The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

a . . . a princess who made lace. And her name was . . . Jaranda.”
    “That’s me,” the little girl sighed and shifted deeper into her mother’s lap.
    “And she lived in a crumbling palace that had been deserted by one and all when an evil sorcerer with dark eyes and hair made the land tremble and the skies shoot flame. Everyone was very afraid. Everyone except the princess. She knew that the only defense against the evil sorcerer was to make enough lace to cover the walls of the palace and heal them. The little princess searched the palace high and low for all of the Tambrin thread she could find. For Tambrin has special magic spun into it . . .”
    Jaranda drifted into sleep, a smile on her face.
    The woman looked around the workroom with new hope. Tambrin.
    If she could find some of the silky thread spun from the fibers of immature Tambootie trees, perhaps she could heal herself, remember her name. Maybe then she would know where to look for family or friends to shelter and feed her and her daughter.
    Without disturbing Jaranda, she reached to the nearest strand of lace dangling from a work table. She fingered the fine threads woven into an airy pattern.
    Silk. Lovely. But not Tambrin.
    She reached a little farther to the table behind her. Linen. The finest spun linen in the world, but still not Tambrin.
    She reached again, across her to the left. The lace eluded her. She stretched farther and touched—a hand!
    A scream lodged deep in her throat. She wanted to scream, needed to shout her fear to the rooftops.
    But that would awaken the baby.
    “Nice story, Lady. Tambrin lace is worth six times its weight in gold in Coronnan right now.” The man’s deep voice flowed around her in soothing tones. “Show me which of these is Tambrin, and I’ll show you a safe place to stay in the city.”
    Just then the floor rippled beneath them, and the ceiling dropped chunks of plaster on top of her head.
    “I think I’d rather take one of these pillows to Coronnan and make my fortune there,” she replied.
    Only then did she look at the intruder. Tall, black-haired, with eyes as deeply dark as a well, he smiled at her with a mouth full of gleaming teeth. A small pack steed stood patiently behind him. Not a true pack steed. One of those odd little creatures from the mountains of Jehab with exceedingly long ears and shaggy coat. It opened its mouth and brayed long and loud as if it laughed at her, at him, at the world. It displayed an amazing number of oversized square teeth—a lot like its master.
    His clothing certainly deserved a smile, black trews and shirt brightened by a garish vest of purple with red trim and silver embroidery. His fringed sash of bright blue hung nearly to his dusty black boots. A dozen or more coins hung from the sash at his waist, from rings in his ears, and dangling from his purple, billed cap set at rakish angle.
    Something in the back of her mind whispered “Exotic, interesting.” She thought perhaps it should have shouted “Dangerous!” But it didn’t.
    “I should fear you, but I don’t.”
    “Prejudices have to be learned. Not much to fear from me. I’m just a simple trader trying to make a living. You and a lace pillow filled with Tambrin lace could set us up in a nice palace all our own in Coronnan. No kardiaquakes in Coronnan.” A mischievous twinkle in his eyes made his offer nearly as attractive as the man.
    “I don’t suppose you know my name?”
    “Never met you before, Lady.” He shrugged, setting the coins to jingling. They formed an almost recognizable melody played on silver bells.
    “I suspected you’d say that.”

Chapter 14
     
    ‘ “W hat was this room used for?” Marcus asked Vareena. They had reached the corner room beneath one of the two large watchtowers. Two smaller towers at the end of the residential wings of the monastery contained latrines and staircases but no observation platforms on their roofs. These corner towers were massive—larger than four of the individual rooms combined. They topped the courtyard walls by at least another story.
    Vareena paced the colonnade beside him, thrusting open doors as they passed. He wanted to hold her hand as they explored, but the barrier of energy repulsed him every time.
    Robb slunk along behind them, lost in his own grumbling. He’d sat by the well for hours shuffling the deck of cartes. But as soon as Marcus and Vareena neared the tower, he had joined them.
    “Looks like an office or study,”