The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

assurance that he hadn’t leaked the transport spell to a foreigner nor revealed the queen’s potential for magic.
    What if he had revealed that information without knowing it?
    “Where is that damned crow now?” Jaylor asked.
    Yaakke fell silent once more. One of the shadows in Janessa’s cell looked suspiciously like a bird sleeping with its head under one wing. If Corby followed him, everything the jackdaw did was special. For years, all he’d owned were his secrets. He had to keep Corby to himself a while longer.
    “More important, how were the smugglers planning to get through the mudflats to the Bay proper?” King Darville resumed pacing the dank corridor, more restless than Yaakke had ever seen him. He nodded to the hovering Fred to send troops to investigate any ship leaving the Great Bay tonight.
    “Only Bay Pilots know the ever-changing channels, and they are the most arrogantly close-mouthed demon spawn I’ve ever encountered!” The king yanked the golden queue restraint from his hair and shook the mane free. Once more he appeared the barely tamed wolf. The theft of Krej had challenged Darville’s kingship and done more to invigorate him than all of Brevelan’s healing spells.
    “Can we assume that the theft of Lord Krej is related to the abortive assassination attempt?” Darville pressed.
    Sounds of merriment from the banqueting hall drifted down into the higher levels of the dungeon as Fred opened the door a crack and slipped back to watch over Darville. He nodded that his errand was complete.
    “I can’t afford to absent myself from the festivities much longer, Jaylor. Can you find other clues, anything?”
    “Sir,” Yaakke interrupted. “Whoever stole Krej was strong enough to throw a delusion over the assassin and armor another man who was headed for the smuggler’s ship. That’s a lot of magic to throw and clear the cell, too.”
    Soberly silent, the three of them turned their attention back to the slim pieces of evidence. Jaylor placed a few threads of black cloth on a pewter tray alongside some flakes of gilt. “When was Krej last checked?”
    “There is supposed to be a regular check of every cell by the guards at least once an hour. Every cell, not just these two.” Darville extended his pacing to bypass half a dozen unoccupied cells. A coronation pardon had emptied most of them. Only two foreign spies and a few of Krej’s steadfast followers remained.
    “Could the backlashed spell have worn off?” Fred asked from the shadows. Yaakke added more witchlight to the corridor to eliminate concealing darkness.
    “I doubt it. Krej’s original spell was meant to be permanent,” Jaylor replied. “Krej himself would have to remove the spell, and he can’t do it until he’s animate again.” He shifted his weight as if shrugging away an uneasy memory.
    Yaakke looked at his master and knew he relived the scene in Krej’s great hall last spring when Jaylor had freed Shayla from her glass prison. That spell was supposed to be unbreakable, too. The great effort of throwing the mighty magic had nearly killed Jaylor. Only Brevelan’s love and healing Songs had brought him back from the void between the planes of existence.
    Darville stopped square in front of his oldest friend. “Our thief must also know the tunnels. There are no maps of these passages. Few know they exist, fewer still know where they lead.”
    “I don’t know who it is,” Jaylor replied. “The magic signature doesn’t belong to any of my Commune. We don’t want Krej free to cause more trouble.” He looked directly at his apprentice for confirmation.
    Yaakke nodded, free of guilt. He’d thought about freeing Krej just to see if he could do it. For once he hadn’t followed through. All of Coronnan, including Yaakke, was better off with Krej frozen into his tin weasel statue.
    “I’ve got to get back to the banquet before people start asking questions.” Darville ran a hand through his hair.
    His right hand, Yaakke noted, not his normally dominant, but now damaged, left.
    Jaylor reached his left arm out to clasp Darville’s in friendship before they separated. Darville responded in kind. The lightest of squeezes on his forearm caused his brows to furrow and his shoulders to tense.
    “We’ve got to do something about that arm,” Jaylor whispered. Yaakke heard, but he doubted Fred did. “Maybe another session with Brevelan?”
    “No.” Darville stood firm. “I miss you both, terribly, but you