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distinguishing about Myre; she was neither plain nor pretty, tall nor dwarfish, her hair and eyes were an ordinary enough brown. That was the outside, an exterior that Rena now knew was purely protective. That was because Myre was the only one of all her slaves who actually
knew
some of what was going on outside the walls of the estate, although she was very mysterious and elusive about her sources of information. What was the most important, though, was that she was willing to share that knowledge with her mistress. She had begun by calling that news "tales" and "stories," but that particular pretense had been dropped a long time ago.
    With the rest of the maids gone, Rena dropped her illusion (thin as it was) of satisfaction, then chuckled as Myre made a grimace of distaste.
    "I know," Rena said to the human. "I know. Dreadful, isn't it?"
    "You make me think of a sacrificial virgin from one of the old religions," Myre replied, shaking her head, a sardonic smile on her lips. "Some poor little slip of a thing, all weighed down with the gifts to the gods so that she sinks properly when they push her into the gods' well—brr!"
    "Not so much important for herself, but as the bearer of the gifts, yes, I was thinking much the same." Rena sat back down carefully. "Is there any way you can make these things a little more balanced? I feel as if I might fall over at any moment."
    "I'll see," Myre responded readily. "You know, I think I might be able to 'lose' some of those horrid hair ornaments. I doubt Lord Tylar will bother to count them. I have never envied you, my lady, but tonight I am very glad that I do not stand in your place. The hair-sculpture must be horrible to wear, and the hair ornaments too heavy to think about." She cocked her head to one side. "Hmm. I believe I can rid you of about half of them and still keep the entire dreadful effect."
    "Oh, please," Rena begged shamelessly. "Lorryn made them; they'll go away by themselves in a day or two. And you can tell me news, if you have any."
    "Some." The slave carefully removed one of the ornaments, dropped it, and kicked it behind the dressing table. "I've heard that the wizards have found a new stronghold and are settling in it. That is, they've found a place where they can build a stronghold, and they've sent word so that escaping halfbloods can find them there. The dragons are actually building the stronghold for them, or so it is said. I suspect it's true."
    "They are?" Rena didn't care about the wizards—but that the dragons were still with them, helping them—"How can a dragon build, though? Wouldn't that be terribly hard to do, with claws and all?"
    Myre laughed, and kicked another ornament into a new hiding place. "I thought I'd told you that when I told you about the war! Dragons have magic too, besides the magic of calling lightning; they can shape rock to whatever form they like. It's as easy for them to mold rock as it is for a slave to mold clay into a pot."
    Rena saw her own pale green eyes widen as she stared into the mirror. "No, you didn't tell me that—you didn't tell me they had magic. I mean, flying and calling lightning is wonderful enough, but magic of their own—they're like one of the great
dursans
from Evelon!"
    Myre shrugged, as if it didn't matter much to her. "Well, I suppose it's a magic that's logical, even necessary, for something that big to have, anyway. Think about it—if you have to live in a cave, wouldn't it be a good thing to have some way to make it more livable?"
    The slave disposed of another pair of hair ornaments, then loosened the necklace somewhat as Rena nodded. "I imagine you're right," Rena responded. "It's just that every new thing you tell me about them is more wonderful than the last! Oh, I would give
anything
to see one, even at a distance!"
    The slave laughed dryly. "The way things are going, you're likely to get your wish, since they don't seem disposed to hide themselves. They're likely to start flying over the