The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

to lace, the women Jack had seen promenading through the shops each wore a king’s ransom on their gowns.
    Brunix walked to a woman who sat close to the long row of high windows. In spite of the extra light from the windows, her work space, like all the others, was illumined by a candle lantern at the head of her pillow stand. Brunix examined the length of finished lace as wide as a man’s palm. He unrolled at least three arm-lengths from a second, small bolster dangling from the larger workspace.
    Owner Brunix produced a pair of scissors from a concealed pocket and snipped the finished length from the roll. “Take this to the foreman and have it added to the shipment going out tonight,” he instructed the woman as he pocketed the sharp scissors and returned to Jack.
    Together they mounted the last flight of stairs.
    “This is my private apartment.” Brunix flung wide the door. Brilliant sunlight flooded the room from six standard windows of mica and a skylight of decent-quality glass.
    Neither the University nor the palace in Coronnan City boasted a single window with as much glass as that pane. The only bigger piece Jack had seen was the black glass table where the Commune of Magicians used to confer.
    “You will have no need to enter these room unless I summon you.” Brunix reached to close the door again.
    Movement in the corner of the sitting room caught Jack’s attention. He willed the door to remain open a moment longer. Brunix seemed to have difficulty pulling the heavy, soundproof panels shut.
    A young woman stood up from another workstation set between the windows. Moon-blond hair shone in the setting sun. Delicate fingers caressed a loose bobbin.
    Her! The girl of his vision when he was lost in the void. The girl all grown up into a beautiful woman. The woman who had haunted his dreams when nothing else was real during those endless years in the mines.
    “Go back to work, Katrina,” Brunix admonished. “We will not disturb you.”
    “Your wife?” Jack asked still staring at the woman.
    “My slave. You are not allowed to speak to her. Ever. She is mine. Do you understand? MINE!” Brunix finally managed to close the door, separating Jack from the woman of his vision, returning him to reality.

Chapter 28
     
    K atrina checked the corridor outside the dormitory for any signs of the new night watchman. She didn’t trust this dark-eyed stranger any more than she trusted Owner Neeles Brunix.
    Three nights running she had tried to slip up to the workroom when sleep refused to overtake her. Each of those three nights the stranger had appeared at the end of the corridor as if summoned by her presence.
    The first night he merely nodded to her, acknowledging her right to be in the building. The second night he’d followed her to the workroom, then returned to wherever he spent the night hours. Last night he’d slipped silently in and out of the room, watching her work for a few moments every hour or so.
    Lumbird bumps rose up on her arms as she thought of his ghostly movements through the warehouse. What would he do tonight? Ask for lessons? She shivered in the chill darkness. Why did he watch her so intently?
    She refused to admit that each time he left the workroom, a terrible loneliness overcame her. Loneliness worse than that she had endured these last three years.
    The corridor and stairway were empty. Soundlessly, and without benefit of a candle, Katrina slipped upstairs. She knew every creak in every unstable board in the building. She’d learned them well in three years. The watchman had learned them in one night.
    She needed to lose herself in her work and find a kind of peace. Firestone brought her smokeless work candle to life. The bobbins came readily to hand. She caressed them and hummed lightly to herself. The old work songs sprang to life in her mind. She’d never let them die. In all these years of working in grim silence for Brunix, she’d gone over the songs in her mind, letting the gentle rhythms guide her hands.
    Only at night, when she was alone and surrounded by darkness, did she allow herself to voice the words and tunes, very, very quietly. Brunix didn’t believe in songs in his factory. Lacemaking was work and song made it seem like play.
    The factory owner must know she worked alone at night, for he allowed her to keep a second pillow here in the workroom as long as the work was obscured from view by a large cloth during the day. A good pillow, covered in soft velvet,