Read Online The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III by Irene Radford - Free Book Online
Authors: Irene Radford
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common room. His mother lay on a low bed beside the hearth. She shivered with intense chill in the overly warm room. Fever flushed her skin.
Baarben threw a handful of herbs onto the open fire. Aromatic smoke rose, filling the room. Bessel identified five different herbs that should reduce fever and ease painful joints. Baarben hadn’t included the Tambootie in the mixture. It had unique curative powers to anyone with a hint of magical talent but was toxic to mundanes. Should he suggest that she add some? The family must have some magic talent for him to have inherited it.
Maydon seemed more comfortable breathing the astringent essence of the plants. They had no effect on the dying woman by the hearth.
“Did he come, Maydon? Did my baby come home?” Bessel’s mother whispered. She gripped her husband’s tunic with a wasted, clawlike hand.
“I’ve come home, M’ma.” Bessel knelt beside her. He realized he didn’t even know her given name. She’d always been “M’ma” or “Mer Maydon” in his mind.
“Bessel, my baby.” Her voice trailed off and a tiny smile touched her lips. Then a fit of coughing grabbed her until unconsciousness claimed her.
“She’ll die happy now. You can go,” Maydon said. He stared into the flames rather than look at his son.
“She should have a true healer! Why didn’t you send to Lord Balthazaan?” Every lord had a magician adviser, a magician healer, and a magician priest assigned to his province. Even if Balthazaan and Humpback were out of the province, the healer and priest should be available.
“There are too many people dying of this strange disease.” Aunt Baarben touched Bessel’s sleeve in sympathy. “Even the lord’s family and household suffer. It takes the old, the young, and pregnant women first. But no one is immune.”
“I haven’t the healing talent, but I’ll see what I can do.” Bessel touched his mother’s face with exploratory fingers. He wasn’t a strong magician. Without illegally tapping a ley line, what could he do other than give his mother a little strength? Even when he’d gathered a full portion of dragon magic, he had trouble joining with the other magicians to increase the power of the joint spell by orders of magnitude. Lately he’d had trouble gathering any dragon magic at all, almost as if there wasn’t enough left to go around.
He’d give M’ma all of his strength if he could. That had to be enough until he could summon a healer. She couldn’t die. Not yet. Not until he’d made peace with her, made certain she knew that he blamed only his father for his estrangement.
“You’ll keep your filthy magic away from her!” Maydon roared, slapping Bessel’s hand away. “Let her die in peace and pass to her next existence without interference.”
Bessel stared at his left hand a moment, the one his father had slapped away. A dominant left hand had marked him as a potential magician from earliest childhood. Deliberately he closed the offending hand into a fist and drove it into Maydon’s jaw.
Maydon reared back. His crutches fell to the slate floor. He flailed clumsily as his body joined the crutches.
“Fewer than half of all left-handers are magicians and less than half of all magicians are left-handed. You condemned me as a magician before you had any true evidence,” Bessel said quietly. “And I will help my mother if I can.”
“Bessel, your father is a cripple. He can’t defend himself. He can’t work the mines anymore. You should have compassion.” Baarben rushed to help her brother stand.
“He’s so crippled he made a small fortune keeping the accounts for the mines after the accident. He’s so crippled he fathered five more children on my mother, each one diminishing her strength a little more, making her vulnerable to this hideous disease. Look at her! She’s pregnant again. That’s why she hasn’t the strength to fight it.” Bessel returned his attention to what little he knew about
Baarben threw a handful of herbs onto the open fire. Aromatic smoke rose, filling the room. Bessel identified five different herbs that should reduce fever and ease painful joints. Baarben hadn’t included the Tambootie in the mixture. It had unique curative powers to anyone with a hint of magical talent but was toxic to mundanes. Should he suggest that she add some? The family must have some magic talent for him to have inherited it.
Maydon seemed more comfortable breathing the astringent essence of the plants. They had no effect on the dying woman by the hearth.
“Did he come, Maydon? Did my baby come home?” Bessel’s mother whispered. She gripped her husband’s tunic with a wasted, clawlike hand.
“I’ve come home, M’ma.” Bessel knelt beside her. He realized he didn’t even know her given name. She’d always been “M’ma” or “Mer Maydon” in his mind.
“Bessel, my baby.” Her voice trailed off and a tiny smile touched her lips. Then a fit of coughing grabbed her until unconsciousness claimed her.
“She’ll die happy now. You can go,” Maydon said. He stared into the flames rather than look at his son.
“She should have a true healer! Why didn’t you send to Lord Balthazaan?” Every lord had a magician adviser, a magician healer, and a magician priest assigned to his province. Even if Balthazaan and Humpback were out of the province, the healer and priest should be available.
“There are too many people dying of this strange disease.” Aunt Baarben touched Bessel’s sleeve in sympathy. “Even the lord’s family and household suffer. It takes the old, the young, and pregnant women first. But no one is immune.”
“I haven’t the healing talent, but I’ll see what I can do.” Bessel touched his mother’s face with exploratory fingers. He wasn’t a strong magician. Without illegally tapping a ley line, what could he do other than give his mother a little strength? Even when he’d gathered a full portion of dragon magic, he had trouble joining with the other magicians to increase the power of the joint spell by orders of magnitude. Lately he’d had trouble gathering any dragon magic at all, almost as if there wasn’t enough left to go around.
He’d give M’ma all of his strength if he could. That had to be enough until he could summon a healer. She couldn’t die. Not yet. Not until he’d made peace with her, made certain she knew that he blamed only his father for his estrangement.
“You’ll keep your filthy magic away from her!” Maydon roared, slapping Bessel’s hand away. “Let her die in peace and pass to her next existence without interference.”
Bessel stared at his left hand a moment, the one his father had slapped away. A dominant left hand had marked him as a potential magician from earliest childhood. Deliberately he closed the offending hand into a fist and drove it into Maydon’s jaw.
Maydon reared back. His crutches fell to the slate floor. He flailed clumsily as his body joined the crutches.
“Fewer than half of all left-handers are magicians and less than half of all magicians are left-handed. You condemned me as a magician before you had any true evidence,” Bessel said quietly. “And I will help my mother if I can.”
“Bessel, your father is a cripple. He can’t defend himself. He can’t work the mines anymore. You should have compassion.” Baarben rushed to help her brother stand.
“He’s so crippled he made a small fortune keeping the accounts for the mines after the accident. He’s so crippled he fathered five more children on my mother, each one diminishing her strength a little more, making her vulnerable to this hideous disease. Look at her! She’s pregnant again. That’s why she hasn’t the strength to fight it.” Bessel returned his attention to what little he knew about
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