The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

room above, the rest of you must take pallets in the great room—or the stable. Take your pick,” the innkeeper announced. “Caravan came through from the pass yesterday and ain’t left yet.” She stood with fists atop her broad hips and a frown making deep creases in her heavy jowls. A thick wooden rolling pin with numerous dents sprouted from one of his fists. She looked as if she’d used it often to keep order in her tavern.
    “I will have the private room to myself!” Ariiell stated firmly.
    “I am the lord of this province, daughter. I shall have the room, with my wife, of course.” Laislac glared at her with equal stubbornness. His face darkened. He’d explode with flying fists in a moment.
    “I am a new bride and I carry the heir to the throne of all Coronnan. I believe I take precedence here.”
    Mardall giggled beside her. A bit of drool escaped his lips. His mother gently wiped it away with a lace-edged handkerchief.
    “Protocol is useless in a situation like this.” Andrall shouldered his way between Laislac and Ariiell. “If truth be told, Lady Lynnetta is senior in nobility to all of us. She is the daughter of one king, sister to another, and aunt to the current one. The only sensible thing to do is for all six of us to share the room above. Our retainers will bed down here and in the stable.”
    “Oh, why couldn’t we have waited to leave Coronnan City? Then we could have traveled by our usual route, taking hospitality from minor lords who treat us as we deserve. Instead we have stayed with ungrateful merchants. Now we must spend tonight in this foul inn that breeds disease and crime,” Lady Laislac wailed and sobbed into her own handkerchief—not nearly as fine as Lady Lynnetta’s.
    The innkeeper frowned more deeply. She looked as if she’d gladly throw them all out to fend for themselves in the nightly drizzle.
    “We left in midafternoon because the king commanded it,” Andrall reminded them all. “If we had gone to my own castle at Nunio, we’d be there by now. ’Twould be more seemly for the child to be born in his father’s ancestral home.”
    “I want my daughter comfortable, in familiar surroundings, where I can protect her and the babe.” Laislac faced his new great-brother, his face darkening further. “You know the threats by the Gnuls. They want Darville to die heirless so the kingdom will fall into chaos. My daughter and her child will be safe in Laislac. Nunio is too close to the capital and the Gnuls.”
    “The Gnuls are everywhere, even in Laislac. Ariiell and the child would be safer in Nunio where I can protect them,” Andrall returned. “I, at least, have some battle experience.”
    Ariiell motioned her maid to take her bag up the rickety staircase to the attic room. She slipped away, leaving her elders to their arguments.
    Once inside the drafty space between the main floor and the roof, she dismissed her servant—a spy for her stepmother and probably the king as well—and locked the door. She shoved a table and chair in front of it for good measure.
    “Alone at last!” She dug a small candle and piece of glass out of her personal bag of toiletries. The wick burst into flame with a thought. Then she settled down to summon her mentor. Rejiia would find a way to force Darville into recalling her to court. The mission of the coven was at stake.
    “Flame to flame, like seeking like,” she intoned the ritual phrases as she breathed deeply. The flickering green bit of fire drew her focus deep within the many layers of color, so like an aura, but more primitive and pure. She was content to sit there staring at the light magnified by her bit of glass.
    A hazy yellow/green/blue glow rippled across the clear surface, vibrating slightly with the thrumming magic she had channeled through it.
    Her spell must be weak and diffuse because she did not know where Rejiia hid. An answer might take a long time in coming . . .
    “What!” Rejiia’s explosive reply burst through the glass before her image solidified. Anger and impatience blazed in her midnight-blue eyes. Her black hair crackled about her puffy face in wild disarray. Dark shadows ringed her eyes.
    Ariiell had never seen her in such disorder. She could almost smell the Tambootie leaves on Rejiia’s breath. The drugs within the tree sap might enhance magical power, but also led to certain insanity.
    “Rejiia, I need your help . . .” she began.
    “Of course you do, you inept little . . .” Rejiia