The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

mopplewogger?”
    “Lilly, come,” Aquilla said. The shorthaired dog growled at Jack one last time before returning to her master’s side. She sat on Aquilla’s foot and leaned her head into him. Absently the pilot scratched her ears.
    “So what kind of trouble you running from this time, wharf rat?”
    “Witch-sniffers. And I have a name now. Old Baamin decided I wasn’t too stupid to have a name after all. I’m Jack.” Jack scrambled onto the dock. His clothes sagged and dripped. He must indeed look like the wharf rat he had been as a child. Aquilla had rescued him when bullies had stolen his food and beaten him nearly senseless.
    “Your loyalty to the University of Magicians was misplaced ten years ago. It still is. You should have come to work for me. Not many men have an affinity for a mopplewogger.”
    “I don’t seem to have any kind of bond with this one.” Jack held out his hand for the dog to sniff. She growled again and he jerked his hand away from her all-too-large teeth.
    “That’s because she caught you trying to steal my boat. You look like you need a meal and some dry clothes.” Aquilla jerked his head toward the cottage above the dock. “Is that a palace guard’s uniform underneath all that river muck?”
    “Yes.” Jack tried to wring some water out of the sodden wool tunic.
    “You’ll be better off as a Bay Pilot. Every government recognizes the worth of the Guild. Even the Gnuls. Not so the palace guard. Once the Gnuls depose King Darville, you’ll be out of a job and quite likely become fuel for their next bonfire. But without the Bay Pilots, no one gets through the mudflats to deep water and the trading ships. We’ll always have work.” He negotiated the steep path up to his home. Lilly leaped eagerly ahead of him. Jack followed more slowly. His wet boots slipped on the river clay that packed the path.
    “The Gnuls had better not find out about your mopplewogger, then,” Jack added. “One hint of how these dogs smell the differences in water depth and salinity to show you the way through the channels of the mudflats and they’ll burn you all for magicians.”
    “They wouldn’t dare.” Aquilla whirled around and faced Jack, eyes wide with horror.
    “They’d dare. One of them just accused me of witchcraft because I failed to pursue a woman he chose to question. Her only crime seemed to be that she was single and spoke with a foreign accent.” Just like Katrina. “The sniffer had no evidence; no complaints against her; nothing. He just ‘smelled’ magic in her vicinity.”
    “Tomorrow there will be another hundred witch-sniffers in the capital. I’m to retrieve them from the port at high tide.” Aquilla’s face drained of color.
    “Make sure your mopplewogger stays hidden below-decks.”
    “Always do. But, Jack, what are we going to do? Pretty soon there will be more witch-sniffers than mundanes in the city.”
    “That is going to present a problem.”

Chapter 7
     
    V areena sat before the sparkling fire in the central hearth, contemplating her fate. Not long now. She’d miss Farrell when he passed on. But his death gave her a chance at freedom.
    Freedom.
    She tasted the word and liked the feel of it in her mouth and her spirit.
    Rain spat upon the flames through the smoke hole in the thatched roof. One of the glowing splinters of wood on the edge of the blaze sputtered and died. She didn’t bother reigniting it. It had withered to mostly ash now anyway. Like Farrell.
    Her spindle lay idle at her feet. She just could not concentrate on keeping her threads smooth and free of slubs while the storm raged and her ghost sat alone up in the abandoned monastery.
    He’d pass soon. The fever had returned yesterday, stronger than before. He had no interest in cartes, or tales, or even the chicken stew with pickled beets. A part of her heart sobbed with the coming grief.
    But his passing would give her freedom. She fingered the silver amulet through the protective cloth of her shift. Her father and brothers must never find it. They’d confiscate it and sell it for sure. In their eyes women had no rights and could own nothing but the dowry determined at her coming of age.
    She’d take her two cows and three chickens with her.
    In the outside world, women could own property and select their own husbands. Farrell had promised her that as well as the three acres in Nunio.
    Neither she nor her ghost understood what had brought him here to the sanctuary of the