The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

the pit. You saw how pale and wasted he looked. He won’t live long even if you could get him and yourself out,” Scarface replied.
    A line of dancers snaked out from a side path. They alternated men and women, each holding the waist of the person in front of them. The lead reveler was too drunk to stand on his own. He swayed and stumbled into Moncriith.
    Moncriith backhanded the man across his face. Blood spurted from the man’s nose. He fell backward, throwing the entire line off balance. “ S’murghin’ wastrels. I’ll sacrifice you one and all before I let you join the ranks of my army!” Moncriith screamed at them.
    A woman burst out laughing at the Bloodmage’s posturing—too drunk to be afraid. Her ragged red gown drooped off her left shoulder, revealing most of her breast. She caressed herself, taunting Moncriith to join her.
    Moncriith turned back toward the palace. His deliberate path took him through the line of mercenary magicians. He shoved Rollett out of his way. The journeyman magician stumbled and fought for balance. His flailing arms and shifting steps broke the blank expression of numb obedience to Moncriith.
    Nimbulan gasped silently. Every one of the mercenaries stopped and slid silent hands toward their swords. Don’t break rank! Keep your weapons sheathed until HE orders you. Nimbulan directed his warning into the mind of each man. The Bloodmage had to believe himself in control of this troop until they were well within the palace.
    The dancing woman sidled in front of Moncriith, continuing her drunken taunt. He slammed his fist into her face. She fell backward over the jumble of collapsed dancers. Her leg twisted under her as she fought for balance. With an audible crack, the bone broke. She stopped laughing abruptly. Her jaw quivered and pain filled her eyes. But she didn’t cry out. The drunken dancers found this hilarious. Insults to the woman joined their off-key song of celebration. Nimbulan caught a few derisive comments about Moncriith as well.
    “Doesn’t anyone in this city sleep?” he asked Scarface out loud. Moncriith whipped his attention back to the magician and away from the revelers.
    “Not the night before half the town leaves for a major war.” Scarface spoke a little too loudly, demanding Moncriith listen to him and not be sidetracked by the dancers.
    “Silence, demon spawn. You won’t live long enough to join these people in the glorious campaign to stamp out the demon-led king of Coronnan,” Moncriith said. He raised his fist as if to slam it into Scarface as hard as he had the drunken woman.
    “You like preying on helpless victims, don’t you, Moncriith? People who can’t fight back and prove just how weak you really are,” Nimbulan sneered. He inserted his bound hands between his new friend and Moncriith.
    The Bloodmage’s face darkened with rage. “I don’t have time to waste trading insults with you, Nimbulan. I shall have my revenge when Yaassima and I both dip our hands in your blood. I shall carry your severed head into battle as a symbol of the end of the demons that control you.”
    The troop of mercenaries stepped forward as if propelled by a single will. Nimbulan ground his teeth together trying to keep from ending this charade and murdering Moncriith there and then.
    Rollett nudged Nimbulan with his staff, reminding him to keep his thoughts under control as well as his actions. Nimbulan forced his frustrations away from the front of his mind.
    The palace loomed ahead. The jumble of buildings piled on top of each other spread across a good portion of the southern arc of the crater. Four guards stood in front of a smoothly rounded arch, just broad enough to admit two men walking side by side, very close together. Off to the right of the gate was another opening, less regular, shorter and narrower yet.
    Nimbulan touched Scarface with his elbow and tilted his head in the direction of the smaller entrance.
    “The brothel for Yaassima’s guards. It doesn’t lead into the palace,” Scarface replied under his breath.
    Nimbulan wondered if he should look there first for either Myri or Maia.
    Two guards stepped forward, challenging Moncriith’s right of entrance. The Bloodmage spoke a few words in an ancient language and wove his hands in a complex sigil. The eyes of the guards glazed over.
    “No need for your wands and your searches,” Moncriith said smugly. He waved aside the first two guards. They stepped back to their accustomed sentry