The Wizard's Treasure (The Dragon Nimbus) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the thrall of following the patterns of the stitches. Her foot fit perfectly into the indentation in the dust.
    A quick scan of the array of prints indicated she had passed this way at least four times in recent days.
    Scattered prints next to the wall looked tiny. The impression of heavy toes and light heels indicated someone moved furtively along. A small person. Perhaps a child.
    She hastened her steps, suddenly afraid of what she might find.
    The end of the passage—longer than she thought necessary to ensure hot food in the dining hall—opened into the cavernous kitchen. A hearth opened from each end of the room. Each fireplace could roast an entire beast. A tall man could stand within without getting soot in his hair.
    But no fire burned there now, nor had for some time. Cold ashes, mixed with fallen plaster and bricks from the chimneys, littered the floor before both hearths. Scraps of bone and desiccated meat protruded from the layers of debris. A hole in the exterior wall let in a lot of light. Too much light. She examined the jagged hole, not big enough to crawl through and too many loose bricks to be safe. The kitchen had not fared as well as the rest of the palace.
    She seemed to remember a number of passages throughout the palace blocked by collapsed ceilings and bulging walls.
    How long before the entire building fell on top of her?
    “M’ma!” a tiny voice squealed as a grimy form flung itself at her from the depths of one of the hearths.
    She looked carefully at the sobbing bundle of mismatched clothing, dirt, and cobwebs.
    “M’ma, you found me. They said you died. They said I’d never see you again. They said . . .” the child sobbed into her skirts, clutching her knees so tightly she thought she’d tumble forward and crush her baby.
    “M’ma? Am I truly your M’ma?” she asked in wonder. She wasn’t alone. Someone remembered her.
    Then concern for her child overtook her joy. She stooped down to study her baby at eye level. Bright blue eyes looked back at her from a smudged face, still round with baby fat. Probably about three. That number felt right. Three years. Three plaits. Silvery-blonde hair scraggled out of three plaits that had started out gathered tightly against the child’s head. The end of one plait was still held almost in place by a frayed pink ribbon that clashed with her red hair. The second plait had come undone and hopelessly tangled. The center plait wobbled back and forth as if the little girl had tried to fix it herself and failed.
    “Are you hurt, baby?” she asked, soothing tangles away from her child’s face. The name eluded her. But that didn’t matter. They were together.
    “I’m hungry.” The little girl pouted.
    “What have you eaten these past few days?”
    “Some of the roast. I found a turnip!” The child’s face brightened as she held up half of a withered root vegetable. Tiny teeth marks showed around the edges. She didn’t lisp around missing teeth, so she must still be very young. The number three settled in the woman’s mind more firmly.
    “What a clever girl you are. Where did you find the turnip?” Her own hunger began to plague her insistently.
    “Down there.” The child pouted as she glanced at a trapdoor and then back to her mother’s skirts. A cellar or pantry. More food, assuming the place had not been looted when the kardiaquakes sent everyone in flight from the city.
    “You were very brave to climb down there. Will you come with me as we look for more turnips and things.”
    “A rat scared me.” An almost clean thumb crept toward the little girl’s mouth.
    The woman allowed the child to find what little comfort she could from sucking. Stargods knew when they’d live a normal life, in a normal home, with a normal schedule again.
    Schedules.
    The concept of following a routine determined by others sounded oddly comforting and right.
    She stood and held her hand for the child. “We’ll protect each other from the rat, baby. You