The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

Yaassima granted him permission to continue.
    “The prisoner was found in the brothel. He is one of Televarn’s slaves and has no right to the women there,” Nastfa said, maintaining his subservient position, with his backside in the air.
    “Who found him?” Yaassima stepped down from the dais and circled Nastfa. She caressed his upthrust bottom, not with affection, more like appraisal, as if he were a haunch of pork.
    “I arrested the prisoner, Kaalipha.” A second man assumed the position beside Nastfa. He wore only trews of fine black wool that he’d buttoned so hastily they fastened askew with gaps.
    “Was the prisoner attempting to partner with one of my women?” Yaassima widened her circle to include the second man.
    “No, I was not.” Powwell raised his head as he spoke and shook off the hands that held him up. He could lose that head for speaking to the Kaalipha from an upright position. Just like Yaassima’s consort and daughter had.
    Myri broadcast caution to him. She didn’t have her husband’s easy command of telepathy, only her emotions to project to another.
    “I was searching for my adopted mother, Myrilandel.” He spotted Myri and Kalen beside the dais at that moment. Brief joy lit his face, then he masked all his emotions.
    Kalen took a step toward him. Myri held her back, uncertain of Yaassima’s cruel whims. Safety and escape lay in avoiding Yaassima’s notice.
    How could she distract the Kaalipha from Powwell without drawing unwanted attention to herself and Kalen?
    “Do I understand this report, that you were found in the brothel, rather than attempting to enter?” Yaassima turned her gaze on Powwell. Her long fingers moved from the guard’s rear end to Powwell’s chest. She traced a glowing design over his heart, her talonlike fingernails snagging on the rough cloth of his tunic. Myri couldn’t read the design, but she suspected it was a sigil of control.
    Yaassima snapped her fingers. The sigil disappeared as a knife appeared in her hand. She repeated the symbol with the tip of the knife, slicing Powwell’s tunic and shirt but not his skin.
    “Yes, Kaalipha, I was inside the brothel,” Powwell answered when the other men looked at the floor and shuffled their feet.
    “How did you get past the guards?” Yaassima’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the motley array of half-dressed men. Her gaze halted on the second kneeling man.
    “I used a spell of invisibility.”
    The Kaalipha’s gaze whipped back to Powwell.
    Myri cringed. If she ran and pushed the Kaalipha aside, she might be able to drag Powwell and Kalen through the primary entrance. Where would they go once they were free of the palace?
    She didn’t have enough information!
    “A magician. How lovely. Were you trained by Nimbulan? Or perhaps Myrilandel’s Rover lover was your teacher?” The knife disappeared. Yaassima’s extraordinarily long fingers flexed and opened repeatedly.
    “I received some training from Myrilandel’s husband, Kaalipha.”
    “Can you work dragon magic?” Yaassima’s voice became too sweet. Myri waited in dread for the vicious blow to follow.
    “When there are dragons present,” Powwell said.
    “Can you work dragon magic now, child?”
    “I sense no dragon magic. Nor are there any ley lines near. I have only limited reserves of magic available. I’d rather not waste them on parlor tricks.”
    “No dragon magic!” Yaassima screeched. “No dragon magic! There has to be dragon magic. I am The Dragon, that’s what Kaalipha means in the old tongue—dragon. I am descended from dragons. You will take your magic from me. Show me, boy. Show me this dragon magic, or I’ll know you for a liar and execute you at dawn for the crime.” The torches flared high, adding their green light to the yellow ceiling panels.
    “You may have the blood of dragons in you, Kaalipha. But you are not in dragon form. I cannot gather your magic. Nor can I gather Myrilandel’s while she resides in a human body.”
    Yaassima glared at the boy. Color rose in her pale cheeks. Torchlight reflected green sparks off her white-blond hair. She stood almost a head taller than he. Powwell had grown these last six moons to be equal in height to some of the men present. Yaassima seemed to swell taller yet. Her arms stretched away from her sides for balance as if she expected them to become wings.
    Surprised, Myri stepped forward to watch the Kaalipha more closely. She thought the gesture to be unique to