The Wizard's Treasure (The Dragon Nimbus) by Irene Radford Read Free Book Online Page B

Council of Provinces.”
    “I am obligated to obey the orders of my king and no one else, sir,” Jack replied. “I do not recognize you as a member of the Council of Provinces. Nor are you one of their retainers.” The hair on his spine and nape bristled.
    Shoppers and merchants alike began drifting closer, listening avidly.
    Jack searched their faces for any sign of an ally. No one looked in the least sympathetic. Their fear of magic gave the witch-sniffers all the authority they wanted. The Gnostic Utilitarian cult had fed that fear with horror stories. Every death within the city—murder, accident, disease, or old age—was caused by a magician’s spell. Every financial setback or change in the weather became the revenge of a disgruntled magician. To make matters worse, ritually slaughtered cats, dogs, rats, even goats and sheep were often found laid at the foot of Festival Pylons around the city as if for a magical sacrifice.
    Jack knew no magician would leave evidence lying around so openly, even if they needed the blood of the dying animal to fuel a magical talent.
    But the Gnuls didn’t care about truth, only about instilling fear in the hearts of the innocent so that the cult could take control of their lives.
    Nervously, he fingered the short sword at his hip, wishing the weapon were his staff instead. He knew how to defend himself with a magician’s basic tool. He’d worn the blade and guard’s uniform barely a full moon.
    “Are you protecting the witch, young man?” The Gnul continued to press closer to Jack.
    The crowd grumbled disapproval of all witches. Two men threw stones where the dye merchant had had her awning. One of them whistled very close to Jack’s ear.
    “What witch?” Jack faced the accuser, trying to keep his fear out of his voice and posture.
    The witch-sniffer had gone from wanting to question the woman to actively accusing her without benefit of trial or evidence. Every accused had the right to a public trial. He wondered if the Gnuls and their witch-sniffers ever bothered with the legal process.
    The crowd went silent and closed ranks in a near perfect circle around Jack and the Gnul.
    “The woman who just ran away. The woman you were doing business with. What were you trying to buy from her? A love potion, perhaps, or poison to use on our king?”
    Jack allowed a laugh to explode at the nonsense. “All I wanted was some dye for my betrothed to use on her wedding gown.”
    The crowd didn’t think this was funny. Angry mutters began rising. The sound nearly drowned out the sound of Jack’s heart pounding too rapidly. One stooped, old woman licked her lips. “Gonna have us a witch-burning,” she sniggered.
    “Seize this man for aiding a witch!” the Gnul shouted.
    “Not again,” Jack sighed. The last time he’d come to this market square three years ago he’d fled a man bent on destroying him. Must he do so again?
    Two burly men grabbed Jack’s arms.
    Deftly Jack twisted and shifted his weight. His captors lost their grip. While they stumbled forward, he ducked and slid backward. He’d learned something useful during his three years of slavery in King Simeon’s mines.
    “Catch that man, he’s a witch!”
    “Not this time, witch-sniffer.” Jack ran. He knew this city from years of scavenging the streets before Baamin and the University of Magicians recognized his potential. He knew places . . .
    Before he could change his mind, he dove into the river. Cold water closed over his head. He swam deeper, praying to the Stargods that he had enough breath to take him beyond sight of the witch-sniffer.
    Lungs burning and eyes smarting, he broke the surface well downstream from the market island. He heard the tramp of many feet on a nearby bridge as the witch-sniffer raised the hue and cry. Coronnan City was made up of hundreds of little river islands connected by bridges.
    Within minutes, the current took Jack past a large residential island. The Gnuls would have to wind