The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

that little bit of hope.” He kissed her temple and stepped up to the baker’s oven.
    A wiry man turned from the opening where he shifted several loaves around with a wet wooden paddle. A young boy held out his arms, covered with thick padded cloths, to receive any finished loaves the baker retrieved.
    “Master Baker, we appeal to your charity and your sense of responsibility to those in need,” Robb said quietly by way of introduction.
    “Be off with you, filthy Rover!” Baker turned on him, waving the massive paddle at his head.
    Robb leaned away from the blow but held his ground. “I am no Rover,” he said quietly.
    “Thieves all of you!” Baker advanced with the paddle once more. His bellows had attracted the attention of others in the village. Some of them handled shepherd crooks and belt knives as if they intended to use them.
    “Stop this all of you! Stop and think what you are doing. We need bread for the monastery. Nobles and warriors have come there as well as Rovers.” Vareena tried to step between Robb and the baker.
    Robb held her back. He hadn’t her confidence that the locals would not attack.
    “Mercenaries from SeLenicca,” a man with a crook shouted. He swung it like he knew how to use it for defense.
    Robb brought his own staff to the ready. He didn’t want to blast these people with magic. Magic had a bad enough reputation in Coronnan without him adding more distrust and fear. But he’d bash a few heads if he had to.
    “Why should we feed the enemy?” An older man with an air of authority stepped forward. He carried no weapon. He didn’t need to.
    “Who told you Rovers and mercenaries from SeLenicca came to the monastery yesterday?” Robb asked.
    “Didn’t need to be told. We saw them all arrive. Thieving Rovers can feed themselves.” The village elder stepped forward, fist raised. His people followed.
    All of them had red-rimmed eyes and their gazes darted about warily. Some jumped in alarm as they brushed against their neighbors.
    Could the ghost have sent his terrible nightmares this far?
    If so, there would be no reasoning with these people until they’d had a good night’s sleep.
    “Get away from here, Vareena,” Robb whispered as he pushed her behind him.
    “I will not run from my own people. From my own father.” She stood her ground.
    “Then you die with your Rover lover, for you are no daughter of mine.” The village elder advanced. He grabbed a knife and crook from his neighbor.
    “You would kill me, P’pa?” Vareena still did not move out of range of the rocks some of the children picked up. Robb knew from experience that children often had the best throwing aim.
    Sure enough a rock flew through the air directly at his head. He ducked, but it grazed his temple. Fire followed its path across his skull. Warm moisture oozed down his cheek.
    “Robb!” Vareena screamed.
    “Run, Vareena.” Robb threw up his magical armor around himself. But he couldn’t extend it to Vareena and fend off the press of bodies that followed the rocks.
    He lashed out with his staff, tripping the closest man. He fell forward into Robb’s armor and bounced backward into his comrades. They clutched and scrambled for balance.
    Robb used the diversion to put several arm’s lengths between himself and the irate villagers.
    Stupidly, Vareena stood rooted in place. She held up her hands, begging her people to listen to reason. Her eyes showed her bewilderment at their actions.
    “Just because you would never hurt a soul, doesn’t mean they won’t,” Robb muttered. His armor snapped into a wider circle to include her. He grabbed her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder.
    He took off running, back to the haunted monastery. Back to all of the problems and anxious demands that had sent him out in search of bread.
    “Time for a new plan,” he muttered.

Chapter 41
     
    M argit sat in the shadowed ell between the lesser tower at the south end of the west wing and the exterior wall. She braced her feet against one of the few remaining foundation stones of the little temple that used to serve the monastic community. She needed the tension in her thighs and calves to maintain control of the emotions roiling in her gut.
    Marcus didn’t love her.
    She pushed harder against the stone before a tear could shatter her control.
    One of the shadowy rovers—she could almost see these “ghosts” if she crossed her eyes and drew on every bit of magic she possessed—stood guard