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are
digging me out, but it’s going to take some time. What about my son? What
happened to Ven? The monks can’t find him and neither can I.”
    “Ven was always
adept at keeping his mind hidden from us.” Anora stood in the middle of the
debris, angry and frustrated. “What about his brother? The human prince? He
should be easy enough to locate, and if you have one, you have the other.”
    “Not necessarily,”
said Grald. “The human managed to escape.”
    “He escaped the
explosion?”
    “The city.” Now it
was Grald who was on the defensive.
    “How is that
possible?” Anora demanded in disbelief. “The human is strong in dragon-magic,
but not strong enough to penetrate the illusion of the wall. Only another
dragon could do that ...” Her voice trailed off.
    “So Draconas did escape you,” said Grald grimly. “You destroy half my city for nothing.”
    “I did not destroy
the city,” Anora returned crossly. Looking around the ruin in which she was
standing, she was starting to realize what must have happened. “Draconas cast a
counter-spell that caused his magic to clash with mine. It’s a wonder any of us
survived. You must order your monks to search for the Walker,” she added, her
colors sullen. “I believe he is alive after all.”
    “Told you so!”
Grald sneered.
    The monks were
ordered to search for two humans: the Walker, who wore the guise of a human
male in his thirties, and a human male named Marcus last seen wearing the robes
of a monk. The monks were also told to look for Ven, the dragon’s son, whom
they all knew by sight. Unfortunately, their search for both humans and the
dragon disguised as a human was hampered by the fact that the entire population
of Dragonkeep had been thrown into a state of panic by the blast.
    With the maddening
perversity of humans, people rushed to the site of the blast instead of fleeing
it, which, as Anora told Grald, any creature with common sense would have done.
Before the dust had settled, humans clogged the streets and clambered over the
ruins, screeching and yelling, wailing and weeping, groaning and bleeding, and
none of them staying in one place, but all of them milling about in confusion.
    Anora continued
her search, though without much hope, for she was convinced that it must have
been Draconas who had helped Marcus escape. Humans were everywhere underfoot.
They scrabbled frantically through the wreckage, calling for those who would
never answer. A middle-aged man hurried past carrying the bloody, broken body
of a child. A young woman crouched, moaning, over the corpse of a young man as
another woman was trying unsuccessfully to soothe her. The dragon paid scant
attention to any of this.
    There were so many
humans in this world, their lives so short and fleeting, that the loss of a few
dozen was no great cause for concern, especially when the future of both
mankind and dragonkind was at stake.
    Slowly, as the
reports of the monks began to come in, Grald and Anora were able to piece
together parts of the puzzle.
    The monks entered
the building where Ven and Marcus and the girl, Evelina, had last been seen. No
one was there, although the monks did report finding a large pool of blood on
the floor. They did not know whose blood. There was no body. A hole blown out
the back of the building gave the monks some idea of how those inside had
escaped.
    Armed with
dragon-magic, the monks continued their search for Marcus and Ven. Marcus could
not have left Dragonkeep, for the wall surrounding the city was designed so
that no human— even one possessing the dragon-magic—could find his way through
the hidden gate.
    Except that was
exactly what happened, or so his monks reported back to Grald. Marcus had been
cornered, trapped like the proverbial rat with his back against the wall.
Exhausted and wounded, he could not even put up much of a fight. The human
female with him had no magic and was no threat. Suddenly, without warning,
Marcus walked straight