The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 by Irene Radford Read Free Book Online Page B

wistful note and her magic closed the barrier with a snap. She made magic every time she trilled a note. A simple magic reserved for women who nurtured a family. But Mama made it something more, something powerful and awesome.
    Da lifted his head and smiled at her sweet song. His muscles seemed to fill out again, like dried fruit soaked in brandy resuming their natural shape. Mama did that to people. Gave them back to themselves with a song.
    Da . . . da . . . ah . . . ah!
Glenndon winced and covered his eyes with one hand as his telepathic hail bounced off his father’s psychic barrier and back into his own brain with the force of a flaming arrow.
    His grip weakened on his heavy ax as his father’s grip on his staff firmed. Slowly, Glenndon placed the blade on the ground, rather than drop it and dull the edge or chop off his own foot.
    “You have to say the words, with your mouth and your throat, Glenndon,” Jaylor said. Again. For the twenty thousandth time. “Not every person has the power to receive or project thought as you do. Not everyone will understand you.”
    This is important!
    So far, everyone at the University of Magicians and every visitor to the home clearing had understood Glenndon. So far, every person had received his communication, and those who could not reply the same way, spoke. He understood spoken words.
    But forming them? The scars blocking his throat grew thicker every time he tried, making him feel the need to cough and hack them out. But he couldn’t. They were permanently buried inside him.
    He’d tried. Every day since he’d broken free of the epidemic fever. He’d tried and tried again until he spat blood. He was afraid to let the words jump from his mind to his throat and out his mouth. So much easier just to
think
his words and send them outward than risk the choking and bleeding.
    “If it is important enough you will speak,” Da said wearily, rubbing his eyes. “The healers tell me there is nothing wrong with you anymore.” He made to move past Glenndon toward the hut and his supper.
    I don’t understand how to do it. Help me to understand.
Glenndon nearly shouted. The blast of his mental voice made Da cringe and lean more heavily on his staff.
    “I can’t, Glenndon.” Da gritted his teeth, still trying to rub away the pain behind his eyes. “I’m not a healer. I can’t do anything more than I have.” Anger turned Da’s face red and his voice rose. That happened a lot lately. And not just with Glenndon. Any apprentice or journeyman magician who faltered in set tasks risked Jaylor’s wrath and certain punishment; the nastiest, dirtiest, most disgusting chore he could think up—like cleaning up after journeymen who’d celebrated a tricky achievement with far too much ale. Or sluicing out the University drains.
    Glenndon backed up three paces. Not that he ever thought his father would resort to blows. But he let Da know that he feared and respected the Senior Magician and Chancellor of the University.
    “The best physicians in the realm tell me there is nothing physically wrong with you, Glenndon. The scarring is fading to near nothing. Why won’t you speak?”
    Who wanted to hear the inarticulate and painful croaks his throat made after hearing the music and laughter in his mother’s voice?
    Glenndon shrugged. Finally he formed the question. “The dragons?” he mouthed.
They need our help!
    But no sound emerged.
    “The dragons have spoken to me. Your conversations with a juvenile can’t have as much information as Baamin, the venerable blue-tip. Learning to speak clearly is more important than anything Indigo told you.”
    But . . .
    “But you and Lukan have traded chores again. He should be chopping wood, building up his muscles. Magic is hard work. We need strong bodies as well as strong minds and talent. And you should be working with the three newest apprentices, not him. Go to them, now. Teach them the proper use and preparation of protective