The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

reassurance.
    “I can’t raise Lyman at the school,” Nimbulan said, staring into the fire. He held his glass, minus the gold frame, before his eyes, magnifying the flames and his spell. “We have to get news of the invasion to Quinnault before he marries the temptress. I wonder where she really hails from and who planted her in Coronnan. I have a lot of questions about the princess who appeared as soon as I had left the capital.”
    Myri looked closely at his bland expression. He had locked away his emotions from her gentle probes since Powwell’s terrible accusation.
    “Talk to me, Nimbulan,” she pleaded.
    “I just spoke to you about the summons spell.” He continued to peer into the fire through his glass.
    “You said words, but you haven’t talked, haven’t reacted to the terrible hurt Powwell dealt you with his words.”
    “He didn’t hurt me. He spoke the truth. I hurt myself with my regret and my guilt.”
    “You won’t heal, Lan, until you talk to me.”
    “There is nothing to talk about. I valued my apprentices above you and Kalen. ’Tis my shortcoming. I must learn to live with it.”
    A chill ran through Myri. “Do you mean to abandon me again? Me and Amaranth, your daughter?”
    “I don’t know what I will do after I get word to King Quinnault about the invasion. I don’t know if I’m capable of loving anyone enough to . . .” Without another word, he traded his glass for a journal and began writing with a black stick he kept tucked inside the book.
    Myri looked at the intricate marks on the page, wondering what he recorded. She’d never learned to read and hoped Nimbulan would remain with her long enough to teach her.
    “Why do you ask where the princess comes from, Lan?” Myri asked. “I’ve heard of Terrania in old legends.”
    “Do you remember the landscape of the desert with red sand we saw through the dragongate?”
    Myri nodded.
    “That is Terrania,” he replied grimly. “No one has lived there for many thousands of years. Quinnault’s bride is a fake.” He returned to his journal.
    Scarface watched from the edge of the rock overhang that sheltered them in a mountain pass from any mercenaries patrolling in the area. The ones they’d left behind should have recovered by now. They had no way of knowing if the witchsniffers would pursue revenge for the massive headaches the paralysis spell would leave with them and the loss of their cloaks and food, or if they would retreat to nurse their injured emotions and minds.
    “Could Televarn have planted the princess?” Yaala offered. “He thrives on convoluted plans. He sold his women to the brothels for politics as well as money. Perhaps he plotted with this woman for the purpose of inciting a war. If he can create enough chaos, then he can step in and take over for lack of leadership.”
    “That sounds like Televarn,” Myri agreed. During the moon she had lived with the Rover more than a year ago, he had proved false in his protestations of love and loyalty.
    “Televarn doesn’t need to be sneaky. He just needs to read your mind once, and he’ll never leave you alone,” Maia said bitterly. “He uses people like candle stubs. When they are used up, he throws them away.”
    “I left him before he could discard me. So he has to pursue me. No one else may possess me until he decides he is finished with me.” Myri added.
    She checked the now sated and sleeping Amaranth rather than dwell on the Rover chieftain. Satisfied that the baby was safe from the blazing emotions that had run rampant a few hours ago, she shifted her attention to Powwell. The boy sat, sullen and staring into the distance. He systematically stripped a long stem of grass, then plucked another, stripped it, plucked another. Myri wondered if he knew what occupied his hands.
    “Maybe I can summon Kalen,” he said quietly. “She was always receptive to communication spells, though she hated sending them.” His words barely reached across the fire to Myri.
    “Even if she answered, Powwell, we can’t help her yet. We need to get to the capital, fast,” Nimbulan said. He stood abruptly and scanned the skies. “But I promise you, as soon as I have arranged for the safety of my king and the kingdom, I will return to Hanassa for Rollett and Kalen. Maybe if we join our magic, Powwell, we can catch someone’s attention in the capital.”
    Powwell stood up, lethargic, his attention still on the distant hilltop and the dragongate.
    “I would be