The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

Only my cursed father could find the bond and separate us in time.” Brevelan stood straight and defiant against Darville’s anger.
    “Then we have lost the dragons forever.” Darville stared out the window, seeing nothing.
    “You are still bound to the dragons, Darville. If one magician could sever a tie with a dragon, why couldn’t another magician trace a similar bond?” Baamin asked.
    “But who is strong enough? Is Jaylor’s heart truly strong enough to risk such a mighty spell? I won’t ask Brevelan to risk bonding with Shayla again, until the baby comes. Will you undertake the spell, Baamin?” Darville pressed his adviser.
    “I have a plan,” Baamin stated gleefully, as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
    Both Darville and Brevelan stared at the Senior Magician.
    “Jaylor found a binding spell in one of my texts. A spell written in Rover language, with symbolism that defies modern translations. If we could consult one of their women of power, she might unravel Jaylor’s problem.”
    Darville lifted Mica from Brevelan’s arms. He petted her back and ears, nuzzling her delicate face with his own. “And what of the missing princess? I need to find Rosie more than I need the dragon nimbus right now.”
     
    Rosie looked around her in dismay. Where was she? There were so many new sights and sounds and smells, she couldn’t sort them out, couldn’t find a reference point.
    Not that she knew where she wanted to go in the first place. The vague notion of entering a convent as a means of escaping marriage to Darville had seemed an excellent notion when she was within the familiar walls of the palace. Now she faced the reality that she didn’t know how to locate a convent and wasn’t sure what a convent really was.
    No one had discussed religion with her since she had lost her memory. She knew there were priests and nuns and monks dedicated to preserving the images of the Stargods and to healing. The priest-healers were also magicians. But what did the nuns do besides remain cloistered and virginal?
    Rosie’s winding path took her through a market square. Dozens of people in rough clothing jostled her as they sought goods and services at the various booths. No one seemed to notice her.
    They were all too busy with their own lives.
    The smell of meat rolls, freshly baked, reminded Rosie that she had escaped without breakfast. She followed the scent to a booth where a slight man in an enormous white apron was arranging trays of the savory treat. Behind him, a stout woman in a very small apron kneaded dough. Flour dusted her face and arms all the way to her elbows. The man was scrupulously clean.
    Customers selected pastries and paid for them with coins. Rosie watched the transactions carefully. She’d been told about money. Uncle Rumbelly complained constantly about the cost of her clothing, how there was never enough money left over to buy what he needed. But how did one come by money?
    Why did those little circles of metal have value?
    She had no idea. Rather than show her ignorance by asking such a question, she moved on. Her stomach growled in protest. Almost, she turned back to beg the baker for some food. Pride wouldn’t let her.
    The palace market square led to a bridge. Timidly, she crossed to the next island, wary of the surging power of the water beneath the planking. This island seemed to be filled with the homes of the people who worked the market square. She smelled the location of a candy kitchen, heard the blacksmith, spotted the bright colors on the sign of the weaver, and nearly stumbled over the wares of the toy-maker. More people bustled in and out and around these places, but no one sold their wares on this island. All of the goods were being transported to the market.
    She moved on to another island, and another. Every square inch of land was used for houses or markets or industry. The crowds grew thinner and more suspicious of her as she moved away from the large central islands. With each wary look and twitch of skirts out of her path she was aware that she was a stranger here.
    Across the expanse of the river delta she thought she saw large fields ripe with grain. Men in wide hats and women with skirts kilted above their knees worked with scythe and rake at a frantic pace, all the while watching the dark clouds on the horizon.
    Where did all these people come from? Her isolated life among the royales had kept her removed from the populace. She began to wonder if