The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume I: Volume I

known, had not done the things a father was meant to share with a son—the kinds of things Jaylor was doing now with his two little boys.
    (Will you deny your own children the right of a father?)
    “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have any children. I haven’t even . . . well, you know. Katrina’s the only woman I know and we haven’t gotten that far.”
    (Yet.)
    “Not likely to either.”
    (Time will tell.)
    “Not to change the subject or anything, but while we are sharing these intimate thoughts, how come you’ve never given me your name. Dragons like names, use them all the time. But you don’t seem to have one.”
    (I have a name. The time was not right to tell you.)
    “When will be the right time?”
    (In another life I was called Baamin.)

Chapter 39
     
    W eakness assailed Rejiia’s limbs and mind. “How can I follow that wretched boy and his dragons? I have no magic left for the transport spell.”
    There is Tambootie here in the vale, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
    “P’pa?” She looked at the tin statue resting on the grass beside her. Sometime during the battle it had tipped onto its side. Flakes of gilt paint littered the grass in a circle around the sculpture. Very little paint was left.
    Set me upright. The imperious tone, without the whine Simeon had developed these last few months, told her the owner of the voice belonged only to her father.
    “At last you recognize that I have some purpose.” She stared at Lord Krej without moving him. “You are now dependent upon me, Father.”
    And you must depend upon me to replenish your magic in time to follow the boy and the dragons.
    “How?” She edged a little closer to him, not certain how she should feel toward him. “How are you speaking to me?” she amended her question.
    The backlash wears thin.
    “How?” she asked again. Her curiosity vied with her need to have her father acknowledge her as his equal in magic.
    For many moons, I struggled against the spell. It fed upon the fight. I planned the spell to be self-renewing because I knew my intended victim would never give up. Once I realized this, the magic had no energy to feed it. Little by little it wears thin.
    “How long before you are free?” Suddenly, Rejiia wasn’t certain she wanted him animate, arrogant, ordering her and everyone else to heed to his slightest wish. Besides, if he was animate again, he might try to steal the Coraurlia from her.
    I cannot tell. Once we have dealt with Yaakke and the dragons, you must take me to Hanassa. My mother’s people might help us.
    “Us? What if I decide to leave you here? I am a full magician, more powerful than any in the Commune. What if I don’t need you?”
    You need me, child. Because I am your father and you will never be happy until we face each other and prove ourselves equals in magic and cunning.
    “You are right about that, Father. I’ll eat of this stunted Tambootie and the food left behind by the dragons. Then we will confront our enemies.”
    She welcomed the chill and the darkness of the void after the heat of the magic battle with Yaakke. The sensory deprivation ended the residual fatigue and the little aches and pains of her corporeal body.
    We cannot linger here, Father. We must finish what I have started.
    She didn’t regret Simeon’s passing. In Hanassa, she could find sufficient believers to form a ritual star again. Lanciar could be persuaded to join her. He was such a magnificent sexual partner, she’d regret losing him to another.
    The fishing village with no name must be near the foothills of the Southern Mountains. She chose a spot near the decaying Equinox Pylon. P’pa had brought his entire family here the summer she turned ten. He didn’t usually tour the forgotten reaches of his provinces. She’d forgotten what brought him here—something to do with witchwomen and dragons. The steep cliff down to the gravel beach and the Dragon’s Teeth—a wicked rock formation in the cove—had stayed in her mind.
    No one seemed to be active in the village yet. The fishing fleet would have left at dawn. Anyone else with sense was still abed.
    The path behind the pub was easy to see. Many feet had pounded the dirt into reasonable smoothness. What was the boy’s next landmark?
    A boulder split in half by a tree.
    The memory had been clear and precise in his head when she tried stripping his mind. Carefully she recreated the image of the broken boulder and launched herself and the tin