The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

she found a way to convert a bad situation into laughter. In all her twenty-five years, Kinnsell had only caught his daughter crying once. The day he divorced her mother and married his pregnant mistress.
    “We’ll bring incendiary materials back to cleanse us of that . . . that . . .” the older man in the party said. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Nimbulan, the trusted magician who deceived the lot of them by claiming he’d lost his magic. Psi powers didn’t get lost. But sometimes they hid for a while.
    Nimbulan’s skin looked waxy with a blue tinge around his lips. His fingers had swollen where he gripped the reins tightly. Probably just a heart condition. It had to be just a heart condition and not the first symptoms of the plague. Ill health would mask psi powers. The magician had lost his psi powers over a year ago. The length of the illness suggested a heart condition. The plague didn’t linger that long once it chose a victim. Usually.
    But the unpredictability of the plague and its mutations often devastated entire city domes before the first diagnosis.
    “I will prepare a cleansing ritual for all of us before we destroy that renegade dragon you call a shuttle, Katie,” said the tall blonde woman who always clung to Nimbulan’s side. Myrilandel, rumored to be half dragon. “Meet me by the mainland stand of Tambootie trees. South of the first bridge.” She kneed her steed and galloped ahead of the rest. No expression animated her face. Only the defiant stiffness of her very erect spine suggested any emotion at all.
    A few more paces took the mounted party out of sight and out of earshot. Kinnsell stood up, brushing dead leaves and dirt off his brocade tunic and plush trews.
    “Come, Maia. We have to hurry.” So much for his plans to lie with the sultry woman before taking off. He had no intention of being anywhere in the vicinity when his treacherous daughter returned with the materials to torch the shuttle.
    Katie’s party and their steeds had churned the muddy path into a sopping mire. Kinnsell picked his way carefully along the sides until he reached the clearing. If these stupid bush dwellers had the sense to install climate control, he wouldn’t have to ruin a decent set of boots!
    He held his breath against a new round of coughing as the mud seeped through to his socks and chilled his feet and legs.
    “Stargods protect me!” Maia exclaimed. She stared straight ahead, eyes wide. Over and over she crossed herself, followed by the bizarre gesture of crossed wrists and flapping hands.
    Kinnsell followed her stunned gaze. He saw the shuttle where he’d parked it, settled only slightly deeper in the mud than he remembered. Weak sunlight sparkled on the silvery tiles of the hull. The glare made him squint and lower his gaze.
    “What is your problem, woman?” He faced Maia, hands on hips, aggravation and unease making him snap his words.
    Maia pointed at the shuttle. Her mouth formed the word “dragon” but no sound emerged.
    “That is my ship. I told you it is a kind of a dragon.”
    “A . . . a . . . atop the silver thing,” she choked.
    Kinnsell glanced again in the direction she pointed. Then he looked away again quickly. The glare hurt. “The sunlight reflects the silver skin, makes it brighter, just like sunlight on water.”
    “Not that. A real dragon. A real dragon is perched atop the silver one!”
    Maia backed up as if she wanted to flee but didn’t dare take her eyes off the thing that frightened her.
    “Nonsense. There are no real dragons. Only my mechanical one.” Kinnsell tried again to look at the shuttle.
    This time a slight shift of the sparkling light made it a little easier to observe more closely. Something big did indeed perch atop the shuttle. Something almost transparent but with just a hint of silver revealing the massive bulk. Bright red outlined the extended wings and claws.
    Then the standing dragon opened its mouth and roared. Flames burst forth from behind teeth as long as daggers.
    Kinnsell almost wet his pants as he ran back down the path toward the road.

Chapter 29
     
    Late Morning, Kaalipha’s Palace, city of Hanassa
     
    P owwell ignored the sounds of Yaala vomiting out in the corridor. He thought she’d would have grown used to this sort of thing by now.
    But did anyone ever get used to violent and bloody death?
    Rollett didn’t look any better than Yaala, but at least he kept his breakfast down. “They were my men. They depended on me,