The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

Nimbulan remembered Myrilandel, the witchwoman who had saved the new king from certain death. Granted, a great many people had participated in that final spell. But Myrilandel, and only Myrilandel, had known what to do.
    “Make sure that Quinnault drinks plenty of water and small beer. We healed the wounds, but magic cannot replace lost blood. He needs fluid to rebuild it,” Myri whispered.
    “Hush, now. He’s in the hands of the best healers in the country. They will see to him. You must take care of yourself, Myri. Kalen will bring you some broth in a few moments. You must promise to drink it all. You must get strong again, soon, for I don’t know how I will live without you, love. We will be married by a priest as soon as I can arrange it. A forever marriage, blessed by the Stargods.” He traced her cheek with a gentle fingertip, memorizing each plane and angle.
    She kissed his palm and closed her eyes with a satisfied sigh.
    “Tell me what happened to the others, Ackerly and . . . and Moncriith.” She grasped his hand with greater strength than he thought she had left.
    “Ackerly is dead, suffocated by the Tambootie smoke and his own strangling hands,” he said sadly.
    “Commit his body to the pyre with honor and respect. Please, Nimbulan.” She held him tightly when he would have turned away.
    “Ackerly betrayed me and his students. He tried to kill me, twice. He sabotaged the spell to rescue Rollett from Moncriith’s witchsniffers. He . . .” He couldn’t go on. Memories of all their years together kept intruding on his sense of outrage.
    “For the man you want to remember him as, please, give his death the respect you yourself would want.” Her big eyes, almost colorless with fatigue, pleaded with him.
    “I promise. He shall go to the funeral pyre wearing his formal robes and carrying his staff—the symbol of his status as a magician.” Nimbulan bowed his head, allowing himself to grieve honestly for his old friend.
    “And Moncriith?” Myri tucked both her hands beneath the blanket, giving way to a great shudder.
    “We don’t know. No one has seen him or his body.”
    “I fear that he lives and will return to plague us all.”
    “If he does, the entire might of the Commune of Magicians will protect you and all innocents that men such as he seek to persecute.”
    She looked at him then with mingled trust and skepticism. “Men like Moncriith will always find a way around institutions of authority.”
    “Sleep, now, Myri and don’t worry about the future. Or the past. Sleep and regain your strength. There is much to celebrate. I want to share the joy with you, as my legal wife.” He kissed her brow and watched as her eyes closed and her breathing slowed to the easy rhythm of sleep.
    Silently, he prayed she wasn’t right this time. Coronnan had enough troubles without worrying about Moncriith. He’d have to make sure the new government had strong and just laws for all the people so malcontents like Moncriith had no injustice to use as a springboard to power.
     
    “If you demand I start a new dynasty with a new name, then I won’t make Castle Krej—named for one of Kammeryl’s supposed ancestors—my capital,” Quinnault said. The mildness of his tone belied the tension in his knuckles where he grasped the arms of his chair.
    Nimbulan scanned the new king of Coronnan with just a touch of Sight. His normally pale skin carried a tinge of blue rather than healthy pink and his fine hair hung limply where it had pulled free of its queue restraint. No other signs of illness or weakness showed.
    “Castle Krej is an easily defended fortress, Your Majesty,” Lord Hanic replied. “It is yours by right of conquest. For your own safety, you must retreat there with an army combined of all our forces. As general of the united army, I will guarantee that you are protected.”
    No one had declared Hanic leader of anything.
    “No.” Quinnault speared the tardy lord with a glance. “I will no longer be dependent upon an army, any army to protect me. Peace and justice will be my protection. We will build a city here amongst the islands at the head of the Bay.”
    “But it isn’t safe. The islands can’t be defended,” Lord Sauria said.
    “I intend to reign over a country at peace. Defense is no longer my primary concern. We need a new city. Here will be a center of commerce when we reopen the shipping lanes in the Great Bay. My home will be a palace, open to lords and merchants and