The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

meeting? Bessel tried hard to keep his face bland and unsurprised. He checked with his TrueSight to make sure Kinnsell did not hold an invisible magical tool. He didn’t.
    “Witnesses, Your Grace?” Lord Hanic asked of Kinnsell and not his king. An edge of defiance tinged his aura.
    Bessel didn’t expect anything else from the border lord who questioned everything and withheld his vote in Council until he knew which side would win. He sided with Lord Balthazaan against the king more often than not. Hanic’s magician, Red Beetle—because his red eyebrows formed an unbroken V on his brow like the beetle with similar markings—whispered encouragement to his lord.
    “The dragons have given us a dragon dream of great importance,” Quinnault replied, reasserting his authority in the room.
    A dragon dream! Bessel stood a little straighter, letting magic enhance all of his senses.
    Whispers broke out around the room. Very few humans experienced a dragon dream. Fewer still understood the visions that seemed so real the receiver believed he lived the images generated by a dragon’s mind.
    “We have decisions to make based on this dragon dream.” Quinnault raised his voice above the babble. The attention of those present returned to him. Silence prevailed once more.
    Then, slowly and in simple words, the king related how he and the queen had taken a picnic outside the city with their friends. Quinnault related the details of the dream in compelling and minute detail. The sounds of the machines chugging out the filth that provided a breeding ground for the plague dominated his tale. Looks of horror crossed the faces of lords and magicians alike. Bessel felt a tightness in his chest and a heaviness in his gut.
    What if that terrible plague came to Coronnan?
    “He forgot the smell,” Powwell whispered. The hedgehog wiggled his nose in its funny circular motion, emphasizing the unpleasantness of the scent. For the first time, Bessel noticed a rusty coloration on the tip of his spines. Almost like dried blood. He wondered if it were natural or a result of Powwell habitually squeezing his familiar so tightly that he bled onto the spines.
    “What smell?” he asked, breathing heavily to shake off the fear of the plague and the smell of Powwell’s blood on the hedgehog’s spines. He should know if the plague had come to Coronnan. He was Senior Journeyman. He had access to information most mundanes couldn’t dream of, but this was the first he’d heard of disease run rampant.
    “The smell of the plague,” Powwell replied, still whispering. “Metallic, acidic, and yet syrupy sweet. Like nothing born on this world that I know of.” The hedgehog hunched and bristled its spines.
    “You mentioned glass, fortunes in glass windows,” Lord Balthazaan half stood, leaning closer to the king. “If Terrania is so rich and powerful to use glass so carelessly, why haven’t we used the queen’s connections to exploit their wealth?” He banged his heavy ring bearing the family crest upon the table for emphasis.
    Balthazaan’s magician adviser, Humpback, waggled his staff as if he used that medium to communicate with his lord. Then he leaned closer to Red Beetle while they consulted secretively.
    Bessel wished he could eavesdrop.
    Behind the king, Kinnsell smiled in satisfaction. He thrust his broad chest out a little, like a lumbird in a mating display. Bessel nearly forgot how short the man was compared to most of the lords and magicians. Every man in the room—lord and magician alike—kept looking toward King Kinnsell as if needing him to confirm every statement. He had become the natural focus in the room by standing above the royal couple, separating them from their chief adviser. Bessel almost believed the projected image of Kinnsell’s political power and importance to the entire kingdom.
    Then he remembered Queen Katie’s generous dowry. King Kinnsell had worked a miracle last year, creating a port city overnight out of four islands in the Great Bay; he had left Coronnan with a machine to help navigate the mudflats between Coronnan City and the port. Maritime trade in Coronnan had quadrupled since that time. How Terrania benefited from the gift had remained a closely guarded secret.
    Would that secret and the true bride price be jeopardized by the removal of that one precious machine from Coronnan?
    Get the conversation back to the plague. It’s more important than Terrania or glass, Bessel sent to