The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

emotions.
    That was when Jack decided to absent himself from the factory for the day. His next encounter with Brunix might end with Jack unemployed and no more access to Tambrin lace and Katrina. Keeping Katrina close and safe suddenly seemed as important as finding a patch for Shayla’s wing.
    Jack turned to go back the way he had come. Brunix would recognize his current disguise and the crowd was too thick to alter the delusion spell without drawing attention. The crowd was also too thick to allow him a safe retreat. Forward, toward the main altar lay the only open path.
    On tiptoe, as silently as possible, he edged past the factory owner. Brunix remained on his knees, eyes fixed ahead of him. But he wasn’t praying. His hands copied the wall etchings onto a sheet of parchment. Wall etchings that duplicated the runic embroidery on the priest’s robes.
    Surprised, Jack nearly stumbled over Brunix’s feet where they protruded into the main aisle. There was little chance of coincidence that Tattia Kaantille’s ghost would tell Jack to seek out runes on the same day that Brunix—who owned Tattia’s daughter—would copy runes in the temple.
    Brunix stirred from his fascinated study of the carved message. Slowly he levered himself up to his full standing height, using the altar rail as a brace.
    Jack sought a hiding place amid the crowd.
    A priest renewed a sputtering candle two alcoves along the aisle and then disappeared behind a tapestry. Jack pursued the old man in black robes, rudely elbowing his way through the throng of people waiting for the kneeling space Brunix had just left.
    Peering from behind the woven portal covering, Jack watched Brunix stuff the parchment into an interior pocket of his sleeveless overrobe. The owner peered about him with a smile of contempt for those who prayed for the queen’s recovery. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight and his aura flared once more, this time in a bright orange.
    The man knew something important.
    Following in Brunix’s wake was easier than forcing a new path through the crowd. Jack itched to remove the parchment from its hiding place. The factory owner kept a proprietary hand over the concealed pocket. He’d notice if the crackling bulk suddenly disappeared.
    Very slowly, Jack allowed his delusion to shift. Bit by bit, he absorbed the face and demeanor of a nondescript man he passed in the wide temple porch, shedding his old disguise in the same order. When he plunged after Brunix into the bright spring sunshine, no trace of his previous delusion remained.
    Brunix stood unmoving on the top step, blinking rapidly until his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Jack used those two moments of distraction well. He gathered the tattered remnants of extra magic left in his body and concentrated on the copied runes.
    The single sheet of parchment weighed a ton inside his mind. It refused to budge from the fold of fabric that protected it.
    Jack pushed his magic deep, struggled, and sweated. The cords of his neck stood out with the strain of moving the burden.
    Brunix blinked and twisted his neck in preparation for moving down the two dozen stone slabs that formed the steps.
    Near panic that his quarry might escape, Jack “grabbed” the parchment with a spell and dumped it into his own pocket.
    The factory owner stepped down into the milling throng.
    Jack’s knees turned weak in fatigue and reaction to the hasty spell. Barely able to keep a delusion of light-colored hair on his head, he sought a quiet corner at the edge of the open square before the temple.
    Very soon, he must return to the factory and stand above Katrina’s little web of ley lines. A good meal would work wonders at restoring his talent, too. But first a brief nap beneath that clump of bushes.
    Eyes still on Brunix’s progress across the broad square, Jack edged toward his chosen refuge. The tall man strode in the direction of the factory, never turning around or looking back to see if he was being followed.
    Still five stairs from the paved square, Jack caught sight of a pair of men in palace-guard-gray scuttling behind Brunix. A knife flashed in the sunlight.
    “No!” Jack screamed as he dashed across the square. King Simeon couldn’t succeed with this murder. If Brunix died, then the sorcerer-king could confiscate the factory and all his property, including Katrina.
    The men in gray disappeared, as if they had never been behind their victim.
    Screams erupted from the throats of a hundred