than her instinct for providing wonderful meals for empty stomachs precisely when needed.
A quick probe of red-and-black light, showing Powwell’s unique signature very nicely now that he knew how to see his own colors, and he ducked back into the passageway, leaving the door ajar a tiny crack.
“Bessel was right to refuse the quest! Scarface needs him to help with all the new apprentices he brings in by the sledgeload,” Red Beetle hissed.
Powwell heard the click as the middle-aged man snapped his fingers while he talked. He made a sound very like the red beetle he was named for.
Briefly, Powwell wondered if he kept one of the stinky insects in his pocket as a familiar. Wouldn’t that set Scarface on his ear if he did! He’d have to outlaw one of his staunchest supporters.
“Bessel is so insecure about being outcast he’ll fall under Scarface’s total control in no time,” Red Beetle finished.
“And I say we cannot take a chance on having any outsiders in the University and Commune. We must purge our membership.” A small thud followed Humpback’s words. Powwell could almost see the stoop-shouldered magician who advised lord Balthazaan ramming his staff up and down with each word. His awkward posture made him rely on his basic tool of magic as a walking stick as well as a channel for his spells.
“We don’t have to worry about Powwell any longer. His magic is stronger than Bessel’s and he’s more independent.” Red Beetle said.
“Too creative with his spells by half. Powwell always has to be different.” Humpback pounded his staff against the flagstones.
“Well, Scarface formally dismissed him. He has to be out of Coronnan in three days or face trial and imprisonment, possibly execution. ’Tis a good law, no magic or magicians without Commune sanction,” Red Beetle replied.
So, the removal from the University of everyone who had studied or worked with Nimbulan was an actual conspiracy rather than merely Scarface lashing out at what he could never totally control. Powwell had suspected as much moons ago.
“Once we have total control over all the members of the Commune, the rest of Coronnan will fall into our hands. The ineffective king and Council of Provinces will be obsolete. We will have order governed by dragon magic at last,” Humpback said decisively.
Total control of the kingdom? The Commune wasn’t supposed to work that way. They provided neutral advisers to the king and lords.
What could Powwell do to stop them?
Nothing.
Good thing he was headed to Hanassa as soon as he found an entrance into the closed city deep in an ancient volcanic caldera. If Rollett still lived, Powwell could send him home to help Nimbulan, Lyman, and Bessel fight this conspiracy, too.
Should he warn Bessel?
If Bessel didn’t know about the conspiracy now, he would not listen to Powwell’s warning.
“Sorry, Bessel, I can’t stick around to help you. But you’ll land on your feet. You always do, though you might not think so. I’ll send Rollett back to help,” he whispered to his absent friend, “because I’ve got to find Kalen and this is the only way to do it.”
He listened a few more moments as the magicians planned how they would advise their lords to coincide with Scarface’s policies. That wasn’t supposed to be the way the system worked. The magician advisers should be neutral observers. Politics should not taint the Commune and the University. But they did.
Then the two master magicians left the kitchen, without glancing at Powwell. They each munched on thick slabs of bread slathered with brambleberry jam.
When he could no longer hear their steps on the flagstone passageway, Powwell slipped into the kitchen.
“I’ve packed a journey bag for you,” Guillia said without preamble. “You’ll find my girl.”
“I’m going to try,” Powwell replied, raising his eyebrows at the woman’s perception. He hefted the pack on the worktable, almost as big and heavy as the one he
A quick probe of red-and-black light, showing Powwell’s unique signature very nicely now that he knew how to see his own colors, and he ducked back into the passageway, leaving the door ajar a tiny crack.
“Bessel was right to refuse the quest! Scarface needs him to help with all the new apprentices he brings in by the sledgeload,” Red Beetle hissed.
Powwell heard the click as the middle-aged man snapped his fingers while he talked. He made a sound very like the red beetle he was named for.
Briefly, Powwell wondered if he kept one of the stinky insects in his pocket as a familiar. Wouldn’t that set Scarface on his ear if he did! He’d have to outlaw one of his staunchest supporters.
“Bessel is so insecure about being outcast he’ll fall under Scarface’s total control in no time,” Red Beetle finished.
“And I say we cannot take a chance on having any outsiders in the University and Commune. We must purge our membership.” A small thud followed Humpback’s words. Powwell could almost see the stoop-shouldered magician who advised lord Balthazaan ramming his staff up and down with each word. His awkward posture made him rely on his basic tool of magic as a walking stick as well as a channel for his spells.
“We don’t have to worry about Powwell any longer. His magic is stronger than Bessel’s and he’s more independent.” Red Beetle said.
“Too creative with his spells by half. Powwell always has to be different.” Humpback pounded his staff against the flagstones.
“Well, Scarface formally dismissed him. He has to be out of Coronnan in three days or face trial and imprisonment, possibly execution. ’Tis a good law, no magic or magicians without Commune sanction,” Red Beetle replied.
So, the removal from the University of everyone who had studied or worked with Nimbulan was an actual conspiracy rather than merely Scarface lashing out at what he could never totally control. Powwell had suspected as much moons ago.
“Once we have total control over all the members of the Commune, the rest of Coronnan will fall into our hands. The ineffective king and Council of Provinces will be obsolete. We will have order governed by dragon magic at last,” Humpback said decisively.
Total control of the kingdom? The Commune wasn’t supposed to work that way. They provided neutral advisers to the king and lords.
What could Powwell do to stop them?
Nothing.
Good thing he was headed to Hanassa as soon as he found an entrance into the closed city deep in an ancient volcanic caldera. If Rollett still lived, Powwell could send him home to help Nimbulan, Lyman, and Bessel fight this conspiracy, too.
Should he warn Bessel?
If Bessel didn’t know about the conspiracy now, he would not listen to Powwell’s warning.
“Sorry, Bessel, I can’t stick around to help you. But you’ll land on your feet. You always do, though you might not think so. I’ll send Rollett back to help,” he whispered to his absent friend, “because I’ve got to find Kalen and this is the only way to do it.”
He listened a few more moments as the magicians planned how they would advise their lords to coincide with Scarface’s policies. That wasn’t supposed to be the way the system worked. The magician advisers should be neutral observers. Politics should not taint the Commune and the University. But they did.
Then the two master magicians left the kitchen, without glancing at Powwell. They each munched on thick slabs of bread slathered with brambleberry jam.
When he could no longer hear their steps on the flagstone passageway, Powwell slipped into the kitchen.
“I’ve packed a journey bag for you,” Guillia said without preamble. “You’ll find my girl.”
“I’m going to try,” Powwell replied, raising his eyebrows at the woman’s perception. He hefted the pack on the worktable, almost as big and heavy as the one he
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