The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

Zolltarn looked worried. “Are you sure four are enough?”
    “To start. Simeon doesn’t know the transport spell. We can send reinforcements before he can launch any attack our members can’t handle.” Jaylor looked more worried than he sounded. He and Zolltarn continued to stare at each other in a contest of wills. Zolltarn wanted to direct the defense of the kingdom. Jaylor had the authority.
    “The king, sirs, and the queen, too? They’ve both got magic that the Council doesn’t know about. Will they be rejected as rulers because of their magic?” Yaakke’s curiosity was up and roaring.
    “How I handle that secret will remain secret.” Jaylor glared at him.
    “What about me, sir?” Yaakke screwed up his courage to ask. He’d been summoned for a reason. Punishment? Promotion? Or just a lot of work transporting people and things hither, thither, and yon?
    “You have the greatest challenge of all, boy. Don’t take it lightly.” The oldest magician advanced on Yaakke as if he meant to strike at him with his staff.
    Yaakke couldn’t back away. But he did wince at the magician’s use of his childhood appellation.
    “I have a name now, sir,” he challenged. “I was ‘boy’ when I was a nameless kitchen drudge with no magic and fewer brains. I’m an apprentice magician who can read and write and throw spells with the best of you. I’ve rights now, and a name is one of them.”
    “What? Oh, well, yes, of course you do. But you’re still a boy.” The old man chewed his lip. “You’re all boys compared to me.” He swung his staff to include the entire assemblage.
    “My task, Lord Jaylor?” Yaakke’s curiosity burned.
    “Your quest, Yaakke, is to remain at my side, protect me if necessary, and learn all you can. When I decide you are ready, I will send you to find Shayla,” Jaylor said with a tinge of envy in his voice. “When she is found, you will return to the Commune so that we, as a whole, can bring her back.”
    “A quest, sir?” Yaakke’s voice cracked into an annoying and juvenile squeak. “A master’s quest?”
    The magicians broke out into a squabble. “No!”
    “Yes!”
    “He’s too young.”
    “He’s had no formal training.”
    “We’ll see how you progress with your training and how well you behave.” Jaylor ended the argument.
     
    The huge courtyard within the palace grounds was filled to overflowing with rowdy lords and commoners alike. Mikka peered out at the crowd awaiting the coronation of their new king and his bride.
    “Don’t be intimidated by them, Mikka.” Darville touched her arm with reassurance.
    “They’re exciting. I haven’t seen anything this joyful since . . . since before Papa died.” Carefully, she smoothed the clean lines of her golden gown. This regal outfit was cut more modestly than her spectacular wedding gown, but still showed more of her bosom than was considered proper in this conservative society. Oh, well, they’d reach a fashion compromise eventually.
    “Is Rosie shying away from the noise?” Darville seemed overly concerned about her. She rested her hand on his arm lightly. He winced at the contact. The burns from Janataea’s blood were healing slowly. There was only so much a healer could do for him—even a magician healer.
    “Sorry, darling.” She lifted her hand from his sleeve. His free hand covered hers and put it back on his arm, where it belonged.
    “How’s Rosie doing?” He repeated his question with genuine concern.
    “Very well.” She grinned.
    “Will she jump out and repudiate me in mid-ceremony?” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
    “Meow?” Rossemikka ran a long fingernail gently along the line of the fading marks of a previous scratch on his cheek. “Does that answer your question, my love?”
    Darville shifted just enough to kiss her lips long and lingering.
    “We’d best get this show started,” he breathed as they came up for air. “Did you see Jaylor and Brevelan in the crowd? They promised to be here.”
    “I didn’t see them. I don’t expect to. With the current mood against magic in the capital, they can’t just transport in or announce their presence to one and all.”
    “I guess not.” Darville looked disappointed. “But they are my best friends.”
    “Mine, too. They’ll be here. We just haven’t found them yet.”
    A blast of trumpets announced the beginning of the procession. Acolytes swinging incense burners led the way, followed by green-clad sisters of