The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

asked between bites of tubers.
    “I hadn’t thought about it. Seems an unlikely coincidence that all of us should end up in the same confrontation with an agent of King Simeon, just as Zolltarn waltzes in and captures the lot of us.”
    “He wants to bargain something. I don’t know what. He keeps his thoughts closely guarded.”
    “With me as hostage, he’s likely to get whatever he asks for. But there are some who will gladly allow another to remove me from their path.” Darville threw a twig into the fire and watched it glow and swell with heat before igniting. Coronnan was in that glowing stage. Being kidnapped by Rovers could be the final act before the entire country blazed into civil war. The Council would blame him, of course. The Commune would blame the Council. Individual lords would attack their neighbors.
    Stargods! Was there no end to the divisive bickering?
    “You were an incidental prize. He’s after something bigger. Much bigger. But I can’t tell what.”
    “More of your ‘listening,’ Yaakke?”
    “Can’t help listening if people practically shout their thoughts.” The boy shrugged. “Zolltarn has pretty heavy natural armor, though. Not much leaks out.”
    “You could be a handy person to have around. Who else knows of this ability of yours?” Darville turned his interest from fruitless plots of escape to the possibilities the boy presented.
    “Old . . . Master Baamin knows. Brevelan suspects, but she’s never said or thought anything about it, except that it’s impolite to listen to people’s private thoughts without an invitation. She can do it if she throws a spell.”
    “She doesn’t need to with me,” Darville admitted. “When we’re close together, in the same room, she and Jaylor and I can read each other very clearly.” That was probably why the Rovers had separated them, to keep them from plotting an escape.
    “But you don’t have any magic!”
    “There are other magics, Yaakke. Magics that have nothing to do with spells and ley lines and dragons. Like friendship and loyalty and love. Especially love.”
    “These Rovers are the first people I’ve met who have natural armor. Most magicians have to throw a spell to put it in place.” Yaakke shook his head in dismay. “I can hear the guard outside the tent pretty well, but he’s young, only about my age. The oldsters send my thoughts in circles, and yet I can’t smell any armor. Sorta like the drunk with the square beard. His armor was imposed on him. Couldn’t get so much as a hint of his thoughts.”
    “You seem to have a nose for magic. Why were you so late in being apprenticed?” Darville was puzzled by the boy’s history, or lack of one.
    “Probably because I’ve been listening to people’s thoughts and seeing ley lines for as long as I can remember. I didn’t realize other people didn’t do the same until I spent some time with Master Baamin. He was the only one who gave me real tasks—other than picking up after people and scrubbing dirty dishes. He was the one who noticed that I heard what he was thinking.”
    “Trust Old Baamin to discover something valuable that everyone else overlooks.” Darville grinned a little as he used the more common description of the Senior Magician, rather than his proper title.
    “Yeah. I won’t need to actually throw a summoning spell with Old Baamin.” Yaakke eased into the familiar form with an answering grin. “I could just speak to his mind with my mind. But I don’t think we want Zolltarn to know I can do it.” He picked up a horn spoon to delve into the pot of stew at his side.
    “Good thought. Make the task appear a little harder than it is, if you can.” Darville’s mind began to plot. The boy could be a weapon, especially if he could communicate with their companions without throwing a summons.
    “Have you smelled the Tambootie these people use?” Yaakke grimaced as he tasted the stew. “It’s in everything, the fire, the food.” Yaakke leaned closer to Darville and whispered. “I think even the bedding is stuffed with Tambootie leaves. Jaylor told me they put timboor, the dried berries of the Tambootie, into a lot of their foods.”
    “I can’t smell anything but garlic.”
    Yaakke sat straighter and cocked his head as if listening. “Zolltarn has decided I’ve eaten enough to regain my strength. He’s coming.”
     
    Brevelan pushed the seeking hands of Erda away from contact with her baby. She wasn’t in labor yet and felt