The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

communication.
    Jaylor’s eyes finally locked with hers. She fed him as much information as she could through her own. His deep brown eyes widened in surprise, then slitted in thought.
    “You may return to your master.” Jaylor didn’t look at the healer.
    “The lady is in pain. It is my duty to ease it as best I can.” The healer’s voice was squeakily high, almost effeminate.
    “She is not used to strangers. Your presence will hinder any healing,” Jaylor asserted. Brevelan continued to cling to him.
    “Nonsense. I’ll bathe the wound in this salve and give her a dose of this powder in a cup of wine. Red wine, I think, ’tis rich and will restore her blood faster.” The man continued to fuss with his pouch near the candle.
    Red wine to mask flavors not intended for healing! “No.” Brevelan found her voice stronger than she thought. “Your true master bade you to use witchbane and adderroot.”
    The man gasped. He stepped away from the proximity of the bed as his hands crossed at the wrist and flapped away any evil. “What witchcraft is this?” His voice sounded strangled.
    “It’s true, then. You serve a different master than the Stargods and the elder of this monastery!” Jaylor rose to tower over the man. The breadth of his shoulders shielded Brevelan from the little man, but not from the emotions of hate that beat back and forth between them.
    Once more she sank into the oblivion of black sleep.
     
    The thick book landed with a thud on top of the growing pile at Jaylor’s elbow. “Useless,” he muttered and reached for yet another tome.
    “Not useless, just not containing what you sought.” The Elder Librarian straightened the pile of books that threatened to topple. He caressed each volume as if it were a beloved child.
    “Precisely.” Jaylor flung another of the volumes at the library wall. It struck the neat rows of other books and brought them to the floor with it. Elder Librarian dashed—as fast as his years allowed—to rescue the abused books. “How do I find a counterspell to a spell created by a man with complete disdain for traditional magic?” Jaylor muttered to himself. “A spell that will work without a staff.”
    The noise created by the fall didn’t ease the growing sense of time wasted. “I’m supposed to be more stubborn than smart, if you believe my master. So why can’t I find some answers by sheer perseverance?” He looked to the old man. All the members of this community were older than time. Worn out old men with no other place in Coronnan. He shuddered when he remembered the time one of his teachers had suggested Jaylor, along with his poorly aimed spells, remove himself from the hallowed halls of the University to this very monastery.
    “Perhaps, because you are smarter than your master thought, you will find the answer with your mind or your heart before your impatience wins.” Only a very old man could have the patience of this librarian. “ ’Tis not the nature of the spell you must unravel that troubles you. You know that answer already, but not until the other problem leaves your mind clear.”
    Jaylor looked the man over with new insight. He’d been using his magic vision so much lately he hardly realized what he was doing. There was a small web of power just beneath his feet, feeding his enhanced vision. The librarian’s aura showed worry and fortitude and patience.
    And there was no smell of meat about him.
    “You’ve given up eating meat,” Jaylor stated flatly.
    “I’ve lost my taste for it.” The elder shrugged.
    “Since when?” Suddenly he needed to know the answer, as if trusting this man depended upon it.
    “Since there was no magic left to gather.” The old magician’s eyes avoided his.
    “Most people of Coronnan don’t gather magic and they still eat meat.”
    “True.”
    “Brevelan forced me to lose my taste for meat. I find my magic different, but stronger, since then.” He clued the old man to speak of his own change. He had noticed the elder choosing his place to stand in the room, right over another power spot.
    “It occurred to me that there must be another source of magic, older than man himself, used by the magicians we now call rogues.” Elder Librarian raised his eyes and allowed them to meet Jaylor’s for the first time since the journeyman entered the library. “Traditional magic has only been available for three hundred years.”
    Jaylor felt the older man’s probe, turned it aside, and sent one