The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

thought.
    “I’ve heard Jaylor was drunk much of the last two years. The families of his friends complained constantly that he was corrupting their sons.” The king dodged a book that came flying down the corridor from library to dormitory.
    “Your Grace, you and I both know there is only one way for a journeyman to get drunk.” Baamin pointed to a mug gliding slowly toward them. Its progress was steady, about a finger’s length above the stone floor and very close to the left-hand wall.
    “Someone is making progress.” The first day of class new apprentices were invited to drink their fill of the fine wine in the cellars. The catch to this license was the magically sealed door. The wine cups could pass through the seal, apprentices could not. When the students could levitate a full cup of wine from the cellar to their rooms, without spilling any, they could drink all they wanted. By the time they figured out how to do that, they were usually ready to become journeymen. “Have you had to change the spell on the door to the wine cellar yet?”
    Baamin chuckled. “Not since Jaylor left. He managed to break it with little or no effort. But then he didn’t need to.”
    “He kept your potter working overtime for several weeks at first.” King Darcine seemed to find the antics of the apprentices amusing. When he was well, everything in life was amusing to him.
    “Only until he discovered he could make the cup appear in his hand.” Another example of his imagery becoming magic. “Then he smashed the spell on the lock of the cellar door so his classmates could share his celebration. But since he couldn’t tell his master how he had accomplished the feat, he was denied promotion.”
    “At least he didn’t teach his classmates how he performed that little trick.”
    “I heard he tried. They were smart enough not to listen to him. Jaylor’s magic is too unorthodox for anyone else to follow.” And without being able to keep his spells within traditional parameters, Jaylor was of no use to the Commune.
    “Shall we follow the cup to your next prodigy?” King Darcine smiled at the wobbling cup as it slowly neared the dormitory wing. It was a weak smile that appeared more like a grimace on his gaunt face.
    “Perhaps we should. I need to know who will have a hangover come morning.” They watched a moment as the traveling cup connected with the floor while the unknown apprentice rested. He was a smart one. Most boys thought their levitations at eye level where a mishap resulted in shattering the mug and splashing the wine. On the other hand, cups traveling as close to the ground as the one they followed ran the risk of being kicked. Whoever moved this cup had solved the problem by keeping it close to the wall and out of the way.
    The cup paused again by a closed door. It settled to the floor while the door was opened for it.
    “He hasn’t figured out how to suspend it while he performs another task, or to open the door before he begins the spell. Still, he shows caution,” Baamin whispered to his companion.
    The cup rose a few inches and slid through the opening. There was the ominous thud of pottery hitting the floor and shattering, followed by a string of curses. “ S’murgh you, Marcus! You broke my concentration,” an apprentice yelled to his roommate.
    Baamin sighed with relief. “That’s one promotion I don’t need to worry about. Yet.” Baamin reached into one of his deep pockets for an ever-present flask. He downed a swig and grimaced.
    “Tsk, tsk, Baamin. You know you shouldn’t drink so much of your cordial.” King Darcine shook his head.
    “My sacroiliac is killing me today.” Baamin deliberately screwed the cap back onto the flask and repocketed it. In almost the same gesture he popped a mint into his mouth to disguise the telltale odor of his medicine.
    “I have put a terrible burden on you, my friend.” The king looked contrite. “You have enough worries keeping the University under control.”
    “I am Senior Magician, Your Grace. It is my place to help you in this dire adversity.”
    “I sincerely regret that you are the only person I can fully trust. No one but you is in a position to coordinate the search for the prince in secret.” Darcine slammed his fist into his open palm. “ S’murgh it, Baamin, I need my son here to negotiate the new treaty with Rossemeyer. The palace budget has become a mess since he’s been gone, and the servants have become lazy.”
    Baamin