The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

daring him to admit his lapse in legal magic.
    Bessel remembered the day he had taken his oath to king and Commune. At the time he had truly committed himself to obeying the laws of the Commune and Coronnan. Yet today he had violated one of the most basic of those laws. He had tapped a ley line, violated his oath.
    Would he violate it further in order to stop Scarface’s mad crusade to control all of Coronnan? He’d not be much help to anyone unless he stayed in the Commune.
    If he hadn’t tapped a ley line to help his mother, surely he would never do it again. Never! Couldn’t the Commune give him some kind of probation rather than death or exile?
    “Master Scarface, please have one of your magicians take statements from the boatmen and Journeyman Bessel,” King Quinnault ordered. “I would know who speaks truth in the matter of the storms and the machine. Then I will need you in my office in one hour to plumb the depths of the diplomatic mess caused by Ambassador Jorghe-Rosse’s death.”
    “Very good, Your Grace.” Scarface bowed respectfully along with everyone else in the room as the king exited with his wife. The mundane courtiers and servants filed out of the Great Hall as well.
    “I will discuss this matter with Myrilandel, the dragons’ ambassador,” Nimbulan said. A half smile lit his face. Of course he’d discuss it with Myrilandel, his wife. “There must be a way to read the Bay with magic, the same way we . . .” a look of sadness—nearly pain—crossed his face. “The same way the Commune uses magic senses to find veins of ore and tests the fertility of soil.” He resumed his normal, dignified demeanor.
    “There is another matter that must be discussed in private, among the magicians,” Scarface intoned. “Bessel, you will come with me.” Scarface beckoned his journeyman to follow him back to University Isle where the Commune would hold court.
    Bessel couldn’t move. All heat left his body.
    “The pilot felt you use rogue magic, Bessel,” Scarface reminded all who listened. “You know the punishment for that infraction.”
    “You will take the word of a mundane and prejudiced witness as truth without so much as letting the boy defend himself?” Nimbulan asked. He shifted to stand beside Bessel.
    The dog took up his protective stance in front of Bessel again.
    The journeyman appreciated the gesture of support, but knew his case was hopeless. Only the dog truly believed him.
    “I, too, felt the kardia shift as Bessel tapped the power of a ley line,” Scarface said. “He has no defense.”

Chapter 18
     
    Past midnight, the route between Palace Reveta
Tristile and the University of Magicians,
Coronnan City
     
    B essel sloshed behind Nimbulan all the way across the bridge to University Isle. The bedraggled mutt kept close to his heels every step of the way. It cringed away from the other magicians as if expecting to be kicked and beaten. Bessel kept close to Nimbulan, his old master, gleaning some measure of temporary safety from his vibrant personality. But nothing could ease the dread eating a hole in his gut. Very soon he would lose the Commune forever. All because he had tapped illegal magic in a failed attempt to save a life.
    If he had succeeded, would Master Scarface consider leniency?
    Bessel doubted it. The Senior Magician of the Commune was as inflexible in his expectations as Lady Rosselaara of Rossemeyer.
    Did he truly want to remain in the Commune with Scarface at its head?
    He had nowhere else to go. He needed the Commune more than it needed him.
    But someone had to stop Scarface.
    More magicians joined the procession from the palace as they neared the University. They closed in around Bessel, excluding the shaggy mutt from their perimeter, as if they knew it would help Bessel escape justice. The dog whined and danced to penetrate the circle.
    Bessel missed the creature already.
    “Scarface will have trouble gathering enough magic to implement any punishment,” Wind-drift muttered from behind Bessel.
    “No one’s seen a dragon in days. Not since Scarface removed most of the books from the library,” Master Whitehands, head of the healers, replied. “I’ve got an apprentice watching the skies from atop the tower. He’s really talented with FarSight. His reports of dragon activity are dismal. They haven’t been seen hunting bemouths in the Bay. That’s their favorite food and keeps the number of monsters down to tolerable levels. Our fisherfolk will