The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

strength to keep up his disguise throughout the entire procedure. Mopsie had crawled under the nearest bench and watched everything through wary eyes.
    When the port islands finally appeared as a hazy blur on the horizon and the shore remained within clear view, Bessel edged his foot to touch the base of the depth finder.
    He plunged his mind into the guts of the machine and met a solid wall of impenetrable lead. He tried again, probing around the edges, seeking a crack in the mechanism, a seam, any point where he could penetrate. Sharp pain bounced back into his eyes along the line of his magical touch. He grimaced and yanked his foot away from the base as if burned. His entire body tingled with backlashed magic.
    Quickly, he looked around to see if any of the many warriors around him noticed his discomfort. They all seemed absorbed in keeping their stomachs intact. Not very good sailors, Bessel surmised. Maybe . . .
    He sent his next probe into the Bay. The muddy bottom absorbed his magic like a sponge. He tried again, slightly to the left of his original quest for information. A spring bubbled up through the mud. When the tide was completely out, a small freshwater creek would flow away from that spring. Several springs fed the Bay in this manner, making for dangerous sucking mud around the source.
    This time his probe sounded different within his mind. The fresh water changed the density of the salt water. He checked the numbers on the depth finder. They spun up and back down again quite rapidly. The change in the water had triggered an inaccurate measurement.
    Above him, a dragon bellowed as it flew determinedly around the city. The machine numbers fluctuated again, more drastically than it had with the fresh water.
    Bessel smiled to himself and edged over to the railing. He searched for the new wood that marked the spot where Jorghe-Rosse had fallen overboard. He spotted the fresh paint showing a stout replacement to the broken pieces. Two paces away the railing paint peeled and the wood looked worn and weak. He stood beside it.
    Bessel here. Please, flying dragon, announce your presence again, loudly, clearly, he called to the nearly invisible beast.
    (Rouussin,) the dragon introduced himself. Dragon protocol required names. (What do you wish?)
    Please, Master Rouussin, will you bellow again? I need the sounds to disrupt an evil machine.
    (Shayla has shared with us Queen Maarie Kaathliin’s dragon dream. We do not like machines that harbor the seeds of disease.)
    The dragon bugled loudly. The expanse of the Bay picked up the sound, amplified it, and bounced it against the cliff walls farther south.
    The passengers held their ears and looked at each other in distressed puzzlement.
    The numbers on the machine spun out of control. “Hard a port!” Raanald screamed at the helmsman. Panic widened his eyes.
    The helmsman leaned all of his body weight onto the tiller.
    The barge swung around. The waves slapped the barge sideways. The helmsman kept pushing the tiller. The spring beneath the barge and the conflicting movement of the water created an undertow. The turning barge caught a rip in the tide, spinning it around so the other side of the barge faced the oncoming waves. Then it grounded on the bar.
    “S’murghin’ machine!” Raanald yelled. He grabbed one of the long oars away from his crew and slammed it into the depth finder. The viewscreen split. The numbers died.
    Raanald continued pounding the oar into the black casing. The synthetic black shell cracked, but he did not penetrate to the lead core.
    Raanald lifted his makeshift club for one last blow. He looked around him, suddenly aware of the crowd that stared at his anger. They all clutched railings or each other to keep them upright on the uncertain deck.
    The pilot’s gaze landed on Bessel.
    “You!” Raanald stared at him, stunned bewilderment clouded his eyes. “What game are you and that bloody Commune of yours playing this time?”
    He advanced upon Bessel, oar raised.
    “I did nothing to your machine,” Bessel replied, calmly. Suddenly his entire future opened before him. He knew what he had to do.
    “You destroyed the machine!” Raanald screamed.
    “No, you did.” Bessel knew everyone aboard heard him. He only needed a little magic to hold their attention, make them understand. “The depth finder deceived you again with invalid numbers. You destroyed it to regain control of this barge. The Guild can no longer rely on the depth