragon, leading the way out of the great hall. Lemborg mutely got up and followed. Above them, the armored man on the throne looked down unmoved.
*****
The sunlight outdoors blinded Lemborg briefly, forcing him to feel his way along a wall until he bumped into a marble statue base. He was astonished at the great size of the building he was in, but the actual city itself-once he was able to see again-was grander by far. Domes, towers, spires, columns, and high-peaked roofs surrounded the immense open plaza before him. He and the huge dragon stood at the top of a wide, high set of steps that dropped two stories to the plaza itself, so he had a great view of the abandoned city. Most structures seemed to be of the same washed-out shade of gray or tan stone; only the blue in the sky lent color to the scene. Even so, the architecture was delicate and awe-inspiring, and surprisingly well preserved.
Lemborg quickly focused on the central feature of the open, dune-covered plaza below: the remains of the Spirit of Mount Nevermind, Mark XXVIII-B. His gaze ran over the battered, smoldering wreckage for a few moments. Then he sat down on the warm top step with a long sigh.
“Could have been worse,” he muttered. “Name is still legible, at least.”
“Was there any possibility you could have been killed?” Kalkon asked, looking in the same direction.
“Killed? Oh, possible, sure. Everything’s possible. Happened on the first twenty-seven attempted missions, certainly.” He stared at the wreck, his face reflecting defeat. “Stern is gone. Could be a problem. No landing gear. No maneuvering tanks. Landing wings. Running lights. Steering fins. Drogue chute.” He sighed again, more softly now. “Ten, twelve weeks at most at dock number two in the lake yards, then a year for the paperwork.”
“At Mount Nevermind,” the dragon added.
“Yes,” said the gnome, closing his eyes. “Not here.”
The dragon waited a moment, then said, “They were trying to kill you.”
“Eh?” Startled, the gnome opened his eyes. “Oh, yes, of course. They were-” He shivered violently, wrapping his arms around himself as if freezing. He abruptly stood up. One hand crept to the top of his balding head and gingerly felt the skin there. “Best to be going soon,” he said in a low voice.
“Before they get here,” supplied the dragon.
“Yes,” said the gnome. “Yes. Best to leave soon. Now, perhaps.”
The dragon raised its head, its long snout turning up to sniff the wind. It closed its eyes and became motionless for a full minute. Then it lowered its head and looked at Lemborg again. “No one has arrived yet. Nothing has changed. You are safe here with me for the present. Come back inside, and let us consider the situation and the options.”
The gnome followed the dragon back into the building. Lemborg looked around as he did, noticing again the profusion of paintings on the walls and ceilings. Much of the metalwork present-stair railings, robed human statues, wall sconces, table furnishings-bore little rust or corrosion, but a layer of grit covered everything. Lemborg’s short boots crushed sand beneath them. The dragon’s tread was a soft, rhythmic earthquake that rumbled through the rooms and halls.
“Nice home,” Lemborg finally said.
“This was the administration building,” said Kalkon. “The city was called Lake Cantrios. There was a large lake to the east, against the city wall. The city was a resort for the wealthy of old Solamnia, a place of refuge and amusement. The amphitheater still stands, though the barracks are fallen and the gladiatorial arena is in poor repair. The Cataclysm drained the lake, burned off the crops to the north and south, and broke the irrigation tunnels. There was a windstorm, too, I believe, and the temple is missing a tower, as I mentioned. Otherwise, despite the sand, it is in good order. The citizens have been gone not quite four centuries, but with the dry air preserving the city, it is almost like they left yesterday. Lake Cantrios was forgotten by all until I found it again. That was only … only a few years ago.”