The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

mind as well as his feelings.
    Darville, on the other hand, was fairly bouncing with excitement, despite his suppressed grief for his father. He tried to hide it from her, but she knew him too well. When this night was over, Darville would be king, duly consecrated by a dragon.
    “I’ll need a place to hide until the assembly is gathered and you are prepared to . . . to do what ever it is you’re going to do,” Darville said. His eyes scanned the hall with a soldier’s eye to strategy.
    “Take Mica.” Brevelan pulled the dozing cat out of Jaylor’s pocket. “She’ll find you a place.” Briefly she nuzzled the cat’s head. Mica’s eyes opened round and hazel, and for once she didn’t shift to a vertical amber slit as she looked into Brevelan’s heart. Understanding passed between them.
    “I guess this pesky cat can be of some use,” Darville growled, though his voice held the same tone as a puppy’s whine for attention. He pulled Brevelan close and kissed her hard. “For luck,” he whispered for her ears alone. One gentle finger caressed her cheek.
    “You have the witchbane?” Jaylor interrupted.
    “Right here.” Darville patted his breast pocket. “I won’t hesitate to throw it at Krej at the first sign of magic.” He looked once more into the hall and slipped through the draperies.
    Alone with Jaylor, Brevelan turned her attention to the next task.
    “I can smell the Tambootie paneling.” Jaylor’s nostrils pinched in distaste.
    “All of the walls in this room are covered with the wood, even the floor and ceiling. Krej used to keep a Tambootie wood fire burning in the hearth, until it made the servants so ill they couldn’t continue their duties.” She had to breathe through her mouth to keep the acrid odors away.
    The staircase landing seemed to grow smaller as Jaylor’s magic filled it. Brevelan touched his arm and felt much of what he saw.
    The animals were still there. A gray bear, a wild tusker as large as a hut, a snow-white stag with fifteen points on his rack and several others she could not name. The spotted saber cat was gone, she hoped never to return. No animal, no matter how ferocious, deserved the living death of Krej’s sculpture cages.
    In the center of the room on a low, wide dais stood Shayla. All of her intense beauty was captured in the glass. Each transparent hair of her fine fur was crystallized to reflect back the light of a thousand torches. Along her spine, horns, and wing ridges a rainbow of colors swirled, daring the eye to look anywhere but at her.
    Brevelan tugged at Jaylor’s arm. “Shayla said that dragons eat of the Tambootie to become the source of magic, yet they have none of their own! Krej eats Tambootie like a dragon. How can he throw magic and be a source as well?”
    “That I don’t know. Unless his body reacts with the Tambootie differently. When he is near, I can sense no gatherable magic anywhere near him.” He shook his head, puzzled. “There is no time to worry about that now. I must find the strongest point to stand. There are precious few lines of power running through. this castle.”
    “No one is in the room.” She felt all the emotions in the castle, but they were behind her and above her. “No one except Krej can stand to be in this room for more than a few minutes.”
    “Where is he right now?”
    “Above.” His emotions were easiest to separate from the others. “He is very upset about something.” Too upset. She had to block him out before his anger became her own.
    “Good. Maybe he’ll be so preoccupied he won’t notice us.” Jaylor pulled her tight against his chest and kissed her with fierce passion. “For luck,” he grinned.
    Deep in his eyes she saw another sentiment. The kiss was for farewell.

Chapter 34
     
    A myriad of servants scurried among the trestle tables below the dais. Plain white cloths covered the boards; pewter platters and plain iron knives marked each place. The head table, on the dais, where Krej and his special guests would sit, was covered with the finest white damask and set with plates of gold and cutlery of fabulously expensive and incredibly rare steel, forged in secret half a world away.
    Spring flowers sweetened the rushes underfoot and tasteful arrangements of greens and dried plants adorned baskets about the room. A grouping of three such tall baskets shielded a tiny alcove where Darville crouched unseen, with the pesky cat, Mica.
    He shifted his weight for the umpteenth time.