The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

so easy, the factory girls ought to be able to produce leagues of it for export. Just mention symmetry and geometric grids. They’ll believe you. These are businessmen, not lacemakers!”
    The alley suddenly narrowed and veered off to the right. Refuse grew thick in the gutter, as if it were some exotic plant with a life of its own. Shops with houses above gave way to warehouses—windowless, bleak, and huge. Empty. The air smelled of fish and garbage. They emerged onto a planked walkway beside the docks.
    Katrina stared at the pier where P’pa’s ship was supposed to rest at anchor, hoping for a miracle. If only the black-hulled vessel with red Kaantille sails bumped gently against the dock, all their troubles would be over.
    “I don’t like this district, M’ma.” Katrina slipped her hand into her mother’s.
    “Who does? But thread has to be kept moist or it becomes brittle and breaks. The best place for a lace factory is near the river. These old warehouses are rotten with damp.”
    “I bet the lacemakers are, too.”
    “Yes, well, I suppose many of the women suffer from the cold and the damp. It’s necessary. There wouldn’t be any money in SeLenicca at all if we didn’t have lace to export. Stargods only know if there will ever be any timber or enough ore to supply overseas markets again,” Tattia whispered.
    “Perhaps if we went to the temple first and prayed, M’ma. Not many people do that now. Maybe the Stargods have time to listen to our prayers.”
    “Don’t even think that, child!” M’ma looked around hastily for signs of eavesdroppers. “We’re in enough trouble with King Simeon. We daren’t ask for more by being seen at the temple.”
    “But going to temple isn’t forbidden,” Katrina protested. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming need to kneel before an altar and release all of her family’s problems to the Stargods.
    “No, prayer in the temple has not been forbidden by the king—yet. But such action earns his extreme displeasure.”
    For centuries the people had believed a never-ending supply of resources to exploit was their gift from the Stargods. To nurture and replant the land was blasphemy—denial of SeLenese status as the Chosen.
    Now the resources were gone and no one knew how to replace them.
    King Simeon preached a new philosophy. The people of SeLenicca were the Chosen of Simurgh, not the Stargods. The ancient bloodthirsty god required feeding for SeLenicca to regain its dominance in world trade and politics. King Simeon said he would get SeLenicca new resources through conquest, not farming or praying. Those who agreed with the king’s religion—at least in public—found favor at court and in the marketplace.
    A dark-green wooden door suddenly appeared in the otherwise blank brick wall of a factory. Freshly painted, with shiny brass hardware, the doorway invited business people within. Tattia paused long enough to take a deep breath before turning the doorknob.
    Katrina followed her into the murky depths of the entry with heavy feet and a lump in her throat.
    “This is necessary,” she muttered to herself. “We have to get enough money to buy food and firewood.”
    A tiny bell jingled above them as the door swung shut of its own accord. A man approached them from the open office to their left. Tall and thin, he moved with an odd grace.
    Katrina thought anyone that tall and long-limbed should jerk and wobble his way toward them. Dark eyes burned from his gaunt face beneath a fringe of sandy-blond hair. He wore a square beard.
    “Outland half-breed!” M’ma hissed through her teeth.
    Katrina hoped the man hadn’t heard the insult. Success today depended upon his goodwill.
    “We are not hiring today.” The man looked down his nose at them. A long way down.
    “I do not seek employment.” M’ma stood tall and straight. Every bit of her artistic superiority added majesty to her posture and highlighted the man’s inferior breeding.
    “Then why do you disturb my busy schedule?” The man didn’t back down before M’ma’s glare.
    “I wish to discuss a matter of business with the owner.” M’ma sniffed as if the hallway smelled as badly as the gutters outside.
    “You do not have an appointment.” The man withdrew two steps. He reached to close the office door with long, slender fingers. Katrina thought his hands ideal for making lace.
    “Tell your superior that Tattia Kaantille wishes to speak with him.”
    The man’s eyes widened a little at