The Wizard's Treasure (The Dragon Nimbus)

by Irene Radford

  For a moment his gaze caught hers. Suddenly his heart raced in his chest, opening him to new emotions, new truths about himself. A kind of serenity filled him. All because she touched him.

  “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, I have a brawl to break up.” He heaved himself to his feet, wishing he could return her caress, perhaps kiss her cheek in tentative promise. “Later,” he affirmed to them both.

  The world seemed suddenly brighter and all of their problems surmountable.

  And then the world tilted, light flashed, and the misty veil around the world expanded.

  A gaggle of newcomers at the gate flashed swords. “Where’d she go?” Lord Andrall shouted.

  Robb felt his skin grow cold as he recognized the king’s adviser and his lady and their simple son astride the magnificent steeds clustered around the gatehouse. The other lord and lady could only be Lord Laislac and his second wife—his first wife had died quite mysteriously, and with a scandal Robb couldn’t remember, some years ago. Their attention all focused on a very pregnant young woman—now in the ghostly reality—wrestling with a Rover woman over a scarf heavy with gold coins.

  “Give it to me, you ignorant slut. I need that gold. In the name of the coven, give me that gold!” she shouted.

  “Get out of here now, Vareena,” Robb implored. “Run as far and as fast as you can. Save yourself from the coven.”

  Everyone and everything in the courtyard stilled. The name of the coven had that effect on people.

  Marcus looked around to see who had invoked them. The band of magicians was dedicated to the overthrow of every peaceful government in all of Kardia Hodos. His gaze lighted on the young woman in elegant velvet riding clothes. Hints of red glistened within her blonde hair. Her aura almost shouted magical power within the orange-and-yellow layers.

  He blinked and looked again, more closely. She had touched the gold a Rover woman had fastened to a sash. In touching the gold-laden sash she joined the growing crowd of those trapped in this other reality. She broadcast greed to any receptive magician within a league’s distance. So did the Rovers.

  “Did I hear someone say gold?” One of the lords at the gatehouse dismounted hurriedly. If he wasn’t careful, he’d trip over one of the Rovers and become a ghost himself.

  “Lord Laislac.” Vareena dipped a hasty curtsy to him.

  He ignored her.

  Marcus already knew Lord Andrall and his lady. He’d heard tales of their simple son. The other woman in the party must be Laislac’s wife. The one he’d married in haste after his first wife quite conveniently fell from the castle ramparts. Or was pushed. The scandal had circulated in the capital for a few weeks and then disappeared in the wake of newer gossip. Laislac had married a much younger woman the day the official mourning period ended.

  Marcus peered around Zolltarn’s sledge to see if any of the Rovers acknowledged the presence of nobility. They didn’t seem to care. But the statue on top of the sledge, the tin weasel with flaking gilt paint, began to rock and shift. Both front paws and about half of the tail seemed to have shed its tin coating. A spot of drool dripped from the exposed teeth—real teeth, not metal castings.

  “Robb, Jack, look at Krej!” he called, fascinated by the partial animation. At one time Krej had been the most powerful lord of the land—first cousin to Darville’s father and regent during Darville’s magically induced illness at the beginning of his reign.

  “Krej and Lanciar in the same area?” Jack held his staff out, prepared to use it as a defensive weapon, physical and magical. “Rejiia can’t be far away.”

  Katrina touched Jack’s shoulder and pointed to the top of the southwest tower. Marcus followed her pointing finger with half his attention, keeping one eye on Krej.

  Atop the tower the light sparkled with new magic. The wind blasted outward and down into the courtyard whipping dust into everyone’s eyes. Marcus forced himself to keep his gaze trained on the area. He didn’t know the secret of the transport spell, but he’d witnessed it often enough to know when someone used it.

  Black and red dominated the spot. The light coalesced into the figure of a black-haired woman with a silver streak running from one temple down the length of her waist-length tresses. Her black gown molded to her tall figure, outlining all of her curves and emphasizing the length of her legs.

  “Rejiia,” Jack confirmed.

  Marcus’ armor snapped into place. Beautiful, deadly, vicious. Krej’s daughter. She’d learned a lot from her father before the lord had thrown one spell too many and had it backlash off King Darville’s sword and crown. He’d been captive in the weasel statue ever since. Without Krej’s disdainful supervision, Rejiia had learned a lot more about magic and about evil than her father had ever dreamed of.

  She would continue to menace Coronnan until she sat on the throne with the Coraurlia—the magically charmed glass crown in the shape of a dragon—on her head; or until someone managed to kill her.

  “Release my father!” she called in an imperious tone. But there was a tightness in her neck muscles and the way her hand clenched around a small wand set with a black crystal on the end. She must use the wand as most magicians used a staff. A pretty and feminine affectation. And undoubtedly just as deadly as the woman who used it. She pointed the crystal directly at the statue of her father.

  The tin weasel rocked again, but it remained firmly anchored atop the sledge.

  Then Marcus noted that Zolltarn rested his hand on Krej. He flashed his brilliant smile at Rejiia. She flinched ever so slightly.

  As long as Zolltarn had some of the enchanted gold in his possession and touched the tin statue, the statue traversed both realities and was subject to the magic of neither. A dark aura surrounded the statue, as black as the void.

  Something was terribly wrong with Krej.

  Rejiia must have sensed it, too. She disappeared in another flash of light and swirl of wind. Just as suddenly, she reappeared directly in front of Zolltarn and the statue.

  The black aura moved higher. The statue rocked harder, puffing up to almost twice its normal size.

  Marcus jumped to stand between Margit and Vareena and the magic about to go awry.

  CHAPTER 35

  “Give him back to me!” Rejiia said through “clenched teeth. Her body seemed as tightly controlled as her jaw.

  “And what of our son, Rejiia?” Lanciar asked. “Don’t you care anything at all about the child the Rovers hide from you?” The mass of Rovers and newcomers separated for him as he marched over to her side. Outrage poured from him like a leaking bucket. Magic power raced from his fingertips up his arms to his shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to back-hand the woman and knock her clear out of his life into her next existence.

  “The child is just one more crime for which Zolltarn and his Rovers must answer to the coven. My father is in greater danger. Release him!” Rejiia reached out with her hand and her magic to encircle the tin weasel.

  Light flashed, and the world tilted. Rejiia joined the Rovers and the others trapped in some reality different from Lanciar’s.

  Part of Lanciar wanted to laugh. Disgust invaded a bigger part of him.

  “Is this place truly safe?” A new voice asked from the gateway. A feminine voice speaking Lanciar’s native language.

  Only Katrina turned to look at this newest additions to the mob. Rejiia continued to struggle with Zolltarn for possession of Krej.

  “Your Majesty,” Katrina gasped as she bent her knees into a full curtsy. In the same motion, she tugged on Jack’s sleeve to bring his head respectfully lower than the trail-weary woman.

  Miranda cradled a small child in her arms. Yet another Rover held her arm at the elbow.

  This new Rover wore the same red-and-purple trim on his black clothes as Zolltarn’s clan. Lanciar did not recognize him from his weeks on the road with the Rovers.

  Lace spilled from the panniers on the back of their pack steed. But it wasn’t quite a steed. Then the beast opened his mouth a
nd extended his neck, bellowing an obnoxious braying sound around a mouthful of big, square teeth. A team of trumpeters could not have attracted more attention.

  Everyone in the compound turned to face this new greeting.

  “Who?” Zolltarn asked.

  Lord Andrall and Lord Laislac immediately bent a single knee to her presence. Their wives followed suit—sometime during the fray they, too, had dismounted.

  “Your Majesty, may I present your new ambassador from Coronnan,” Katrina said, daring to raise her head a little. She pushed Jack forward. He stumbled to one knee. The flywacket remained firmly on his shoulder, flaring his wings just enough for them both to catch their balance.

  “Your Majesty, my position as ambassador to SeLenicca has not been confirmed by the Council of Provinces, only promised by His Grace King Darville.”

  “Miranda,” Lanciar breathed. “When did she come back to life?” In asking the question, he knew the answer. The moment Simeon died, his spells would have dissipated. The sorcerer-king had kept his wife—the hereditary ruler of SeLenicca—comatose for weeks to keep her from revoking the edict of joint monarchy. She had planned to strip him of power and divorce him. His blatant affair with Rejiia had pushed her beyond forgiveness.

  “Queen Miranda,” Marcus gasped. “What in the name of the Stargods is she doing here, dressed as a peasant and in the company of a Rover? I thought the SeLenese did not acknowledge outlanders as human.”

  “They don’t,” Lanciar confirmed. “It seems some changes are happening in SeLenicca.”

  “Rise up, all of you,” Queen Miranda said. She blushed and looked to her escort. “I am queen no longer. SeLenicca is in ruins. I have no government. Today I am no more than this trader’s partner. I make lace for a living.”

  Katrina smiled brightly. “So do I, Your Majesty.”

  “You will have a government again,” Jack affirmed. “King Darville is committed to helping you rebuild your country.”

  “With what? The land is bankrupt. My people are scattered and disillusioned.”

  Rejiia seemed to have been forgotten in this new development. Lanciar spared her a probing glance. She raised her wand as if to strike Zolltarn on the head with it. Did she have any magic to accompany the blow? Her emotions were out of control and so must her magic be. She reeked of Tambootie.

  Lanciar guessed the dragon weed was pushing her into insanity, just as it had Krej and Simeon before their downfalls.

  “We have a vast hoard of gold here, Milady Queen,” Zolltarn announced with all the enthusiasm of a minstrel at an Equinox Festival. “You have only to claim it.”

  “No!” a dozen or more voices protested. “The gold is mine.”

  And then the ghost of Ackerly erupted from the library. His misty white form flew broad circles around the courtyard, slashing with his sacrificial knife at all who held his gold.

  Rovers and armed guards alike in both realities beat at the wraith with daggers and cook pots and anything else made of cold iron that came easily to hand. One Rover slashed the sleeve of another open with a dagger. He received a fist in his jaw in return. Another dozen brawls erupted, spilling over to the newcomers who had not yet had a chance to claim any of the hoard.

  Still the ghost circled the compound, screaming and slashing with his dripping ritual blade. Two men fell to the ground screaming, dripping blood from scalp and back wounds.

  Lanciar waved his hands at the being. Just as it flew past him, knife aimed at the great vein of his neck, Lanciar dove beneath a sledge. The wraith howled his disappointment but kept circling, seeking a new victim.

  “Maija, if you love me even a little, you will help me make sure Rejiia does not escape justice this time,” Lanciar pleaded with whoever might hear him. A second later the weight of a gold coin rested firmly within his palm.

  Black stars clouded his vision and his head felt as if it floated somewhere around the tower roofs. The ground beneath him seemed to slant sideways.

  He braced himself to keep from sliding out from beneath the sledge and into the extended brawl. Quickly everything settled and Maija lay beside him, eyes wide and moist.

  He kissed her lips lightly. “Thank you, Maija. Now help me make certain none of these people leave until we sort this all out. We have to stop Rejiia from stealing my son or reanimating her father. Stop her forever.”

  “I knew you loved me,” Maija cried, throwing her arms around his neck and returning his kiss most soundly

  “Later, Maija. I promise that once this is over we will marry and I will stay with you. We will raise my son together with any other children we happen to have.” He held up the coin she had given him and smiled. “What happens if we drop a coin deep in the undergarment pockets of all these people?”

  Maija returned his grin. “I have listened to all these people argue. The gold is what traps them here in a ghostly existence.”

  “Then we must keep them all here for a time. Especially Rejiia. She must not leave, and she must not liberate her father from the statue.”

  “With your promise to marry me, with my clan as witness, we are already married and bound to each other for all time.” Another kiss with her body pressed tightly against his distracted him a moment.

  “Then we must work together for the safety of the clan. Help me keep all these s’murghin’ people here.”

  “Watch your language around the children!” Maija’s eyes, sparkling with mischief, belied her stern frown.

  “Will you please help me keep everyone here?”

  “Even the gadjé nobles and their retainers?”

  “Especially the s’mur—um—gadjé nobles and their pregnant daughter. If she escapes before we sort this all out, she will alert the coven and bring them here from the far corners of Kardia Hodos.” He kissed Maija’s cheek—her mouth was too dangerous with its open invitation to linger with her. Then he extricated himself from her arms.

  Maija crawled over to the nearest Rovers who rolled on the ground punching each other. She lightly removed a coin from the discarded cap of one of the men.

  “Is it one of the ghostly coins?” he asked as she handed it to him.

  “Aye. See how old it is?”

  He nodded as he picked out the outline of a long dead monarch. The date on the inscription connected it to the province of Faciar before the unification of Coronnan and the foundation of the Commune of Magicians.

  “Only the ghost’s hoard is that old.”

  Rejiia had both hands upon the tin weasel. Zolltarn worked to keep her from wrenching it away from his grasp. Sweat dripped from both of their brows. The statue retained all of Krej’s mass as a full-grown man. Neither of them could lift the thing easily. Both of their magical talents seemed depressed by the ghostly reality of the gold.

  Lanciar crawled out of his cover, careful to avoid the swooping ghost. He walked right up to Rejiia and Zolltarn. Neither took any notice of him. The weasel was more tin than gilt these days and the front legs and all of the tail seemed to have lost most of the metal, taking on a decidedly furry texture. The backlashed spell was wearing off.

  Would Krej survive? Would he emerge as a man? Or did the spell have to be reversed instead of wearing out in order for him to become other than a weasel?

  Lanciar didn’t care. He was about to irrevocably sever all of his connections to the coven. Perhaps break it apart once and for all.

  “This is for deserting our son, Rejiia, and for not giving me the right to raise him as I choose.” He dropped the antique coin down the front of her bodice. It lodged neatly between her ample breasts.

  Rejiia screeched in her most annoying voice. She clutched her temples and reeled. Zolltarn tumbled backward in full possession of the heavy statue. He landed flat on his back with Krej sitting on his chest.

  Then Rejiia’s already ghostly form dissipated more. Lanciar could barely make out an outline of her or her aura. Both had been clearly visible while she merely clutched Krej on the other side of Zolltarn’s ghos
tly grasp.

  “Neatly done, my boy. You’ll make an admirable Rover!” Zolltarn proclaimed around heavy gasps for air. He remained a silvery outline. The Bloodmage ghost and his wicked knife were more substantial.

  “Zolltarn’s had the wind knocked out of him,” Lanciar said. “Marcus, Robb, somebody help him up.”

  Lanciar had difficulty seeing the men he called to for help. But Jack and Katrina remained clearly visible, along with Vareena and Queen Miranda and her party. He must have slipped back into reality when he let loose the coin into Rejiia’s bodice. Rejiia’s violent transition had kept him from noticing the sense-shattering shift.

  One by one the nobles became opaque ghosts. Strange that the mundanes were more visible than those with magic. Rejiia and Zolltarn were the hardest of all to see.

  Then Maija popped back into full view. She smiled at him. The sun seemed to burst through the clouds and brighten his day. She had definitely inherited that smile from her father.

  “Let’s hope you have a few more scruples than your father,” he muttered as he moved to join her.

  “Changing sides again, Lanciar?” Jack confronted him, keeping him from Majia. He leveled his staff, aiming the tip directly at him.

  “Trust me, Jack. Please, trust me just this once. I know which side offers me the best hope of regaining my son and raising him in a loving family, learning to use magic responsibly.”

  “I don’t believe you any more than I did back in King Simeon’s mines. You were a spy for him and the coven then. I know you still spy for them.”

  “Traitor!” Rejiia aimed her wand directly at Lanciar.

  Lanciar saw two brief blasts of fire, one purple and silver, the other red and black, then there was nothing.

  “Enough,” Marcus said. “I’ve had enough.” He took a deep breath and fingered the three gold coins in his pocket.