The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

ley lines in the central courtyard. How much power could he feel?
    The guardian had effectively masked the massive well of magical energy so that even masters like Nimbulan could draw only normal amounts of power from the radiating ley lines.
    He watched the boy for a few moments, praying that he was one of the few magicians who could learn to weave the Kardia into his spells.
    The broom wobbled. Zane leaped to his feet with a whoop of triumph. He scowled at the broom again. He closed his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides. His shoulders rose nearly to his ears as he fought the inertia of the broom.
    With a small smacking sound, the broom dropped to the floor, refusing to move.
    Zane rubbed his temples, clear evidence of the headache beginning to form. He’d be craving sweets, too. Nimbulan’s mouth watered at the thought of the candied coneroot Quinnault’s cook had sent them this morning. When the boys took a break before the evening meal, he’d make sure he shared the treats with them.
    One day soon, the boys would learn that magic took more effort than sweeping. But most adolescents, with their bodies growing and maturing so rapidly their minds and emotions couldn’t keep up, exhibited a weird mixture of curiosity and laziness. The two made Zane ripe to discover many things about magic. Powwell was not far behind him in age and discovery.
    Nimbulan turned back to the library wing to watch Haakkon perform his chores. The dark-haired lad leaned against the library doors, his ear pressed close to the wood panels. His broom lay forgotten on the floor beside him.
    A faint murmur of voices drifted down the corridor. From the library. Nimbulan drew a little power from beneath his feet up into his ears to catch the words.
    “You’re supposed to list and sort the books by author and title, not stop and read every s’murghing one of them!” Ackerly’s affronted tones rose almost loud enough to hear through normal senses.
    Why was Ackerly in the library and not at the market searching for a permanent cook?
    “This text distinctly contradicts accepted magic theory. It claims that Rover rituals give a single magician the combined powers of all those involved in the ceremony,” Quinnault de Tanos replied. “I think it’s important we set it aside for closer study.”
    Ah, so the lord had discovered the same text Nimbulan scanned last night.
    Quinnault de Tanos had taken to spending part of each day helping about Nimbulan’s school however he could. He couldn’t perform the smallest of spells, so he couldn’t demonstrate magic lessons for the boys. He knew nothing of cooking or cleaning. But he knew ancient languages and magic theory flowed from him in precise detail, even if he couldn’t work a spell.
    Nimbulan wished he could spend his afternoon hours poring over the books and discussing ancient and modern practices with de Tanos. In a few moons perhaps, when everything was set up and other magicians taught and observed the apprentices, he’d have the time to indulge in long afternoons in the library.
    Lyman and the five older boys were qualified to tackle the monstrous job of sorting and cataloging the books. Only Nimbulan knew how to watch the new boys for signs of major talent. The ability to weave the Kardia into their spells wouldn’t settle in the boys until they passed through puberty and the trial by Tambootie smoke. Until then, their magic would be erratic.
    “Hear anything interesting?” Nimbulan whispered to Haakkon.
    The boy squeaked and jumped away from the door in surprise.
    “You won’t have to be so obvious in your eavesdropping, Haakkon, once you learn to do it with magic. However, magic takes more effort and the normal way works just as well . . . as long as the door remains closed.” Nimbulan pressed his own ear to the door panels.
    The voices came through muffled, but he could still discern Ackerly’s words. “Time enough for study after we know what is here and we’ve sorted the junk from true work.” The sound of a book being slapped against a table echoed through the door panel.
    Nimbulan could almost see his assistant’s tight-lipped control of his face. Ackerly would never lose his temper in the presence of an anointed lord, but Nimbulan heard his vexation. Time to intervene.
    “Ackerly, I need you a moment.” Nimbulan opened the door just enough to poke his head through.
    Behind him, he felt Haakkon withdrawing. If the apprentice could melt into the shadows, he