The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

around him. Fury blazed from his eyes.
    “Your daughter needs your help.”
    “My daughter? She’s acknowledging me, is she? Who’s to say I will accept yet another bastard brat as being my own? Tell me how you did it, Jaylor.”
    “I’ve seen your presence linked with hers through magic. You are the only person alive who can save her and her child.” Jaylor saw a glimmer of fear in Krej’s eyes and something else, too. Was it respect? He wasn’t sure this prideful rogue would help if he knew the elusive spell was thrown by a mere boy, an untrained apprentice.
    “If you’ve enough magic to transport a living being across half of Coronnan, then perform whatever spell she needs yourself.”
    “My magic was . . . damaged releasing Shayla from your glass imprisonment.”
    “For that disservice I refuse to assist,” Krej snarled. “Don’t you realize how much this kingdom has benefited from the loss of dragon protection! New ideas and trade, economic growth, creativity . . .”
    “I see invasion on the horizon,” Jaylor returned heatedly. “I see outlaws pillaging and raping, because the magic border dissolved before we had a chance to open it through negotiation. Crime is running rampant in the streets because the magicians don’t have the combined power to predict and intervene.”
    “Master! My lord, please,” Yaakke intervened. “While you argue, Brevelan lies dying.” He crossed the small room to hold Brevelan’s limp hand. “Help her.” He gulped back a sob. “Please.”
    “Lord Krej.” Jaylor forced himself to use the honorific. “If we accomplish what needs to be done to save your daughter—my wife—our baby—then Coronnan’s tie to the dragons will be severed forever. You will have accomplished what you set out to do.”
    “You heard the dragon the night as she flew away. She and her consorts will never return as long as I hold power. I intend to remain in power a very long time. Give me another reason to help two peasants with a difficult birth. There isn’t enough food in the kingdom for those that live. Why add another mouth to feed?”
    Images flooded Jaylor’s mind from Yaakke. The boy’s search for Krej had found the lord in the middle of a magic ritual with seven other faceless rogues. The aura of magic around them all was strong and complete.
    “Save my wife and child and the kingdom will never know from me that you are truly a rogue magician in league with a coven of Simurgh, or that you have found an antidote to the witchbane. In the eyes of the world you will remain as mundane as you claim to be.”
    Krej stared at Jaylor, mouth slightly agape in surprise. Malevolence filled his eyes. “Word of my contact with the coven must never leave your mouth. On pain of never-ending death at the hands of Simurgh.”
    “I swear.”
    “Swear by Simurgh!”
    “I swear by the Stargods, or none at all. And your coven must not harm the kingdom.”
    “Very well. An oath on those you believe in is better than no oath at all,” Krej acknowledged. “You might not believe this, but my plans are for the good of Coronnan.” He turned his back and stripped off his rich tunic. The cream-colored cambric shirt he wore beneath the velvet and brocade was sheer and clean.
    Yaakke’s tears stopped, but he continued to hold Brevelan’s hand with reverence. “She’s the only one who treated me like a real person. Everyone else sees me as a witless kitchen drudge. You have to save her, my lord, Master. You have to save her.”
    “My daughter, huh? I thought she was mine the first time I saw her. She’d make a better heir than any of the brats my wife produces on a regular basis. At least she inherited some magical talent.” Krej pushed the sleeves of his shirt above his elbows and strode to the fire. “Must you live in this hovel?”
    The hut had never looked ruder, poorer, smaller.
    “Don’t forget your grandson,” Jaylor reminded him. “Your first grandchild.”
    “I wasn’t much older than she is now when she was conceived.” Krej looked down on the wilted form on the bed. “Her mother was my first bedmate, not the best, but memorable because she was the first. I’ll need a glass.” He turned back to Jaylor with brisk authority. Jaylor produced his master’s glass from a place of honor on the shelf above his bed. Possession of such a fine piece of rare, clear glass was the achievement of a lifetime.
    He’d never used it.
    “They made you master?”
    “They didn’t