The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

freed the long piece of leather that supported a curiously fashioned piece of silver. From the center of the amulet, a bright amethyst winked at her in the setting sun.
    “You can’t get rid of me so easily, Farrell. I won’t leave you until you finally break free of the curse that traps you between this plane of existence and the void. Why is it that only the women of my family can see and care for the ghosts who need us? And there is almost always a ghost here who needs us.”

    An ill wind blows this way. Does it come from our old enemies in SeLenicca? Partly. I sense chill blasts from Hanassa as well as the capital. My easy life of observation and contemplation is in jeopardy. I must stir myself and resurrect powers I have not used in a very long time.
    I do not like change. Yet I must change in order to bring my world back to the way it was before. My safety and the preservation of my power depend upon it. Someone will die. Perhaps many someones. I care not. I must ensure my safety. For the heritage I leave my son and daughter and their descendants, I must ensure my safety.
    * * *
    “Who among you miserable excuses for apprentices can tell me which elements must be invoked in order to divert water from a free-flowing creek into an irrigation ditch? And which elements must therefore be excluded from the spell?” Master Magician WithyReed intoned to the class.
    The short and rotund magician paced in front of his students. He looked the exact opposite of what his working name suggested—as was often the case since most of the nicknames came to magicians while still apprentices.
    Of the dozen students gathered on the grassy forecourt of the University, Margit alone raised her hand. She knew the answer. She’d known the answer for weeks. Only if WithyReed offered her the opportunity to answer would she advance through the ranks to journeyman.
    Until she passed all of the tests and endured the trial by Tambootie smoke, she was stuck here in the mountain fastness where the University hid from the prying eyes of the rest of Coronnan, and the spies of the Gnuls in particular. Since she had left Queen Rossemikka’s employ as a maid, she had no other place to go.
    She wondered if WithyReed would pay more attention to her if she and Marcus had announced their betrothal before he disappeared into the wilds of the border country. No one had heard from him or from his partner Robb since . . . since before the dragons came back with Jack.
    A stab of fear to the depths of her soul for the man she loved almost shook the answer to WithyReed’s question out of her mind. Marcus and Robb often went moons without contacting her. But they always stayed within reach of a summons spell with Senior Magician Jaylor. What kind of trouble had they gotten into this time? She couldn’t even hope to chase after them with half-formed plans of rescue until she became a journeyman—journeywoman—magician.
    She couldn’t became a journeywoman unless she passed the tests set before her by the master magicians. WithyReed refused to so much as let her answer a question let alone take a test.
    “Ferrdie?” Master Magician WithyReed called upon a young boy to Margit’s right. Ferrdie had been an apprentice for three years now and not passed a single test. But he, too, had nowhere else to go, having been banished from the family homestead by his father because he was left-handed and therefore must be a magician.
    “Is . . . is the answer Fire?” Ferrdie stammered. Never once did he lift his eyes to the master.
    Margit kept her hand up and tried to capture WithyReed’s gaze.
    “Incorrect.” The master magician scanned the rest of the class. “Have any of you studied the treatise written by Master Scarface some three hundred years ago when dragon magic was first discovered and implemented to save Coronnan from three generations of civil war?”
    Margit kept her hand up patiently. Learning to read had been difficult for her at the late age of seventeen. But she had mastered the arcane skill and studied all of her assignments thoroughly.
    Again WithyReed’s challenging stare slid right past Margit and alighted on a moderately talented boy in the back of the group of students seated cross-legged on the grass. “Mikkail?”
    “Air!” the boy replied with confidence.
    “Such incompetence. I expected better of you. All of you.”
    “I know the answer, Master WithyReed,” Margit said. She thrust out her chin, determined to make the