The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

so they had to pick their way carefully over the uneven pathway. The glow behind them blinded them to the darkness in front.
    Powwell closed his eyes and stretched his magic senses. He didn’t have much dragon magic left. Thorny’s sense of smell was probably more accurate than Powwell’s TrueSight at this point.
    “Thorny smells a human up ahead,” he whispered, pausing to share the sense with his familiar. “Blood and sweat and fear.”
    “Who?” Yaala asked, peering into the darkness.
    “Only one way to find out. Keep quiet.” Slowly they crept forward, hands linked tightly together. Powwell stretched his other hand in front of him.
    At last he grasped one of the metal crossbars of the gate. A glow of light from higher in the tunnel helped him distinguish the interlocking pattern. He found the square plate that housed the lock. Beneath the lock lay an inert figure, more rags than anything else.
    Gently he prodded the head region of the lump.
    “Huh?” a man shook his head and peered up with bleary eyes.
    “Rollett?” Powwell asked. “I’d know those blond streaks in your black beard any day. Rollett, what are you doing here?”
    “I should have died with the others,” Rollett mumbled.

    Near midnight at the gate between the pit and the Kaaliph of Hanassa’s palace
     
    Yaala stooped to look closer at the bundle of rags that spoke. The little bit of glow from the lower caverns showed lighter streaks in the man’s dark beard and hair. By the same light she saw the glimmer of moisture in his eyes.
    “I’ve got to go back. My men are dying up there.” Rollett stirred as if he meant to stand, then collapsed against the iron bars of the gate again.
    “Where are you hurt?” she asked him.
    “I . . . maybe. I hurt all over. But wounds?” He patted his mid-region. His hands came up dry. “No blood.” He shrugged. Then he winced as if his head hurt at the movement.
    “Powwell, give me some light,” she ordered.
    “You’ve got to get out of here,” Rollett whispered anxiously. “The guards are right behind me. They’re out for blood. My blood. They already killed three of my men.”
    “The corridor is empty,” Powwell said. He opened his clenched fist to reveal a ball of witchlight.
    “What?” Rollett reared up on one elbow. He looked up the sloping path toward the palace, his aches and pains forgotten.
    “Thorny doesn’t smell anyone but us, and my magic isn’t quivering—except for the wraith,” Powwell said. The tiny hedgehog poked his funny head out of Powwell’s pocket, wiggling his nose. He stayed out rather than darting back into cover, a sure sign that no one approached them.
    “You sure? They were right on my heels, screaming to kill me. Piedro laid a trap for me and my men. My men . . .” He groaned and lay back down again. “I’ve failed them. And myself.”
    “Is this the same Piedro who tried to assassinate the queen on the eve of her wedding?” Yaala asked. A gnawing suspicion grew deep within her. Piedro knew how the dragongate worked. He also had a confederate in King Quinnault’s palace who helped him escape a magically sealed dungeon.
    “What queen?” Rollett turned his piercing gaze on her.
    “You haven’t heard that King Quinnault married the Princess of Terrania,” Powwell replied. “We didn’t hear until we got back to Coronnan.”
    “You’ve been back? How? When?” Rollett pulled himself to his knees, using the crossbars of the gate for support.
    In the last glow of witchlight, Yaala saw a deep bruise forming on the left side of Rollett’s face, beginning at the temple. He had to hurt. Any movement would aggravate the pain.
    She also couldn’t help but notice the clean lines of high cheekbones and straight nose above his trimmed beard. An aristocratic face despite traces of a peasant background in his accent. He might have nothing to wear except rags, but he’d kept himself clean and well groomed. Admirable traits in the foul city above them.
    “How did you get out?” Rollett demanded. “You’ve got to get me out of here. I can’t stay here any longer. I’ve got to get out! I have to find a way to free my men.” He shook the gate with all of his strength. The metal remained solidly closed. “I promised. . . .” His quiet words ended in a choke, almost a sob.
    Powwell stared at his fellow magician without answering. Rollett had said nothing about Kalen, only about his men. Long moments of silence stretched between them.
    “There