The Broken Dragon: Children of the Dragon Nimbus #2 (30 page)

The flood swallowed the sound, not even giving him the satisfaction of a decent echo.

At last my apprentice approaches. I am nigh unto death with thirst and sunburn. His boat is not much bigger than mine, but it has an intact sail. Expertly he tacks and comes alongside my little dinghy. He has obeyed my compulsion to come for me, abandoning the young prince he was charged to guard. He took the position I found for him eagerly, hoping to learn something of magic. But he could not ignore my orders, even if he developed some loyalty to the boy. He has no loyalty to anyone but himself and his quest to become a magician. His obsession made him an easy target for my control over him.

Now, using his lifelong skills in a boat to circumvent the storm along the Bay shore, he comes to me eagerly, hoping I will fulfill my promise to teach him magic.

He throws a rope ladder down to me without a word. I’d reprimand him for his lack of manners, for not greeting me. But that is his way. A silent observer who speaks only when required or ordered. He’d learn more magic if he asked questions rather than just watching.

“Could you find nothing better than this leaking tub?” I demand of him.

He shrugs and assists me aboard. Then he hands me a skin full of fresh water. I drink it down without hesitation.

As the last swallow sloshes around my mouth, moistening the delicate tissue I taste something. Something off. Something strange.

“Poison!” I gasp.

He merely lifts his eyebrows in that maddening way of his.

“W
HY?” I CROAK
to my traitorous apprentice.

He shrugs again. “I do not like you. I do not like being a servant to the second heir of Coronnan. I do not like the destruction of my home you caused. I do not like being kept in ignorance. You promised to teach me magic. You didn’t.”

Quite a speech for the taciturn Geon.

“I have my reasons for keeping you uninformed and ignorant,” I growl at him.

He watches my face for signs that the poison is taking effect on my body. I allow him to see a slight grimace of pain and slump my posture protectively over my cramping belly.

I do not allow him to see the packet of powder I draw from my belt script. I needed those few seconds of conversation to know which counteragent to use. I always carry several. I had the right ones. One for me. One for him. One never knows who one can trust.

As I straighten, I loosen the knots and drawstring with a tiny sliver of magic. Then I throw the caustic residue into his eyes.

He screams and covers his face with his arms. He screams again and again, rivaling the passing gulls in strident tones. When he drops to his knees and his voice turns to moans I take the remaining powder from his hand.

I have only minutes to act before the purgative begins its work of clearing my body of his feeble attempt at assassination. I use those moments to shove him overboard. He lands flat on his back in the dinghy. I cut it adrift and set the rudder of my sailboat toward Saria where I can be more certain of my welcome.

I should have expected Geon to try something like this. He was more adept at shutting me out of his dreams than my other tools.

As I contemplate how to draw my minions to my rescue I empty my guts back into the ocean and feed the fish the poisoned water
.

Val watched her parents’ funeral pyre crumble to ashes and the last glowing ember cool and fade. Someone, probably Maigret or Marcus—Lord Marcus now—would gather the ashes into a lovely silver container. Soon Lord Jaylor and his Lady Brevelan would rest together, for all time, on a shelf in the ceremonial hall of the University. She hoped they stayed here in the Forest University Da had built and run for over fifteen years. The king, and probably Glenndon, would campaign to have them taken to the old University. They didn’t truly belong there.

And she didn’t belong here anymore.

Val stood there, watching and waiting—she didn’t know for what—long after the rest of her family and the members of the University had drifted away to other tasks, other duties, other responsibilities.

What was her life to be like now?

Lily still had her journey to complete, escorting Lady Graciella to Castle Saria. The dark and gloomy castle was built into a mountainside hundreds of feet above the Bay, accessible only by a single road that climbed from a supporting village around the jagged cliffs. So it had probably survived the flood the master magicians had seen in their FarSeer spells.

Val suspected Skeller would choose to go with them—with Lily.

Lukan had a journey of his own to accomplish, first to gain a staff and then to complete whatever task Marcus determined for him—probably to find Master Robb.

Glenndon had his duty to the king and Coronnan. She knew he’d have to help with the aftermath of the flood. Lukan would take Da’s letter to him once the land had drained.

The Circle of Master Magicians had elected Marcus their Senior Magician and Chancellor of the Universities. He in turn had decided to journey to the old University in the city and take up the reins of his responsibilities as Senior Magician and adviser to the king. His wife Vareena and their children would follow him shortly. The Circle had yet to elect a separate Chancellor of the Forest University, but conversations and votes tended to favor Maigret, simply because she worked well with everyone, generating no enemies, while the men tended to gather strong factions around themselves. None of them could command a majority of votes. And so by default, Maigret would step in and organize them, as she always did.

Linda had her work here with Mistress Maigret, an able and learned secretary and assistant.

With Lady Ariiell refusing to return to her father and an arranged marriage with a foreign king, Val had no responsibility to take her anywhere. The ugly knot of guilt and pain in Ariiell’s mind had dissipated almost to a point where she didn’t need The Forget anymore. The lady’s fate must be decided by others now—or even by herself. An awe-inspiring thought that daunted Ariiell into her vague retreat from reality again.

So, what would Val do? What could she do?

Take care of the little ones
,
Mama had said with her dying breath.

That should be Lily’s job. She was the nurturer, the one who enjoyed cooking and telling stories, and guiding lessons, and maintaining the kitchen garden and the herbs and . . .

Val understood magic. She didn’t understand or appreciate children.

A stick snapped behind her as someone trod carelessly along the path from the University to this mournful clearing.

“Valeria?” Ariiell asked tentatively.

“Yes?” Val didn’t turn away from her contemplation of the ashes of life and death.

“I’ve had a vision.”

Val came alert. Ariiell sounded quite sane at the moment. She still lapsed into periods of glazed indifference, but less often and for shorter periods of time than when they first started this journey together.

“What kind of vision?”

“More than a dream, less than reality.”

“That sounds . . . ominous.”

“Yes, quite. I realize now, that some of my dreams on our journey were not true dreams, more like directions from outside myself.”

Mama had talked about dragon-dreams, visions of the future, or warnings.

“Do the dragons talk to you?”

“No. I think this is a magician. A rogue magician who is trying to control me.”

Valeria forgot to breathe for a moment.

“Why tell me? This sounds like something Lord Marcus should know about.”

“He’s so busy. And . . . and I don’t know . . .”

“You don’t know if you can trust him.”

Ariiell nodded and swallowed heavily.

“I understand.” Val knew how hard it was for Ariiell to trust anyone. She’d been betrayed by everyone: people she loved, people who should take care of her, but only used her. Val had built a small trust with her while enclosed in that litter that gave the illusion of blocking out a big, scary world outside. They’d formed an understanding through the letters that Val wrote for her then dispatched by magic transfer spells.

“This rogue magician is adrift in a small boat. He wants me to meet him in the cove below Saria with food and supplies and a means to take him to safety.”

“Um . . . Is this rogue Samlan by any chance?”

“I think so. And if you are going to save Coronnan from him, we need to go soon and make sure he does not get to safety.”

“I’ve had some troubling dreams of late,” Lily confessed to her sister and Ariiell sitting on the ground across from her. Skeller sat slightly apart from them tuning his harp and humming a sad little tune with a hypnotic drone of a bass note beneath the melody. She suspected he composed a new ballad, possibly in honor of Mama and Da. Graciella half hid behind Lily. They had gathered for privacy near the little waterfall that tumbled into a broad plunge pool heated by a hot seep coming out of the core of the mountain. Too many people wandered in and out of the cabin and the home Clearing, wanting to help, needing to verify that Mama and Da had truly died and didn’t still live there. At least Lukan had not run off on his own, or hidden up a tree, or in the thatch. His presence kept the most prying of the visitors away. He joined them in this semisecret discussion now.

Lily hadn’t shared her dreams with anyone but Val and didn’t want to trouble the others with a recounting of the latest nightmare of trying desperately to climb the broken cliff face below Castle Saria. The crashing waves towering above her, tugging at her, pulling her to her death felt too real, more real than the quiet loft room she shared with Val, Ariiell, and Graciella. Mistress Maigret had taken Jule and Sharl home with her.

Lady Graciella had described the cove to Lily and Val in painful detail. She knew its wickedly sharp rocks pointing straight up above the tide and hiding below, waiting to shred living flesh from bone. She knew of the erratic tides and strong currents where ocean met bay at the solid outcrop of rock.

“I thought I was sharing some of Graciella’s nightmares,” Lily said, hanging her head, not willing to meet the all-too-knowing gaze of Lady Ariiell.

“I’ve had the same dream,” Graciella admitted. “I woke up in a cold sweat of fear, almost saddened that I didn’t drown and end the nightmare forever. I thought it came from the time Lucjemm showed me the cove and explained the ancient form of execution. He threatened me with the same fate if I didn’t give in to his demands.” The last came out as a bare whisper that Lily had to strain to hear.

“I thought he only threatened you with opening a vein and letting his snake feed on you,” Val protested.

“That too.”

“I dreamed I was adrift in a boat and in need of rescue,” Linda said, stepping into the little clearing. “When I woke up I felt an unnatural compulsion to run off to this ragged coastline and rescue someone.”

Graciella and Ariiell looked aghast, mouths slightly agape at the intrusion.

“I came looking for someone who might know why Jule won’t eat his yampion pie. Mistress Maigret and I have tried everything to keep him happy but he misses his Mama and doesn’t understand that she’s not coming back.” She stopped talking and looked everywhere but at the others gathered together. “I heard you talking,” she rushed to explain her uninvited presence.

“Did you put a dash of nutmeg and an extra dollop of goat’s milk in the vegetable mash?” Lily asked. How many times had she made the same dish with Mama? How many times had they talked through the process to discover the essence of each plant and what it needed to complement and complete it?

Never again. She was on her own with the cooking now. Val never helped because she didn’t understand what to look for with nose and fingers and an open mind. She had no empathy with plants.

Not like Mama.

Oh! Mama. A wave of grief nearly swamped her heart and mind. She had to blink rapidly and swallow deeply to push away the sudden spate of tears.

“I’ll try the nutmeg, but I think I need to know if what is troubling you is also troubling me.” Linda swept aside the skirts of her pale blue robe and plunked down on the ground cross-legged. Just like any other apprentice. All traces of the former, haughty, fashion-conscious princess had vanished. Though she still maintained her upright posture and impeccable politeness and protocol.

“My dream is similar to yours, Linda,” Lukan said, angrily clenching his fist and pounding it into his thigh. “I don’t like being manipulated. Samlan left the Circle because he wouldn’t bow to Da’s authority—even though Da kept secrets from him when he shouldn’t.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Val asked.

“We should tell Lord Marcus,” Lily said.

“He won’t do anything,” Ariiell said on an indelicate snort. “I know him of old. He’ll dither and delay until he has no choice but to take action, often too late.”

“Maigret knows how to jump into action,” Linda offered.

“But neither of them will allow any of us to go,” Lukan reminded them. “We’re supposed to hide here and grieve for the next year or two or whatever.”

“We each have to grieve in our own way and our own time,” Lily said. “Sitting and hiding from the world doesn’t feel right.”

“Got a bit of itchy feet?” Skeller asked. “Know how that feels. As long as we’re leaving to complete an essential task and not just running away. I’ve done both often enough to know the difference. Running away doesn’t accomplish anything other than delaying the inevitable.” He turned his head back to the harp, unwilling to meet the gaze of anyone. His deep thoughts remained hidden.