The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

to stand, but he forced himself to melt back with the crowd rather than be discovered by the guards.
    No more would he allow magicians to be merely politicians, isolated from the people, oblivious to their needs. Magic needed to be for the good of the general populace and not just the lords and leaders.
     
    “You can’t bring her in here!” a stooped old man with wispy gray hair and beard whispered to Jaylor from the safety of the monastery gate. “No woman may pass through that door.”
    “I’m a journeyman on quest. I demand a healer for myself and my companions in order to complete my quest. It is my right.” Jaylor pushed the gate with his booted foot a little harder than he meant. It flung out of the old man’s grasp to crash against the stone walls of the outer court.
    “There hasn’t been a woman inside these walls for three hundred years. Just her presence could disrupt the entire flow of magic among the brothers.”
    “ S’murghing nonsense.” Jaylor stomped into the courtyard, surveying the place. Darville, followed by Boy and the horses, stayed close on Jaylor’s heels. Like a castle, the monastic retreat was built with tall crenellated outer walls, a courtyard with stables and kitchens, carpenter shop and smithy housed in sheds around the yard, backs against the defensive walls. The heart of the monastery was the stone tower in the center, right next to the impressive chapel. Both edifices butted up against the eastern wall.
    The guest hall to the far right stirred with more activity than the main building. Three men, coarsely dressed in homespun, sat on stools before the entrance. Their boots were new and clean. Stacks of armor and weapons surrounded them. A grizzled, gap-toothed man dunked a soiled rag in a bucket of grease, then applied it to a sword. A very long and sharp sword.
    “Lord Krej is gathering mercenaries,” the gatekeeper continued to whisper. “They have stopped here to rest and gather new supplies.”
    Rude male voices erupted from within the guest hall in bawdy song. The smell of stale beer, urine, and unwashed bodies followed the obscene lyrics out the window.
    “Show us to a room away from the dormitory. We’d rather not disturb them.” Jaylor stepped forward again.
    A fold of his cloak drooped to reveal more of Brevelan’s face and head. The gatekeeper gasped at the sight of her University red hair.
    Jaylor could almost read the man’s thoughts. Hair that bright indicated a rare and special magical talent in males. What, then, was this woman capable of?
    “In Masters’ Hall there are many empty quarters.” There were hardly any masters left to inhabit the spacious suites.
    “Fine. The wolf will stay with me. The boy must return to his duties with the horses.” Jaylor beckoned Darville forward.
    A servant ran out from the stable to catch the steeds. He ran an admiring hand along the neck of Jaylor’s mount as he looked to the old man for confirmation that these magnificent steeds would really be entrusted to such as he. The boy yanked the reins away from him.
    “I’ll keep watch for your return,” he called to Jaylor as he vaulted into his saddle. With the clatter of shod hooves against stone, Boy disappeared through the center gate.
    Jaylor mounted an outside staircase that led to the isolated third story of the main building. No soldier poked his head outside the guest hall into the gathering darkness. Only the three cleaning armor were in a position to see him, or the burden he carried, and they appeared too involved in their work to notice.
    Darville’s nose brushed his leg with each step, unwilling to be separated from Jaylor and Brevelan.
    With the scuttling gatekeeper in the lead they slipped down a dark corridor toward the wing reserved for masters.
    They stopped before a massive doorway. The portal was sealed by magic. The old man touched the lock with his staff. The door remained firmly closed.
    Jaylor heaved against the resistant wood with his shoulder and a muttered spell. The door sprang open.
    “How did you do that? You’re only a journeyman!” The old man gasped in wonderment.
    “This has been a long quest.” He buried his face in Brevelan’s hair. “Too long and dangerous a quest.”
    “I’ll send the healer.” The old man backed away in awe.
    “Puppy?” Brevelan roused from her stupor.
    “He is safe,” Jaylor assured her.
    But he didn’t hold her any closer, didn’t caress her hair.
    Her first waking thought had been