Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III

by Irene Radford

  “Ah, Katie, all your fine education wasted on this primitive world. They don’t even have the wheel, for God’s sake.”

  “Don’t forget that at regular intervals this planet provides enough surplus food to feed a civilized world for five years. And never forget that this primitive world is protected by family covenant. I can have you arrested and imprisoned by Gramps and Uncle Ryan if you violate the pact.”

  “A nice solar heater would make this drafty old barn more comfortable. I don’t like the idea of my granddaughter being exposed to constant chill.”

  Katie sighed. Her father would only hear what he wanted to hear.

  “Natives thrive in their natural climate. The strongest survive and build antibodies against natural ailments. Besides, the family covenant specifically forbids machines on this planet. We’ve had this argument before, Kinnsell. Why are you here?”

  “I came to see my granddaughter.”

  “Why aren’t you on Terra attending Gramps after his heart attack? You should be delivering a load of much needed Tambootie, that will make enough medicine to cure a million or more people of the plague.” She took a deep breath to control her temper. Then she resorted to sarcasm to keep from slapping some sense into him. “You’ll never be elected emperor if you don’t show your face on the homeworld more than once a decade. No one will remember you as savior of humanity unless you take credit for the cure.”

  “Pop recovered from his heart surgery quite nicely without me. He’ll live another decade or more. Liam Francis and Sean Michael are delivering the Tambootie in my name. About time they made themselves useful.”

  “I’m happy to hear that Gramps is doing well.” And she was. Of all of her vast family, Gramps was her favorite, the one whose ideas about protecting Kardia Hodos agreed most closely with her own. As for her brothers, any one of the three of them might ingratiate himself with the legislature by taking credit for finding a cure for the plague—Jamie Patrick most likely, but he hadn’t been sent home. Every one of the family held more moderate views toward expansion and exploitation than Kinnsell. But not as conservative as Katie and Gramps.

  “The joint legislature is certain to elect me emperor when I bring Kardia Hodos back into the fold of the Empire. Finders of lost Terran colonies are always highly regarded.” Kinnsell preened while holding the baby away from him.

  “No!” A wave of vertigo washed over Katie. “This world is protected by the family covenant. We’ve kept it secret for seven hundred years to protect it from outside influences.”

  “And I intend to follow another family tradition of bringing lost bush worlds back into the Empire. We need all the agriculture we can get to feed the civilized worlds, the important worlds. Besides, the rest of the Empire needs the Tambootie that only grows here in order to cure the plague once and for all. I think she’s wet.” He set Marilell back into the crib.

  “You’ll strip this planet as you’ve stripped others. You won’t be satisfied until every known planet is a desert.” The baby could wait a moment, she wasn’t fussing.

  “Not deserts. Domed and protected from the ravages of climates and natural disasters.”

  “And unable to produce food, only to consume it. Every domed atmosphere is a potential breeding ground for the plague.”

  “Not if I harvest the Tambootie.” His right hand rode at a comfortable and easy position beside him.

  Katie knew she’d not convince him of anything while he felt himself in control of the situation. Still, she had to try.

  “Synthetic air and food mutate new viruses. You know that. There isn’t enough Tambootie to cure every new mutation. And you’ll take it all. I know you, Kinnsell. You’ll take all of the Tambootie, right down to the roots. The dragons will die without the Tambootie supplementing their diet. Without dragons, there won’t be any magic. Coronnan will perish without magic.”

  “There isn’t any magic. Only psi powers.” His hand nudged forward a fraction. Had she broken through his blockheaded opinions, even just a little?

  “Little do you know, Kinnsell. Little do you know the miracles this planet offers. I forbid you to take anything from here. Not so much as a grain of dirt. The Commune will back my order and force you to obey. Now get out. Go home. Never darken my door again.”

  “In my own good time, daughter. When I’ve finished what I came here for.”

  “Over my dead body, Kinnsell!”

  “If necessary.”

  Library of the University of Magicians, Coronnan City

  “Start clearing a space in the gallery for the questionable books, Lyman,” Scarface ordered.

  Bessel considered slipping out the postern door. The noise of old wood and rusty hinges protesting being opened would alert Scarface to Bessel’s presence in the library. The Senior Magician would know he’d been here and hunt down the book. Stargods only knew what he would do to Bessel once caught with a now forbidden book.

  “We can block off access with locked gates, and I shall set the magical seal so that only I can open it.” Scarface turned his back on the old librarian and pointed out the most inaccessible corners of the library.

  “No,” Lyman replied quietly. “I will not be a part of this. I am not strong enough to oppose you on my own, but I will not be a part of it.”

  Bessel sought a hiding place, any hiding place.

  What was Scarface thinking, banning books? Nimbulan had made the library the focus of the entire University. Knowledge was valuable, any knowledge, in any form. Magicians keeping secrets had led to intense rivalries and many battles during three generations of civil war.

  Now magicians had the responsibility to guide the rest of Coronnan through cooperation and sharing of knowledge. They couldn’t do that unless they were the best educated men in the world; educated in all facets of life. How could they combat the dangerous machines if they didn’t know their function and design? How could they negate a rogue magician if they did not know the nature of his spells?

  Besides, Bessel was certain that information about the plague that had killed his mother could be found in one of these old books.

  He couldn’t help his mother. A tear threatened to choke him. She had loved him in her own distracted way. His father’s prejudice had separated Bessel from the family. Not his mother. His father’s prejudice and ignorance.

  Bessel remembered something Myrilandel had told him about the time she had fled ignorant people who blamed her for all of their ills. People rarely looked up for a fugitive. They always looked down or at eye level.

  He climbed. The bookshelves were massive constructions, ten feet high, each shelf a convenient step to the next.

  As quietly as possible, he settled himself flat along the very top of the unit. He had only inches to spare between his back and the floor of the first gallery circling the perimeter of the library.

  “If you won’t help, then move aside, old man.” Scarface waved Lyman out of his way. “I didn’t expect one of Nimbulan’s acolytes to agree with me. Fortunately there are few of you remaining to pester me with outlandish ideas. Coronnan will remain under my control with the blessing of dragon magic.”

  What? Coronnan would remain under Scarface’s control. He hadn’t said “the Commune.” He’d said “Coronnan.” The fine hairs along Bessel’s spine tingled in warning.

  Lyman hesitated long enough for Scarface’s temper to whiten the scar on his face. At last Lyman bowed his head in submission and stepped aside.

  “We must begin putting the forbidden books under the gallery, deeply shadowed,” Scarface mused, staring at the upper shelves. “We’ll move up into the galleries if we have to.”

  He waved to his three satellite magicians to begin work at the front of the three-story-high room. They separated and immediately began pulling books off the shelves. They carried each book to the center worktables, making neat stacks of them. They worked rapidly, removing more books than they left shelved. Probably Scarface had decided which books to cull before they beg
an.

  Bessel pressed himself deeper into the shadows between the wall and the gallery floor. His squarely-built body barely fit atop the shelving unit.

  Scarface brought a ball of witchlight to hand and raised his arm to see deeper into the shadows.

  “You there!” Scarface shouted, pointing directly at Bessel. “Why are you hiding up there?”

  “Um . . . um . . . I was dusting and I got stuck.” Bessel flushed with the awkward lie.

  Scarface raised his eyebrows, making the scar white again, a sure sign that he concentrated hard on containing his temper.

  “I think not, boy. More likely you sought a hiding place to take a clandestine nap. I knew you were lazy. This proves it. Come down from there. Now.”

  Bessel looked to Lyman for some kind of direction.

  “Don’t seek out the old man. He can’t tell you what to do. I am Senior Magician. You are oath-bound to obey me without question.”

  Bessel made the awkward climb down. But as he shifted his legs to dangle over the edge of the shelves, he pushed the precious book deep into the waistband of his trews, covering it with his tunic. He willed it into invisibility. It seemed to shrink and flatten as he continued the climb down the shelves. Scarface wouldn’t be able to find it even with his Sight-Beyond-Sight.

  Chapter 10

  A rise overlooking Coronnan City from the south

  Kinnsell stood on a slight rise on the south shore mainland overlooking the islands of Coronnan City. The River Coronnan made a natural moat. But enemies had boats, and the inhabitants needed the bridges connecting the various islands to each other and the mainland. The city was vulnerable.

  And he planned to take it if Katie and her husband defied him further. “Cursed family covenant is outdated, worthless. The Empire needs this planet. The Empire needs me at its head and this planet will give me the crown. I won’t let my renegade daughter keep me from getting it.” He spat into the ground. A new sense of freedom lifted a weight from his shoulders. His hand rode easily at his side.

  The distances involved in transporting food to the civilized worlds had grown beyond practicality centuries ago. Tanked food kept the Empire fed, but its citizens craved real food and were willing to pay enormous sums for small tastes.

  Kardia Hodos was the private storehouse of the emperor.

  “What do you see down there that our best generals and Battlemages can’t?” his companion asked. The bushie lord continued to twist his heavy ring nervously and had refused several times to part with it, no matter the bribe.

  “I see a way for the Guild of Bay Pilots to transport troops into the heart of the city.”

  “We’ve tried that. The pilots aren’t bribable.”

  “But they owe me greatly for the depth finding machine.” Kinnsell had discarded the Varn costume. His followers needed to know his identity now that he openly worked to establish a power base. Starting with Lord Balthazaan who deeply resented Quinnault and his fakir friend Nimbulan.

  “And I owe you for ore finders and rock cutters. What do the others owe you?”

  “Five lords in your league of rebellion will discover every one of their ewes will bear twins or triplets that are bigger, healthier, and have longer wool than any beast they’ve seen before.”

  “The ones you could persuade to accept your demon magic. If word gets out how those lords became so rich in sheep, no one will buy anything from them. And it will be another full year before the promised wool is available.”

  “The hybrid wheat will pay off by the middle of summer.” Kinnsell suppressed a cough. Talking dried his throat out. He wasn’t used to all this cold raw air. He edged his hand forward.

  “If the weather holds, the wheat harvest might be better than average. If the soil hasn’t been depleted by overplanting. If the dragons don’t burn our fields to dust because we gave you more of the Tambootie than King Quinnault authorized.”

  “Don’t tell me you are so stupid you believe in the dragon myths!” Kinnsell shouted, pushing his hand farther forward. “What is it about this place that makes you all believe that simple psi powers are major magic and that dragons are real? Every contact we have put in Coronnan has forsaken our civilization and gone bush. Even my daughter. And she’s supposed to be educated.”

  “You have obviously never come face-to-face with a dragon or one of the magicians who control them.” The bushie lord made the curious flapping gesture with crossed wrists as he looked up. Was he truly scanning the heavens for sight of a dragon?

  “None of your magicians will break down my shields and force a dragon illusion on me. I’ll prove that the magicians are frauds. Then you won’t have to put up with them. You can rely on your own intelligence and my machines.” Kinnsell’s hand came back to rest easily at his side.

  “The lords will follow you if you manage to end the tyranny of the magicians and the dragons. We don’t like them any better than you do. But the lords I speak for need proof of your powers before they commit to your cause.”

  A hot, angry flush burned Kinnsell’s cheeks and brow. He was getting very tired of these bushie lords making demands on him.

  “I set up one of your agents to start the riot that nearly ended all of the foreign treaties. I have given you times and locations and ambush plans for the loads of supplies going to the provinces. You have in turn sold the food on the black market at a tremendous profit. I presume last week’s shipment is already on its way to the location of your choice. We can’t allow Quinnault to deliver the current load either. Common people all over this hellhole begin to question Quinnault’s ability to govern. His only support lies among the city’s populace.”

  “He leads the new shipment with more guards than my soldiers can handle. He’ll be seen as the great deliverer.”

  “Not if I give you a reason to call him and half his troops back before he travels half a day from the capital. The king shall fail in this mission as he has in every other.”

  “What reason? It will have to be compelling to bring the king back.”

  “I’ll think of something.” Like kidnapping Princess Marilell. As the baby’s grandfather, he had the right to keep her every other weekend by Terran law. But he wouldn’t bother to inform Katie of his plans.

  “The lords want action now. They’ll need proof of your powers and your sincerity to wait any longer to overthrow Quinnault.”

  “Like what?” Kinnsell braced himself for the next demand for tools and technology. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t have enough left of his ship to fly back to civilization—which couldn’t come too soon. He’d hoped to withhold a butane torch hot enough to burn the impurities out of the local sands so they could make decent glass until he’d run out of all other options. Was this the time to offer it?

  The sky started to leak an annoying drizzle.

  He’d be warm again as soon as he reached civilization. Warm and dry. Maybe then he’d stop coughing.

  “The magicians keep a Rover woman prisoner in their University.” The bushie lord eyed Kinnsell from beneath heavy black brows. Plots cooked deep within those eyes. Kinnsell wished he could read them.

  “Free the Rover woman, and we will believe your technology is more powerful than magic.” Technology we can use to control you as well as the magicians and the king.

  Kinnsell couldn’t help but overhear the man’s thoughts. He smiled to himself. Not often did these locals let their natural shields slip. But when they did, he learned a lot.

  Best he not let them know his own psi powers were strong and growing stronger.

  Something about this planet . . .

  “Very well. I will remove the woman from the University tomorrow after I have reconnoitered. Then I will show your craftsmen how to make a spinning wheel to handle all of the wool your new sheep will produce next spring.”

  “A Wheel!” the lord touched his head, heart, and each shoulder in the approved cross of the Stargods.

  At least Kinnsell’s ancestors had gotten something
right in teaching these yokels the gesture of protection and prayer.

  Then the lord crossed his wrists, left over right and flapped his hands in another ward against evil.

  “The Stargods have forbidden the Wheel as well as reading and higher mathematics for all but magicians. Those two things are the keys to all evil.” The lord backed away from Kinnsell, repeating the flapping gesture. When ten meters separated them, he turned and ran into the thick trees as fast as his fat legs and long robe allowed.

  “Damn!” Kinnsell slammed his fist into the trunk of a tree. “Now I have to start all over again. Unless. . . .”

  Ancient plateau of Hanassa, time unknown

  Powwell ran into the dragongate. He banged his forehead against a wall of resistance. Hard. Stars burst behind his eyes. The alluring song of the gate rang in his ears with discordant notes, repulsing him rather than drawing him in.

  Yaala had entered the vortex of time and distance while facing him. Her passage must have triggered something, blocking this angle.

  He darted around the shadows and approached the swirling distortion from the other side. His eyes tried to follow the shifting landscape within the gate. He lost his focus, and his head swam. The kardia shifted beneath his feet once more, and he fell headlong into the pulsing spiral of blood red, fire green, and midnight black.

  Thorny hunched within Powwell’s pocket. The hedgehog’s spines jabbed through Powwell’s shirt. Thorny’s blast of emotional upset followed the sharp pricks. First a plunge from the familiar landscape into the horrible desert. No water. Too much light. Uncertainty. Fear. Now this horrible pulsing energy again.

  Thorny was not happy.

  Powwell wasn’t happy either. He had to find Yaala. Everything else in his life lost importance. He had to stay with Yaala.

  Only this opening of the dragongate could lead him to Yaala or Kalen. He didn’t know how to find Kalen without Yaala. He couldn’t think beyond staying beside Yaala.