The Wizard's Treasure (The Dragon Nimbus)

by Irene Radford

  For once, Robb respected her silence and did not press her to comply with his request. Instead, he reached out one of his hands as if to caress her hair in comfort. But he dropped it before he even came close.

  Marcus let out a long, uneasy breath. Unwanted jealousy flared hot. He and Robb had never competed for a woman before—they’d both had a number of liaisons—but always with the other’s blessing. They took care to seek out women who did not interest the other. But where Marcus fell in and out of love quite easily, Robb had always kept his heart slightly aloof.

  For the past two years Marcus had loved Margit, Jaylor’s spy in Palace Reveta Tristile. He thought perhaps this attachment would last forever since it had lasted so long.

  Then they’d come here.

  He should remain faithful to Margit’s memory. He shouldn’t begrudge Robb’s attraction to Vareena.

  But Vareena was so very beautiful, resilient, wise, and mature. And their only hope.

  Marcus’ heart twisted in silent agony.

  “Guess it’s natural we’d both want the only woman who can see either of us,” he muttered under his breath. He tried to reassert his natural good humor, without much luck.

  The endless empty rooms of the monastery depressed him. He and Robb had searched the place, of course, looking for another exit. But he’d hoped Vareena could show them something they’d overlooked. She seemed more ignorant of the layout than they.

  “My mam died twenty years ago. She tried to come up here to sit with her last ghost during a wild thunderstorm. Like the one that brought you here. Lightning hit a tree as she was making her way here. It fell on top of her and killed her. I inherited the duty to tend the ghosts that night.”

  “How old were you, Vareena?” Marcus asked gently.

  She held up her hand displaying all five fingers plus two from the other hand while she swallowed repeatedly, working to avoid the strong emotions that gripped her.

  “Stargods!” He slammed his right fist into his left palm. Unsatisfied with the explosive gesture, he looked for something else to hit. Robb would do. He caught his breath and closed his eyes in shock. “This place is truly cursed. And all three of us along with it. We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “That is what I have been trying to tell you for two days, Marcus,” Robb said quietly. Too quietly. Had he sensed Marcus’ earlier anger and jealousy, his need to lash out at his best friend because he was a handy target?

  “What’s in the other corner room?” Marcus nearly ran the length of the colonnade where he kicked the door open, letting it slam against the stone wall behind it. The bang did nothing to alleviate his frustration.

  “The kitchen with storage behind and refectory above.” Vareena looked inside. Her posture told him nothing of her thoughts.

  He considered probing her mind, letting her memories give him as much information as she possessed—even the deeply buried bits about her mother. Something repelled him. He wasn’t even sure his magic would work on her since she seemed partially in the void. The summons spell he’d tried last night had lain dormant within the fire, never passing through his glass. He’d tried three times since coming here to no avail. Maybe all of his magic had died the moment they passed through these walls. He certainly had not had any luck trying to tap the erratic ley lines that passed through the courtyard. They never seemed to rest in the same place two heartbeats in a row.

  And the constant haze in the sky distorted his planetary orientation. He had slept only two nights in this place. Well he hadn’t really slept all that much what with the nightmares and all.

  His latest nightmare involved losing at endless games of cartes, until he finally bet with University money entrusted to him by Jaylor. In a desperate play to salvage his losses he’d bet everything, including Margit.

  And lost.

  He shuddered and tried to think the problem through—as Jaylor and Baamin before him had taught him.

  His connection to the wheel of the stars, the spin of the planet, and the shift of the season told him more time had passed than the two nights he thought he’d spent in the monastery. Much more time. On top of that, his sense of where they were in relation to the nearest magnetic pole shifted every few hours.

  Perhaps the way the ley lines broke just before meeting the exterior walls had something to do with his reactions. He got a headache every time he tried to puzzle it through. He just wanted out. Now.

  He breathed deeply, trying to master his emotions. The failed summons spell had left him frightened and afraid to try again lest he fail and know for certain that all his magic was lost along with his luck.

  “Look, Marcus,” Robb said in hushed tones. “Look at this!”

  Marcus turned his attention away from his fears and looked where Robb had stopped at the center of the central wing of the monastery. He stomped over to his friend and peered inside.

  Large and larger. Like the University, this three-story room took up one entire wing of the building, dominating the lesser rooms.

  “A library,” Robb whispered.

  “An empty library.” The last of Marcus’ optimism slid out of him, into the cold paving stones. “No books, no journals. Not even a cobweb. The rest of this building is filled with spiders and cobwebs, but not here. Only dust and empty shelves.”

  “Not entirely empty. This bank of shelves in the center is filled with sacks of gold,” Robb dribbled a handful of coins out of a rotting canvas sack. He moved around to the back of the shelving unit and reappeared with another sack. “As many back here as in front.”

  Marcus paced around the massive unit. It could easily hold one hundred or more books on each side. The entire thing was filled with sacks of gold coins and several bullion bars.

  “What sunlight penetrates through the gloaming and then through the windows seems to concentrate in this spot.” Robb circled the unit in the opposite direction. With each pass the two of them made, the gold seemed to glow more brightly.

  “Maybe whoever put the gold here wanted to spend his hours staring at it,” Marcus mused.

  “Kind of a boring existence,” Robb added.

  “Who would collect all this gold and just leave it?” Marcus reached out to touch the shiny metal. The coin warmed under his touch. Light reflected off it in warm shades. It almost begged him to pocket it along with the few coins he’d taken from Farrell’s corpse.

  His heartbeat and breathing slowed. He focused only on the gold. Time seemed to stop . . .

  Some moments later he shook himself free of the enthrallment. “Gold doesn’t do anyone any good just sitting here in isolation. We need to get it back to Jaylor and the Commune.” Hope blossomed again in Marcus’ chest. “Think of all that the Commune and University can accomplish with this much gold. New buildings. Books. Tools. Food and clothing for apprentices and journeymen.”

  “Bribes to nobles to legalize the Commune again.” Robb grinned from ear to ear. His previous depression seemed to have eased.

  “Stargods save us!” Vareena crossed herself, paused and signed the ward against evil again. “Money is evil. Put it back, Robb.”

  “Nonsense. The world economy depends upon the free circulation of coins.” Robb fell into lecture mode. “Some coins may be cursed by an individual. But the coins themselves are not evil. Evil exists only in the hearts of certain humans. A magician of unusual strength and evil design might place a curse upon coin. But the curse would die with the magician. Since ghosts have been coming here for generations, these coins cannot be cursed.”

  “Put it back. You have no need for gold. I will provide all that you need while you are here. We do not use gold or silver in our village. We trade for everything we need with the caravans that use the pass, or the Rovers that wander through. The priests have told us that coins are the source of all evil. We grow and make all else that we need ourselves. Put it back! Before you die, put it back.”

  These amateurs slept through the kardiaquake I caused. They ignored the nightmar
es I gave them as if they were of no consequence. What will it take to be rid of them?

  They should tremble in their boots at thought of the power I command. I was the first to employ a blending of traditions. Dragon magic is limited in scope for all the strength it employs. Ley line magic cannot be combined with other magicians to enhance the power by orders of magnitude. Blood magic requires a unique personality to endure the pain and to relish the fear and blood sacrifice of others.

  But I discovered how to use all three disciplines at once. My offspring continue experimenting with my discoveries. I sired two of the strongest magicians ever. The older is even more innovative than I. The younger is warped by early rejection. She has not the emotional strength to use that trauma to enhance her magic. But the warping in her personality makes her very creative in inflicting pain. She is truly a master of blood magic. She also taps ley lines as a spigot in a cask of wine. But being female she cannot draw upon dragon magic, unless she remains in physical contact with a purple dragon. I think she may have solved that little problem on her own.

  I will bring my two children to me. They will know how to find me with only a little prompting and a few clues.

  With their help, I can deal with these matters and be free to enjoy my power.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Do you have a name, my dark-eyed friend?” the unnamed woman asked.

  “Outside my clan, I am called Zebbiah,” the Rover merchant replied, nodding his head. “And do you, my new business partner, have a name?”

  “If I have one, I have forgotten it.” She sighed heavily. “Do you happen to have any idea what I might be called inside or outside my clan?”

  “True-bloods of SeLenicca do not have clans,” he replied succinctly. “Your blonde hair and blue eyes proclaim you a true-blood.”

  Jaranda had red hair. Did that make her other than a true-blood of SeLenicca? The woman couldn’t remember if that held import in society or not.

  “But what am I called?”

  He shrugged and set about removing the panniers from his pack beast. He’d neatly evaded her question. She had a feeling he was good at evading issues rather than lying. Good. She trusted him not to lie outright to her even if he did not speak the truth.

  “Why did you bring that animal inside the palace?” Jaranda stirred from her nap. The woman soothed her with a gentle caress through the baby’s tangled hair.

  “This is not a true palace anymore. More ruins than building. Besides, I didn’t dare leave him alone. Beasts are valuable in this city. Someone would steal him.”

  “Is theft so rampant that the city guards cannot control it?” Something fearful clutched at her heart and throat.

  “Aye, Lady. The city guard fled along with all the others. No one rules here now. Law is enforced by the strongest bully who makes his own rules as benefit him and him alone.” Panniers off the beast, Zebbiah set about lighting a fire in the nearby brazier. He squatted on his heels, looking comfortable making camp in the workroom of the ruined palace. He looked as if he could make himself comfortable anywhere, any time.

  She wished she knew enough about herself to find comfort within her own mind and heart. In this state of not knowing, only Jaranda anchored her.

  With a half smile she suddenly realized that her lack of memory offered her a kind of freedom. She and her baby could make a home for themselves anywhere they chose. They could set the rules and style of their home to suit themselves. They need please no one else—except possibly Zebbiah if he stayed with them.

  The heat quickly penetrated her bones, and her mind lightened. “I didn’t realize I was cold until I touched heat again,” she mused.

  “Cold can be like that. When it gets really bad, it almost feels like warmth and then you fall asleep and never wake up.”

  “Will you protect me and my baby from the cold?”

  “If I can.”

  “And from the bandits and bully gangs?” She shuddered.

  He paused a moment before answering. “My word as a Rover. I’ll do my best to protect you from harm of any kind.”

  “Even from yourself?”

  He grinned, flashing a huge number of teeth, just like his pack beast “My word of honor, Lady. You are as safe from me as you want to be.”

  A long silent moment passed between them. The woman looked away first.

  “You hungry?” Zebbiah asked.

  The woman shook her head. “We scavenged in the pantry. But we will need to eat again by nightfall.”

  “I’ve food for the three of us. We’ll leave at dawn.” He fished a pot and some packets wrapped in oiled cloth from one of the panniers. “Is there water?”

  “The well behind the kitchen still tastes sweet.”

  He nodded abruptly and rose from his squat in one graceful motion, without using his hands to brace himself.

  “You need anything while I’m out?”

  The pack beast shifted his head and began nibbling her tangled hair.

  “If you could find a hairbrush or comb?”

  He nodded again and left without complaint.

  “We’ll deal well together, Zebbiah,” she whispered. “I’m not sure why I trust you, but I do.”

  Oversized teeth nipped her ear. She batted the pack beast away. It then began grazing on a piece of lace dangling from a corner pillow. “But you’ll have to teach this beast of yours some manners, Zebbiah.” She settled Jaranda on the floor and followed the beast to rescue the priceless ornament.

  “I don’t suppose you know my name?” she asked the beast as she pulled half a yard of lace free of its jaws

  “Heeeeeee haaaaaaaw,” the beast brayed in answer, or protest.

  “Somehow I thought you’d say that.”

  Jack waited outside King Darville’s private study, impatiently shifting from one foot to the other. He pretended to stand guard while listening with every sense available to him. He needed to speak to the king and queen alone. How much longer before Darville and Rossemikka freed themselves from the increasingly loud political conversation?

  Lord Laislac had spent the last hour haranguing his king. Lord Andrall, the king’s uncle by marriage, had spoken a couple of times. Laislac’s daughter Ariiell had whimpered occasionally. Jack had seen Andrall’s and Laislac’s wives enter the room, but so far they had remained silent.

  Darville had said little, asking only an occasional question. Queen Mikka probably sat in the window embrasure, basking in the afternoon sunshine, stroking the sensuous texture of her gown with long fingers. She said little during these sessions, but she observed everything and counseled Darville afterward.

  Jack did not have to open his magical listening senses to hear the scandal in the making. Long ago, when he’d been a kitchen drudge, considered too stupid to even have a name, he’d learned to listen carefully with all of his senses before entering a room. He’d also eventually learned how to make himself seem invisible in order to avoid the local bullies.

  Today invisibility came from his plain guard’s uniform and his presence outside the king’s study. No one noticed him because he belonged there.

  But Jack had to stand still, at attention, hoping his impatience for a moment of privacy with the king and queen did not alert anyone that something unusual was about to happen.

  He needed absolute secrecy to summon the Commune for tonight’s spell. One whisper of the king and queen involved with magic would bring the wrath of the Gnuls and the lords they controlled down on their heads. None of them would be safe for a moment if the Gnuls found out what Jack planned to do tonight.

  He shuddered every time he thought about this morning’s adventures in the market square. Fear of magic grew by the day. The dye merchant wasn’t the only innocent to be accused and judged upon the spot. Stoning had become a favorite form of execution. It required no preparation and could be carried out before palace guards could interfere. That the Gnuls had grown so bold as to accuse Jack while he wore a guard’s uniform told him how strong the G
nuls had grown.

  King Darville and Queen Mikka kept bodyguards close to them all the time now. Jack and Sergeant Fred pulled the duty more often than others. Fred was an accepted presence and trusted by king and council alike. Jack was new and unknown to the council, but the king and queen relied upon his magical talent for their safety as well as secret communication with Jaylor and the Commune of Magicians.

  “She must marry the boy. He’s responsible for this—this outrage!” Lord Laislac screamed within the king’s study.

  Any mention of marriage piqued Jack’s interest.

  “The boy is not responsible for his own actions,” Lord Andrall replied mildly. “My son was born with only half his wits and never found the rest. For him to marry anyone would be a mockery of the Stargods.”

  “Well, he certainly managed to become a man long enough to sire a child on my daughter. My daughter who was a virgin when she came to your household for fosterage after her mother died,” Laislac sneered this time. But his agitation showed through his wavering voice.

  Jack leaned a little closer to the door. He’d been very young and frightened when news hit the capital that Lord Andrall’s son, first cousin to then Prince Darville, had been born damaged. The court went into mourning for the beloved lord and his lady, sister to Darville’s father, King Darcine.

  Jack had rejoiced because at last there was someone more stupid than him. Upon the few occasions the childlike young man came to court, Jack had grown to love and honor him as the Stargods commanded. Few people realized how much love, patience, and truth they could learn from the special people marked by the Stargods.

  “But I don’t want to marry him, P’pa. He’s repulsive! He’s ugly. And he smells.” That must be Ariiell, she of the whining voice.

  Jack had seen her around court a couple of times, frail, pale, and uninteresting. No personality to go with the fair prettiness.

  “Well, you certainly found him attractive enough once to take him into your bed,” Andrall replied mildly.