"The situation here is completely different," said Stutts.

"Lunitari is this dragon's home. He has taken a kindly inter- est in our plight. We shouldn't refuse his help because of ancient prejudices that have no application at the present time."

'What does he want from us?"

"He hasn't told us yet," Stutts admitted. "But he, ah, won't let us leave."

"What do you mean?" Sturm said sharply.

"Birdcall, Flash, and I wanted to go searching for you. We rerouted the engine control sufficiently to make short ascents - hops, really - but Cupelix refused to allow us out of the obelisk. He claimed it wasn't safe, and that he was taking steps to bring you all here."

"Well, we're here now," said Kitiara, reaching for another broiled dove. "And we'll soon be on our way."

"Will we?" Sturm asked, craning his neck again to peer into the dim heights of the obelisk. "Now that he has us all, will he let us go?"

Chapter 20

A New Age

Aften Kitiara and thee gnomes had their fill, they stole off to the Cloudmaster for a nap. Only Stutts remained with Sturm. The two of them strolled around the interior of the vast obelisk, and Sturm related the story of Bellcrank's death.

"It was pure chance that Bellcrank died instead of Kit or Sighter." They paused in their walk as Stutts plucked a handkerchief from his vest pocket and dabbed at his nose.

Sturm told of Rapaldo's death, and how they placed Bell- crank in the middle of the mushroom garden.

"He and I were at gear-making school together, you know," Stutts said softly. "I'll miss him a great deal." They passed under the bow of the flying ship, and Sturm saw a smooth round hole, eight feet wide, bored in the hard mar- ble floor. He asked Stutts what it was.

"The Micones live in a cavern below," Stutts said. "They enter and leave by these holes." He indicated two others not far away. Sturm stood on the lip of one of the holes and looked down. There was a feeble bluish glow below, and he could see the jagged shapes of stalagmites. A faintly bitter smell wafted up from the depths.

"Did the Micones build this place?" Sturm asked.

"Not as far as I can tell," Stutts replied, resuming his walk.

"The Micones are a rather new addition to this place. Cupe- lix hints that he created them, but I don't believe he's that powerful. But to address your question: The obelisk was here even before the dragon."

"How do you know that?"

"By observing Cupelix. While a healthy adult specimen of a brass dragon, his features are in many ways molded by the fact that he grew up inside this obelisk. Notice, for example, his short wings and powerful legs; he spends all his time perching on the ledges rather than flying. He can jump tre- mendous distances, even straight up." Stutts stopped, seeing that Sturm was studying him. "What?" asked the gnome.

'You're so changed," said Sturm. "Not just the lack of a stutter; you seem so calm and collected."

Stutts blushed pink under his neatly trimmed beard. "I suppose we gnomes must appear awfully disorganized and impractical to you humans."

Sturm smiled. "Not at all."

Stutts returned the grin. He said, "Being on Lunitari has changed me - all of us. The flight of the Cloudmaster, while erratic, has been the first true success in my life. I spent years in the workshops of Mt. Nevermind, building flying machines. They all failed. It wasn't until I learned of Bell- crank's experiments with ethereal air that the Cloudmaster became possible." Mention of the lost chemist quelled con- versation for a moment.

"Be at peace," Sturm finally said. "He was avenged."

They passed below the tail of the flying ship. A mixed chorus of snores issued from the open portholes. Stutts ges- tured toward the sound.

"They are a fine band of colleagues," he said. "They deserve to go home to the cheers of all Sancrist." "Do you think we'll ever see Krynn again?" Sturm asked.

"That all depends on Cupelix and what he wants. I have a theory - "

A wind flowed over them. With a customary metallic ringing, the dragon alighted on the lowest sill, perhaps fif- teen feet above Sturm and Stutts. The gnome sidled away from Cupelix.

"I trust you are satiated," Cupelix said to Stutts.

"The meal was excellent, as always," Stutts replied. He yawned. "It weighs a bit heavy on my stomach, though. I think I shall join my colleagues." With a polite nod, Stutts returned to the ship. Cupelix loomed over Sturm.

"So it is you and I, Master Brightblade. What shall we talk about l Let us debate our philosophies, knight to dragon. What do you say?"

"No magic?"

Cupelix laid a burnished claw on his breast. "Dragon's honor."

"How is it," Sturm wondered, "that you speak so fluently the Krynnish tongue!"

"Books," replied the dragon. "My nest on high is plentiful- ly supplied with books by authors mortal and immortal.

Now I shall ask a question: What is it you seek from life?"

"To live honorably and in the manner befitting an Oath-taken knight. My turn. Have you always lived inside this tower?"

"From the days when I was a dragonlet no larger than a gnome, I have been the Keeper. I have never seen outside these walls, save what I spy by the doors and windows." His broad pupils narrowed. "Do you ever question the tenets of the Knights' Oath or Measure? After all, the Order of Solamnus was not revived after the Cataclysm."

Sturm folded his arms across his chest. "If you are well read, then you know the Cataclysm was not caused by any- thing the knights did. They accepted the blame of the com- mon people, as all preservers of order must do when that order breaks down. Where did the Micones come from?"

"They were created to serve me. The Lunitarian tree-folk did not prove reliable." Cupelix flicked out his tongue. "Are you in love with the woman, Kitiara?"

Cupelix's pointed query threw Sturm off guard. "I have some affection for her, but I'm not in love with her, if you understand the difference." The dragon nodded, human- fashion. Sturm continued, "So the tree-men and the Micones were created in succession as your servants, the tree-men being a failed effort. Who created them?"

"Higher powers," replied Cupelix evasively. "This is won- derful! I wish people had come to Lunitari centuries ago! But hark now: If you're not in love with the woman, why is she so predominant in your thoughts? Behind many of your spoken thoughts is an image of her."

Drops of sweat broke out on Sturm's face. "I'm very con- cerned about her. The magical force that pervades this moon has invested her with enormous physical strength.

Her temper has sharpened, too. I worry about the power getting control of her."

'Yes, magic can cause problems. I studied Stutts, Birdcall, and Flash as the power changed them. It was most interest- ing. So the woman has become very strong? That must "complicate your feelings. I've never yet heard of a human male who relished a female being stronger than he."

"That's ridiculous! I don't care -" Sturm halted his out- burst. Blast that sly dragon. He was deliberately probing for a sore point.

"My turn to ask something," Sturm said. "Why does a powerful, magic-using dragon like yourself need servants?

What can they do that you can't?"

"I cannot leave the obelisk; isn't that obvious? The door and windows are far too small to permit me to pass through."

"Ah, but a skillful magic-user could overcome a problem of mere size."

Cupelix's tail swept back, thwack! against the marble wall. "I'm not allowed to leave. I cannot pass the windows or door, and have not been able to break, cut or bore through the walls, nor magic them aside. I am Keeper of the New Lives, and such is my lot until darkness claims me!"

"What new lives?"

"All in good time, Sir Knight. A more pressing matter engages my attention: the matter of my freedom."

'You need us to get you out," Sturm said.

A wisp of fine vapor trickled from the dragon's nostrils.

"Yes, I need you. Only clever machines can release me from this stifling prison. Tree-men could not do it. The Micones will not. The gnomes can. You shall have your flying ship when I am free."

The vaporous threads thickened until they enveloped Sturm. He felt the strength drain from his limbs. His eyelids drooped.... A sleeping mist! Sturm's legs buckled. He mumbled, "No magic, you said."

"Not magic, exactly," Cupelix said soothingly. "Merely a soporific vapor I have at my disposal. My dear fellow, you're so full of suspicions. This will help you. Sleep, and you will not remember this distressing conversation. Sleep, rest, dream. Sleep. Rest. Dream. Forget...."

Kitiara woke up. She had that vaguely troubled feeling that often went with a sudden return to consciousness, as though she'd been having a bad dream that she couldn't remember. She was lying on the deck of the dining room aboard the Cloudmaster. Below, the gnomes snored with the regularity of a water-driven mill. Kitiara combed through her short curls with her fingers. Her skin was clam- my, and her hair damp with sweat.

Outside, the air was cool. She inhaled deeply, but her breath caught when she saw Sturm lying crumpled on the stone floor some yards away. Kitiara hurried down the ramp and ran to where he lay. Sturm breathed, strong and steady, soundly asleep.

Kitiara became aware that she was being watched. She whirled and saw Cupelix lying on his side along the lower ledge. His neck was bowed and he held his tail off the stone.

When he saw that she saw him, his tail came down and began to twitch from side to side in a very feline manner.

"When did this happen?" she asked, gesturing to Sturm.

"A short time ago. It's not a natural sleep," said the dragon.

"He's been having visions since coming to Lunitari. We've all been affected by the magic here."

"Truly? Visions of what?" Kitiara firmed her lips, unwilling to say. "Come, my dear. Master Brightblade has no secrets from you, does he? A man always tells his lover of his dreams."

"We are not lovers!"

"That sounds definite. I see I'm guilty of inferring too much. No matter. He has told you what he visualizes, hasn't he?"

She shrugged. "Scenes of home, on Krynn. His father, mostly, whom he hasn't seen in twelve years."

Cupelix let out a dragon-sized sigh that swirled dust in Kitiara's face. "Ah, Krynn! Where once thousands of my kind lived, to fly the broad skies in absolute freedom!"

"You've never been to Krynn?"

"Alas, never. My entire span of days has been spent with- in the stone walls of this structure. Sad, isn't it?"

"Confining, at any rate."

The tip of Cupelix's forked tongue flickered out. 'You're not afraid of me, are you?"

Kitiara lifted her chin. "Should I be?"

"Most mortals would find me awesome."

"When you've been around as much as I have, you get used to new things. That, and the fact that those who can't adjust quickly die."

"You're a survivor," said Cupelix.

"I do what I can."

The black tongue protruded farther. "How did you hurt yourself?" asked the dragon. Kitiara described the sled ride down the cliff. "Ho, ho, I see! Very clever, those gnomes. I can heal your hurt."

"Can you really?"

"It's simply done. You'll have to remove the wrapping."

Why not? Kitiara thought. She fiddled with the knot that Sturm had tied, but couldn't untie it with her left hand. She pulled her dagger and slit the linen with a few deft strokes.

"The mail, too," said Cupelix.

She raised one eyebrow but put the point of the dagger under the rawhide lacing on her shoulder. The slightly rusty mail peeled back. Kitiara pulled her shirt off her injured shoulder, exposing a hideous purple-black bruise.

"Come closer," said Cupelix. She stepped forward once, and was prepared to go farther, when the dragon swung his head down on his long, supple neck. The black tongue lanced out, just barely touching the bruised area. A shock jolted through Kitiara. Cupelix flicked his tongue again, and a harder shock rocked her back on her heels.

Cupelix reared back. "Done," he said.

Kitiara ran her hand over the site of the sprain. Not a trace of discoloration or soreness remained. She worked her right arm around in a wide circle and felt no twinges.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Many thanks, dragon!"

"It was nothing. A simple healing spell," he said modestly.

Kitiara stretched luxuriously. "I feel like a new woman! I could best a hundred goblins in a fair fight!"

"I'm glad you are pleased," said Cupelix. "The time may soon come when you can repay the favor."

She stopped in mid arm-swing. "What is it you want?"

"Good company, some philosophy, and words with heat in them. Small things."

"So talk to me. I have time to spare."