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man cried at the High Theocrat. "It is you who are the infidel, Hederick!" Then he was plowing
through the crowd, fighting through dozens of guards toward Hederick.
The centaurs let loose a volley of arrows, and the materbill howled in agony. The air was filled with
smoke and flames, the screams of dying guards and centaurs, and the terrified cries of hundreds of
spectators. The freed slaves were fighting hand to hand with goblins. Some spectators cheered them
on, howling whenever a goblin went down and rushing forward to tear the unfortunate creature limb
from limb.
Kifflewit Burrthistle darted through the riot to Mynx's side. It was the kender who was able to rouse
the wounded thief enough to half-drag, half-push her away from the tumult to the relative safety of
the vallenwood tree.
"There's something wrong with it," she lamented, her eyes glassy. "With the Diamond Dragon,
kender. We lost one of the diamonds, Kifflewit. By the gods, how could we have been so stupid?"
The kender's head shot up, startled brown eyes searching hers. "Lost it? But I have it, Mynx," he
finally said. Kifflewit was uncharacteristically somber for a moment. "The diamond was loose. I... I
found it. I was afraid we'd lose it." He cheered up. "Lucky I did, Mynx. It's safe in my pouch.
Everything will be all right! I have it."
Not for the first time, Mynx had to control an urge to strangle the kender. "So where is it?"
The kender peered through the sea of humans and centaurs, goblins and guards, battling around
them. Gouts of flame from the dying materbill lit up the courtyard at odd intervals. "I dropped my
pouches when I came to rescue you-----There they are! And there's the one with the gemstone! I
remember, it was the red pouch with the blue string." He pointed triumphantly but seemed
disinclined to budge from Mynx's side.
"Get the diamond, kender!"
Kifflewit scuttled off through the bedlam without a backward glance. Phytos battled nearby,
protecting Tarscenian's flank. Mynx shouted until the violet-eyed centaur turned her way. "Help me
up, Phytos," she commanded. She put the Diamond Dragon into the centaur's hand and clambered
awkwardly onto his back, her right arm dangling at her side. She strained for a glimpse of Kifflewit
Burrthistle.
At first nothing but dust and tangled bodies greeted her eyes.
Then there he was, scooting across the courtyard and through the chaos like a rabbit. The materbill
writhed not more than an arm's length from the kender's red and blue pouch, but Kifflewit dashed
right up and grabbed it. He held up his hand and waved to Mynx.
She raised her left arm. "Throw it, Kifflewit!" she shouted.
The kender may not have heard the words, but he understood the gesture. He flung the missing
diamond across the courtyard.
Mynx caught it deftly in her left hand and quickly replaced it in the figurine of the Diamond
Dragon.
With Phytos shouting encouragement, she pressed the glittering artifact against the vallenwood.
This time the droning and glowing far overwhelmed what they had experienced before. Mynx cast a
triumphant look back at Kifflewit just as the materbill roared one last time and died.
The last Mynx saw of him, Kifflewit Burrthistle was looking bewildered as his clothes went up in
flames. "Kender!" she cried.
And then the vallenwood exploded.
Chapter 27
The explosion knocked Tarscenian off the centaur and onto his back. Out of the corner of his eye he
saw the Diamond Dragon arc through the noon sunlight, shedding sparks in gold, yellow, and white.
The dragon figurine hovered in midair. Tarscenian realized that its paper-thin wings were moving,
beating, and the artifact's head was twisting this way and that. Heder-ick cried out, and Tarscenian
saw that the High Theocrat's gaze was on the Diamond Dragon, too.
Then the tiny ruby eyes of the diminutive steel dragon spied Tarscenian. It dived to his shoulder, its
diamonds sparkling in the sun. Hederick called out in fury. Tarscenian drew his sword and once
more plunged toward the High Theocrat.
Hederick was looking elsewhere now nearly straight up, above Tarscenian. The High Theocrat's
face was distorted with anger and horror. Tarscenian spun around.
The stump was gone. In its place rose Ancilla as the Presence the vision of a woman and a dragon
combined. She had the eyes of a snake and an aura of undreamed-of magical power.
The being was twice as tall as Erolydon, and the lance that flowed from her midsection was thirty
feet long.
The miniature dragon on Tarscenian's shoulder gave an unmistakable cry of joy and flew toward
Ancilla. Soon it was perching on her shoulder, too small to be seen from the ground, except for an
occasional flash of yellow, blue, or red from one of its gemstones.
Tarscenian had nearly reached Hederick.
Several dozen guards had joined the High Theocrat on the stand. Under their combined weight, the
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