The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

silent.
    “Don’t bother.” His eyes closed in weariness. “With that hair I can only guess that Krej’s castle was very close to your home.”
    “How did you know?” She was too shocked to be defensive.
    “Rumors of strange happenings, his neglect of his responsibilities. There’s a rogue magician in this village. He obeys a man with hair as bright as Lord Krej’s.”
    “You bring that man,” she spat, “here?” She allowed her disgust for the man who had probably fathered her, as well as a half dozen other bastards, to color her voice.
    “He’d have found you sooner or later. I am not his quest.” Jaylor turned to peer out the door. “The clearing is armored. I don’t know if it will hold against this rogue.”
    “Could Krej’s rogue capture rare animals and imprison them as sculptures?” She needed to talk, to keep her mind occupied so she wouldn’t remember how empty her home had felt until Jaylor once more filled the room.
    “Who knows what powers a rogue can tap? Perhaps they seek to add a dragon to the collection. Or a golden wolf.” He sank down to the floor, back still against the door. Fatigue rimmed his eyes. He’d been working magic again. Strong magic.
    Silence surrounded them. Brevelan, too, sank to the floor. Her arms reached for her pet. She buried her face in his fur and clung to him. He filled her arms with warmth. But he wasn’t Jaylor.
    “Light the torches! Let’s burn her out.” Men’s voices, angry, insulting, broke the silence.
    Jaylor’s head rose in alarm. Brevelan’s chest tightened. “If we kill the witch the path to the dragon will open,” one of the fishermen yelled.
    “We should ’a run the woman off last summer. Then there wouldn’t be no dragon up there now,” the barkeep sneered.
    “I lost another cow this morning to the blasted dragon. I want that monster dead any way it takes to do it,” screamed a farmer who had sought Brevelan’s help when he’d nearly severed his foot with an ax. She’d saved the foot, but the man would limp for the rest of his life.
    There were other comments from men she didn’t know. But the one in command, that one chilled her bones.
    “Let’s smoke her out!” Old Thorm’s voice, and yet it was stronger, better educated than the drunken troublemaker’s.
    “Witches can’t fight a good fire.”
    She pulled Puppy closer, to still her shaking. She could face magic, or dragons, or even wild wolves. But fire? FIRE!
    Jaylor’s gaze darted about the hut, peering into the shadows. “Can you call Shayla?”
    She wasn’t sure whether she heard the words with her ears or her mind.
    “Shayla?”
    “She is the only thing he,” Jaylor nodded toward the outside to indicate who he meant, “still fears.”
    “But they want to kill her!” She’d heard that much in the muffled sounds outside.
    “Not when she flies. They want you to show them her lair. Call the dragon, Brevelan. You’ve got to call Shayla.”

Chapter 10
     
    L ight and music flooded the bridge between the University and Palace Reveta Tristile. Baamin made his slow, observant way toward the banquet hall and the festivities being prepared for the arrival of two rival ambassadors. The emissaries from SeLenicca and Rossemeyer each sought to secure an exclusive alliance with Coronnan. The two kingdoms had been at each other’s throats for generations. Coronnan traded with both.
    Baamin wondered if he could convince his frail king that the pattern of the future that the magicians saw in the glass was the same pattern of entrapment represented by the two rival ambassadors.
    Tonight the senior magician’s responsibilities in matters magical weighed as heavily on his shoulders as the diplomatic chores.
    Master Fraandalor, assigned to the court of Lord Krej, had just reported the discovery of Journeyman Tomalin’s body on the shores of the Great Bay. Death by drowning, five leagues away from his post.
    “My Lord Baamin.” A minor courtier bowed low to the magician.
    Baamin touched the man’s bowed head briefly, then jerked away as if in surprise. “What have we here. Bruce? A flower? Why are you growing flowers in your ears?” He handed the posy to the smiling man.
    “Flowers today, coins yesterday.” Bruce lowered his eyes, unwilling to meet the magician’s glance. His hands fluttered in front of him, almost seeking a warding gesture. “When you honor us with your presence, who knows what will be found in unlikely places?”
    Tricks. Simple