The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

it.
    But he now knew that not just anyone could listen to another’s most intimate conversations with themselves. Nor was it polite to invade their privacy. Brevelan kept hammering at him to respect other people and remember his manners.
    No one had respected him or remembered their manners around him until he’d revealed his rogue powers! From birth until after his thirteenth or fourteenth birthday he had been “Boy,” a foundling too stupid to learn anything more than scrubbing pots. Too insignificant to even have a name. His past and his true age were lost in poorhouse records.
    Just because he couldn’t gather dragon magic.
    Oh, well, he sighed, as he grabbed another handful of berries. Brevelan had a point. He didn’t want strangers learning all of his secrets, so he shouldn’t try to learn theirs. But there were times when it was ever so convenient to know what other people expected of him.
    Yaakke scanned several of the small, uninhabited mounds of sand and snake grass that appeared and disappeared each season in the huge river. A dozen of them dotted the watery landscape between here and the mainland. Aits, the locals called these temporary islands. City dwellers ran bets as to which ones would survive the winter floods. City boys made daring games of swimming around them.
    Six aits between here and the next true island. Yaakke didn’t think he could make it that far without a meal.
    He set a new path around the brambles. His feet plodded to a sandy cove on the north side of Sacred Isle. A five-foot cliff, held up by massive tree roots, sheltered the cove from prying eyes.
    Resting on the quarter-moon beach and tied to one of those exposed roots was a rowboat.
    Instantly, Yaakke stilled his body and his mind. His personal armor snapped into place. Who could be on Sacred Isle? Priests came here to prepare for festivals. The equinox was weeks past.
    Journeymen magicians came here in search of a staff. He clutched his own new tool protectively to his chest. There were no journeymen left at the University. And only five apprentices, other than himself.
    Who else? He sought for a memory, any memory that might tell him who had left the boat.
    Guild Pilots roamed the waterways and islands at will. But this boat was plain and small. The oarlocks showed signs of wear, and paint was flaking from the sunbleached seats. No respectable pilot would be caught dead in so neglected a boat.
    Who, then?
    His mind drifted back to the spell that had brought him here. He’d sniffed for a strong concentration of magic. He’d landed on Sacred Isle, in the middle of the most blessed grove, with the remains of a Tambootie wood fire at his feet.
    Tambootie was increasingly rare and most people still considered it the embodiment of evil. He remembered Lord Krej eating two fat Tambootie leaves. Krej had been deeply involved in a rogue ritual when Yaakke had found him. A Tambootie wood fire had burned at the center of that ritual.
    Yaakke slipped back to the Sacred Grove. Dozens of bare footprints scuffled the area around the fire. A witch dance!
    Panic swelled his tongue inside his mouth. The recently uncontrolled saliva dried. Even with his wild and unexplained magic, until he’d eaten heartily and slept several hours, he’d be no match against the evil of a full coven. He dared not bring food from the University kitchens to help overcome his weakness. A witch would be able to smell the magic. But would a witch be able to tell who stole the boat?
    Probably. If the witch were still on the island. He sent out a quick mental probe, not really magic, just “listening.” The dart of consciousness spun outward in ever widening circles. He found two deer, five squirrels, one lizard, eight field mice—no nine, one was still abirthing. Birds of all description sang through his mind. Then, finally, he touched a dream. A human was dreaming of a huge bonfire of Tambootie with naked figures dancing around it. Four men, four women.
    A sniggle of guilt coiled inside Yaakke for eavesdropping on the witch’s dream. He pushed it aside. This was important, and interesting. Inside the dream the naked figures coupled and danced, taunted and coupled again with new partners, not always of the opposite sex.
    A second dream overlapped the original vision. The same dream from a different viewpoint.
    Uh-oh. Had he stumbled upon two witches?
    The two dreams wove a seductive web into Yaakke’s mind, enticing him to slumber and join with their