The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

would. Nimbulan risked a quick glance over his shoulder. A concealing shadow crept up from the floor, wrapping itself around Haakkon.
    Good. He’d found a way to use magic for a simple thing. Later, the magic would obey his will as easily as his instincts. Nimbulan turned his attention back to separating clashing personalities in the library.
    “Ackerly, I am almost ready to begin experiments. But I am concerned about our Tambootie supplies.”
    “Can’t gather the leaves this time of year. But now is the time to collect and dry the wood for burning.”
    “My personal supply of dried leaves is dangerously low and the time has come to begin lacing the boys’ cider with small bits. Breathing Tambootie smoke is too intense until they’ve learned to handle smaller amounts first. We have to find a new supply soon.” An edge of anxiety crept into Nimbulan’s voice. He tried to hide it with a judicious cough.
    “You had five pounds of dried leaves, Nimbulan. The foliage of nearly a whole tree, sun-dried to perfection. You can’t have used it all up so soon.”
    “I . . . I don’t know.” But he did know. He’d used it all, in ever larger doses that worked with less effectiveness in inducing the proper sensitivity to magic. He wondered why. He didn’t remember using so much Tambootie since settling on the islands. Maybe Lyman had been dipping into the supply. Ackerly never used it.
    “We’ll have to find more. Soon.” Ackerly pulled at his lower lip in thought. “Lord Kammeryl d’Astrismos has a stand of Tambootie two leagues from his fortress in a sheltered glen. Perhaps we can salvage some of the leaves still clinging to the trees and the recently fallen ones.”
    “But Kammeryl has forbidden us to return to his lands. He calls us deserters. He does not forgive disloyalty easily.”
    “You have to have the Tambootie, Nimbulan. I’ll make sure you get some.”
     
    Myri ran her sensitive fingertips over the Rover’s skull. His thick dark hair tangled in her fingertips. The temptation to linger with a caress kept her from trailing her hand down his throat to his nape to check his spine for injury. In repose, he was even more beautiful than when animated.
    She settled her eyes on the long fringe of eyelashes brushing against his cheek. Beneath a dark tan, his skin showed an unnatural pallor.
    A cold wave rushed around her feet and Televarn’s head. He groaned as the shock of the chill water brought him to partial consciousness.
    Quickly, Myri scanned his neck with all of her healing talent. The soft sand had cushioned his fall. No broken bones. She could drag him safely away from the encroaching tide. With a hand around each of his ankles she tugged his body back toward dry sand.
    Another wave sucked at his weight. She pulled harder, digging in her heels. The quagmire of drenched sand released him. Myri pulled him clear of the next wave.
    “I . . . can . . . walk.” Televarn’s words came out slurred and slow.
    Myri released his ankles and moved behind him to help him up. “You won’t drown in the next two minutes. But you will get wet and cold.” She placed one hand under each arm and heaved while he flailed his feet to gain some leverage.
    His legs seemed unconnected to his body, sliding in all directions. He had no balance.
    Myri heaved him upward, using the strong muscles of her thighs for leverage.
    At last he stood with his arm draped around her shoulders. He was only slightly taller than she and the bend of his arm must have been awkward. His knees visibly trembled. He placed his free hand to his right temple. “Wh . . . what happened?” He swayed, not moving forward.
    Another wave slapped against Myri’s ankles.
    “You fell. Now walk.”
    “Fell? When? Why?”
    “Move your feet, Televarn. You can flap your mouth later, when I know you won’t drown.”
    “Who’s Televarn?”
    “You must have hit your head harder than I thought.” What would she do with him? He couldn’t climb to her cave in his present condition. “I’ll settle you in the curve of the cliff, away from the wind, and build a fire. Once you’ve rested and supped, your thoughts will straighten out.”
    She hoped. He’d never manage to climb to her cave for shelter. Until then, she’d keep him close to this headland and away from the other where her cave nestled.
    “I think I know you.” Televarn paused in his shuffle toward the cliff. Gently he traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertip. He hesitated