The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

Nimbulan as he neatly fended off a tangle of vines and leaves with one oar.
    “How far has this quest taken you, Quinnault de Tanos? You have been called ‘the Peacemaker’ for at least three years now.”
    “I have commitments from four other lords to refuse to join Kammeryl, Hanic, or Sauria in battle if—and it’s a big if—I can keep those lords from attacking them in retaliation for that refusal.”
    “What about Baathalzan?” Nimbulan asked about his cousin, the lord of his home province.
    “He refuses to talk to anyone. Can you persuade him?”
    “Not likely. He fears his relatives will take his title and lands more than the other lords. My cousin is not a decisive leader. But five of thirteen lords is a good start. They command a lot of land and a fair number of troops. Banded together, they could mount a serious defense. Why have you not led them in that direction, Quinnault?”
    “They want to make me king.”
    “And you fear that responsibility?”
    “I am barely comfortable as lord of my own clan. I would make a very poor and weak king. Coronnan needs a better man than I. All I really want is to be a priest.”
    Silence hovered between them, like a living being, begging to be pushed aside. But neither had anything to say.
    “Is this abandoned building large enough for a women’s quarters? Almost as many girls seek apprenticeships in magic as boys,” Nimbulan asked finally. Myrilandel must have a place there. He couldn’t let her enormous talent go to waste.
    “I think so. I haven’t thoroughly inspected the building in several years. How many people are you planning on housing?”
    “About a dozen to start. I’ll bring in others as the need arises. At the moment, Ackerly and I are the only trained magicians I can trust.” Keegan had run away and betrayed him.
    An eddy caught the little craft and swung the bobbing tree dangerously close. De Tanos shifted the oars in a rapid maneuver Nimbulan couldn’t interpret. The boat stabilized and nosed away from the entrapping branches.
    “You’ve spent a lot of time on the water,” Nimbulan said with a grunt as he pushed the tree farther away from them with his staff.
    “I had my first boat almost before I could walk. Boats are necessary to people who live on islands. Boats are our livelihood. We don’t have much arable land in the islands. We make our living by fishing and by transporting people and goods up and down this river. That livelihood has been seriously disrupted by these wars. I’m more comfortable with all kinds of watercraft than with steeds.” De Tanos looked over his shoulder at the steep riverbank a quarter mile away. Waves lapped the red clay cliff with a ferocity reminiscent of the Great Bay.
    “Neither you nor your father maintains an army.” Nimbulan changed the subject rather than think about the wind-whipped water all around him and the next log aiming for their hull. “Yet your manors haven’t been overrun. Unusual in these troubled times.”
    “The river provides a natural moat. We withstood a siege last spring, mainly because my people retreated to the islands with every boat within ten leagues. They supplied the mainland manor in secret at night through the river gate. Lord Sauria bombarded us with boulders and nearly breached the walls in several places. He did overrun the stables and steal my best breeding steeds. We almost surrendered before he decided my small holdings couldn’t give him the strategic advantage he sought. He threw away access to the Great Bay because he didn’t plan ahead and bring his own boats.”
    “You’ve had to fortify your estates, then? Sauria is persistent. He’ll return in the spring, with boats.”
    “Yes.” De Tanos gritted his teeth and fought the oars once more as a snarl of tree roots and stumps loomed directly ahead of them. “I am making plans for that. Not a chore I like.”
    “How much farther?” Nimbulan dropped his feet back to the hull for better balance. He didn’t like the way the current swept more and more debris up against that stump.
    “We’ll get around that menace.” De Tanos put more effort into the oars.
    Nimbulan crossed himself in prayer twice, the second time for the lord whose attention remained riveted on the snag that loomed closer, seeming to fill the entire river.
    Wind gusts stirred the current into choppy circles. The boat aimed for the wall of debris.
    “I haven’t recovered enough magic to help much, but I might be able to