The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

continue his tyranny over the Commune or anyone else.”
    “Your help is welcome. The plan requires some interesting magic as well as manual labor. Bessel and I are the only magicians who have resisted Scarface’s compulsion that we can be sure of, but Bessel is acting strangely and I’m not certain how valuable he will be. Powwell will be all right with Yaala to nurse him for a few days,” Luucian replied.
    “I’m not leaving without them.” Rollett glanced at Yaala. His eyes caressed her. Yaala returned his gaze frankly. An energy nearly crackled between them. “We’ve been through a lot together. We stay together until we are all safe back home.”
    “I’ll be all right alone,” Powwell insisted. He couldn’t stand between Yaala and a man who could love her. A part of Powwell would always separate him from Yaala, the part that belonged to Kalen. Dead Kalen.
    He gulped back a sob. “The dragons will take care of me.”
    “I hate the idea of leaving you alone, Powwell, but we’re needed in the capital.” Yaala looked truly torn between Rollett and her friendship with Powwell.
    “I’ll stay with the boy. I can’t say I’m looking forward to my daughter’s tirade. Though I’d like to retrieve my granddaughter from Lord Balthazaan’s custody before Katie tears the kingdom apart looking for her,” Kinnsell said from the dim interior of the cave.
    “Princess Marilell is safe,” Luucian replied. His mouth worked as if he choked back a laugh. “The kidnapping attempt failed. Queen Katie and King Quinnault keep the child very close now.”
    “You bushies aren’t as ignorant and helpless as I first imagined.” Kinnsell chuckled. “I owe it to the boy to take care of him until you return. Can’t say I want to stay here with these monsters, though. Are you sure they won’t eat me for lunch?”
    “What do I need other than strength to travel with you? I can eat and drink now, and that will restore a lot of my energy.” Powwell struggled to raise himself on his elbows. If he stayed here, he’d wallow in his aching grief and never recover. Nimbulan needed him, needed his magic. He couldn’t help Kalen anymore. He might as well give his all to the only man Kalen ever respected.
    Suddenly his life had purpose. Kalen had spent her life running away from those who had tried to control her and her magnificent talent. He would honor her memory by challenging all those who would victimize other children before they’d had the chance to learn to control their own destinies.
    He’d start with Scarface.

    Late afternoon, Coronnan City
     
    Bessel crossed two bridges and threaded through a number of streets before he slipped into another alley. He faced the wall of a smithy as he removed Mopsie and the blanket from their hiding places.
    The little dog yipped his gratitude and squirmed within Bessel’s arms, tired of being confined. He licked Bessel’s face before jumping to the ground and running three joyous circles around his ankles.
    “Yes, yes, I know you are happy, Mopsie, but we have to keep moving. We have to get to the docks before the tide turns and the barge sails. We have to make sure that by the time Raanald gets the barge to the port, he’ll mistrust the depth finder so much he’ll destroy it himself.” He patted his familiar and set about arranging a new disguise.
    After removing the dress and kerchief, he folded them into the blanket lengthwise and slung the bundle across his back and over one shoulder. He tucked the loose ends into his belt. Then he snapped his fingers and transported his staff and a metal bowl from his room inside Myrilandel’s house. The spell was illegal. Dragon magic only allowed levitation, not transportation. But the men of Rossemeyer would have seen the staff floating through the air and followed it.
    King Quinnault had told him to use whatever means possible to destroy the depth finder and create chaos on the docks.
    Lastly he smeared dirt on his cheeks and chin in imitation of two days’ growth of beard.
    With bowl in one hand, held out in a classic beggar’s stance, and leaning heavily on the staff, he shuffled out of the alley, just another beggar displaced by the wars.
    He progressed to the docks unmolested and richer by seven dragini.
    “Dinner,” he promised Mopsie as he slipped the coins inside his belt pouch. He tucked the bowl into his makeshift bedroll and wound his way through the confusing array of docks and warehouses under