"Easy, my friend." Leiffen Skaard's mount, Emberfall, nearly skidded down the side of a cliff in a spill of reddish gravel. He held on tightly to the reins.

He and Bonn Skaard had been leading their horses for hours, trying to find a path from the peaks of Crytombe Crags into the heart of Nazeera. They had watched from a plateau as the soldiers took the hood-winked princess inside the city gate at mid-day.

"We missed our chance on the road," Leiffen said. He stopped, leaned against a boulder, and took a long pull on the flagon of water. The men of the north weren't accustomed to the bright sun, the waves of relentless heat rising from the mineral-rich rocks.

"They had the advantage," Bonn Skaard said with a sigh. "Four against two."

Leiffen nodded, thinking he could have used his magic orbs to clock one, maybe two, but he deferred to his friend's superior battle experience.

Bonn ran two fingers through his beard as he gazed pensively at walled Nazeera, nestled deep within the Crags. At the center of the city, the duke's palace loomed with jutting towers so high they appeared about to topple into a shower of red bricks and dust. The structure had many additions, reflecting the inhabitants' burgeoning wealth but no grace in their design. Similar chaos was evident in the city streets, a random maze cutting through buildings stacked on top of other buildings with little cohesion or logic.

Beyond the walls, Nazeer mines smoked from deep within the Crags. The mines were the source of the Nazeers' wealth and their despair as the environment was hot and brutal. Except for the gardens cultivated with great effort within the citadel, the arid city was nearly completely dependent on Oran's rich farms for food, which they purchased at inflated costs. In the near distance, Great Vulcan guarded the city like a hostile sentry.

"Folks say a dragon lives inside its bowels," Leiffen said as he and Bonn Skaard paused to take in the view, allowing their horses to rest.

"Heard that, too," Bonn grunted.

"Her name's Quetzex, and she's the meanest wench that ever was." Leiffen's violet eyes, round as saucers, drifted from the volcano's rocky base to its smoldering peak. "Meaner than Merryan Skaard was after I broke her heart in old Kadaar."

Bonn grunted again and said, "Watch where you walk, or you'll go over the edge."

Leiffen shifted his gaze and gasped at the sheer drop to the lava-lined canyon below. "They say Quetzex blows once every Zar, that the old dragon bitch emerges with her empty belly rumbling. They say she has pups, too, a litter of them. They all follow their mother out of the volcano and start eating their fill."

"Yes, but they only eat Illymiums," Bonn Skaard said.

Skeiffen face blanched beneath the layer of red dust coating his skin. "But ... but ..."

"I won't tell if you won't."

Leiffen poured some water in his palm and gave it to the horses, then rubbed his damp hands over his face. "What's the plan, boss?"

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Bonn Skaard took a long pull on the flagon, wiped his beard, and said. "We have two choices. We either wait for the rest of the caravan to arrive and try to blend in." He thought for a moment. "Or—"

Leiffen regarded him with a cocked eyebrow. "Or?"

"Every city has more than one entry point. The ore from the mines is brought in somehow. Look." He pointed to a large foundry within the city walls. Black smoke poured out of its stacks. "That metalwork is shipped out through the front gate, but the ore comes in through the back. My idea is we go find another way in and then make our way to the palace."

"Very good, sir," Leiffen said. Casting a dark gaze at the smoldering volcano, he added, "I suppose we are heading toward that lovely thing."

Bonn Skaard gave his companion a crooked half-smile and said, "You suppose correctly. Let's get in before Nargos Nazeer arrives with the rest of his men. We only have a few hours."

* * *

The black hood wasn't removed from Starlex's head until Starlex was inside a rock-walled chamber within the Nazeer palace. The room was located high in one of the many towers. Through an open balcony, she could see the jumble of Nazeera streets and houses stretching beyond the citadel wall to the Crags, their slopes glowing fiery red in the setting sun.

"I wouldn't jump if I were you," squawked a voice.

Starlex turned and faced her jailer, a squat, thick-limbed middle-aged woman with a hard-lined face.

"I ... I wasn't going to jump," Starlex said hoarsely, her mouth dry, "Just admiring your lovely city." An uncharacteristic edge of sarcasm crept into the princess’ voice.

“I’m Jynud Nazeer," the woman said, motioning with a ruddy hand for Starlex to come to her.

The princess obeyed, walking on wobbly legs toward the older woman. She was tired from the long journey, hungry beyond measure, and filthy.

Laying rough hands on her, the woman ripped the dust-coated gown from Starlex's body.

"What do you want with me?" Starlex asked, covering her nakedness with trembling hands.

"No questions," Jynud said. "In there."

Starlex padded barefoot across the stone floor to another small chamber, dimly lit with flaming sconces. A bath had been drawn. She stepped into it. The water was hot, nearly scalding.

"Clean yourself," the dour woman said, tossing a rough sponge into the bath. "Wash your hair. Between your legs. Everywhere."

Starlex flushed with shame and anger.

Jynud smirked. "I'll be back. Don't try to escape. The guards at the door would love to have a piece of you."

Holding back tears and anger, Starlex did what she was told and dutifully scrubbed the red dust from her white skin. Her baths at home were sweetly perfumed. Here, the water was hard and smelled of minerals. Starlex had just stepped out of the cooling bathwater and was reaching for a towel when the door to the chamber opened abruptly, and her female jailer entered.

"Get out of the tub," Jynud barked.

Starlex heard a voice bellowing from the hallway. "I demand to see my bride!"

"It's bad luck to see your bride before the wedding," snapped Jynud as she barred the door with her thick frame.

"What do I care?" the young man clapped back. Shoving Junud aside, he marched imperiously into the bathing chamber.

Starlex stood on the stone floor, dripping wet and clutching the towel to her nakedness.

Dizzo Nazeer, Nargos's eldest son, stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the princess. He was far from handsome. His hair was red and thick and despite his puffed-up chest and shoulders, he was short, squat, and thick-fingered like his father. But his dull hazel eyes lacked the old man's spark and keen intelligence.

“I like to see what I’m getting," rasped Dizzo with an ugly laugh. He reached out and roughly yanked the towel from Starlex's grip, tossing it across the room.

He gazed at her for several beats. Then his open mouth twisted into a wide smile.

"I can't believe it," he said. "A real, live Illyminum princess. And all for me! Can't we marry right away?"

Jynud stood in the doorway with a disapproving scowl. "You must wait until your father arrives. We must prepare your bride. Now scoot!"

Dizzo's eyes floated up and down Starlex's body slowly and with growing admiration. "But I like her just the way she is."