The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

simulations thereof. The long wet winter and spring destroyed a goodly number of plants.”
    “The bad weather destroyed more than roses. What are the latest figures on the harvest?”
    “I didn’t bring them with me, sir. I thought it impolite for us to conduct business during this all-important meeting.” Holmes assumed his most officious pose. He wasn’t very convincing.
    “Not looking forward to the hours of speeches and polite entertainment, Holmes?”
    The aide shook his head. “I’d rather be on the front lines of battle, sir. Life at court is too complicated for my tastes.”
    “I’ve had to sit through this sort of thing with a smile plastered on my face all my life.”
    “Your Grace.” Holmes looked around him to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. His face turned red. “Rumor has it that the women of Rossemeyer cover their hair and their ankles, but not their breasts! Sir, how does one keep from staring?”
    Darville smiled at the image of the half-naked women of Rossemeyer. His entire body smiled at remembered pleasures he hadn’t thought much about since his illness. Since Brevelan.
    His smile faded.
    “I imagine that once you get used to something, the forbidden is enticing and the revealed becomes unexciting. As for the dreary entertainment, my tutor in court protocol suggested I imagine every person in the room, except myself, stark naked. No padding. No disguises. How much prancing and posturing do you imagine the esteemed members of our Council would do in such a situation?”
    Just then Lord Jonnias strode past them. His richly brocaded, wine-colored tunic and knee-length trews couldn’t conceal his scrawny neck above his very round paunch and his sticklike legs below. For this excursion no one wore the cumbersome floor-length robes that were de rigueur at court.
    “Pompous busybody.”
    Darville wasn’t sure if Holmes had actually whispered that comment or if they had both thought it at the same moment.
    “Sir Holmes, there is a faded white rose in the spray decorating the gangway. How dare you use anything less than a perfect flower for our new princess!” Jonnias fumed.
    “Imagine a featherless lumbird squawking for attention,” Darville whispered. “Think of that while the officials drone on with speech after speech that says nothing but how important the speaker thinks he is. You’ll have no problem keeping a smile on your face.” He slapped his aide on the back.
    “If you say so, sir.” Holmes made a mighty effort to appear somber, as he jumped to correct the flowers in the offending spray. “But I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing a woman’s naked breasts in public.”
    “I doubt I will either,” Darville mused as he again remembered past pleasures.
    At last the Admiral of the Guild of Bay Pilots emerged from within the hangings of the ceremonial barge.
    “Your Grace, my lords. We will sail in three minutes,” he intoned, then disappeared again.
    “We’d best board the barge, Holmes. Cousin Krej is looking murderous.”
    “Does he ever look less than murderous?” Holmes quipped, still unable to control his giggles.
    “Not since his wife moved to the capital to be closer to him. Any guesses about the name of the mistress he dismissed to make room for Lady Rhodia in his wing of the palace?”
    Holmes smiled and nodded knowingly. “Chances are she left the capital as soon as Lady Rhodia’s baggage train was sighted. I wouldn’t want to be the victim of that lady’s temper tantrums,” Holmes whispered behind his hand.
    The last time Krej’s wife had caught the lord with another woman, Lady Rhodia had nearly destroyed their apartments within the palace. Early in their marriage she’d earned the nickname Rhomerra, the legendary harpy messenger of Simurgh, the evil winged god of ancient times.
    Darville scanned the crowd of nobles and officials gathered for this august occasion. “Where is Senior Magician Baamin?”
    “Um . . . he . . . um was not invited, Your Grace.”
    Darville’s mood darkened. He should have known the Council would interfere with his specific request for his adviser to be present.
    “There will be no magicians on the barge, cousin.” Unseen, Krej had come up behind Darville. “Out of respect for Rossemeyer, where magic has no place at court, the Council of Provinces has asked all of the Commune to withdraw from the festivities.”
    The Lord of Faciar appeared as regal as any king today, his glowing-green and