The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

relaying it to his classmates in direct telepathic communication. That was the familiar smell.
    Queen Maarie Kaathliin’s plague had come to Coronnan, and no one knew how to cure it.

Chapter 7
     
    Midnight, forested knoll outside Coronnan City
     
    K innsell O’Hara scanned the forest landscape uncertainly. Why did these primitive bushies always insist upon clandestine meetings in the midst of all of these trees? And they always chose midnight, when civilized men should conduct delicate negotiations over a fine port wine in cozy dens furnished with large, well-padded chairs. Not standing out in the cold wind freezing their arses off.
    He felt naked without the protective walls of a building, or his shuttle, or the atmosphere domes of cities back home. But this wasn’t home. This was a primitive world where the locals believed that magic worked and dragons were real.
    Even the king here was addressed as “Your Grace” because he ruled by the grace of the dragons. Kings should have majesty, as well as grace.
    He shuddered in the chill night air. He couldn’t leave the country of Coronnan and the planet Kardia Hodos fast enough. Just as soon as he accomplished what he’d come here to do, he’d hightail it away from all this open space and unconfined air and back to civilization.
    But his mission would guarantee that he would be the next emperor of the Terran Galactic Empire. None of the other candidates—any of his three siblings and all of their combined children could find themselves elected emperor—knew how to keep the sprawling territories bound together into a cohesive unit. None of them valued the fresh food produced on planets such as this one. They all believed tanked food sufficient to sustain life. None of them understood that truly enjoying life meant unique tastes, unique experiences, and the hope that every citizen might eventually be able to enjoy them. If that hope died—no matter how remote—the citizens had the power to depose the central government. Then the TGE would fracture into dozens of scattered autonomous and warring worlds.
    Control would vanish. Briefly, he thrust his right hand forward as if guiding the joystick of a shuttle in atmosphere flight. By dropping the nose a little, he could regain control of airspeed. Then he eased his hand back, control reasserted.
    Kinnsell intended to maintain control, starting with the bushie lords and his far too independent daughter.
    A rustle of underbrush off to his left told him that someone—or something—large and clumsy approached. His heart climbed into his throat. Suddenly all of the local tales of predatory gray bears, spotted saber cats, and . . . and dragons didn’t seem so preposterous.
    Something eerie about the place sent his imagination into overdrive, dredging up childhood horror stories of monsters under the bed.
    The night breeze chilled his skin despite the heavy layers of protective clothing. He swallowed his fears and checked his scanner. The readings indicated one human, leading some kind of riding beast. Steeds they called them. The locals couldn’t even remember the proper name for a horse. Not that Terra had been home to any horses outside natural history museums for many generations.
    Kinnsell relaxed. His overactive imagination had tricked him once more. His daughter Katie had the same tendency. Now that she was queen of this backwater, she could give vent to her storytelling without the hindrance of civilized conventions.
    She hadn’t been on the planet a full day when she started filling his head with tales of dragons.
    Imagine, the girl actually claimed she had seen and touched a dragon! A huge beast with crystal fur and telepathic capabilities had “blessed” her marriage to Quinnault. Didn’t she know that every myth and legend made dragons—sacred or evil—reptiles with jewel-colored scales?
    Even his pragmatic and obedient sons had spouted tales of magical creatures and enchantresses after visiting their sister. Kinnsell had ordered all three of them to remain aboard the mother ship. He hoped Katie’s egalitarian attitudes hadn’t contaminated them. Otherwise they might all challenge him for the crown of the emperor when Kinnsell’s father finally died. The old man was taking his own sweet time about it. The Terran Galactic Empire grew shakier every year. It needed Kinnsell’s firm hand on the joystick to guide it back to prosperity.
    “Master Varn?” the approaching human spoke confidently, as