The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

by Irene Radford

Powwell pushed the button.

  Still nothing.

  “Point the ’mote toward the light control panel embedded in the wall.” Yaala heaved a sigh of resignation. “I thought you knew a ’mote had to have a purpose and line-of-sight contact with its objective.”

  “Now we know,” Rollett replied with a grin. “Just like FarSight. The magic lets you see farther than your eyes alone, but you have to be in line of sight.”

  Powwell and Rollett looked at each other. They both shrugged. More and more, ’tricity sounded like magic. But Powwell knew it wasn’t magic. It was dangerous to touch, dangerous to any but the most expert engineer—Yaala.

  And the machines would let the plague into Coronnan. He knew that the moment he smelled the metallic/chemical taint in the air beneath the pervasive sulfur when they arrived by the dragongate. He’d never forget the smell of the plague in the dragon dream.

  The wraith wrinkled the part of its face that might be a nose, mimicking his own action.

  Powwell pushed the button again, trying to ignore the wraith. The lights dimmed to a faint glow. Heavy darkness crept closer to him. His senses started adding up the grains of dirt and piles of rock in the mountain above him.

  The wraith cooed gentle comfort into his mind, just like Kalen had.

  “Now push the green button, the one on the right,” Yaala instructed, before he succumbed to panic.

  She looked happy, so Powwell guessed the ’mote and the machines behaved as she expected. He obeyed her instructions, remembering to keep the ’mote pointed at the control panel. The lights gradually brightened. He continued to hold the button. More lights flickered on.

  For the first time, Powwell felt a lightening of the weight on his chest that came from being underground in the dim caverns. The wraith hadn’t helped him as Kalen had.

  “Will this ’mote do anything else?” Rollett asked, inspecting the device.

  “What do you want it to do?” Yaala turned to look at him, hands on hips.

  Powwell wondered why she looked so exasperated, so confrontational with Rollett. She loved talking about ’tricity and her machines. But she seemed almost afraid to give Rollett any more information than she had to.

  Afraid of Rollett? They were on the same side, weren’t they?

  “Will it make the altar stone rise up from the floor of the Justice Hall?”

  “Probably.”

  “Will it allow me to appear on the dais without prior warning?”

  “No. But I think it is tuned to a bank of lights in the ceiling to create a blinding flash in front of the dais so you can get through the tapestry of the waterfall before dazzle-blindness wears off anyone in the Justice Hall.” Yaala took the ’mote back from Powwell and fiddled with it. “Yaassima liked all her ’motes tuned to the same frequency so she could use them interchangeably. This one should work on everything.”

  “Then let’s go above,” Powwell said. He started walking toward the exit before he finished speaking. He couldn’t get out of the pit soon enough. The wraith floated close by.

  You’ll help me get my body back now. He can’t have it.

  I’ll do my best.

  Yaala’s ’motes wouldn’t help him evict Hanassa from Kalen’s body. He needed magic, strong magic. Only magic would save Kalen and get them all out again. He’d make Yaala come back to Coronnan with him and Rollett. She didn’t really belong in Hanassa. No honest person did.

  The next few hours could get very messy. Probably bloody, too.

  Afternoon, the pit beneath the city of Hanassa

  “This is just a reconnaissance mission,” Rollett stated firmly. “We don’t take any chances and we stay hidden as much as possible.” He fixed a stern gaze on Powwell and Yaala in turn. The men of Hanassa usually flinched in fear when he stared at them like that.

  Powwell and Yaala returned his gaze steadily. Each nodded briefly, decisively. They’d obey him this time because his plans coincided with their own.

  “At the first hint of trouble, or if anyone recognizes you, head back here immediately. Don’t wait. Don’t try anything. Just come back here where it’s safe.”

  “We know, Rollett. You’ve repeated it a dozen times,” Powwell said impatiently. “Repeating it isn’t going to help me find Kalen.”

  Rollett almost grabbed Powwell by the throat to intimidate some respect into him.

  And hated himself for his instinctive reliance upon violence. What good could he do back home if he had truly succumbed to the violence inherent in Hanassa?

  “Let’s go. No sense wasting any more time with old instructions and older arguments.” Yaala moved between the two. She placed a restraining hand on the chest of each man.

  Rollett mastered his violent reaction. New respect for the woman cooled his temper further. She’d make an admirable leader in a civilized land. But here, among the lawless, she’d need help. His help. Should he stay?

  He indulged in a closer examination of Yaala’s face. She had washed off some of the journey grime and combed her blond hair, leaving it flowing free and soft rather than hiding behind the ugly kerchief knotted Rover style over one ear. Striking rather than beautiful with her long features and pale skin. He looked forward to seeing her dressed as a woman rather than a sexless ruffian. And hoped his desire would fade with the realization she had little or no figure to entice a man.

  He didn’t have the time or energy to waste on a woman.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could tolerate the city or the way the city had shaped him this past year.

  “Our first task is to try the ’mote on the gate.” Rollett marched forward, holding the ’mote in the palm of his hand. “Is there a way we can keep Piedro from opening the gate with magic or a key, Yaala? If he can’t get to the food, he’ll be in big trouble in the city. That will shift the balance of power. Food and escape are the only currencies in Hanassa.” He aimed the little black box at various control panels as they passed. Lights came on and diminished as he pressed the buttons.

  “I’ll be interested to see who the veiled consort sides with if we manage that shift of power,” Powwell mused. He kept looking over his shoulder as if he saw something or someone the other two couldn’t perceive.

  “So will I,” Yaala joined in. “From what you’ve said, Rollett, she’s the one who directs Piedro’s every move. He strikes me as a man with ambition but not a lot of forethought. If we take out the consort, he’ll be indecisive.”

  “The consort is the one I plan to watch most closely on this mission. Remember we just watch and learn this time.” Rollett approached the gate slowly. He listened with all of his senses for evidence of Piedro’s Rover guards.

  He heard a mouse scuttle through the dust. A snake slithered behind it. The corridor remained quiet except for those tiny sounds. He checked the light quality for evidence of body heat or auras—though Rovers managed to suppress the visible radiation of heat and energy from their bodies. Last of all, he opened his mind to stray thoughts. Rovers had great armor around their minds when they traveled to places where they were a persecuted minority. But here in Hanassa, where one of their own ruled, the tribe had become lazy.

  Silence except for the small rustlings of creatures who belonged down here and the subtle shift of rock and dirt.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his stomach lurched in apprehension. “Kardiaquake coming,” he warned the others, grabbing a wall well clear of the gate.

  Powwell and Yaala pressed themselves against the wall of solid rock beside him. Interestingly, Yaala faced the rock while he and Powwell instinctively faced outward so they could watch for falling hazards and dodge them if necessary. He edged closer to Yaala so that he could shove her away from danger if necessary.

  The ground beneath his feet seemed to roll. The corridor wall across from him rippled. Then quiet descended. He waited for the crash of a passageway collapsing. A few rocks rolled together, nothing bigger.

  “How’d you know about that?” Powwe
ll asked, pushing himself away from the wall. He touched Yaala’s shoulder gently as a signal for safety.

  “I was listening for evidence of the guards. I heard the shift in the kardia,” Rollett replied, still listening to the kardia for an aftershock.

  “If we could maintain a light listening trance, we could predict all of the kardiaquakes. We could awe the populace into obeying us rather than Piedro.” Powwell bit his lower lip and ran his hand through his hair in thought.

  “Takes too much energy without a dragon or ley lines. I’ve tried it,” Rollett dismissed the notion. “Come on. We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s see what Piedro is up to.”

  When they had passed through the gate and closed it behind them, Yaala pulled a new ’mote from her inside tunic pocket. How many did she have? “When you use magic to open a lock, you just move the inside pieces around until they fit a pattern that releases it. Right?”

  Puzzled, Rollett looked to Powwell. How did she know so much about the process of magic? He thought those secrets were kept from mundanes. Powwell shrugged and grimaced.

  “Correct,” Rollett replied, looking over Yaala’s shoulder as she flipped open the black casing with a tool she kept hidden in a pouch tied to her waist.

  “That’s what a key does. And that’s what a ’mote does.” Yaala fussed with the insides a little. “So what we have to do is make the closure a puzzle.”

  “Rovers are canny with puzzles. They don’t think in straight lines,” Rollett said, watching her closely.

  “If I reverse the polarity, and retune the resonance . . .”

  Rollett felt more than heard a high-pitched hum in the back of his head. He tried duplicating it in the back of his throat. Too deep. He moved the vibration higher into his sinuses. Closer.

  “There. Now we can open the gate with this ’mote and only this one, but Piedro will probably exhaust himself trying to manipulate the lock with magic and there is no mechanical keyhole.

  “Will the wands the guards used to carry work on it?” Powwell ran his fingertips over the metal plate that housed the lock. A faint red aura followed his hand.

  “Not anymore. They are tuned differently.” Yaala pocketed the ’mote and marched up the corridor with quick, decisive steps.

  Rollett had to stretch his stride to catch up to her. He hadn’t had time to fix the exact pitch of the hum in his mind.

  At the junction, Rollett paused. He wanted to dash into the Justice Hall and confront Piedro but knew that course would only lead to more trouble than he could handle.

  “Storeroom first,” he mouthed. His two comrades followed him up the slope to the site of last night’s ambush.

  The room echoed emptily. If any foodstuffs had been stored here, they were gone now. Someone had even wiped the room clean of remnant aura traces. No telling who had been here and who hadn’t.

  He closed down his magic senses quickly, ruthlessly conserving his energy.

  Silently he motioned the others to follow him. At the junction again, Yaala stepped into the dead-end tunnel. “Dead end,” Rollett whispered. He waved her back along the main corridor.

  “Hidden staircase behind a door. I can open the door with your ’mote,” she returned.

  “Next trip. I need to see what is happening among the guards first.” Rollett clamped down on his curiosity. Everything of import happened in the Justice Hall. Everyone in the city passed through there at some point of almost every day.

  “I think you need to see what is up there,” Yaala replied, stepping resolutely into the corridor.

  “Wait, Yaala,” Powwell said as he chased after her. His aura seemed to detach from him and follow like a ghost. The wraith?

  Stargods! Was the wraith trying to steal Powwell’s body?

  Then Rollett paused and smiled. The wraith was Kalen, Powwell’s sister, almost his alter ego. That meant that Hanassa was in Kalen’s body, the consort. He knew he’d never trusted the veiled woman for more reasons than the obvious. Kalen was immature, self-centered, manipulative, and sneaky. A prime candidate for the renegade dragon to use.

  “We’re supposed to stay together!” Rollett rushed to keep up.

  “Then follow me. I know what I’m doing.” Yaala threw the last words over her shoulder as a challenge.

  Gritting his teeth, Rollett marched behind her that last two dozen paces to the dead end. He searched the apparently blank wall with all of his senses and found nothing. Powwell shrugged at him in confusion. He probably couldn’t find anything there either.

  Yaala grinned at him in sarcastic triumph as she held up a ’mote and pointed it at the top right corner of the end wall.

  Slowly the rocks behind him groaned and protested. The noise became louder as rust and inertia fought with the overwhelming command of the ’mote.

  Rollett resisted the urge to cross himself. Yaassima could have hidden any number of dead bodies behind that stone door.

  Instead, the weak light from the corridor behind them revealed a narrow staircase that wound upward. “How far up does it go?” he asked when he’d found the nerve to speak again. A tiny bit of respect replaced some of his distrust of her.

  “Nearly to the top of the crater wall,” Yaala replied, setting her foot on the first step.

  “I’ve seen small openings up there. I thought they were windows to parts of the palace.” Rollett followed her as closely as he could without stepping on her.

  “Windows, yes. But this is the only entrance to that part of the palace. I don’t know that Yaassima knew of the treasure hidden up there.”

  “Treasure? Don’t let Piedro or his people hear about this or we’ll be dead in a moment for the knowledge.” This time Rollett did cross himself. Piedro’s greed for power would kill the entire city. In the Rover culture, money and jewels represented power to be hoarded.

  “Not this treasure.”

  Yaala paused for breath on the first landing, fifteen steps above the corridor. At the next landing, twenty steps above the first, the passage narrowed. Rollett had to slide up the steps sideways. At the fourth landing they all bent double, gasping for breath in the rarified air.

  And then finally, after the sixth landing, sunlight filtered down from the top.

  Rollett squeezed past Yaala to greet the refreshing light of dawn. Dazzle-blinded at first by the natural light after the dim stairwell, he couldn’t see anything beyond the five narrow windows cut into the stone walls. His magic sensed openness around him. He closed his eyes and let the light bathe him a few moments. Then, slowly, he opened them again to better awareness of his surroundings.

  “Books!” Powwell gasped from behind him.

  “Almost as many books as the library back at the University,” Yaala said. “This is the true legacy of Hanassa.”

  Chapter 24

  Early morning the next day, queen’s solar, Palace Reveta Tristile, Coronnan City

  “Nimbulan, Scarface, I need Bessel to escort me into the country on a quest,” Queen Maarie Kaathliin said to her dear friend and the Senior Magician. She had summoned them to her private solar at first light. Now the sun hovered barely an hour above the horizon. She couldn’t wait any longer to counter her father’s manipulations. Discovery of the ring that had nearly choked Marilell had been followed closely by the diplomatic crises over the death of Ambassador Jorghe-Rosse. Katie had spent the entire next day with Quinnault and his Council investigating the incident. They had concluded the accident and death were caused by the storm.

  Now she had to take action to end Kinnsell’s manipulations for his own gain. She had no doubt the kidnapping attempt was tied to her father’s quest to become the next emperor of the Terran Galactic Empire.

  The Rover ring that had nearly killed Marilell could have slipped off his hand or he could have put it there deliberately. He loved exotic jewelry and picked up new trinkets wherever he traveled. Kinnsell was perfectly capable of kidnapping his own granddaughter and using her as hostage to his ambitions.

  “Bessel m
ay not leave the confines of Myrilandel’s home,” Scarface replied. He looked steadily at the wall behind Katie’s right shoulder rather than at her.

  “Look at me and tell me that,” Katie demanded. She didn’t like acting the authoritative queen among her friends, but Scarface had ceased acting like a friend several moons ago.

  The Senior Magician glanced briefly at her face then turned his gaze back to the wall. “Bessel is under suspicion for several crimes. He may not leave Myrilandel’s home until my investigation is complete, Your Grace.”

  “Then release him to my custody.” Only Bessel would do. He was the only young magician left who had begun his training with Nimbulan; the only magician she trusted to be uninfluenced by Scarface’s surly attitude. Scarface was so like her father when he needed to control everything and everyone around him.

  She needed Nimbulan to pressure Scarface into giving his permission for Bessel to join her. Nimbulan seemed the only man left who could influence Scarface. If a way existed for the king and Council of Provinces to oust the Senior Magician, Katie could not find it in the written laws of the land. The Commune was independent from the government. They had to work with Scarface no matter how stubborn and prejudiced he became.

  “Impossible. I will not release Bessel from confinement until this matter is settled,” Scarface replied, just as authoritative as she. And just as inflexible.

  “Nothing is impossible. I need that journeyman and only him.” She’d be damned if she’d explain herself to the Senior Magician. Of late, his good-natured ability to organize and lead had turned sour and demanding. What was wrong with him? One would almost think that the Commune and University resisted his control. . . .

  Hmm. Maybe. Something to think about. Later.

  “The only reason Bessel remains alive and in Coronnan is because I have granted him probation until my investigation is complete,” Scarface continued. “He worked rogue magic. By law he may not leave his sanctuary until judgment is handed down.”

  Katie looked to Nimbulan for confirmation. He nodded the truth of his replacement’s statement. Scarface only looked more sour and determined to defy her. Very well, she’d maneuver around the Senior Magician and his blasted Commune.