The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

close to her was a magician.
    Kinnsell crept behind her on tiptoe until they had put several streets and alleys between them and the church. The sensation of being watched grew stronger with each step he took. He searched the area with his eyes and ears as well as his psychic senses. Nothing. He couldn’t find anyone watching them, not even the few remaining people on the streets at this chill quiet hour before dawn.
    He had to concentrate hard to see where he placed his feet. Maia kept darting in and out of his view as she slipped from shadow to shadow—just like a magician—an illusionist. He had to keep reminding himself that the magicians here, just like the entertainment magicians back home, were merely actors who specialized in tricking their audiences.
    When he could no longer see the church or its tall spire among the jumble of rooftops, he breathed a little easier. But the chill of unease wouldn’t leave him. He still felt as if someone spied upon his every move. A less determined person would have gone back to the church to end the disquieting sensations.
    He prided himself on his determination and kept walking.
    Kinnsell stumbled over an uneven paving stone. Maia stepped confidently ahead, surefooted and swift.
    The darkness intensified. The hair on Kinnsell’s nape stood up in atavistic fear. If he didn’t find shelter soon, he’d start prattling about dragons just like Katie.
    By the time they reached the last bridge out of the city onto the southern mainland, Kinnsell breathed heavily. Sweat rolled down his back and under his arms, but he didn’t feel warm. The tightness in his chest increased with each step. He’d have to let a cough loose soon. But the noise would echo loudly through these empty streets, betraying their position to any watcher. If he could only hang on until they crossed this last bridge.
    The night breeze increased. Kinnsell began to shiver. He prayed that shelter awaited him close by.
    New storm clouds built up in the outer bay. The air temperature seemed to drop dramatically. He didn’t make it beyond the center span of the bridge before an explosive bark erupted from deep within his lungs. Again and again his lungs tried to expel building fluid and failed. He couldn’t drag in enough air. He clung weakly to the bridge railing. His knees wobbled and dizziness assailed him.
    Thankfully, this wasn’t the plague. His family had always been immune through countless mutations, as were several other clans. Scientists hadn’t yet found the genetic code that allowed them to combat the dreaded disease.
    This must be some obnoxious ailment caused by exposure to the elements. He hoped the antibiotics he had aboard the shuttle would counter it.
    “You are ill, Master Kinnsell?” Maia stood beside him, one hand on his shoulder.
    Warmth invaded his system from that hand. The cough eased enough for him to breathe.
    “I’m all right now. I’m just not used to the air here.”
    “Yes, the city is filthy. Better we take to the road where we can breathe free.” She tugged on his sleeve. “But the road will wait for tomorrow or the next day. The road will always be there, we have but to set foot on it. For tonight, I know an inn.”
    Slowly, Kinnsell followed her across the last few steps to the shore. Up ahead, rushlights sparkled in the growing darkness. The cold, damp river mist hadn’t reached the lights yet.
    He paused to look up at the stars, as bright as the torches. Humans on Terra hadn’t been able to see stars from their homeworld for many centuries. Long before the first domes went up, pollution had obscured the night sky. He wished he could see Terra’s sun from here; know that he was still a part of the Empire and civilization.
    “What will the inn cost us for a room and a hot meal?” he asked, as the thatch of a roof showed black against the dark night sky. He fingered the stash of local coins he carried. He had no idea what each one represented in the true value of goods and labor.
    “He will charge you nothing.” Maia skipped lightly, twitching her bottom. The movement sent her petticoats swaying.
    Kinnsell watched her with growing interest. She hadn’t objected to the idea of one room for the two of them. Perhaps she flirted as seriously as he.
    One hundred long and wearying paces later, Maia pushed open the drooping gate into the inn courtyard. Kinnsell followed her into the open space, too weary to handle the heavy wooden gate. A painted sign showing a