The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

my body.
    Rollett recovered and scrambled to reclose the gate before the Kaaliph’s guards descended upon them. He stared after the misty white form, mouth slightly agape.
    The nagging sense of dread in the back of Powwell’s neck and the need to hide deep within the caverns evaporated with the wraith. So did his mistrust of Yaala. She’d only shown the other magician concern for his well-being as she had helped Powwell his first few awful hours in the pit.
    But Powwell’s instinctive fear of being underground returned in full force. He needed all of his concentration to keep from running after the wraith without regard to the guards or the safety of his companions.
    Thorny hunched his spines and wiggled uncomfortably in Powwell’s pocket.
    He swallowed his fears and thanked his familiar for the reminder. He’d lived down here before. He would survive if he kept his gibbering panic under control.
    “We’ll be safe down here for a while. We can hide,” Powwell whispered, gesturing for Yaala and Rollett to follow him.
    “We’ve got to lock the gate,” Rollett protested. He moved his fingers trying to make the interior pieces respond to his depleted magic.
    “The guards won’t cross that barrier as long as it’s closed,” Yaala replied. “They’re more afraid of this place than they are of the Kaaliph. Come on, I know a place to hide.”
    “I want to hear everything that has happened at home while I’ve been gone.”
    “You need to go home as soon as possible, Rollett. Nimbulan needs you to keep Scarface from ruining the Commune,” Powwell added. “I can’t go until I’ve found Kalen.”
    Together they ran back into the living cavern. Yaala searched briefly right and left, orienting herself in the dim light. Powwell kept part of his senses tuned to the curses and stumbles among the guards behind them.
    True to Yaala’s prediction six men slid to a halt before they collided with the gate. They opened their eyes wide in fear, chewed their lips and looked everywhere but at each other.
    “The wraith has Rollett now. We won’t get him back,” one guard muttered.
    “What are we going to tell Piedro?”
    Tell him the truth, Powwell whispered into their minds, trying to mimic the wraith’s voice. Tell him his prey is lost in the pit. The dragongate swallowed him as well as the fresh food.
    The guards backed up slowly, keeping their eyes on the gate.
    Thorny squirmed within Powwell’s pocket. Together, they might have enough energy for one last trick. Slowly the gate opened, creaking ominously.
    The guards turned and ran back the way they had come.
    “They won’t be back any time soon. We have time to rest and eat and plan,” Powwell said.
    “Plan what? The city is close to starvation. My men need another three moons to dig through the collapsed tunnel—if they’ll follow me at all after I failed in this raid. Piedro plays at cutting a staircase up the walls of the crater but mostly blocks all attempts to climb out, and this mysterious dragongate of yours is closed for another moon.” Rollett plunked himself down amidst the barrels of salted meat.
    “I won’t let Piedro have my city,” Yaala said, standing with legs slightly apart and hands on hips. “I will do anything to regain control of my city.” She thrust out her chin in a gesture highly reminiscent of her mother, the last Kaalipha of Hanassa. Not once did her eyes wander toward the inner caverns and her machines.
    “Will you do anything to regain your city, Yaala?” Powwell asked, suddenly afraid for her. “Will you murder and exploit just to feel as if you have power over someone else? Will you become as bloodthirsty as your mother?”
    Chills ran up and down his spine. The wraith hadn’t scared him as much as the thought of Yaala wielding an executioner’s sword.

Chapter 17
     
    Near midnight, Palace Reveta Tristile, Coronnan City
     
    B essel held his breath a moment, blocking out the malevolence behind Scarface’s telepathic announcement. The long scar running from temple to temple whitened against his ruddy skin. Bessel needed no other communication to know how deeply committed the Senior Magician was to eliminating all use of rogue magic, by whatever means at hand.
    Scarface had already started on the library. Possibly he’d used the queen’s dragon dream about machines as an excuse to destroy books he’d already chosen as dangerous.
    Bessel’s execution or exile for using rogue magic was the only option by the