The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

trance.
    Lanciar mimicked her actions. He’d follow both Rejiia and Zolltarn into the void and back if he had to. Quickly, he sought Zolltarn’s mind along the path of his earlier communication. This little bit of magic would drain his energy reserves, but he had to try. He needed to know the Rover’s next trick.
    He met a blankness deeper than the void. All Rovers had impressive and instinctive magical armor.
    Rejiia scrunched her face in an ugly scowl of frustration. She hadn’t been able to penetrate Zolltarn’s mind either.
    A peculiar sparkle appeared in the light surrounding the entire Rover clan and their possessions. All of them disappeared in a flash of crackling lightning.
    Wind rushed to fill the vacuum left by their transport to elsewhere. It moved so quickly and violently that bits of wood and cloth, ash, leftover food, and broken tools swirled together in a series of tornadoes.
    Lanciar threw up an arm to protect his eyes.
    Then all became quiet again.
    S’murghit! Zolltarn had mastered the transport spell. Lanciar couldn’t follow them. He didn’t know the secret of coming out the other side alive.
    Another flash of sparkling light signaled Rejiia’s disappearance.
    Double s’murghit! She knew the secret, too.
    How was he to find his son now?
    He stared at the bottom of his empty mug wishing for inspiration. “I need a drink while I think about it.”

Chapter 5
     
    J ack inspected long strands of thread dyed in a rainbow of colors. “Katrina said she wanted purple dye,” he muttered to the merchant. His neck burned with embarrassment. This arcane feminine errand made him more uncomfortable than the soul-penetrating stare of a dragon.
    “This is a lovely shade of lavender,” the woman with sparkling eyes said with the slight lisp of a foreign accent. She pulled one long thread free of the bundle and held it against a black cloth for contrast.
    “Too pale.” Jack suspected his betrothed wanted her threads to match a particular shade. “Amaranth,” he said, hoping the plant matched its namesake.
    “Ah!” The merchant tossed her dark curls flirtatiously as she retrieved another thread from the bundle. This one had more pink to it and was several shades darker than the lavender.
    “That’s close. Can I see it against white?”
    “White? As in the cream of the queen’s new gown or the stark white of SeLenese lace?” Her accent came through thicker with that statement. She must come from Jihab, Jack decided.
    Her mouth twitched in laughter.
    In another time and place Jack would love to flirt with her.
    “Stark white, like lace,” he replied.
    “Is this for the little lacemaker recently taking refuge as the queen’s favorite companion?” The merchant draped the thread on top of a piece of lace. Jack recognized the pattern as similar to one Katrina was working at the moment.
    “Yes, I’m sure that’s the color she wants. Enough dye for a gown and three skeins of linen thread.” He sighed in relief, grateful this chore was complete. “I just hope I did this right.” This decision was harder than passing one of Old Baamin’s magical exams.
    He searched his scrip for the proper coin without haggling. The coin was real. Three years ago he’d paid for goods with illusory coins. He still felt guilty about it and tended to overpay.
    “Anything else I can get for you, soldier?” The woman smiled at him as she wrapped three packets of powder into a clean cloth.
    “This will do.” He wanted to hurry back to the palace and Katrina. Someone might recognize him and remember the cocky apprentice who had terrorized this market square on the day of the king’s coronation over three years ago.
    Just then, a man wearing brown robes thrust passersby away from him as he descended from the arched bridge. He wrinkled his nose repeatedly, sniffing the air and holding his right arm out in front of him, fist clenched.
    “ S’murghin’ Gnul,” the merchant muttered behind him. She rapidly packed up her skeins of pretty threads and folded her awning.
    “The dye?” Jack asked.
    She scuttled away without reply.
    Before Jack could search her aura for traces of magic, she disappeared around a corner. But if the man who strode purposefully in this direction was a witch-sniffer from the Gnostic Utilitarian cult, Jack dared not use any of his talent. Even reading an aura could alert some of the more sensitive sniffers.
    “You there, soldier!” The Gnul pointed at Jack.
    Jack’s armor