For a moment they were stunned by the spectacle. Daine had seen greater wealth in his life; he still remembered Alina Lorridan Lyrris’ garden of jewels in Metrol, but with Alina, one never knew what was real and what was illusion. Here treasures were scattered about with no concern for art or appearance. A gilded statuette with ruby eyes the size of Daine’s thumb was propped against a rolled tapestry.

“Blue scales,” Daine said, pulling his thoughts together. “Pierce, watch the door. Lei, I need to know if these chests are safe—it must be in one of them.”

“We could fit a lot of this in my pack,” Lei said, studying one of the chests. Her pack was a treasure of her childhood, though Daine didn’t know if she’d made it or inherited it; in the past, they’d hidden Pierce inside of it.

“I always knew you had the makings of a thief,” Daine said. “Greed suits you.”

He opened the chest as soon as she moved on. At first it appeared to be filled with shards of broken pottery, covered in gleaming enamel; as Daine sifted through the fragments to make sure no scale lay beneath, he realized that they were the remnants of enormous eggs.

Lei blushed. “I—this isn’t about gold. I’ve just never seen a collection like this.” She tapped the lid of a steel coffer. “Leave this one alone. I’ll come back to it.”

Daine nodded, sifting through a hamper of cloth bundles—old flags or battle pennants, he thought.

“That’s a Seren sculpture over there,” she continued. “I’ve only heard of them, and if what Gerrion said is right, this man doesn’t deserve these things.”

“Let it go,” Daine said. “If we only take the scale, he might not even notice it’s missing until we’re gone. I don’t care about his faith; I’d just as soon we didn’t have to deal with the wrath of the gods right now.”

“Very well,” Lei sighed. “Oh, this is interesting—”

“Daine!” Pierce’s thought was a hammer in his skull.

Copper flashed in the light of the cold flame lanterns, smashing the table beside Daine into splinters. A copper dragon crouched before him. It was the size of a tiger, and its head bobbed with the fluid grace of a snake, but its eyes were cold metal. A second ago, it had been a statue frozen at the door. Now it was all too alive—and if Pierce hadn’t slammed into it the instant it began to move, it would have been Daine lying beneath the creature instead of the shards of a shattered table.

The attack happened too quickly for Daine to recognize the nature of his foe. Without thinking, he drew his sword and launched forward in a lunge, striking the beast directly between the eyes. His wrist ached with the impact, and the point barely nicked the surface of the living statue. Then the creature was upon him. The blow slammed him to the floor. The dragon’s claws were pressing down through the rings of his chainmail, just piercing the skin of his chest. Metal jaws stretched wide and descended toward his face—but as glittering teeth filled his vision, there was a resounding clang! and the head was knocked aside. Pierce stood over him, and the spinning chain of his flail was a wall of steel in the dim light.

We don’t have time for this! Daine thought. While Pierce’s blow didn’t seem to have caused any serious damage, it had struck the creature off balance. Daine threw his weight into it, twisting to the side and knocking the dragon to the floor. Lei, keep searching!

Now the dragon was crouched in a corner of the room, and Daine could see his image reflected in its dead metal eyes. Any doubts about its nature were laid to rest: this was a creature of magic and metal, not flesh and blood. Somehow, it disturbed Daine in a way the warforged never had. At least the warforged were human in form and voice, and in some ways they weren’t so different from men in armor. Occasionally, especially when drunk, Daine had forgotten Pierce’s true nature, calling him to join the revels, but there was nothing natural about this creature. It shouldn’t even have been able to move. There were no joints, no hinges—it was solid metal, yet it had the flexibility of flesh.

There was a moment of stillness as the enemies watched each other. The only sound was Lei’s quiet curse as she fumbled with the lock on a stubborn coffer. Then the creature leapt forward, crashing into Pierce. The warforged raised his flail just in time to catch the dragon’s foreclaws, holding its upper body at bay, but it lashed out with its hind claws, and there was a terrible screech of metal on metal. Copper claws gouged Pierce’s armored plates and tore into the leathery cords that lay beneath.

The warforged did not cry out in pain, but the extent of the injury was plain to see. Cold fury welled up in Daine’s heart. Pierce might have saved his life only moments ago, and that was just one time of many. This thing would not be the end of his friend. His anger pulled him forward, and as Pierce struggled to hold the dragon at bay Daine reversed his grip on his dagger and slammed it into one of the creature’s eyes. This dagger was no ordinary blade; forged by a mad smith of House Cannith, it could carve through steel as easily as cloth, and no mundane metal could match its edge. The blade sunk deep into the dragon’s head, with no more resistance than he would have felt from a block of soft cheese, but the dragon had no brain within its skull. It twisted its head, and pure anger gave Daine the strength to hold onto the dagger and pull the blade from the creature’s head. Its left eye was a ruin, but it didn’t seem to be affected in any way; Daine leapt back just in time to avoid the snapping jaws.

Status, Pierce, he thought.

The warforged was on his feet, but he gave no response. The beast was continuing to tear at Pierce with its hind claws, and Daine could see the shredded cords at his waist. Were Pierce a creature of flesh and blood, his entrails would be dripping from the dragon’s talons, but the warforged wasn’t down yet. He lacked the strength to push the beast away, but he twisted to the side, using its weight against it. As the dragon fell to the floor Pierce brought his flail down, wrapping the long chain around one of its hind legs. The copper beast tumbled to the floor, scattering coffers with its wild thrashing. Pierce dropped to one knee—clearly his injuries were taking a toll on him, and he still hadn’t responded to Daine’s telepathic query.

Anger gave way to concern, but there was no time for either. Daine darted forward, slashing with his dagger. Slivers of copper fell to the floor. It was clear that the creature did not possess any sort of vital organs: if Daine was going to do anything, he’d have to take it apart piece by piece. It might not use its eyes, but perhaps the loss of its head would prove more of a handicap.

It was easier to devise such plans than to put them into practice. In an instant the dragon was fully facing him. It lashed out with its tail, catching Pierce directly in his injured midsection; the warforged soldier crashed into the wall and lay still. Now the dragon glared at Daine with its ruined gaze. Daine crossed his blades before his chest. Perhaps if he caught it in mid-leap, he could use its force against it, drag the dagger across its neck …

In the end, it wasn’t the dragon that leapt. There was a flash of motion and then Lei was on the creature’s back, clinging to its neck. Her mouth was twisted in a terrible grimace, and Daine could see the air rippling around her hands; for a moment he remembered the battle at Keldan Ridge and a warforged soldier exploding at her touch. The dragon thrashed around, trying to reach her, but she held on with grim determination; Daine was afraid to strike at the beast for fear of hitting Lei in the melee.

He needn’t have worried. The creature gave no howl, no cry of pain. It simply froze in place, becoming dead metal once again. Lei slumped against its neck, breathing hard.

“Lei!” Without even thinking about it, Daine reached out for her. She fell into his arms, still gasping for breath.

“I’ve got … scale,” she said, her head pressed against his shoulder. It took a moment for Daine to remember the purpose of the battle. “Let me … Pierce.”

Daine steadied her on her feet, and for a moment he just held her as she caught her breath. All thought was lost in a maelstrom of emotion, anger and concern wrapped together with something deeper. Then he let her go and they ran to Pierce. The warforged lay against the wall, seemingly as inert as the dragon statue. His waist was a gaping ruin of shredded cords coated with a translucent, sticky fluid, but Lei just knelt beside him and ran her hands over the torn ligaments. Daine had seen her work with warforged before, and he knew there was still hope.

Lakashtai, what’s going on? He thought.

Nothing. Suddenly he remembered Pierce’s failure to respond.

Lei? Can you hear me?

“Lei?” he said.

“Yes?” She didn’t look up from her work.

“We’ve got trouble.”

“I should say that you do,” came a voice from the hall.

Maru Sakhesh was wreathed in flame. The fire did not touch his dark robes or the arch of the doorway, but Daine could feel the heat against his skin, and he wondered for a moment if it would only burn the flesh of a foe. The priest held no weapons, but as he clenched his fists, his burning aura grew brighter.

“The season of flame is upon us,” Sakhesh hissed, his voice low and deadly. “You have chosen an excellent time to die.”

“We’ve got other plans,” Daine said.

He’d felt a momentary shred of doubt when Sakhesh had appeared; no matter how he tried to justify it, the fact was that they were thieves and the priest was defending his property. Daine had no intention of being burned to death, and he needed to find Lakashtai. He wasn’t sure he’d call the kalashtar woman a friend, truly, but she was a companion, and she’d saved his life. He couldn’t fail again.

Daine leapt forward and lunged at Sakhesh, the point of his blade directly in line with the priest’s heart. Sakhesh was an old man, and he didn’t have any room to evade the blow. He didn’t try. He didn’t even flinch when Daine struck. His black silk robes had the strength of steel, and Daine’s blade slid to the side without penetrating. The priest’s fiery halo flared with light and heat, and a column of fire lanced along Daine’s sword to surround his arm. Daine leapt back, but his shirt was smoldering, and his arm was sore and burnt.

“Be at peace,” Sakhesh said. He clenched his fist, and Daine was caught in a vise-like, invisible force. He struggled with all his might, but he could not move. Sakhesh stepped toward him, throwing his arms wide. “Surrender. Give yourself to the fire, the breath of the true Sovereigns.”