The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

Just to make certain the clearing was once more inviolate, he wiped the spell from his mind and ran his hand along the barrier.
    His fist fell through a chink in the wall wider than the crack left by Glendon.

Chapter 30
     
    J ack followed the girl up to the workroom as quickly and as quietly as the rickety planks would allow. The sounds of the argument in the warehouse seemed to be winding down, and he expected the palace magician to come looking at the lace pillows for anything incriminating.
    “What is Simeon looking for?” he asked Katrina.
    She stared back at him without answering, eyes bewildered and accusing.
    He could pluck the answer from her mind. He wouldn’t. Not anymore.
    “You magicians are all alike. How do I know you aren’t in league with Simeon and that man downstairs? How can I trust anything you say?”
    “You can’t. But by the Stargods I hope you will trust me. Now, is this the only Tambrin in this room?” He gestured to the pillow where she had been singing and working earlier. If only he knew how to give back that joyful song rather than the ingrained bitterness she projected.
    The stairs creaked and groaned under the weight of men climbing.
    “It’s the only piece I know of. I’ve got to hide it!” She looked anxiously around for concealment. There was only one door in or out of the room and the palace magician would soon block it.
    Jack closed his eyes and sent the entire workstation, pillow, frame, stool, and candle deep into the warehouse. The magician wasn’t likely to search there again. Corby flew after it. Jack caught an image from the bird’s mind of plucking hairs from the magician’s head as he swooped past him on the landing.
    A screech and a curse confirmed Corby’s mischief.
    Jack stepped into the place where the pillow had been to disguise the blank spot in the orderly rows of workstations. Tendrils of raw power licked his feet—extensions of the ley lines he’d glimpsed on the ground floor. Katrina’s workstation sat directly above them. Again he wondered at the source of regenerating power.
    “What did you do?” Katrina gasped.
    “I hid the evidence.” He smiled and then drew the power into himself and faded into the woodwork. No transport for himself. A little invisibility would allow him to eavesdrop on the magician. The little blue ley lines beneath Katrina’s work place fed him all the power he needed.
    As an afterthought he drew Katrina into the circle of his spell. If you move or utter a sound, he’ll find us both, he said into her mind. Then he draped his arm around her shoulders to keep her close and protected—something he’d wanted to do since his vision of a girl with pale, blond hair crying over the loss of her first pillow and bobbins.
    Later he’d ask why she’d changed from the distinctive two braids to one.
    She squirmed a little under his touch. He increased the pressure of his hand on her shoulder. She stilled, but he sensed her unease.
    Filling his physical senses with her scent, her warmth, and the wondrous feel of her body next to his, Jack drew more power into himself in preparation for eavesdropping on the intrusive magician from the palace.
    “Search for the Tambrin, search every corner of this building and you will not find any.” Brunix threw the door to the room open with an expansive gesture of his long arms.
    “Of course I won’t find it. Your whore has had plenty of time to hide it.” The thin magician sniffed in disdain.
    Katrina stiffened beside Jack. He felt her indignation nearly as strong as she. Then her posture wilted in resignation. He pulled her closer, attempting to impart reassurance, respect, whatever emotions she needed right now. She didn’t respond.
    “You don’t search, because Tambrin alone is not what you truly seek.” Brunix narrowed his eyes and hunched his shoulders as if he were a vulture examining a particularly tasty morsel.
    Jack has seen Zolltarn, king of the Rovers, assume the same pose of intimidation. It usually worked.
    “I was sent,” the magician leaned closer to Brunix as if imparting a great confidence, “to find a particularly fine piece of lace woven by the late Tattia Kaantille.”
    Katrina jumped. Jack stilled her movement and wondered at the guilt that seemed to pour out of her.
    This was the second time the slightly built man had asked for that piece of lace.
    Where is it? Jack whispered into Katrina’s mind.
    An image of Brunix’s private sitting room, a secret