The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

with Rover habits?
    Jaylor willed the conversation back to dragons. He needed to hear about the dragons.
    The barkeep finally wound his way around the darkness of the cave interior. “Heard tell of a new nest up in the mountains.”
    “Last year’s little’uns ought to be coming out for their first hunt right about now.” One-eye threw out that information as if it were bait. For Jaylor or the rabble-rousers beside him?
    The fisherman grabbed it, like the voracious fish he snagged out of the cold, blue depths of the Great Bay. “If’n they start robbing our catch again, we’ll have a merry hunt. Soon as the snow clears the pass. This time we’ll get the s’murghin’ beasts ’afore they starve us out!” the fisherman laughed.
    Chills radiated out from a tired place where Jaylor stored his magic. He knew he didn’t like the viciousness of his informants. The disturbance in his magic convinced him not to trust them either.
    “Odd season for first sight of the young.” Jaylor found his voice after coughing out the acrid taste of the ale. “Most animals birth in the spring and have the young weaned by fall.”
    “Not dragons.” The natives of the place chorused.
    The equinox had just passed, though it still felt like winter outside. The last of the snow was still crunchy in the shade. Mud mired the roads so badly the huge, splayed feet of sledge steeds sank up to their hocks. Now was the time for birthing not weaning.
    Jaylor quaffed more of the hideous ale. It was starting to taste good. He’d had too much. Pretty soon he’d lead the dragon hunt with his drinking companions.
    The king’s magicians gathered magic generated by dragons, to be used only for the good of the kingdom. King Darcine ruled by Dragon-right. He sat upon the Dragon Throne and wore a crown of precious glass forged by dragon fire.
    Yet, according to village sages Jaylor had encountered on his journey, no one in his right mind went to see a dragon with less than murderous intent.
    Who ever said a journeyman magician on quest was in his right mind?
    “Go see a dragon,” Old Baamin, the senior magician had ordered Jaylor.
    But how did one see an invisible creature?
    “The dragon nimbus is dying,” said Baamin, defining the quest. “During your search you must listen very carefully for clues to the cause.”
    Jaylor had his answer. These locals hunted dragons for fun and for protection of their livelihoods and their lives.
    Jaylor was also to keep his eyes open for any youngsters with signs of magic talent. University recruits were fewer and fewer each year. Of course (his youthful wisdom dictated), with fewer dragons left to emit magic, there naturally were fewer men to gather that magic.
    “The rest of Coronnan reveres the dragons,” Jaylor prompted the men around him.
    “More fools they. S’murghin’ predators they are.” The barkeep grumbled. “More’n enough dragons in the north to keep them magicians happy. They’re as mean a predator as any dragon.”
    “But if we hunt dragons again, the witchwoman will go away. None of you are sick right now, but who’ll help my Maevra when her time comes?” the carpenter interjected. He looked as if he wanted to agree with his companions but didn’t quite dare.
    “Dragons used to fly over nearly every week during the summer, until we stopped planting the Tambootie for them. You could catch sight of their rainbows now and again. Too bad something so pretty belongs to a creature so evil.”
    “Rainbows?” This was the first Jaylor had heard of a dragon having anything to do with a rainbow; though ancient sources said good weather was the result of a strong nimbus of dragons.
    “When the sun hits a dragon’s wings just right, a rainbow arches out and touches the ground.” The barkeep sat to join the conversation. He swilled a huge mouthful of the poisonous ale. “If we see more’n one or two a week, we know it’s time to go on a hunt again.”
    “Prism effect.” Jaylor mumbled.
    “Whism effect?” The one-eyed drunk looked up from his cup. His left eyelid was permanently closed, but it twitched with an emotion Jaylor couldn’t read. He wondered if the eye were really gone. Perhaps, behind the scars, it glittered with the same malice as its undamaged mate.
    Just for a moment Jaylor’s magic vision penetrated the eyelid. He caught a brief image of a tall vigorous man with bright red hair. University red hair. Then the image faded. At one time the old derelict might