toothy  horns sprout-
 ed  from a  wide mouth.  His eyes  were vertical  slits, like
 Cupelix's.
   Draconians! He was furious that these  ugly brutes  were in
 his ancestral home. Sturm  pushed through  the gate  into the
 bailey. There were  wagons and  carts parked  there, groaning
 with swords, spears, battle-axes, and  sheafs of  arrows. The
 draconians were turning Castle  Brightblade into  an arsenal,
 but for whom'
   In the great  hall he  found a  crackling fire  built. Camp
 stools were set up before the hearth, and a trestle table was
 covered  with  scrolls.  Sturm  hovered  by  the  table.  The
 scrolls were maps, primarily of Solamnia and Abanasinia.
   Steel rang on stone, and Sturm started, forgetting  that he
 could not be seen. A tall, powerful figure strode out  of the
 dark hall. He was helmetless, his  face hard  and expression-
 less. Long, smooth locks of white hair  fell over  his shoul-
 ders. The man crossed between the fire and the table  and sat
 on one  of the  stools. He  set his  helmet down  beside him.
 Sturm had never seen  such a  helmet before.  Tusks protruded
 from the visor, and the whole form was  shaped like  the head
 of a predatory insect.
 ~  "Come  and  sit down,"  said the  man, whom  Sturm thought
 of as the general. A  second figure  stirred in  the shadows.
 He - it? - did not come into the circle of firelight.  A thin
 hand, sleeved in dark gray,  reached out  and dragged  a camp
 chair into a dimmer corner of the hall.
 "I forget you do not care for fire," said the general. "Pity.

 Fire is such a useful force."
    "Fire and light shall be my undoing  some day,"  rasped the
 robed  figure.  "I have  seen my  demise in  flames. I  am not
 eager to meet my end just yet."
    "Not with so much to do," replied  the general.  He perused
 the  map  of  Solamnia.  "When  do  you  hear  from  your Mis-
 tress  that  ъed Wing  will be  here? The  arms grow  rusty in
 this damp old castle."
    "Patience,  Merinsaard.  The  Dark  Queen  has  well gauged
 the temper of the land, and she will set the armies  in motion
 when the auspices are most favorable."
    The general snorted. "You speak of signs and portents as if
 they determined everything. It's the charge of the  lance, the
 shock  of  cavalry,  that  decides  the  fate  of  battles and
 empires, Sorotin."
    The   hidden  sorcerer   chuckled,  a   moldering,  decayed
 sound  that  chilled  Sturm.  "Men  of  action always  like to
 think that their fate is in their hands. It comforts  them and
 makes them feel important."
    Merinsaard  said   nothing.  He   leaned  to   the  hearth,
 plucked out a burning brand,  and thrust  it toward  his shad-
 owed  compatriot.  Sturm  got a  glimpse of  a face  that sur-
 prised  him.  It might've  been handsome  but for  its deathly
 paleness and the evil that emanated from  burning eyes  set in
 it.  The  magic-user,  Sorotin, groaned  and shrank  away from
 the flame. Merinsaard tossed the burning twig after him.
    "Mind  your  tongue,"  Merinsaard  said.  "And  remember, I
 command  here. If  you displease  me, or  fail in  your necro-
 mancy, I'll feed you to the fire myself."
    The sorcerer panted raggedly with fear.  "Be not  too bold,
 my lord. For  one is  here now  who watches  and is  no friend
 to our cause." Sturm's heart skipped a beat.
    "What?"  said  the general.  He reached  under the  pile of
 maps  and  pulled  out  a  viciously  curved dagger.  A sticky
 coating  of  greenish  poison  showed  on  the  cutting  edge.
 "Where is this intruder? Where?"
    "Standing  between  us,  great  general."  He   did  mean
 Sturm!
    Merinsaard  slashed  through  the  empty air.  "You fool!
 There's no one there!"

   "Not in the fleshly sense, my lord. He is a spirit from far
 away - very far, by the aura he  emits. Perhaps  as far  as -
 Lunitari? That is far indeed."
   "Get rid of it, whatever it is," said Merinsaard. "Kill the
 spy! No one must know of our plans!"
   "Calm yourself, my lord. Our visitor is not here to  spy. I
 sense that this was once his home."
   "Dotard! No one has lived here for  twenty years.  The last
 lord of the castle was hounded out of the country."
   "True enough,  mighty Merinsaard,"  said Sorotin.  "Shall I
 bring this spirit here in body, or bid him  go back  where he
 came?"
   Sturm struggled with his  feelings for  a moment.  He tried
 to will himself to solidity so that he might  challenge these
 evil men. But he could sense no change in his state.
   "Can he speak to the living of  this world'?"  asked Merin-
 saard.
   "I think not. He is too attenuated by the vast  distance he
 has traveled. I sense no knowledge of magic in him."
   "Then  hurl  him  back to  his wretched  body and  keep him
 there! I have no time for ghostly ambassadors."
   Sturm  saw  a  glint  in  the  darkness.  He heard  a sweet
 chime. The sorcerer had struck the silver bell he carried.
   "Hear me, 0 Spirit: As I ring this  magic bell  thrice, you
 will depart from this castle, this land, this world, never to
 return."  The  bell  chimed  once.  "Argon!"  Twice. "H'rar!"
 Three times. "In the name of the Dragonqueen!"
   Every muscle in Sturm's body jolted  at once.  He literally
 felt as though he'd fallen from  a height,  but he  was awake
 and  in  his body,  in the  obelisk on  Lunitari. He  sat up,
 breathing  hard  and  shaking. The  entire vision  had passed
 without any new clue  to his  father's whereabouts.  That was
 distressing enough, but the  machinations of  this Merinsaard
 and Sorotin - in Castle  Brightblade -  filled him  with out-
 rage. Someone must be told! The alarm must be given!
     He roused Sighter from his blanket. "Wake up!" he said.
 "Let's have a look at that lens of yours."
   "Now?" said the gnome through a jaw-cracking yawn.
   "Yes, why not? It's been hours."
 A Micone was standing by, as per orders, and it allowed

  Sturm  and  Sighter to  mount for  a ride  down to  the casting
  chamber.  The  whole  cavern was  filled with  dripping patches
  of mist. The giant ant didn't  like the  dampness at  all. Once
  or twice, its barbed feet slipped on the vitreous  wall, making
  Sturm cling  tightly to  the rope  harness and  causing Sighter
  to cling even more tightly to Sturm.
    The lens was still ruby  red, but  very little  heat radiated
  from it.
    Sturm tapped his  fingers lightly  on the  edge of  the mold.
  The  fourth  tap  broke  loose  a  chunk  of  mud, now  dry and
  brittle.  The  inward  sloping  side of  the lens  was exposed.
  Sighter stood on his toes to examine the glass.
    "No,"  he  muttered.  Out  came  the  magnifying   glass.  He
  peered  into  the  scarlet casting.  "Broken gears  and slipped
  pulleys!" he exclaimed. "The lens is worthless!"
    "What?"
    "The glass, the glass! It's nearly opaque!"
    "It can't be," Sturm  said. Sighter  handed him  his magnify-
  ing glass. Sturm peered into the  lens. All  he could  see were
  millions of tiny white bubbles trapped in the solidified glass.
  That, and the dark  red color,  made it  obvious that  the lens
  would be useless  for focusing  the sun's  rays into  a burning
  beam.
    "Perhaps when it's polished," Sturm said hopefully.
    "Never!"  Sighter  sputtered.  "You'd  have more  chance try-
  ing  to  focus  sunbeams through  a cedar  tree!" He  threw his
  pocket glass on the rocks and stamped it until it shattered.
    "What's the  matter?" asked  a voice.  Stutts and  the others
  had  also  come  to  inspect the  giant lens.  Sighter bitterly
  explained that their  work had been for nothing. The    crest-
  fallen gnomes ringed the mold and  stared down  at the  lens in
  disbelief.
    "Worthless," said Fitter.
    "Useless," said ъoperig.
    "A waste of time and effort," Cutwood added.
    "Now what do we do?" asked ъainspot.
    "Try to explain it to the dragon," said the crushed Sighter.

 * * *                           * *

   No  one  said much  about the  lens failure  except Cupelix.
 The  otherwise  genial,  well-mannered  dragon  had  a dragon-
 sized tantrum.
   "Thundering  incompetents!  Witless  -  inept!"   A  tremen-
 dous telepathic FOOLS! made them all flinch.
   "Do be still," Kitiara  said severely.  "A dragon  your age,
 carrying on like a spoiled child! Do you think the little fel-
 lows guarantee success?"
   Sturm watched the effect of Kitiara's chiding on  the beast.
 Cupelix's ears, which had been flattened  on his  head, slowly
 lifted, and the jets of acrid vapor  stopped puffing  from his
 nostrils.
   "I had such hopes!" Cupelix allowed.
   "Well, it looks like  we're going  to be  here a  long while,"
 Kitiara said. "So we  shall have  plenty of  time to  think up
 new ways to get you out of this marble cell."
   Mollified,  the  dragon  prepared  them  a  cold  repast and
 retired  to  his  high  sanctum to  meditate on  his problems.
 Sturm,  Kitiara,  and the  gnomes went  outside and  stared at
 the  Cloudmaster.  Poor, lifeless  hulk, an  immobile derelict
 gracing the red turf of Lunitari.
   Sturm  put  a  hand  to  his  chin  and  pondered   what  he
 understood  from  Wingover's  explanation  of  how  the Cloud-
 master  flew.i  The  wings were  useless without  lightning to
 turn the engine. All that remained was  the half-empty  bag of
 ethereal air. He said, "What about the ethereal air?"
   "What about it?" asked Wingover.
   Sturm,  rather  abashed  to  be  making  technical arguments
 to the gnomes, said, "Bellcrank  used to  say that  when full,
 the ethereal air bag was sufficient to lift the ship."
  "With  all  due respect  to our  late colleague,  the lifting
 power of the bag is  much less  than the  total weight  of the
 hull of the ship," Stutts said. They lapsed into  silence once
 again.  Sturm  thought  some  more.  Kitiara's  eyes  narrowed
 as she, too, concentrated.
   "What if we lightened the ship?" said Fitter.
   "What?" said Sturm.
   "What?" said Stutts, Wingover, Sighter, ъainspot, and
 Flash.
   "What!" said Cutwood, ъoperig, and (translated) Bird-

 call.
    Kitiara grinned her  Off-center grin,  something she  did all
 too  rarely  these  days.  "Lighten  the  ship!"  she  declared.
 "Now  that's  Something  I  can  understand!" She  picked little
 Fitter up and Shook  him So  hard that  his teeth  rattled. Then
 She  boosted  him  up  to the  rail. The  gnome Went  below deck
 and   Opened   the   side  boarding   ramp.  The   Other  gnomes
 swarmed  aboard,  fired  with  the  Zeal Of  desperation. Before
 sturm  and  Kitiara  had  even  mounted  the  ramp,  loud crash-
 es and Splintering creaks sounded within the Ship.
    "They  may  rip  everything  Out,"  Stuim Said  wryly. "Deck,
 celing, planks, and posts."
 )         The gnomes formed a chain from the lowest deck to the
 top  rail  and began  flinging everything  they could  lay their
 hands  On  Over  the  Side.  They  ransacked  their  cabins  and
 brought  forth   all  their   personal  belongings.   Sturm  Was
 astounded  by  the  mass  and  variety  Of it:  blankets, books,
 tools, clothing, barrels, pots, plates, rope, cord, twine, Sail-
 cloth, a crate Of  ink, pens,  bars Of  Soap, two  harmonicas, a
 fiddle, a flute, Sixteen pairs Of boots (all  sized too  big for
 Sturm,  much  less any  gnome that  ever lived),  gloves, belts,
 and a Stuffed billy goat that cutwood kept in his cabin.
    Some  items  couldn't  be  manhandled  to  the   upper  deck.
 Kitiara  found  ъoperig  and  Fitter  lying  prostrate  beside a
 large keg. "We can't budge it," ъoperig panted.
    "I'll do it." She turned the keg around to See if there was a
 bung  attached.  Liquid  sloshed  inside, and  a single  Word in
 gnomish  block  letters  was  stenciled  On the  Staves. Kitiara
 said, "What's in this, anyway?"
    Fitter  Squinted  at the  label. "Oil  Of Vitriol.  Must have
 been Bellcrank's," he Said. A Slight quiver invaded his chin.
    "Vitriol, eh?" She recalled the mess that  the acid  had made
 Of  Bellcrank's  Excellent  Mouthless  Siphon  back   On  Krynn.
 "Why hasn't it eaten through the keg?"
    "Oh, it's probably lined with  some resistant  coating," Said
 ъoperig. He Wiped the back  Of his  neck with  his hand,  and it
 promptly Stuck there. "Oh, dry roti"
    Kitiara  drummed  her  fingers  On  the  barrel  head.  "Hmm,
 that's  worth  knowing.  So  this  stuff  dissolves  some things
 but not Others?"

    "Yes." ъoperig tried to free his hand and succeeded in
 sticking his Other hand to his Own arm. "Double dry rot I"
   "Will Oil Of vitriol dissolve marble?" She asked.
   "Maybe. It doesn't affect many glassy substances."
   "What about lead?"
   "Yes, definitely. Fitter, stop fidgeting and help met"
   She left  the two  gnomes locked  in a  Stmlle against
 ъoperig'S  adhesive   palms.  The   gnome  she   sought,  Stutts,
 was  Outside the  ship, Sorting  through the  heap Of  goods that
 the gnomes had discarded. Kitiara  pulled Stutts  free Of  a pile
 Of clothing and Said, "I know how to get the dragon Out!"
   "What?" said the gnome. "How?"
   "Bellcrank'S  vitriol."  She   gestured  vaguely   back  toward
 the ship. "There's a whole barrelful Of it On board. If we let it
 eat  up  the  mortar  in the  lowest course  Of the  Obelisk, the
 Walls are bound to collapse, aren't they'd"
   Understanding  gradually  lightened  Stutts's  face.   Then  it
 hit him full force. "Hydrodynamicst It will work!"
   The  gnomes  heard  Stutts'S  cry  and  rallied   around.  With
 extravagant   hand   motions   and   frequent    compliments   to
 Kitiara,  Stutts  explained  her  idea.  The   gnomes  positively
 exploded  with  excitement.  It  was   So  Simple!   So  elegant!
 They'd  been  fixated  On  a  mechanical  Solution, and  here the
 human Woman had come up With a chemical answer!
   Sturm  heard  the   commotion  and   hustled  down   the  ramp.
 He  agreed  that  the plan  was a  good One,  but Saw  One impor-
 tant   consideration.   "What   happens   to  Cupelix   when  the
 tower  falls?"  he  asked.  "Not  even a  brass dragon  can with-
 stand tons Of marble masonry falling On him."
   "There has to be a way around that," Said Kitiara.
   "Why don't we ask the dragon?" Said Sturm.
   That's  what  they  did.  At  first, the  dragon was  Sulky and
 refused  to  come  down  from  his  aerie.  Kitiara  Scolaed  him
 for  his petulance,  and still  there was  no response.  Then she
 alone heard: I don't wish to be disappointed again.
        "We're not making any promises," she proclaimed loudly.
 "We  have  a new  scheme that  We're pretty  sure will  Work, but
 it has an awkward problem. Freeing you may kill you."
   A unique solution. I would not be a prisoner any longer.
   "Oh, shut upi If  you can't  come down  and talk  to us  like a

 reasonable dragon, We'll  just bring  the Obelisk  down around
 you." Kitiara jerked her head to the others. "Let's go."
   "We're not really going to use the vitriol With him still up
 there, are we, ma'am?" said Fitter.
     "Why not? You want to see if it'll work, don't you?" She
 replied.
   "But the dragon will get hurt."
   cutwood chewed thoughtfully On the tip Of his pencil. "I
 Wonder," he mused, "What the tensile strength Of dragon
 hide and flesh is?" Sighter produced some vellum.
   "We can do a calculation!"

                      Chapter 28

                      Breakthomough

         The Cloudmaster, freed of several hundred
 pounds  Of  useless  weight,  buoyed  a  bit  off  the ground.
 Wingover had a fine time 'lifting'  the big  ship up  with his
 hands.  ъoperig  advised staking  the hull  to the  ground, so
 Wooden  Stakes  Were  pounded  into  the  turf and  the flying
 Ship was Secured.
   "Besides stacks Of food and water, there isn't a Scrap Of
 anything left On board," Stutts reported. "Most Of the interi-
 or partitions have been tjrn Out, too."
 "What  about  the  engine?"  asked  Sturm.  "It must  weigh as
 much as the rest Of the hull put together."
 "It does," said Flash, not without pride.
 "Then we must dump it."
 "Not Our beautiful enginel There isn't another machine

 like it anywhere!"
   Sturm  could  make  no  headway,  so he  went to  where Kiti-
 ara,  cutwood,  and sighter  Were studying  the matter  Of dis-
 solving the Obelisk's lead mortar.
   "we'll need ladders to reach  those higher  courses," Kitiara
 Was Saying.
   "Scaffolding  would  be  better,"  Sighter  argued.  "There's
 Some Scrap lumber from the Ship."
   "How  will  we  get  the  vitriol  up  there?"  asked Cutwood.
   "Glass vials and beakers," Said Sighter. "That Stuff  will eat
 through anything else."
   Sturm cleared  his throat  loudly. Kitiara  Said impatiently,
 "Speak up, Sturm."
   "The Ship is almost light enough to  float, but  Birdcall and
 Flash Won't agree to discard the useless engine," he reported.
   "So  what?  Take  a  hammer  and  knock  it  to  pieces," She
 Said.  "That's  the  Way  to  get  things  done."  cutwood  and
 Sighter looked  at her  in some  surprise, and  Sturm prudently
 refrained  from  commenting.  Instead,   he  asked   if  they'd
 heard from Cupelix.
   "Not a peep. He's being very stubborn."
   Sturm  went  inside.  The  vast Open  floor Was  deserted. The
 ship, the gnomes,  and their  gear had  all been  removed. Only
 the three gaping holes for the Micones Were the same.
   "Cupelix?"  he  called.  "Cupelix,  I know  you can  hear me.
 Come  down."  His  voice  echoed   through  the   empty  Space.
 "Kitiara  is  going  ahead  with this  vitriol Scheme  Of hers.
 She'll bring this  tower down  about your  ears, just  to prove
 She can do it." He  felt the  faint but  distinct touch  Of the
 dragon's mental voice.
   L trust you, Brightblade. You tell the truth.
   "A  man's  truthfulness  is  his duty  to the  Measure," Sturm
 replied.
   I made  a bargain  with dear  Kit: If  she would  advocate my
 cause  to  the  gnomes,  I  would accompany  her for  two years
 upon our return to Krynn.
   Sturm frowned. "For what purpose?"
   I  know  not.  But  it  was  important  enough  that  she was
 Whilling to abandon you and your friends to reach Krynll.
   "You must be jesting! Kitiara Wouldn't do that t"

   I  am  very  Serious,  Brightblade.  When  she  believed  the
 ship ruined, she pressed me to take her away when I left.
   "Why are you telling me this?"
   Her ambition worries me.  Every living  thing has  an aura;
 have you heard this? It is true. The aura reveals the  spark Of
 life that animates the body without. Yours,  for example,  is a
 golden yellow,  strong, radiant,  and unvarying.  But Kitiara's
 is fiery red and streaked with black. The  black is  growing in
 her.
         Sturm Waved dismissively. "I don't know What you're
 talking about. Kit is strong-willed and impetuous, that's all."
   You are wrong, my virtuous friend.
 J"come down, dragon, and help us with your release.
 That's all I have to Say." Sturm marched Out.
   The  gnomes  had  the  lowest  Stages  Of  a  Scaffold lashed
 together.  Sturm  noted  the  brightening  Sky.  "Sunrise,"  he
 Said. "Better come inside till after the tower discharges."
   There  was  a  rumble  Overhead.  The  sun  peeked  Over  the
 Valley  Wall,  and  the early  rays hit  the marble  tower. The
 rumble deepened. The  first crackles  Of lightning  were arcing
 from  the  Obelisk's  peak.  The  Whole  valley shook  With the
 force. Another brief day began On Lunitari.
   You don't have  to Shake  the tower  so! I  intend to  join in.
   The  group broke  i