The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

other choice do we have?” Scrawny stopped pacing just long enough to utter his words. He next step began a new path all the way around the room, instead of back and forth at the window.
    Jaylor watched his movements a moment before replying. Was Scrawny pacing an armoring circle?
    “We have no other choice. Baamin and I gave our word.”
    “Look where it got Old Baamin. Who’s to say his heart didn’t give out as a result of Zolltarn’s poisons? He could have attacked our Senior Magician covertly because he knew you, Jaylor, are Baamin’s designated successor and Zolltarn knows he can manipulate you.” Lyman pointed a bony finger at Jaylor.
    “That is possible. But if we deny him the seat, he and his tribe could attack each and every one of us until he is the only magician left.”
    “There’s always the witchbane,” Scrawny said.
    Again, Jaylor wanted to inform them of the drug’s uselessness. Zolltarn had worked with Krej before. The antidote could be given to him quite readily. “I hesitate to put too much reliance on witchbane. We have to find other alternatives for dealing with magicians outside the Commune. If we don’t, we’ll just be prescribing it every time we meet someone with powers we don’t understand. Isn’t it better to bring him into our circle and learn about the man and his magic?”
    “A wise recommendation, Jaylor,” Slippy commented. “I vote for his admittance.”
    “So do I,” Scrawny added.
    The remaining magicians nodded their agreement. At the very last, Lyman jerked his chin down once in reluctant agreement.
    “Scrawny, would you admit our newest member and administer the oath? I’m due in Council.”
    “You’re already late, boy,” Slippy chuckled. “Are you going to transport yourself across the bridge, like you do your cups of wine?”
    “Yes I am.”
    “What!” they all screeched in unison.
    But Jaylor was halfway to his destination.

Chapter 27
     
    D arville led his lords in to the opulent Council Chamber, back straight, eyes forward, and the Coraurlia, in its protective satchel, slung over his shoulder. The glass crown, forged from magical dragon fire, would not leave his person until the coronation at the next full moon. By that time, the crown would be imprinted with his aura and no other could wear it until after his death.
    Full of pride and well-being, the new king strode to the head of the table. Today he would sit on the dragon throne and none could dispute his right to do so. Halfway to the throne, he stopped dead in his tracks.
    The king’s chair was not in its customary place. An ordinary seat, with straight lines and plain wooden seat, had been placed where the throne should rest.
    Darville searched the room hastily. The elaborate carving of the throne wasn’t in evidence.
    “My lords.” He whirled to face the men behind him. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
    “What, Your Grace?” Lord Andrall asked from right behind him.
    Darville pointed to the common chair. Anger slowly rose to replace the contentment that had flooded his being upon waking to find Mikka beside him. He didn’t want to lose the joy of his wedding night; didn’t want to fall back into the games of mistrust and devious tactics with his Council.
    “ Stargods! Who is responsible for this?” Andrall glared at his fellow lords.
    Confused babble broke out among them. No one wanted to take responsibility for the practical joke.
    “Where is Lord Krej?” Darville hastily counted the men within the room. His cousin wasn’t among those present. Nor was Krej’s shadow, Marnak the Younger. “Fred, summon Lord Krej to the Council Chamber. We have business to attend to,” he called to his guard.
    Just then, a servant in the maroon and green livery of the Krej household pelted down the corridor, skidding to a halt in front of the assembled lords.
    “Your Grace, my lords.” He bowed, never looking up to the men he addressed. “Lord Krej is missing.”
    “What do you mean, Lord Krej is missing?” Darville leaned across the Council table and glared at the cowering messenger.
    “When I brought him his usual breakfast tray, his chamber was empty, Your Grace.”
    “I gave orders, days ago, that he was not to leave the palace unescorted.” Darville shifted his feet, resisting the urge to pace the perimeter of the chamber like a caged wolf.
    “I questioned the guard on watch, sir. I knew his lordship would be angry if he didn’t get his breakfast on time. The guard