The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

continuous stream of flame. Fire touched the tower roof at the University. The tar holding the slates in place ignited. A second blast of flame exploded the timbers below. Slates flew in all directions becoming deadly missiles.

    Late afternoon, the docks, Coronnan City
     
    Bessel approached the passenger dock from the direction of the fishermen’s wharf. He’d exchanged his soaked clothes for a different set of fishermen’s togs provided by men who considered him one of them. Raanald and Lady Rosselaara stepped out of a small rowboat within a moment of his arrival.
    A dozen boats had been dispatched by royal guards to rescue the passengers from the barge.
    “Get me Master Scarface. Now. Bring the interfering bastard here at once!” Raanald shouted above the noise of the curiosity seekers and dock workers.
    A dozen or more dogs barked, their excited comments drifting across the bay more clearly than people’s voices.
    A nice state of chaos ready for the last ingredient.
    A new contingent of palace guards appeared on the embankment above the passenger dock. A couple of magicians hovered behind them, but no Scarface. Bessel moved closer to the center of the wordstorm.
    Lady Rosselaara looked straight at him without recognition and turned to one of her mercenaries. “Find me another boat. Row it yourself if you have to, but get me out of this city immediately.”
    “Sometimes hiding in plain sight is more effective than the darkest hidey-hole,” Bessel said under his breath as the lady passed him. If she heard, she didn’t deign to acknowledge his comment.
    He looked up at the line of palace guards arguing fiercely with Raanald and a contingent of magicians. Behind them, King Kinnsell and Lord Balthazaan added their own tirade. Four other finely dressed men followed them meekly.
    More dogs crowded onto the docks, barking incessantly.
    The babble rose to an uncomfortable crescendo. Confusion reigned, amplifying frustrations and churning anger. But where was Scarface? He needed to be here so that Nimbulan and the others had time to move the books into hiding.
    A dragon bellowed from the skies above them. Everyone on the dock ceased speaking and looking up. Bessel could just make out a shimmering outline in a kaleidoscope of all color/no color.
    Two dragons in one day? Something wonderful and strange transpired in the city.
    A hush fell over the crowd. One of the magicians took an open posture, head turned up, eyes closed. After a few moments of the stillness needed to gather dragon magic, his face crumpled in disappointment. Then he gathered his companions close. They jabbered among themselves and cowered in fear. They kept shifting their gaze between the dragon and back toward the city where a tall column of smoke rose from the vicinity of the University.
    Obviously the Commune was out of favor with the dragons if they could not gather precious dragon magic.
    Did the smoke have something to do with that?
    Shayla! Bessel here, he hailed her.
    (Greetings,) the dragon replied. (Hasten. You are needed. The University burns. The fire will not delay your enemies long.)
    Mopsie nudged him, reminding him of his next chore. “Right, boy. We have to make sure Nimbulan doesn’t hide those books permanently.”
    He whistled sharply. A dozen fishermen looked at him in recognition, then moved to interrupt Lady Rosselaara’s tirade. In moments, the diplomatic entourage had been escorted back aboard small fishing boats and headed for the port. Each boat boasted an alert moppelwogger in the bow.
    “Coronnan is grateful for your departure, madama,” Bessel muttered. “I know I am.”
    He left the docks whistling. He had his own path to forge; a new destiny to follow. Freedom rode lightly on his shoulders, a comfortable companion.
    The magicians turned and hastened back toward the University. The guards ran to follow, Raanald at their heels, still shaking his fist angrily. Kinnsell smiled and followed them more slowly. He kept up a barrage of insults and complaints to the finely dressed men around him. Lord Balthazaan broke off from him to keep up with the magicians. Kinnsell snagged the lord’s sleeve, shouting at him and raising his fists. They stood squarely in the path of the mercenaries and dock workers who sought to follow.
    The pack of unpartnered water dogs seemed to flow around the obstacle. They nipped at heels as they raced toward this new curiosity.
    “We can’t delay here any longer, Mopsie. Scarface never