“How is she trapped?” Malta demanded. “What would we have to do to free her?”

He decided to tell her enough to be honest. “A long time ago, something happened. We're not sure what. Somehow, an entire city was buried under a heavy layer of earth. It was so long ago that trees have grown in the earth above it. The dragon is in a chamber deep within the buried city. There is no way to free her.” He put all the finality he could muster into his words. Malta looked stubbornly unconvinced. He shook his head at her. “This is not the dream I imagined we would share.”

“Couldn't she be dug out? How can she be alive, buried so deeply?” Malta cocked her head at him and narrowed her eyes. “How do you even know she is there? Reyn. There is something you are not telling me,” she accused him.

He straightened his back and stood his ground. “Malta, there are many things I cannot tell you. I would not ask you to betray the secrets of the Bingtown Traders. You must trust me that I have told you all I honorably can.” He crossed his arms on his chest.

She stared at him for a time. Then she lowered her eyes. After a moment, in a lowered voice she said, “Please do not think ill of me. I did not realize what I was asking of you.” Her voice grew throaty as she added, “I look forward to a time when there will be no secrets between us.”

A blast of wind buffeted the cottage walls. Reyn suspected it was the dragon flying over them. “Free me!” Her long wild call slid down the sky to them. “Free me!”

At the sound of the dragon's voice, Malta's eyes grew wide. A second wave of wind hit the cottage, rattling the shutters, and she was suddenly in his arms. He held her close and felt her trembling. The top of her head came only to his chin. Her hair was damp under his touch when he stroked it. When she turned her face up to his, he fell into the bottomless gaze of her eyes. “It's only a dream,” he assured her. “Nothing here can hurt you. Nothing here is quite real.”

“It seems very real,” she whispered. Her breath was warm on his face.

“Does it?” he asked in wonder.

“It does,” she assured him.

Cautiously he lowered his mouth to hers. She did not avoid his kiss. The thin layer of veil between their lips was an almost pleasant coarseness. Her arms came around him and held him with awkward inexperience.

The sweetness of the kiss clung to him as the power of the dream-box faded and he drifted into ordinary sleep. “Come to me.” Her words reached him faintly. “Come to me at the full moon.”

“I can't!” he cried out, desperate that his words reach her. “Malta, I can't!”

He awakened saying the words into his pillow. Had she heard him?

He closed his eyes and tried to will himself back into sleep and the shared dream. “Malta? I cannot come to you. I can't.”

“Is that what you say to all females?” Somewhere a voice laughed in wicked amusement. Claws twitched feebly against iron-hard wizardwood. “Don't fret, Reyn. You cannot go to her. But I shall.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Marooned

THE MOON STOOD CLEAR IN THE SKY AND THE TIDE WAS HIGH WHEN KENnit decided it was time to keep his promise. It had taken some careful maneuvering, but everything was in place and ready. No sense in wasting time. He swung his leg over the side of the bunk and sat up, scowling when a sleepy Etta lifted her head from the pillows. He wanted no interference from anyone tonight. “Go back to sleep,” he commanded her. “If I need you, I'll tell you.”

Instead of looking chastened, she gave him a fond and drowsy smile, then closed her eyes again. Her placid acceptance of his independence was almost unnerving.

At least she was coming to accept that he didn't need her damn help with everything. She had been tiresomely helpful in the weeks of his convalescence. Several times, he'd had to roar at her before she would retreat and let him take care of himself.

He reached for the waiting peg and slipped his stump into the cup on the end. The harness of leather that secured it to his body still seemed awkward, but he was becoming accustomed to it. Pulling his trousers on past it was another difficulty. He frowned at it. The woman would have to come up with a better arrangement. He would tell her so in the morning. His belt held only a long sheathed dagger now. A sword was a useless vanity to a man who had to balance on one leg. He dragged on his boot, then took up the crutch that leaned against the bunk. He thudded his way across the room. Teetering precariously, he buttoned on a shirt and then donned a vest. A fine broadcloth coat went over it all. He added a clean kerchief and his usual items to his pocket. He tugged his collar straight and made sure his cuffs were even. Tucking the crutch firmly under his arm, he left his cabin, shutting the door quietly behind him.