The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

be dangerously low as well.
    Where were the dragons?
    Moncriith yelled something in the old language as he hurled a massive ball of witchfire at Nimbulan and Myri.
    Nimbulan extinguished the flames before they reached the band of refugees.
    Powwell pressed his face deeper into the dirt. He had never taken an oath to the Commune to forsake all other forms of magic. Nothing prevented him from drawing the ley line into himself. He could throw some kind of barrier between Moncriith and his friends. He had to protect them, make up for his lapse in tapping blood magic.
    A barrier. He needed a barrier. He dredged a half memory up from somewhere. Nimbulan had thrown a wall in front of Moncriith’s attacks on Quinnault’s army a year ago. How had he done it?
    Powwell didn’t have time to remember. In his mind he created a picture of a brick wall rising up from the ground between himself and the Bloodmage. He pushed the magic outward with all of his strength.
    Moncriith’s next volley of magic darts, meant to enter the mind through the eye and destroy all thought and memory, crashed through Nimbulan’s defenses.

Chapter 36
     
    “O pen that S’murghing door, Bessel,” Quinnault ordered. “Guard, fetch Old Lyman. Carry him here over your shoulder if you have to. I don’t care what he’s doing or which dragon he’s talking to, I need him here. Now.”
    “I don’t know how Piedro could have left without a trace. No one can transport a living being from place to place and live,” Bessel protested.
    Quinnault recognized the young man’s deep breathing as preparation for a trance. He stepped out of the way to let him work. Questions whirled through his mind. He drew his belt knife just in case the assassin was somehow hidden in the cell and planned to rush them as soon as the door opened.
    “Maybe we should wait for the Master Magician,” he suggested.
    “Yes. That isn’t my seal on the door,” Bessel said. His eyes crossed in puzzlement. “I don’t recognize the signature or style of the spell. No one from the School set it. I know all of them.” He sounded almost relieved.
    “We are dealing with rogue magicians as well as Rovers and assassins. On my wedding day! Piedro warned me to look to those I trust for his employer. Who? I wonder if I dare go through with the ceremony until I know for sure who wants me not only dead but discredited as a murderer.”
    “Lord Konnaught?” Bessel offered.
    “I doubt it. He doesn’t have the forethought or the money to plan such a thing.”
    “The style of magic will tell us much,” Lyman said, bustling down the steep stairs. He rubbed his hands together in excitement. “An interesting puzzle. I love puzzles almost as much as I love books. Wonderful treasures, both. They make a man think.”
    “You didn’t have time to be summoned from School Isle unless you flew or transported,” Quinnault growled, ready to suspect anyone of Piedro’s escape.
    “Of course not. I was in the Great Hall helping arrange tonight’s entertainment. We have five apprentices who are quite talented with delusions and fireless lights. They’ll put on quite a show during the banquet,” Lyman replied. He bent to eye the lock on the cell door without further ado.
    “What do you see, old man?” Quinnault pressed him.
    “Not as much as Nimbulan would. These eyes are aging and less interested in detail than I could wish.” Lyman frowned as he straightened to peer through the slit window.
    “Which is another complaint I have with the world today. I wish Nimbulan would get back here. He never should have left. Not even a note,” he bemoaned.
    “But he did leave a letter of explanation. I gave it to the messenger you sent to fetch him.” Lyman looked around the dank dungeon as if he expected to find the errant courier hiding there.
    “I never received it!” Quinnault barked. “Guard, bring me that courier!” Heat stung his cheeks and his fingers tingled with the anger building inside him.
    Nothing was going right. Bad omens for the wedding ceremony and his life ahead with Katie.
    “Unnecessary, boy.” Lyman looked at Quinnault as if the king were indeed an errant child. “Lord Konnaught was with the messenger that day. Who told you that Nimbulan had departed on a personal quest?”
    “Konnaught.” None of Quinnault’s anger dissipated. “That demon spawn child deliberately interfered with a royal messenger. More reasons to exile him. Guard, Konnaught is to be confined to