The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

His aura left an imprint on the door. Now it’s fading.”
    “I can’t see it.”
    “Look with your magic, not your eyes.”
    “You sound just like Nimbulan.” Tears filled Powwell’s eyes. “I wish you could have known him.”
    “He sounds like he was more honest than anyone else at this s’murghing school.”
    “We’re not supposed to curse, Kalen,” Powwell gasped.
    “There’s no better word to describe this place. I wish Papa had never brought me here.” She stamped her foot and plopped down on the floor again, arms crossed over her skinny chest. She scrunched up her face as if trying not to cry. “I want to go home to our house in Baria. It was the most beautiful house ever. I want to go back to the time before Lord Hanic burned the town, before Moncriith discovered me. Before magic was more than a bright, shiny toy.”
    “You haven’t gone hungry since you came here. And you haven’t had to sleep in the fields, cold and wet,” Powwell reminded her.
    “That’s true. But before we came, I wasn’t sick all the time from the drugs, and if I got tired, it was from walking and carrying my baby brother, not from forcing strange magic. Magic that could hurt someone if I lose control. He can’t work real magic, so he doesn’t know how bad I feel all the time.”
    “Master Ackerly is a good teacher. He explains things ever so simply.”
    “Have you ever seen him work any magic?”
    “N . . . no.”
    “That’s ’cause he’s got precious little talent for magic. What he does is mostly illusion. He makes you think he’s doing magic. Like he made you think Nimbulan was dead.”
    “But he was! I saw him die.” Powwell’s eyes went wide with disbelief and hope at the same time. “What makes you think the master lived?”
    “His niche in the crypt is empty. The body’s gone, but his formal robes are there, neatly folded.”
    “Master always was obsessed with neatness and order when he wasn’t too deep in a drug trance. He’d never leave anything untidy after a good sleep and a full day without a dose. Do you suppose the Stargods took him to heaven in their cloud of silver fire?”
    “No. I think he woke up from a deep trance and walked away. That’s what I’d do. That’s what I want to do.”
    “You’re making this up. I saw Master Nimbulan die. I helped lay him in the niche.” Powwell jumped up from where he sat on the floor. Suddenly the room was too small, the air too close. He couldn’t believe what this little girl . . . this troublemaker, said. If she was right, he couldn’t stay here. He’d have to go in search of his true master, Nimbulan. He’d have to leave the security of the school. This was the first place he’d ever lived where the taint of bastardy didn’t follow him. Every village his mother moved to, even when she claimed to be widowed—a common enough occurrence these days—someone always found out that his father was a wandering misfit who hadn’t bothered to return and marry the daughter of his host. He’d promised to come back. But promises were easily broken.
    “I’ll show you the empty crypt, Powwell,” Kalen whispered as if afraid Ackerly might return and overhear.
    Powwell stared at the floor, wondering if he had the courage to follow her and discover the truth.

Chapter 23
     
    M yri poured another bucket of water over the hot rocks in the brazier. Aromatic steam gushed upward, filling the tiny hut with the scent of crushed herbs and a little of the essential oil of the Tambootie. The old woman lying on the thin pallet coughed heavily in the onslaught of steam.
    The coughing spasm continued, racking her frail old body with shudders, robbing her of air, slowly choking life from her.
    Each time Karry’s grandmother gasped for air or clutched her chest in pain, Myri endured the same. Her strength faded almost as rapidly as the old woman’s.
    (Resist the need to Heal with magic,) the voices whispered to her as they had guided her all night.
    “I can’t let her die,” Myri sobbed. She’d tried every mundane remedy she could think of. Granny Katia’s fever and cough only worsened.
    (Hold back. Don’t waste your strength on her. She will die anyway.)
    Myri gritted her teeth and sought the courage to ignore the voices. Resolutely, she placed her hand on the old woman’s chest. Blue sparks shot into the air the moment she made contact. She poured her energy deep into Granny Katia, pulling fluid away from her lungs and attacking the