The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

He drifted off in contemplation of the new scullery maid.
    “How dark? Olive skin tones or fairer—more pink?” Nimbulan transferred his gaze from the cup to the understeward in alarm. A mole to the right of the mouth. No. Televarn wouldn’t dare send Maia to do his dirty work.
    Nimbulan hadn’t thought much about Maia since he’d met Myrilandel. He wanted to remember his brief affair with the Rover girl as a time of spontaneous joy. But his mind told him the entire sordid mess had been manipulated by Televarn, the head of Maia’s clan.
    A wrongness grated against his mind. Televarn was a power-hungry, manipulative bastard, but he had courage. If he wanted to kill someone, he’d do the deed himself; as he had tried to murder Nimbulan with a knife.
    “Rover-dark hair, I think. Her skin was so smooth and clear, except for that delectable mole. . . .” The understeward fell back into his reverie.
    “Guard, dunk his head in a steed trough, a very cold one,” Nimbulan ordered the men who hovered close by, hands on short swords. “He’s been bewitched, and I think I know by whom. Bring me the biggest bowl you can find—crockery not silver, filled with fresh creek water. Remember, a free-running creek, not a confined well.” A Rover spell to catch a Rover assassin.
    Fortunately, Rover magic required multiple magicians. Nimbulan wouldn’t have to depend upon his increasingly erratic magic for accurate results.
    He searched the pockets of his everyday working trews and tunic. The wand he sought eluded him. S’murghit, he’d have to levitate the wand from his private chamber. He pictured within his mind the necessary tool with the faceted crystal suspended from the end by a reinforced spiderweb, right where he’d seen it last, on his desk. He’d locked the door to his chamber with a mundane key to keep the apprentices on housekeeping duty from disturbing his research. No need for magic on the seal.
    From this distance he couldn’t guarantee the levitation or the unlocking of his door.
    “What do you need, Nimbulan? I can send someone to fetch it,” King Quinnault offered.
    A guard appeared with a bread bowl, large enough to hold several pounds of rising dough. Beside him stood a second man with a pitcher of water, still dripping from having been dunked into the creek or river.
    Nimbulan patted his pockets one more time in search of the wand he wanted. He fished a small rock out of his pocket instead.
    “I’ve found what I need, Your Grace.” Not a faceted crystal that had been made perfect by men, but a naturally beautiful stone polished by water and sand. Like the free water and the crockery bowl, this natural stone was a tool a Rover could use.
    Carefully he set the bowl on the floor in the middle of the Great Hall. The rushes had been scraped clear of the stone flooring and the assembly of people and dogs hugged the wall, giving Nimbulan space to work. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the bowl in a glowing warmth. Three hastily summoned magicians, including his senior journeyman Rollett, knelt beside Nimbulan, linked to him in trance and by touch. They encircled the bowl.
    Gently Nimbulan adjusted his magic to match the compounded energy his assistants gave him. They’d keep the spell aligned and focused, even if he couldn’t.
    Where in Simurgh’s hell had Myri gotten to? What had happened to the silver cord that connected their hearts?
    He filled the bowl with the fresh water. Then, together, he and the magicians levitated the poisonous cup into the bowl until it rested snugly upright, surrounded almost to the rim by fresh creek water.
    Only then, did Nimbulan dissolve the web of magic wrapped around the cup. It fell apart much more easily than it had gone together.
    “The clay that formed the bowl is the Kardia.” He raised his voice as if chanting.
    “Sunlight is Fire,” Rollett picked up the chant.
    “The source of our question rests in Water,” Lyman added.
    “The magic we add comes from Air,” Gilby, the fourth magician continued.
    “We stand at North, South, East, and West. The four elements combined with the four cardinal directions form the Gaia. All is one. One is all,” Nimbulan finished. Subtly he shifted his body so that he stood at the south of the spell—the direction of the nearest magnetic pole. The forces of the pole should keep his magic under control even if his mind strayed.
    Myri had to be safe, wherever she was. The dragons would have