The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

the extra three gold pieces he’d secreted in the sole of his boot. Nor the other five he’d hidden in the lining of his cloak. They were his. He’d earned them! Nimbulan would have paid over the entire twenty coins and more to get the Tambootie. Any price to feed his addiction to the weed. Surely he wouldn’t begrudge Ackerly a small commission for saving him so much.
    “This crock of Tambootie won’t last very long. You should have gotten more. We have a lot of experimenting to do, boys. Come, let’s get started.” Nimbulan turned toward the stove. “We’ll need more cider and a brighter fire. Nothing like a strong flame to focus on while heading into a trance. Will you fix the cider, please, Lyman. You seem to have a special touch with the spices.”
    For the first time since entering, Ackerly became aware of the old man standing by the hearth. He could have sworn that Lyman wasn’t there when he entered. And Nimbulan had asked him politely to make the cider. Not an order. A request. He’d said “please.” Nimbulan never said “please,” to Ackerly anymore.
    “Wait a minute, Nimbulan.” Ackerly grabbed the Senior Magician’s sleeve. “You mean you’ve already been giving the boys Tambootie in their cider?”
    “Of course. They need to become used to the side effects before they face the trial by smoke.”
    “But you can’t. It’s too dangerous. They’re too young.” Ackerly frantically sought a way to stall the new experiments. He had to find out how much Nimbulan knew about his gold before a deep drug-induced trance took the magician into the void where all knowledge was available to those who knew where to look and what to look for.
    Concern for the boys was the only thing that would keep Nimbulan away from the drug tonight. Ackerly didn’t care if they all became addicted and stunted their growth. He needed time to hide his gold more securely. Perhaps a tale of bandits. The country was rife with them.
    “You are right, of course, Ackerly. I was too excited by the way the boys combined their magic. We are all cold and tired. Time enough in the morning to examine the ramifications of this spell. Off to bed, boys. We all need a good night’s sleep.”
    The three youngsters looked dead on their feet already. The spell they had worked dragged their shoulders down and made them shuffle. They could hardly keep their eyes open.
    “Rollett,” Ackerly called to the oldest of the apprentices. “See that they wash up and take their clothes and boots off before they fall into bed. We’ll need all of you in the morning. Who’s on kitchen duty?”
    Powwell held up a weary hand.
    “Forget it, Powwell. I’ll take care of it.” Briskly, Ackerly instructed the boatman to bring extra scullions with him at dawn when he brought the cook over from the keep on the big island. In a few moments he’d cleaned up the shambles Nimbulan left behind him with increasing frequency. When they’d both been apprentices, Nimbulan was known for his fastidiousness. This mess was worse than ever, clear evidence that the Tambootie Ackerly always added to Nimbulan’s food had impaired his judgment.
    Something needed to be done before Nimbulan figured out what had happened to his gold. Something drastic.
    “May I help you clean up, Ackerly?” Lyman raised one white eyebrow with his query. “You seem troubled. Perhaps you’d like to talk?”
    Not bloody likely, old man. You have a way of ferreting out secrets that I don’t want told, he thought. Then he smiled and said, “Not tonight. I have much to think on. Take a hot brick to bed with you, Lyman. You’ll sleep better with warm feet.”
     
    Nimbulan slumped in his cross-legged position, his shoulders nearly touching his knees. The fatigue of a long session in the void with the boys made him dizzy and nauseated. The elation of one small success sent his heart leaping into his throat.
    Combining magic was possible. He’d witnessed it last night with a simple door opening. Today he’d participated in a similar spell to move a chair two hand’s widths away from its original position.
    I could have done it myself with only minor effort, he thought. So why this tremendous fatigue? Rovers wouldn’t combine magic if the process were always so tiring. Maybe something in their rituals?
    The deliberate vagueness of the book in the library irritated and intrigued him.
    He sat up to assess the boys’ condition. If they were in as bad shape as he after such a