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“No wonder we couldn’t find it!” shouted Rytlock. “The sanctuary’s been in Logan’s boot!”

“Har, har,” Logan replied.

Zojja clamped her teeth together. “You’re such a charr.”

“Where is the damned place?” Logan asked.

Zojja closed her eyes and spread her hands. “It feels like . . . it feels like it’s every direction.”

“No wonder we’ve been going in circles,” Rytlock murmured. He took two gulps from his canteen. “Nearly gone.”

Eir handed out hardtack and jerky. “We’ll have to begin again tomorrow. We need rest.”

Big Snaff arrived in much the same way as Big Zojja. The asura genius climbed from his cockpit and lay down with the others.

“It’s going to get cold tonight,” Caithe said.

“Cold?” Rytlock asked.

“The desert gets cold at night. I wish we had something to burn.”

“I’m burning,” the charr said. “Sit next to me, and you’ll be plenty warm.”

The group didn’t say much more as the stars came out above them—millions of them. Their blue light seemed to drag the heat out of the sand. As night wore on, the companions shifted closer and closer together, sharing warmth.

At the darkest corner of night, Rytlock drew Sohothin and laid it on the sand between them to keep them all warm.

One by one, they dropped off to sleep.

They were awakened by the first, knifelike rays of the sun as it pierced the eastern sky. All awoke then except Zojja, who was already standing, eyes closed and hands reaching out to sense the sanctum. “It’s right before us. Somewhere right here. In a grain of sand, but which?”

Logan dug his hand into the grit. Sand drained through his fingers, falling in little piles. “A thousand thousand crystals, and one of them holds a sanctuary.”

Snaff soberly watched the grains tumble. “Reminds me of poor old Sandy.” He suddenly struck his head. “Sandy! Of course!”

“What?” asked Logan.

“Sandy was made of billions of grains of sand—not one,” Snaff explained feverishly. “We could hide him in the arena because everyone could see him without even knowing it. It’s the same with the inner sanctum. It’s not in a single grain. It’s in all of them! Zojja was right—we’re in the middle of it! Just open your eyes!”

As they all stared around them, the cloaking magic eroded.

The sand moved—grains fusing to become crystals and crystals fusing to become gems and gems to become rods and columns and walls and colonnades. Diamond pillars rose all around them, and great archways formed to join them. The arches, too, expanded into a dome the color of the sapphire sky. Walls solidified between archways, and beneath them, the sand became a floor as smooth as glass.

In moments, where there had been only trackless desert, there was now a gigantic sanctuary.

“Weapons out, everyone!” Eir commanded as she nocked three shafts to her bow.

Out came the other weapons—the fiery sword and the spinning hammer and the white-bladed stilettos. Snaff and Zojja scrambled up the legs of their golems and hastily buckled themselves in, powering up the massive machines.

“We’re here,” Zojja whispered incredulously. She peered down one of the golden colonnades that led away from the central dome. “We’re in the sanctum of a dragon.”

“And she’s here as well,” Eir warned, “somewhere.”

The companions turned back-to-back, gazing out at the beautiful palace.

On one side of the main dome was a crystalline tree. Its leaves were formed of emeralds that glowed with their own light. On the other side hung a huge spear of quartz, suspended above a pedestal. Its blade, too, seemed to glow from within. Each of the three great archways from the main dome led to a golden colonnade. Two of the colonnades extended to distant entrances, beyond which stretched the desert.

But the third colonnade was dark.

From it, an ancient voice emerged as dry as sand: “At your peril do you wake a dragon.”

“Form up! On me!” Eir shouted as she drew back her bow and pointed the arrows toward the darkness.

Garm posted himself before her, black hackles jutting and eyes blazing. Rytlock sidled up on Eir’s right and Logan on her left. Caithe took her place just behind