The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

separating the books. Maybe, just maybe, he could be trusted.
    “My condolences, Madame,” King Quinnault said as he rushed from his throne to take the hands of Lady Jorghe-Rosse. He radiated sympathy. “I, too, have lost many of those I loved. What can we do to show you and your husband the honor and respect due him?” His empathy reached out to include Bessel and the others.
    “My husband earned honor as a general on the field of battle as must every man of Rossemeyer,” Lady Jorghe-Rosse replied. “He did not die in battle as was his right.” Something fanatical burned in the lady’s eyes as she stared directly at Bessel.
    A chill deeper than the numbing waters of the Bay formed a knot in his belly. Senior Magician Scarface’s eyes echoed the lady’s malevolent gaze.
    “A death for a death,” Lady Jorghe-Rosse demanded.
    The queen gasped and wrapped her arms more completely around her baby. Everyone else in the Great Hall stared in stunned silence. Except the magicians. They nodded in agreement.
    “I can’t do that, Madame,” Quinnault said, meeting the lady’s gaze steadfastly.
    “Then I must take what is due me.” The dark-eyed woman whipped a dagger from the multiple folds of her black cloak. The rippled blade was as long as her forearm. Death at her hands would not be clean or swift. She raised it menacingly at the king.
    The warriors dropped the corpse on the ground and drew their own vorpal blades.
    Cold sweat broke out on Bessel’s face and back.
    He didn’t want to die.
    The dog took a protective stance in front of him, baring his teeth. A growl rumbled from his throat—much deeper and louder than a mutt that size should be able to issue. Bessel bent to touch the matted tangles that hid the animal’s eyes. The growl turned to a low moan of pleasure.
    If you stay with me, the first chore is a bath, he told the dog with his mind.
    It dropped to the ground and buried its head beneath muddy paws. Bessel would have expected a similar reaction if he’d spoken out loud and the creature understood the word “bath.”
    “There must be no more death!” Queen Maarie Kaathliin gasped. No taller than an adolescent child, she moved beside her tall husband, keeping her gaze firmly on Lady Jorghe-Rosse. She still didn’t relinquish the burden of her child to the maid who dogged her steps.
    The ambassador’s wife didn’t put her blade away. She looked down at the red-haired queen, a tall dark lily disdaining a small wild rose.
    “I will hear all of the evidence, Lady.” Quinnault clamped long fingers over Lady Jorghe-Rosse’s wrist. He squeezed until she dropped the blade. It landed among the rushes, clattering loudly in the stunned silence. “I will determine the cause of death. If ’twas murder, then justice will be served. If ’twas an accident, as I was told, then we will take no further action.”
    “I do not call that justice. I call that cowardice,” Lady Jorghe-Rosse screamed, struggling to free her hand from the king’s grasp.
    “For that I am sorry, Lady. But that is the law.”
    “A law made by cowards for cowards. My king will go to war to honor my husband! I will have the death of the one who murdered my husband!”
    We will have our justice as well, Scarface reminded Bessel. You tapped illegal powers. The law will be served. The magicians of the Commune echoed his thoughts.

    The pit beneath Hanassa, time unknown
     
    Powwell turned his head sharply, trying once again to see the wraith as it flitted about the tunnel, just out of sight, out of reach.
    But not out of hearing distance.
    She will desert you, the wraith whispered into Powwell’s mind. Look at how she is with this other man. Her eyes linger too long on his face, on his figure. Her hands touch him fondly through the bars. She never touched you like that.
    “Enough!” Powwell shouted, shaking off the insidious voice that had been plaguing him since they approached the gate. His words echoed in the caverns. Rollett and Yaala stared at him. The voices and footsteps farther up the corridor hesitated before thundering forward again.
    Scrunching up his eyes and gathering all of his energies, Powwell threw a probe into the lock and shifted the tiny pieces of metal. It opened with an audible click.
    Rollett nearly fell through the sudden opening. A misty form oozed through the small opening between the bars.
    Thank you, the wraith chuckled and drifted away. The iron has imprisoned me for too long. Now I can find