The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

must know what to call you.”
    “Televarn. I am king of this clan and don’t fear giving my true name to one and all.”
    “Televarn.” Nimbulan tasted the name in open mimicry of the Rover’s reaction to his own name. “An unusual name. Televarn, the one who talks to the Varns—mysterious beings who trade only in diamonds for vast quantities of grain and appear in our ports once a century. They never reveal face or hands or even the shape of their bodies, keeping all veiled and gloved in swaths of rainbow-colored cloths that appear filmy and transparent but hide more than they reveal. You must be a very powerful man if you are privileged to speak to these entities.”
    “I have more power than you can dream of, Lan. You may be a wandering magician, or a man who has lost all to the wars, though you have not the bearing of grief for such a man. I don’t care what you are as long as you tell a good story over the campfire and break none of our laws.”
     
    “I have only a few beds left.” Ackerly put a sorrowful expression on his face, trying not to look at the few coins the displaced family held out to him. “Alas, many families seek a place of safety for their children. I can only accept those who are truly talented.” He allowed a sigh of regret to leave his lungs. The coins were base. Easily ignored.
    “But . . . but Kalen has very powerful magic. We haven’t had to use firestone to light the rushes since she lost her milk teeth.” The mother, a wasted woman worn out by childbirth and hunger, held out her hand in entreaty. A single gold coin glinted against her palm. Her husband closed his fist around the five base coins, removing them from the bargain.
    “Fire is an early sign of talent. Tell me, what else does the girl do?” Ackerly tried not to lick his lips in anticipation of handling that single piece of gold. He’d acquired twenty new pieces in the weeks since Nimbulan died. He’d made it known throughout the land that the School for Magicians was offering new apprentices a safe place to learn the one profession that could give a peasant family a guaranteed income and a measure of security against marauders.
    The old monastery was fair to overflowing with adolescents and five more weary Battlemages seeking a quiet retirement from the wars.
    “Show him, Kalen,” the father ordered. He pocketed the lead and copper coins but let his wife keep dangling the gold before Ackerly.
    He had been a merchant in Baria on the north coast until Lord Hanic had burned the town. From the ragged and threadbare state of their once finely tailored clothing, the family had been on the road for some time. The gold was probably the last of their former wealth. They must be desperate to be willing to part with it.
    Kalen shook her head and tried to hide behind her mother’s skirts, being careful not to let any part of her touch the father on the other side of her. Not quite ten, she looked to be a year or more from reaching puberty. If her talent proved true before her body matured, she would be one of the great magicians. Most apprentices didn’t show any sign of talent until they were within a few moons of the change. Only the great ones, the men and women who could tap the ley lines and become as powerful as Nimbulan showed talent earlier.
    Of course some of the great magicians refused to acknowledge their talents until raging growth sent their emotions awry and they couldn’t keep it secret any longer. Minor magicians, like himself, only exhibited talent at or after puberty.
    “What is it that you can show me, Kalen?” Ackerly squatted in front of her, making sure his head was level with her own. No use intimidating her into losing control or hiding her talent altogether. He’d learned that much in his recruiting these past moons.
    From his crouched position he raised his eyes slightly to look the mother directly in the eye, tacitly asking approval to approach the child. So far, the woman had kept her head down, face in shadow.
    As their eyes met, the woman’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. “You?” she asked soundlessly. She moistened her lips with a flick of her tongue. Then she firmed her expression into meek subservience. Whatever flicker of recognition had passed across her face was gone, as quickly as it came.
    Ackerly shrugged and turned his attention back to the little girl. The mother looked vaguely familiar. Maybe he’d met her in his long years of traveling with Druulin and then