The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

of the room.
    “Spider!” she hissed at them, almost daring them to search her blankets.
    Marcus strode forward with confidence and whipped the bedcovers away from her. He shook them vigorously.
    Nothing scuttled away from his search.
    “You must have had a nightmare,” Robb said behind a yawn. “We’ve both had them since coming here. Go back to sleep. The dream will fade with the dawn.”
    “I can’t go back to sleep.” She wished one of them, either of them, both of them, would hold her tight and banish the fear with their strength. Their ghostly energies kept them from touching her.
    “Then get up and do something. Best way to banish a dream is to use the privy and let it drain away. Bake some bread, clean something, count the bricks in the wall. You’ll be sleep again in moments.” Robb backed out of the room.
    “He’s right, Vareena. You need to do something to shake yourself free of the dream.” Marcus shrugged and exited as well.
    “He’s right.” Vareena stood up and took stock of her cell. No shadows hid from her witchlight. “Childish fears. I won’t let them rule me.” With determination, she dressed and went to find flour and yeast. Time to start baking bread for breakfast.

    My powers are weakening! My enemies have weathered every disaster I throw at them. Yet still they gather. Still they plot against me.
    Once, long ago, when I was just beginning, all others thought me weak and of little consequence. But I showed them. I gathered secrets as a miser gathers gold. I gathered power and I learned to use it subtly, so that they never knew from whence the attack came. I taught my children to do the same. They became almost as powerful as me.
    To protect myself and the source of my power, I must delve deep into my memories for a spell that will drain away all that these thieves hold dear. Then, when they are weak and vulnerable, I will scatter them, make them wander lost and alone, powerless. If that fails, I must murder them all.

Chapter 25
     
    T he unnamed woman sat staring into the crackling fire. Zebbiah and Jaranda had left her alone while they made a game of fetching water and washing the roots he had gathered earlier today. Her heart warmed whenever she saw the two of them together. Zebbiah would make an admirable father for the little girl.
    Would he make as fine a husband?
    She nudged the notion aside while she concentrated on the flames. Images from her past flitted in and out of her view.
    She tasted a name on her tongue. Miranda. A common enough name since a former king and queen of SeLenicca had given the name to their only child nineteen years ago.
    Miranda. The name tasted smoky, like the air on this crisp and clear night in the middle of a remote mountain pass.
    Miranda.
    Could that truly be her name?
    She stared into the green-and-yellow flames, seeking answers, wondering if she’d asked the right questions.
    Images danced with the flames, teasing her mind. The strong, red-haired man with deep blue eyes, older than she by many years, dominated every scene she managed to mine from the deep recesses of her fragmented memory.
    Jaranda’s eyes. Her daughter had inherited those midnight blue eyes. True-bloods tended to have eyes as pale as their hair and skin. Washed out. As depleted of color as the land was depleted of vitality and resources.
    She heaved a sigh and tasted the name again. She heard it whispered behind her back by the other travelers. It resonated within her as if it belonged.
    Queen Miranda had married a red-haired outlander: Simeon the sorcerer-king. In her youth and naïveté, Queen Miranda had granted him joint ruling powers. Then she had turned over the government to him so that she could spend all of her time making lace—the proper place for a woman in her culture.
    But Simeon had imposed crushing taxes on her people. He had forced a war with Coronnan. He had enacted stringent laws. For even the tiniest infraction of the new laws he had exacted the extreme punishment, slavery or execution. The executions had been carried out as sacrifices to his blood-thirsty demon god Simurgh.
    And yet Simeon himself had broken every law he enacted. He’d taken several mistresses—one of them, Rejiia, his own niece. He’d consorted with foreigners. He’d paid no tithes to the temple as required, yet he stole temple funds for his own bizarre religion.
    And then he had outlawed the ancient and beautiful worship of the three Stargod brothers.
    SeLenicca had