The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

you just sense a summons gone astray?” Her hand automatically went to her scrip, testing the glass again for residual vibrations.
    “Did you?” Jaylor’s eyebrows rose nearly to his dark auburn hair.
    “Aye, sir. But it . . . evaporated. I’ve never had anything like that come through my glass before.”
    “Neither have I. Keep alert, Margit. And work on the paper about opposing elements to negate a spell. You’ll find some preliminary explorations on the subject over by the last window on the right. Don’t wake Master Lyman. He’s getting old and needs his rest.” Jaylor quietly left the library.
    “Master Lyman was born old,” Mikkail muttered.
    “I heard he doesn’t eat. He just inhales the dust from the books,” Ferrdie offered.
    Margit had to smile. The boy just might break away from the trap of his fears if he could repeat a joke that had followed apprentices for—forever.
    “No, I don’t breathe book dust, little boy, I eat apprentices who disturb my nap!” Lyman called from the corner. His wrinkled skin and wispy silver hair almost blended into the shadows as if he were as invisible as a dragon.
    Ferrdie cowered behind his book.
    “And I was born older than I am now. I don’t age, I young,” Lyman tugged his beard and winked at Margit. “Now, come along, Margit. Get the study on your topic. Only way you’ll make journeyman in time to answer that distress summons you intercepted is to get the paper written and impress the masters that you aren’t just a girl.”
    “Distress summons?” Margit’s voice came out on a squeak. The only person she knew who might send a distress summons that would reach her but not Jaylor was Marcus.
    Once again she knew a stab of hot fear that her love had been lost and out of communication for many moons.
    “Nothing to worry about just yet. He’s safe for the moment. But you must push forward to be ready when you need to be.”
    “How did you know it was a distress summons, Master Lyman?”
    “Because I’m older than the oldest dragon, and I’ve seen it all,” the frail old man retorted. “A distress summons that is interrupted is the only summons that hits more than one person like a stab in the side and then evaporates into mist. The sender is lucky someone caught it and is willing to prepare for it. Now, research and write that paper. You don’t have enough knowledge and talent to plan ahead as Robb does or to trust in your luck like Marcus does.”
    “Then I’ll have to improvise.” She flashed the old man an impish grin.

    These intruders have one hundred days. That is all. One hundred days and they die. They will not figure out how to steal my power in that time.

    “Tell me a story, M’ma,” Jaranda demanded. The regal, imperious tone of the three-year-old lost a lot in translation around the thumb she sucked. Her eyelids drooped.
    Mother and daughter had consumed every scrap of food they could scrounge from the kitchen and pantry. For the moment they were replete and happy.
    What about tomorrow?
    All around them, they heard small crashes and groans as weakened walls and ceilings gave way. How much longer could they safely stay here? With atavistic fear, she resisted going forth into the city.
    “Come sit in my lap, baby. I’ll tell you a story.” She opened her arms where they sat on the floor of the workroom. Round bolster pillows spilled yards of soft lace around them. Straight-backed chairs by the pillow stands offered the only seating in the room. So she and Jaranda sat on the floor where they could be together. They had found elegant withdrawing rooms with comfortable furniture, bedrooms with lace curtains, and little private salons all over the palace. All of them had breaches in the walls or ceilings and offered little protection. The workroom remained intact and felt like home. How long? What about food tomorrow?
    “Once upon a time, in a country far, far away . . .” she began the story.
    “How far away?” Jaranda asked as she snuggled her head into her mother’s lap. She sucked her thumb again.
    Part of the woman knew she should do her best to discourage the little girl from the baby behavior, but with life so unsettled, their future so uncertain, she allowed Jaranda whatever comfort she could find.
    “Many days’ travel by barge up the river, farther away than you or I have ever been. Farther away than either of us would want to travel.”
    “Hmm,” Jaranda agreed.
    “In this far, far country, there lived