The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

of care fled his face. Zolltarn. The self-styled king of the Rovers had beguiled the hardest of hearts and wisest of mages with that smile.
    Lanciar closed his eyes and still saw that smile though the image of the man behind it faded from memory.
    What plot drove Zolltarn to follow Rejiia?
    Lanciar’s mouth turned dry, and he wished for another drink.
    Lanciar waited until the garishly clad Rovers in purple and red over black—obviously all members of the same clan—passed. Then he followed them.
    Sure enough, within a few moments, the Rovers caught up with Rejiia as she toured the city. She kept up the pretense of examining every detail of life trapped within the walls of this ancient volcano as if she intended to govern here—or use the denizens as an army to back her claims to more important crowns.
    She paused in front of a silk merchant. All of the goods had been stolen from a trading caravan that dared the pass between the desert kingdom of Rossemeyer and Coronnan.
    “I want black! Black with silver embroidery. This entire shipment is useless.” Rejiia spat and threw two bolts of costly fabric to the ground. She aimed a crystal-topped wand at the merchandise and set it afire.
    The tubby little merchant hastened to retrieve the jewel-toned bolts. He slapped at the flames, threw some of the ever-present dust on them, and eventually backed away from the heat generated by Rejiia’s witchfire.
    Rejiia drew back her substantial foot and kicked the man in the ribs while he bent down. She laughed heartily while he clutched his middle and moaned in pain. The nearby burning cloth sent tendrils of flame too close to his head and spread to his hair. He yelped and scuttled away.
    Lanciar sent a quick spell to negate the witchfire—only magic could douse it.
    Rejiia whirled to confront the one who dared to interfere with her games. Blotches of red on her white skin showed her outrage.
    Lanciar ducked out of sight.
    At that moment of distraction, Zolltarn physically grabbed the statue of Krej and retreated. He and his men seemed to disappear before Lanciar’s eyes.
    But Lanciar knew Zolltarn of old. The Rover used tricks that mimicked magic, requiring little actual magical energy. Here in Hanassa magicians could not tap the energy of ley lines or of dragons. Both shunned the city of outlaws.
    Lanciar allowed his eyes to cross once more and looked for the distortions in light patterns that meant stealthy movement. He had to smile at the trick played upon Rejiia. Her own arrogance had given her a false sense of security. Good. She’d be so outraged at the challenges to her authority she might drop her guard around her son.
    Ripples in the light showed all of the Rovers headed for the tunnel exit from the city. The rest of the clan waited just outside the gates with their loaded sledges, and their steeds, ready to flee.
    “I expected more subtlety from you, Zolltarn,” Lanciar chuckled.
    The Rover chieftain flashed his magnificent smile in Lanciar’s direction. Zolltarn spoke directly into Lanciar’s mind, The game is not yet finished, young soldier. But time is short. She planned to free Krej this night. The Commune cannot allow that.
    The statue of Krej passed from Rover hand to Rover hand. One wrapped it in silk. Another threw a coarse blanket over it. Then it disappeared inside the round cabinlike structure atop the lead sledge.
    Lanciar could find no trace of the statue or the life it contained with either his magic or his mundane senses.
    Rejiia whirled and watched the activity.
    “After him! I want Zolltarn’s head.” She stamped her foot, and three magicians ran to do her bidding. “One thousand gold drageen for the return of my father!” she added.
    Krej didn’t seem nearly as important to her as the blemish to her dignity.
    Rejiia’s magician entourage wrung their hands in indecision.
    Zolltarn turned and saluted Rejiia with his famous smile and a wave of his hand.
    “Damn!” Rejiia stamped her foot again.
    Was that an aftershock of the previous quake that seemed to drop the Kardia from beneath Lanciar’s feet or a measure of her anger?
    “When I retrieve my father, I’ll have my son back from his Rover wet nurse as well,” Rejiia called in the wake of her magicians.
    What?
    Lanciar burned with anger equal to Rejiia’s. Had one of the babies carried by the Rover tribe been his son?
    Rejiia drew in a deep breath, held it, and let it out through her teeth three times in preparation for a