The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

moment he vowed to make up for every slight he’d given her since their first meeting. “I love you, too. Now stay with us, both you and Kalen, and let’s get on with the business of escaping this hellhole.”
    “Where are Powwell and Yaala?” Nimbulan addressed the prisoners in the command voice he usually reserved for the battlefield.
    All of the denizens of the pit turned back to whatever they were doing, without bothering to answer. The guards cowered deeper into their private thoughts and fears.
    “The Kaalipha has been stabbed. There’s a riot in the Justice Hall. You are free. We can open the gate for you,” Kalen added.
    Two men near the entrance who rubbed oil onto strange metal tools looked up again. A flicker of interest crossed their eyes. Two men darted furtively up the tunnel toward the gate.
    “Armed men are coming closer with every heartbeat. Tell us where we can find Powwell, and we’ll help defend you,” Nimbulan added.
    Some of the people heard him. Dully they shifted toward the interior cavern. The guards looked up with a spark of interest and . . . and hope?
    “ Powwell! ” Kalen screamed.
    “Pwl, pwl, pwl,” the caverns called back to her.
    “Follow those people into the next cavern.” Scarface gestured with his staff. “We have to find a hiding place. Those guards will break the lock any minute now. They don’t usually go beyond the gate. This time, I think they will.”
    “Did anyone see what happened to Golin and Nastfa?” Myri asked. “They helped me. If they lead those guards, we’ll be safe.”
    “They are hardened assassins, Myri. Their fate is their own and not your concern,” Nimbulan said, drawing her farther away from the entrance.
    He tied his ratty black robe into a sling for the baby. The heat building in his skin knew a moment of relief. They’d all be shedding layers of winter clothing before long.
    As he draped the carrier around Myri’s neck, he glanced at the tiny red face drawn into a whimpering pucker. A sense of wonder nearly paralyzed him. He’d helped create this tiny morsel of life.
    He traced the line of the child’s cheek. Amaranth turned into his caress, seeking comfort and nourishment. She waved her tiny fists in delight.
    A wave of possessiveness engulfed him. “My daughter. We have a daughter.” Finally he looked into Myri’s eyes for confirmation that this was indeed his child. His wife smiled and time stopped around them.
    “You also had a son,” Maia said defiantly. She crossed her arms across her breasts, drawing her shoulders down. “But he died before he had lived a full moon. He might have lived if you had taken me back to the city with you. There are plagues in Hanassa that kill the innocent and leave outlaws and misfits untouched.”
    Nimbulan pitied her. She was as much Televarn’s victim as Myri was.
    “Neither of you told me about my children,” he said. A bit of anger crept into his tone. “I couldn’t meet my responsibilities to them if I didn’t know they existed.”
    Did either woman consider him fit to help raise the babies? His shoulders felt tremendously heavy with the conviction that Rollett was the only young person he had successfully helped raise—he’d only had a few moons with Powwell and no time at all with Kalen. He hoped Rollett was managing at the gate and could hold it long enough for Nimbulan to get back there with this motley group.
    Quickly he sent a telepathic message to his journeyman. His mind met only confusion, no specific identity. Perhaps the depth of the cave system and the configuration of the rocks blocked his talent.
    “You weren’t around to tell about babies or anything else,” the women replied in unison.
    “I would have been if I’d known.”
    “Hmf,” Myri snorted and centered her attention on her squirming child. Maia turned her back on them.
    “I promise I’ll protect you both,” Nimbulan said to the women. “You and the children.” Possessive protection welled up in him.
    “Time enough to play proud papa later,” Scarface nudged him forward. “We’ve got to get out of here. With or without the boy you seek.”
    The chugging sounds grew louder as they passed through a low, narrow tunnel to the next cave. Nimbulan resisted the urge to cover his ears. He had to absorb every sound, lest he miss some trace of Powwell.
    Beyond the threshold of this cavern lay a huge black metal monster, chugging and belching. Yeek, kush, kush. Yeek, kush, kush. Long, thick