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

Farrell resumed when his breathing and pain eased. “Tell them what happened to me, how you and only you have cared for me these past two years. The amulet is the deed to the land. My nephews will care for you and the land.”
    A moment of hope brightened within Vareena. When this ghost died, her duties here in this abandoned monastery and within the village would ease. She’d be free to do as Farrell asked.
    “I would like that very much, Farrell.”
    “Promise me, Vareena. Promise that you will leave this cursed place and never return.”
    Vareena shifted uncomfortably upon her stool. She did not want to lie to her ghost.
    He reached out to grab her sleeve. As always, the wall of shocking energy repulsed him before he came in contact with any part of her. ’Twas always the same. He was a ghost and she still human. They were destined never to touch until one of them died.
    “Women may not own land.” A safe answer.
    “King Darville changed that law three years ago.”
    Vareena lifted her head in surprise. She shouldn’t be surprised, though. If such a drastic change had taken place, her isolated village near the Western border of Coronnan would be the last to hear of it. The women of the village would hear of it later still. The men here did not like change. They did not like her ghosts. They did not like her. They did not like much of anything.
    A measure of hope warmed her heart. She clamped down on it, afraid to allow it to grow and be drowned later.
    “I have duties here, Farrell. My family, the village, this monastery. I do not think I will be allowed to leave.” She hung her head, refusing to meet his gaze.
    “They feed off your generosity, Vareena. They need to fend for themselves. You must leave this place. As you have so often dreamed.”
    “But . . .” He was right of course.
    “For the friendship we have shared these past two years,” Farrell pleaded, “promise me that you will leave this place before it curses you, as it has cursed me and countless other men over the centuries. Leave and follow your heart, Vareena.”
    “My brothers . . . They need me to care for them as my mother did before her untimely death. The villagers . . . I am their only healer.”
    “They can all tend to themselves if forced to. You do not belong here, Vareena. Your spirit is too bright and loving to be swallowed whole by your family’s selfishness. You’ve given them twenty years since your mama died. Ten of those years ago, you should have married and started a family of your own.”
    This time she could not avoid his stern gaze. His brown eyes seemed to blaze through the ghostly mist like two dark coals, lit by his fervor. Or his fever.
    She sighed a moment in regret. She’d like a family of her own. But none of the men in this village trusted her or honored her because she could see the ghosts and was destined to care for them. None of them had offered for her hand despite her handsome dowry of two cows and three chickens.
    “I promise, Farrell. When you pass fully into the void, I will take your amulet and claim the three acres of land in the province of Nunio.”
    “Good. Now another game, perhaps. With different stakes. I have won your dowry too many times to make it worth anything. Why don’t we play for the pile of gold in the library of this place?”
    Vareena shuffled the stack of wooden cartes, each one lovingly engraved with a different image and then painted red, black, green, or yellow. “The trick to winning that particular pot is the courage to enter the library to claim the gold. Neither of us will be lucky enough to lose this pot.”
    “Ah, but what need have I of gold? I am dying, and you will need much money to buy more land in Nunio. Three acres is a fine dowry but not enough to support you.”
    “Then I will bet a chicken stew, made with the pickled beets that you love so well.”
    “Not made from your three chickens. Those you must preserve as part of your dowry.”
    “Those three