The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

breaks no more laws. And keep him away from me!”
    “And what of yourself, Aaddler?” Nimbulan asked. His left eyebrow rose again in query. “What laws will you break before this business is finished?”
    Bessel wished he had the confidence to confront the Senior Magician with his true name. But then, Nimbulan had little to lose. He’d already lost his magic.
    Bessel could lose everything. The dog licked his face.
    Well maybe he wouldn’t lose everything.

    The pit beneath the city of Hanassa, time undetermined
     
    Noise pressed on Rollett’s ears as he followed Yaala and Powwell deep into the labyrinth of caverns. Yaala intrigued him and irritated him. Something about her made the hairs on his arms and his nape stand on end. He’d seen a lot of horror this last year that did not make him as suspicious as this.
    He took a moment to study her in detail as she led the way. She had the long face, straight nose, and wide-set eyes of Yaassima and Myrilandel. But her small stature and golden-blond hair did not suggest a relationship to the deceased Kaalipha of Hanassa. He’d heard enough horrific tales about Yaassima’s need for blood to hope the young woman hadn’t inherited that single trait from her mother. She had survived when everyone thought her executed.
    How had she managed that?
    By taking refuge in this hidden sanctuary with the machines. She moved through the labyrinth of caverns easily, familiarly. Every step took them deeper into the inner caverns and the source of the annoying yeek kush kush noise. Yaala’s posture and stride loosened the closer they came.
    He was reminded of how he had sought a kind of refuge with Nimbulan the Battlemage during the wars. Once he’d found relative safety, companionship, and comfort with the magicians, he hadn’t wanted to venture out into the real world at all. For many years he’d found it difficult to even go into the markets for supplies on his own.
    Then one day, a year and a half ago, Nimbulan had set out on the long journey to Hanassa in search of his kidnapped wife, Myrilandel, and their two adopted children, Powwell and Kalen. Rollett couldn’t let him go alone. He could not let his fears confine him within the safe walls of the University of Magicians when Nimbulan needed him. Then Scarface had entered the picture and forced or coerced Nimbulan into leaving Rollett behind in Hanassa.
    Powwell and Myrilandel had escaped with Nimbulan and Scarface, but not Rollett. And presumably not Kalen.
    Powwell had confirmed Rollett’s suspicions in his tale of Nimbulan’s retirement and Scarface’s elevation to senior. Scarface, ex-Battlemage and ex-mercenary, wouldn’t be happy until he controlled every aspect of every life around him.
    Rollett needed to go home. Now. But he also had a duty to his men here in Hanassa. They relied upon him, trusted him with their lives.
    “Show me the machines,” Rollett said grimly.
    “Why?” Yaala asked. Suspicion darkened her pale blue eyes. They weren’t as colorless as Yaassima’s and were much more expressive. Dared he read her mind?
    He couldn’t afford to waste his magic. He’d wait until she did something threatening. Then he’d invade her mind and strip it of every bit of knowledge he needed to escape Hanassa once and for all. With his men.
    “Show me the machines and how they work. I need to understand everything about them if I’m to overpower Piedro and get us out of here. The city won’t last another moon until your dragongate opens and food can come through,” Rollett finally said.
    “I’m not leaving until I find Kalen.” Powwell placed his hands on his hips and jutted his chin in the most decisive posture Rollett had seen in the boy.
    “She’s not in the city, Powwell. I’d know if she got left behind.”
    “You didn’t know about the pit and the dragongate. You don’t know the palace,” Powwell replied. “She’s here somewhere. I sense her presence.” He lifted his nose almost as if sniffing for her distinctive scent. The hedgehog poked his head out of Powwell’s pocket and mimicked his action.
    Strange, Rollett always thought of familiars as belonging to women’s magic. He’d found so much satisfaction working with the men in the Commune he’d needed no companion but his staff. He couldn’t remember if Powwell was particularly gifted with dragon magic or not. The boy—almost a man now—had spent so little time at the University with the other apprentices and journeymen,