The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 by Irene Radford Page B
Authors: Irene Radford
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were ill at the age of three. I also know that the healers have pronounced your throat clear and clean,” the king continued. “Perhaps when faced with the mind-blind day in and day out you will overcome your reluctance,” the king said quietly. “I escaped the worst of the epidemic, but I was sick and I know how much it hurt to talk, how hard it was to force myself to stretch my throat back into working order. It must be one hundred times worse for you.”
Glenndon’s heart warmed a bit, pushing aside his resentment. At last he’d found someone who understood!
The soldiers and minor lords spread out across the hills and vales, chasing steeds that shied and pranced away from any movement toward them. None of the men appeared to be listening, or interested in the king or . . . or his guest.
“I had hoped our first meeting would be . . . more peaceful, if not private. Nothing at court is truly private.” The king took one hesitant step forward, hands extended slightly, as if offering a more intimate greeting but not sure how it would be returned.
Glenndon wanted to accept the king’s affection. He relived a moment of the fierce and intense hugs his parents and siblings passed around at any excuse. Valeria’s slender fingers touched him most deeply because she depended upon him for so much. But this man, the king, was not family. He wanted to claim Glenndon as a son.
Glenndon was not ready to name him father, despite that moment of understanding.
This “ragtag” army answers to me. None other. Someone else pays them, but they understand me. I too am less than a legitimate first son and heir. They know my motives and agree with my plans. None of them shall suffer for shooting at the dragon. I ordered the deed. I alone shall walk back to the city. I alone shoulder the responsibility. But only as far as my army can see. No one else must know who leads here. Not yet. But soon.
CHAPTER 13
J AYLOR RAN HIS FINGER down two lists of names. Master Robb had proposed five apprentices ready for advancement. For the first time Glenndon’s name appeared on the annual review of student progress. He let his finger linger on the name, should he run a line through it? Ritual required the candidate be present during the annual ceremony of giving the gifts of a medium blue robe to replace the light blue, a slightly larger piece of glass for scrying, and a journey to complete the training.
Glenndon could not appear for the ceremony. Nor had he learned to speak.
On the other list, Marcus had put Lukan’s name at the top. Jaylor agreed that his second son—he could not get it out of his head that Glenndon was not his first—had accomplished enough over the last year to advance. Though not as strong or imaginative as his brother, he completed his assignments within allotted time periods. No better or worse than his classmates. Still, was it fair to advance the younger boy before his brother?
He raised his head from the list, listening to the air and touching his own Master-sized scrying glass, praying for word, from any one of half a dozen sources, that Glenndon and Fred had arrived safely at court.
Nothing.
But there was a firm step and clatter of boot heels in the corridor outside his office.
“Guess what I found!” Robb announced with glee. He strode in without knocking or asking permission. He’d always been precise in concocting a spell and in protocol. Until he and Maigret had gone adventuring on their own journey to explore the Big Continent and ports unknown. Marcus was the freewheeling, free-thinking, rely-on-his-luck magician in his youth. Then he met Vareena and settled in to be an excellent husband, father, and teacher. Best friends, Marcus’ and Robb’s talents and personalities complemented each other.
“It had better be good, and interesting,” Jaylor growled. He had no need to worry about Glenndon. But he did, and worry always made him snappish.
“It is. Oh, it is very good.” Robb plunked
Glenndon’s heart warmed a bit, pushing aside his resentment. At last he’d found someone who understood!
The soldiers and minor lords spread out across the hills and vales, chasing steeds that shied and pranced away from any movement toward them. None of the men appeared to be listening, or interested in the king or . . . or his guest.
“I had hoped our first meeting would be . . . more peaceful, if not private. Nothing at court is truly private.” The king took one hesitant step forward, hands extended slightly, as if offering a more intimate greeting but not sure how it would be returned.
Glenndon wanted to accept the king’s affection. He relived a moment of the fierce and intense hugs his parents and siblings passed around at any excuse. Valeria’s slender fingers touched him most deeply because she depended upon him for so much. But this man, the king, was not family. He wanted to claim Glenndon as a son.
Glenndon was not ready to name him father, despite that moment of understanding.
This “ragtag” army answers to me. None other. Someone else pays them, but they understand me. I too am less than a legitimate first son and heir. They know my motives and agree with my plans. None of them shall suffer for shooting at the dragon. I ordered the deed. I alone shall walk back to the city. I alone shoulder the responsibility. But only as far as my army can see. No one else must know who leads here. Not yet. But soon.
CHAPTER 13
J AYLOR RAN HIS FINGER down two lists of names. Master Robb had proposed five apprentices ready for advancement. For the first time Glenndon’s name appeared on the annual review of student progress. He let his finger linger on the name, should he run a line through it? Ritual required the candidate be present during the annual ceremony of giving the gifts of a medium blue robe to replace the light blue, a slightly larger piece of glass for scrying, and a journey to complete the training.
Glenndon could not appear for the ceremony. Nor had he learned to speak.
On the other list, Marcus had put Lukan’s name at the top. Jaylor agreed that his second son—he could not get it out of his head that Glenndon was not his first—had accomplished enough over the last year to advance. Though not as strong or imaginative as his brother, he completed his assignments within allotted time periods. No better or worse than his classmates. Still, was it fair to advance the younger boy before his brother?
He raised his head from the list, listening to the air and touching his own Master-sized scrying glass, praying for word, from any one of half a dozen sources, that Glenndon and Fred had arrived safely at court.
Nothing.
But there was a firm step and clatter of boot heels in the corridor outside his office.
“Guess what I found!” Robb announced with glee. He strode in without knocking or asking permission. He’d always been precise in concocting a spell and in protocol. Until he and Maigret had gone adventuring on their own journey to explore the Big Continent and ports unknown. Marcus was the freewheeling, free-thinking, rely-on-his-luck magician in his youth. Then he met Vareena and settled in to be an excellent husband, father, and teacher. Best friends, Marcus’ and Robb’s talents and personalities complemented each other.
“It had better be good, and interesting,” Jaylor growled. He had no need to worry about Glenndon. But he did, and worry always made him snappish.
“It is. Oh, it is very good.” Robb plunked
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