The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

negate the protective barrier? Bessel filed that idea away for later examination along with the possibility of Rover criminals terrorizing Coronnan City.
    Back to his primary concerns. Raanald, the barge pilot, hadn’t trusted the depth finder. Either his distrust or a malfunction in the machine had led to disaster. There had to be a better way to navigate the mudflats of the inner bay, even in storms and shifting channels.
    Mopsie yipped an agreement with him. He sent Bessel a mind picture of a sleek water dog standing in the prow of a fishing boat again.
    “I’m sure you’d have been a big help, Mopsie.” Bessel swallowed his chuckle. His image of the long ropes of Mopsie’s curls soaked and matted by salt water on the short-legged body didn’t quite match the dog’s view of himself.
    “Dust mop, indeed,” Bessel muttered as he noted Mopsie’s fur brushing the packed dirt of the road. “You’ll need another bath tonight, and every night.”
    Mopsie tucked his tail between his legs and drooped his floppy ears. Yesterday, Bessel had to carry the dog into the sunken stone bathtub with him. The dog wouldn’t go near the water otherwise. “If you hate baths so much, how come you think you belong in a boat on the Bay?”
    Mopsie just wiggled his entire behind along with his stubby tail.
    They crossed the first bridge. Mopsie stopped in the center of the span and looked longingly at the churning River Coronnan below. “Not this time, pup. We haven’t time to take a swim today. It isn’t warm enough either.” Spring might have come, but the river was fed by snow melt deep in the mountains to the west. Bessel only enjoyed swimming in high summer when the chilly water was a refreshing change from the sultry weather.
    As he hopped down the step at the end of the bridge, Bessel fingered the linchpin hidden beneath the railing. In case of invasion, all of the bridges connecting the myriad islands of Coronnan City could be collapsed as the inhabitants retreated inward to the palace and University. Invaders would have to resort to boats to follow them.
    This linchpin had been oiled recently. Maintaining the release mechanism was one of the duties of the Guild of Bay Pilots. The Commune made a practice of checking their diligence frequently.
    The next bridge showed signs of rust on the linchpins on both ends. Bessel paused to look closer to see how neglected the mechanism was. He didn’t pay any attention to the foot traffic going in both directions across the span.
    Then Mopsie barked a serious warning. The dog tugged at the hem of his trews then nipped him lightly on the calf. “What is it, Mopsie?” Bessel glanced up from his inspection, looking for another fire.
    The dog kept tugging him away from the bridge.
    “I am duty bound to inform you that you die here and now so that you may know I am the instrument of justice!” A black-robed warrior ran toward him, vorpal sword raised.

Chapter 26
     
    Early morning, the streets of Coronnan City
     
    B essel ran. He ducked and dodged through the crowded marketplace. The assassin from Rossemeyer followed close on his heels.
    Why was it that when he wanted to be noticed, especially by the Commune, no one seemed to know he was in the room, but now, when he desperately needed to hide, an assassin spotted him easily in this large milling crowd?
    People screamed and ran in illogical directions as the assassin cursed and brandished his weapon. Bessel used the confusion to put a human barrier between himself and the black-clad warrior. Desperately, he overturned crates of tubers. The hard vegetable balls scattered and rolled, tripping several of the running cityfolk.
    And still the assassin followed, sword raised and ready. “Single-minded wild tusker,” Bessel mumbled as he ran around a cart piled high with cone roots. He snatched two as he ran and tucked them away for a snack later. He’d need the sugars to replace energy depleted by running and any magic he had to throw to save himself.
    At the candle maker’s booth, a little girl stood in the middle of the path, frozen in place. She screamed her fear. Bessel stumbled to avoid bowling her over.
    The assassin gained three paces before Bessel recovered his balance. The point of the man’s sword slashed the back of Bessel’s tunic.
    Fear gave him new energy and a burst of speed. He reached the next bridge. Without thinking of the consequences, he pulled the linchpin the moment he and Mopsie cleared the last