The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

quest.
    “Powwell, the void is far too dangerous!” Bessel protested. He looked almost as white with fear as Scarface did with anger.
    “To enter the void, you must tap illegal magic,” Nimbulan reminded him. “Your oath to the Commune prevents you from using those powers.”
    “You took oaths of obedience to me, young man. You owe me and the Commune.” Scarface returned Powwell’s stare.
    “No, sir. I took an oath of loyalty to the Commune, Coronnan, and my king. I can best fulfill that oath by returning Kalen to the people who love and care for her. She has a valuable talent. If necessary, I’ll go to Hanassa to find her. While I’m there, I can investigate what happened to Rollett—a stronger and more experienced magician than either Gilby or Jaanus.”
    “I do not believe you can assist anyone but yourself on such a wild lumbird chase. If your sister lives, her talent is based upon rogue magic. She must remain in exile from Coronnan. But your sister is dead. We both watched her fall into the pit of boiling lava along with Yaassima, the Kaalipha of Hanassa.”
    “But Yaassima went into the void between the planes of existence, not the pit. The dragons spat her out again in our presence. Yaassima was thrown into the pit before Kalen. Therefore, I must presume my sister lives.”
    “You tread on dangerous ground, Powwell. If you flirt with rogue magic to enter the void, then you betray the Commune and me, your master.”
    “Nimbulan is my master, no other.”
    Scarface raised his fist as if to strike Powwell.
    Powwell reached out with his magic, stopping Scarface’s fist in midair.
    Thorny bristled, stabbing Powwell through layers of clothing. Powwell absorbed the pain, letting it fuel his magic.
    “Consider yourself confined to your rooms except for kitchen duty until further notice. I must think on a proper punishment for this defiance,” Scarface ground out, still unable to move his hand against Powwell. The Senior Magician wouldn’t think about lowering his hand, only smashing Powwell’s restraints.
    Powwell turned his back on the Senior Magician and walked away without releasing Scarface’s fist. If Scarface had realized that Powwell had tapped illegal powers—through Thorny—retribution would be swift and terrible.
    I guess I’ve severed all my ties to the Commune and Coronnan with that little act of defiance. Severed his access to the library and the information there that might lead him to Kalen as well.

    Inside the meeting chamber of the Council of Provinces
     
    Walk with me, Katie, Quinnault said telepathically, as he rose from the council table. I need to stretch my legs before my mind will settle and sort through this mess.
    Katie looked quickly around the room to see if any of the magicians present had eavesdropped. She knew that even if they had, they were honor-bound to respect the privacy of the royal couple and wouldn’t show awareness of the communication.
    Yes, Scarecrow, Katie replied. She slipped her hand into his, surprised by the chill in his fingers. We both need fresh air and quiet.
    Quiet is something we’ll never have while we live in Palace Reveta Tristile. Quinnault chuckled beneath his words. Around them they could hear hammering, stones scraping on each other, as the almost continuous building on the palace and the city within the new capital expanded almost daily.
    “Where shall we walk?” Quinnault asked in tones just barely above a whisper.
    “Somewhere without a dozen attending guards, courtiers, magicians, and ambassadors,” she replied equally quietly.
    “Not in this lifetime. We rule, and therefore our lives belong to the masses not ourselves.” The king sighed.
    “I know. ’Tis the same in my home. I just wish we could have a few moments away from politics.”
    Katie felt the tension in her husband at her words.
    “I wasn’t born a politician, Katie. I cannot lie and am always surprised and hurt when others lie to me. No book exists that will teach me how to bend the truth like a politician.” A look of bewilderment crossed his face.
    “I understand you must select suitable mares to mate with Buan,” she announced to the room at large.
    Quinnault’s eyes lit. Good idea. Others will follow us, but you have removed the outing from the realm of politics.
    Not entirely. The ambassador from SeLenicca has a mare he wants to breed with your stallion, and so does Jorghe-Rosse from Rossemeyer.
    “Buan has enough stamina to satisfy both and