The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

by Irene Radford

  “Scarecrow, stay here, please!”

  His stubborn face became more intense.

  Katie heaved a sigh of resignation. “The land is more wooded and hilly. He’ll want to keep his ship hidden. The land north and east of the city is open fields. To the west is open river plains.” Shuttle design hadn’t changed enough in the last seven hundred years to make the vessel substantially different from the paintings and tapestries depicting the Stargods descending from the heavens in a cloud of silver flame.

  If anyone ever associated Kinnsell and his miracle machines with the beloved Stargods, no one would reject Kinnsell’s bid for political and economic power through mechanization. And with mechanization would come colonists from the Terran Empire.

  The plague would follow in short order. If it hadn’t come already. Most of the plague reports originated in mining villages. Were coal dust and iron filings enough pollution to give the microbe a breeding ground?

  She wished she could do this alone. But the medieval culture that didn’t depend upon technology and therefore didn’t develop a plague breeding ground, demanded that neither she nor Quinnault step beyond the privacy of their bedchamber without an escort.

  “Ship? Wouldn’t he be on the Bay?” Quinnault asked.

  “A different kind of ship than you’ve ever seen before, Quinnault. It sails through air, not water. And it contains many wonders that mimic magic and go beyond. I’ll use those wonders to send a summons spell of sorts to my brothers. They are the only ones who might persuade Kinnsell to leave here before he changes our lives and our culture irrevocably.” Hopefully, Jamie Patrick was either aboard or carried communications to the crew of the mother ship. With any luck at all, her two younger brothers might have returned from Terra as well.

  Katie dug her heels decisively into the steed’s flanks. It fairly leaped forward, speeding through the palace gates.

  Quinnault followed close on her heels.

  No route through Coronnan City was direct. For reasons of defense, the bridges rarely lined up and never connected three islands directly. Crowded streets on market day presented numerous delays to foot and mounted traffic alike.

  “What is that?” Kate pointed to the smoke-blackened remains of a shop that had once had a dwelling above it. Both halves had been gutted. People stood before it, looking lost and bewildered, including a family of five draped in blankets. The father had lost his eyebrows in the fire. The three children sniveled quietly, noses running, eyes blinking rapidly, too cowed by disaster to cry out loud. The mother huddled beneath her blanket, staring blankly, heedless of her husband and children.

  “Fire. Happens too often in the city. Wooden buildings, dry thatch, all crowded too close. We’re lucky it didn’t spread and take out the entire island,” Quinnault replied.

  Katie bit her lip, needing to stop and comfort the victims. But she didn’t have time. Neighbors seemed to have the matter in hand.

  “Remind me to send a basket of food and clothing when we return.” She looked anxiously at Quinnault.

  He nodded abruptly, eyes fixed on something in the burned-out ruins.

  “What is it, Quinnault?” Then she saw it. A sigil of warning painted in blood red on the side wall of the building. Soot couldn’t obliterate it.

  With a gesture, Quinnault sent one of the guards to investigate. “I want a full report when we return. I expect answers and the name of a suspect. This has happened too often,” he commanded. “And send the family food, blankets, clothing, whatever they need to get them through until they rebuild.” Then he turned his attention back to Katie and his daughter. “Not much farther, love. Nimbulan and Myri live only two isles away.”

  “Who is sabotaging our city, Quinnault?” But Katie did not need an answer. Only Kinnsell could be so devious. He wanted control of Coronnan even if it meant deposing his own daughter and son-in-law. She couldn’t waste any more time finding his shuttle and stopping his campaign. Kinnsell had had most of yesterday and all morning to work his mischief and move his ship.

  By the time Katie and Quinnault negotiated the narrow streets, nearly an hour had passed since they’d left the palace. They reined in their steeds before the narrow row house occupied by Ambassador Myrilandel of the Dragon Nimbus and Nimbulan, her consort.

  “Where is Bessel?” Katie asked as they reined in before the ambassador’s house.

  “I haven’t seen him all morning,” Nimbulan replied. “At first, I thought he’d only taken the dog for a walk but he hasn’t returned.”

  “He and his familiar ate and left early,” Myri said, eyeing the large hired steed her husband held for her. “I heard him say something about the library.”

  “We don’t have time to go all the way back to University Isle,” Katie fretted. But she needed the magician. Kinnsell would know how to break through any mundane force field she set up around the shuttle to keep him out. She needed Bessel to set a psychic barrier until the O’Hara brothers arrived and removed their father from Kardia Hodos.

  “We’ll manage without the boy,” Nimbulan said, urging Myri toward her mount. “He’ll be safe in the library. Even Scarface wouldn’t forbid him access to the library.”

  “I’d rather walk,” Myri said with a disdainful look at the hired steed her husband held for her. He hugged her close, and whispered something in her ear.

  “You’ll be safe. This steed will not throw you.”

  Myrilandel’s hands moved to her belly in an age-old protective gesture.

  Could she be . . . ?

  No. Nimbulan would have said something in their earlier interview.

  “We have to move fast. You won’t be able to keep up,” Katie said, still eyeing her friend for subtle signs of change in her face and physique.

  “Not be able to keep up?” Myri cocked one eyebrow. A grin of mischief twinkled in her eyes. “I have friends in high places, remember?” She cast her gaze upward.

  Nimbulan and Quinnault also looked up, scanning for the presence of a dragon.

  “Will your dragons help us search?” Katie asked. Her mind kept jerking away from her immediate surroundings, back to her father.

  What was Kinnsell up to? Who were his allies? She really needed Bessel’s magic to keep Kinnsell from fleeing on the shuttle to someplace neither she nor the dragons could find.

  She prayed her brothers would come quickly. Any brother would do who would haul Kinnsell back to the mother ship and home. Preferably Sean Michael. The middle brother showed more responsibility and logic than the other two siblings combined.

  “Picture carefully, in full detail, what you search for,” Myri instructed. “Rouussin is cruising the Bay and is willing to indulge us.” Humor made her mouth twitch. Dragon moods were always unpredictable. Rouussin, the aging red-tipped dragon, tended to view humans as children he could spoil with treasures and treats even though he rarely understood the purposes behind their requests.

  Katie sensed the dragon’s feather-light mind touch. (I am with you, Little One.)

  Carefully, Katie built a picture in her memory of a sleek shuttlecraft like the one that had brought her to Coronnan last year. As long as two dragons, but no higher than one. Stubby wings, pointed nose with a band of windows, like six eyes, above. Tail fins surrounded the engine ports. Last, she remembered to add a silvery metal sheath covered in translucent porcelain scales.

  (That is a strange dragon, indeed, Little One,) Rouussin chuckled.

  A dragon that threatens to go rogue. If we do not find it soon, dragons will no longer have a home on Kardia Hodos. My father will see to that.

  Chapter 27

  Near noon two days after the dark of the moon, Bay Hag Inn, on the south shore of Coronnan City

  Kinnsell stuffed wads of coarse linen sheet over his ears to block out the noise. An obnoxious bird announced the morning repeatedly. Each crow call grew louder than the last. The bird kept blaring his greeting to the sun with no signs of tiring of his duty.

  He’d wakened and doze
d a number of times only to be roused again, most rudely, by the bird.

  A civilized world would have alarm clocks that beeped gently or played soothing music to bring the sleeper gradually to wakefulness. Or a man as politically powerful and wealthy as Kinnsell O’Hara would hire a valet to wake him at a civilized hour.

  Dawn was not a civilized hour.

  The light filtering through the shuttered window seemed too bright for dawn. What time was it anyway?

  Kinnsell rolled over on the lumpy bed, refusing to open his eyes. The other side of the narrow straw-stuffed mattress was empty. Barely wider than a ship’s berth, the cot still had plenty of room to share with an intimate friend when neither one required privacy and touching delighted rather than offended.

  Where was Maia? She had promised to join him when she finished with the innkeeper.

  He glared at the smooth layer of blankets beside him! Then he threw the covers off the bed and stood up. None of last night’s fatigue and heaviness in his chest lingered. He needed a good breakfast and a hot shower with real water, not the sonic sprays required during space travel.

  Then he’d deal with Maia and her disloyalty. If he didn’t need the woman as hostage for the bush lord’s loyalty, he’d dump her here within easy distance of the capital for the magicians to find her again.

  But the bushie was tricky enough to hold Marilell, Kinnsell’s granddaughter, hostage as well as his loyalty in return for Maia.

  “I should have kidnapped the child myself, rather than trusting any local.” But Katie’s servants had been on the alert for him. He’d not sneak into or out of the palace easily, where Lord Balthazaan and his wife had free passage through the place.

  “Ah, you have arisen at last, Master Kinnsell,” Maia said, entering the room with a cloth-covered tray in her hands. She fairly bounced as she walked, and her black eyes sparkled.

  “I thought I locked that door,” Kinnsell snapped at her.

  “You did. But you opened it again for me when I returned to you at midnight. As I promised.” Her eyes narrowed seductively. “Then we broke our fast together and you slept again while I moved about the inn, asking questions. I have learned a great deal.”

  “I bet you have.” Kinnsell glanced at the bed. She hadn’t slept there. Her scent didn’t linger on the sheets, nor were there any stains left by sex. She lied. He gnashed his teeth, wishing he could leave her here. Not yet. But soon, she’d know his revenge.

  “I have ordered a hot bath for you, Master Kinnsell. You slept through the one I offered yesterday. It will be ready for you by the time you break your fast.” She whipped the cloth off the tray to reveal fresh bread, hot from the oven, salted fish, creamy cheese, and a bowl full of berries that had been dried and reconstituted in a rich sauce that smelled of wine and cloves. His mouth watered.

  “Peasant food,” he sneered.

  Yesterday? Had he slept through an entire day and two nights? Not likely.

  His stomach growled its emptiness and then twisted into an acidic rejection of any food. How long since he’d eaten? A day and two nights?

  He couldn’t think of food. He had to know how he had lost so much time to sleep. But it smelled delicious, and his stomach grumbled again with hunger.

  “ ’Tis the same meal ordered every morning by Master Magician Nimbulan and he comes from the most aristocratic of families. He’s first cousin to Lord Balthazaan,” Maia protested. She stared at the food and then looked up to Kinnsell with troubled eyes. All trace of pleasure left her expression.

  “Does everyone on this planet—er, in this country—eat such coarse bread? Can’t you mill finer flour than that.” Kinnsell wanted to make her squirm under his displeasure even though he longed to grab huge bites of the stuff.

  “ ’Tis the spent wheat from brewing ale. The king considers this bread a delicacy!” A fat tear rolled down her cheek. She pouted, pursing her lips forward in invitation for him to kiss away her sadness.

  Recognizing the ploy of women everywhere—with or without the spell of allure from psi powers—Kinnsell obeyed. Just this once he’d allow her to believe herself in control of their relationship. He brushed away the tear with his fingers and kissed the corner of her mouth. He dropped a second kiss on the enticing mole just to the right of her mouth, then another and another. . . .

  Stop this! he ordered himself. “If the king eats this bread, then I will, too,” he said breathlessly, wanting to taste more of her. But he must regain control of himself and of her. “See if you can hurry the bath. We must leave as soon as possible,” he added less gently.

  Maia rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “Soon I will be home, among my own people, and you will be hailed a hero for rescuing me.” She kissed him soundly. “I will wash your back,” she said with a new huskiness in her voice. “And your front.”

  Kinnsell swallowed his desire. He hadn’t time to linger this morning. He’d lost too much time already. Katie must be frantic over the loss of her daughter.

  He wouldn’t take Maia to the bushie lord until he’d satiated the burning ache of desire in his gut. His granddaughter was safe. Even the conniving members of the king’s Council wouldn’t hurt the child, a mere baby and a girl. Now, if Katie had had the good sense to give birth to a son first, the child would be heir and therefore a threat to the rebellious lords.

  The bread tasted nutty with a delightful complexity. It satisfied his hunger and settled the too-hungry-sick feeling quite readily. Kinnsell pushed aside the fish. The cheese would have to suffice for protein. Normally he wouldn’t eat milk products, but the meal contained no legumes to complete the amino acid chain. The flavor burst on his tongue, promising new delights. The berries in their wine sauce were worthy of a royal banquet back home.

  Maybe he’d linger on this planet a little longer, sample the delights of its cuisine—so much better than ship rations and tanked food. Fresh food was, after all, the primary reason for nurturing this planet. He’d also indulge himself with Maia for as long as he wanted. No need to hurry back to Terra and his cold and unloving but politically powerful wife until he’d secured a power base on Kardia Hodos. But he had to check in with the mother ship soon, or they’d send a search party. He didn’t need any of his crew—especially his sons—questioning or sabotaging his work to bring this planet back under Terra’s influence. Sean Michael and Liam Francis were due back any time now. The boys might even rescue Marilell from Balthazaan before Kinnsell reclaimed her.

  He hurried through the bath despite Maia’s attempts to climb into the little tub with him. The water didn’t stay hot long and the heaviness threatened to return to his chest.

  By the time Kinnsell and Maia walked out of the Bay Hag Inn, the sun rode high and raised steam on the damp cobblestones. A spring returned to his step that he hadn’t felt in many years. Maia kept up with him, prattling stories about great adventures of the road. Most of her stories centered around the mysterious Televarn, chief of her clan. He tuned her out and concentrated on what to tell the bushie lord and when.

  After about two kilometers, they reached the cutoff from the Great South Road. Kinnsell eagerly turned west. “Not far now, my dear,” he said with a smile. Within half an hour he’d be back in his shuttle, an island of civilization on this planet of chaos.

  Maia stopped abruptly, pressing her temples with anxious fingertips.

  “We must go this way.” She took two hesitant steps on the Great South Road. “We must hurry. They need us.” She dropped her hands and stared blankly toward the south. Her eyes glazed over as if blinded by a trance.

  Kinnsell had seen similar reactions to hypnosis. What kind of latent suggestion had the magicians put upon her?

  “The clan of Televarn needs us,” she chanted. “Televarn is dead. Long live the clan.” Two more steps and she fell to her knees.

  “Noooooo!” she wailed, pressing her hands to her temples once more. “He can’t be dead. If Televarn is dead, then who has been inside my head this year and more? Who
directs me?” She cried and tore her hair, still kneeling in the road. “I didn’t believe them when the magicians told me Televarn died. I didn’t dare believe them because his voice was still inside my head. He murdered the Kaalipha. I saw him do it. I saw him twist the poisoned knife in Yaassima’s gut. He has to be alive!”

  Kinnsell stared at her gape-mouthed as she pounded the ground with her fists. She stumbled to her feet and started running.

  “That is not what happened,” Kinnsell grabbed her shoulders, ready to shake some sense into her. He tried to remember the details of the tales told about the events in Hanassa when he’d first brought Katie here a year and a half ago. “Yaassima turned the knife in time and killed Televarn. Yaasaima died later. Now come along, this way,” He tried to lift her to her feet. A deep cough made him release her.

  “Follow me. We have to go west. We have to get to my ship.” The cough passed. Kinnsell grabbed her around the waist and lifted her to her feet. She kicked his shins and bit at his restraining hands, never ceasing her wails and moans of distress.

  “Televarn can’t be dead! I know they lie to me!”

  “Where do we have to go in such a hurry, Maia? Tell me where, and I will take you there in an instant,” Kinnsell soothed. He couldn’t let her escape now. Not when he was so close to commanding the full loyalty of the bush lords.

  “You know the secret of the transport spell?” Maia ceased her struggles so suddenly Kinnsell almost fell forward on top of her.

  He shifted his balance and loosened his hold a little. The spurt of activity renewed the tightness in his chest. He held his breath a moment to control the cough. He’d be comfortable and warm as soon as he reached the shuttle. Then the cough would go away. He only felt overheated and chilled at the same time because this damned planet was so bloody cold, without the slightest knowledge of climate control.