The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

and I failed them.” Rollett swallowed nervously.
    “They chose to live in Hanassa, a city of murderers, thieves, extortionists, rapists, and every other kind of criminal you can name. They came here because they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, obey the laws of the outside world. As long as they lived here, they couldn’t hope for a clean death in old age,” Powwell reminded him.
    “Not all of them. Some of them came here as slaves—like you. They didn’t have a choice. They relied on me! ”
    “I haven’t time to hold your hand, Rollett, and make you feel better about yourself.” Powwell resolutely swallowed his revulsion and stepped into the Justice Hall, senses alert to any danger or presence.
    His resources had worn thin again. He pushed the limits of his magic for his own safety.
    When he was certain no one hid in or around the huge room, Powwell crept forward. He clung to the shadows as long as possible. Thorny gibbered in his pocket. The hedgehog didn’t like the smell of blood. They needed to scuttle away in the dark tunnels and hide.
    Powwell hushed his familiar. He didn’t like the smell of blood and fear either. But he had to find Kalen—or rather Kalen’s body. The wraith was the only thing left of his sister. He had to use his magic to help Kalen regain her body. She couldn’t do it alone. The blood on the altar could give him valuable information.
    At last he took the remaining four long strides between the back wall and the raised altar below the dais.
    “How’d they raise this stone without ’motes?” he asked. “There’s a lot of blood on the manacles, so they managed to open and close them, too.”
    Rollett shrugged. Yaala wept silently in the corridor.
    Powwell screwed up his courage and touched the coagulating blood with sensitive fingertips.
    Power jolted up his hand and into his arm as if he had touched a ley line. He sucked up the energy greedily. And with the power came knowledge. The last moments of the dead man’s life flashed across his mind.
    Pain, humiliation, fear. Accelerated heartbeat. Quivering panic. Then a sharp agony in the back of his neck. Sharp awareness that this was the end. Almost a sense of relief. A flash of bright light and sudden awareness . . . Blackness.
    Powwell lived through the shaking limbs and cold sweat only slightly distanced from the events. When his heartbeat returned to normal, he replayed the events through his memory, watching for glimpses of the people around the execution. He recognized Piedro standing on the dais as he passed judgment for treachery. The Kaaliph hadn’t changed much since he’d helped Televarn kidnap Powwell, Myri, and Kalen a year and a half ago.
    Powwell watched through the dead man’s memories an entire clan of Rovers dancing around the altar stone in a stylized ritual. The magical power they generated from the dance raised the altar stone. Rough hands from behind forced his hands into the manacles at one end. His partner faced him at the other end, equally afraid, mumbling prayers to a dozen different gods. Then he shared the sensation of the cold stone on his throat as the outlaw was forced to bend over the substitute executioner’s block.
    But when he tried to focus on the figure beside the new Kaaliph of Hanassa, his eyes slid up, down, and sideways. He couldn’t examine any feature of the vaguely feminine creature. As if Kalen had merged with a dragon!
    A sharp pricking pain in his chest brought him back to the reality of the deserted Justice Hall. Thorny wiggled uncomfortably in his pocket. Fully extended spines threatened to rip holes in the sturdy cloth of Powwell’s tunic. Something akin to a sob of grief shook both of them.
    Powwell jerked his hand away from the altar. Blood still dripped from his fingertips. Power continued to tingle through him. He hated the thought that he gained from the terror of a man’s death. He’d only known one Bloodmage. The thrill of harvesting power from pain and terror had driven that man to insane abuses of his magic.
    “Thanks for reminding me, Thorny. Keep reminding me of the cost of this power.” He caressed his familiar through his pocket until the hedgehog relaxed his spines and Powwell could safely pet him directly.
    “What did you learn?” Rollett asked from the shadowed doorway.
    Yaala remained in the corridor. Her squeamishness at the grisly deaths encouraged Powwell that she would not revert to her mother’s cruel methods. Or Hanassa’s—whoever had