The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume III: Volume III

join us, we will give you a name worthy of our clan.”
    “When will I join you—if I decide to join your clan?”
    “When you and I are married. When you and I soar through the heavens on a cloud of bliss on our wedding night. Then you will know the ecstasy of belonging to a clan.” She moved closer. Her scent—soap, berries, and feminine allure—filled Lanciar’s senses with longing.
    Lanciar swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth.
    “Come with me now, spy, and I will introduce you to your son. For the sake of your son, you will marry me. For the sake of your son, you will moderate your language, you will join with us, strengthen our clan with your strength, with your weapons, with your magic.” She drifted closer yet. Her sweet breath fanned his cheek.
    Slowly he shifted his mouth closer to hers. Closer until his lips brushed hers ever so lightly. Fire lit his veins and blanked his mind to all but Maija.
    “Come,” she whispered, taking his hand and leading him back to the encampment.
    Men and women alike erected the circle of tents and bardos with swift efficiency. Trained soldiers didn’t set up camp any better.
    Still holding his hand, Maija led him to the small red tent with black trim beside Zolltarn’s huge purple one. Together they ducked inside the long strands of wooden beads that served as a curtain. The aromatic incense of Tambootie wood greeted him from the beads as well as the fire. His senses reeled under the onslaught of hypnotic humors.
    Lanciar blinked rapidly for several heartbeats, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom of the tent interior and for his senses to balance. Maija continued to hold his hand. A fine layer of sweat moistened his palms. His mouth continued to dry. He swallowed convulsively several times, wishing he had a mug of Maija’s very fine ale.
    At last he spotted the curtained cradle swinging between two upright stands set beside the narrow pallet where Maija slept alone each night. A series of gurgles and coos came from the depths of the gauzy linen drapes over the peaked half roof of the cradle.
    Lanciar dropped the bundle of kindling in his haste to reach his son. The Tambootie smoke had heightened his magical senses. One glimpse of the child’s aura told him that he had sired this fragile scrap of humanity. He slid to his knees beside the cradle, fumbling with the coverings. Desperate to see the boy, afraid that Maija would hide the baby again if Lanciar took too long, he ripped away the fine linen.
    His son stopped wiggling and cooing for one long breathless moment while father and son studied each other. Then at last the boy smiled, revealing toothless gums. He drooled and waved his hands about, happy with his life, with his full tummy, and his clean diaper.
    “He is the most beautiful baby in the world,” Lanciar gasped.
    “Because he is your son.” Maija beamed at him.
    “Have you given him a name?” Lanciar spoke in hushed tones lest he startle the babe and set him crying. He offered the boy a finger to grasp.
    A tiny fist wrapped around the digit with amazing strength and pulled it toward his mouth. Instantly, the baby began gnawing on it.
    “Is he hungry?” Lanciar kept his finger where his son wanted it.
    “No. He just needs to taste you in order to fix you in his tiny mind,” Maija replied. She continued smiling hugely. “He’s also beginning to grow teeth. His gums itch.”
    Lanciar finally gathered enough of his wits to look the boy over. Fine black hair with just a hint of a curl in it. Pink skin, much fairer than the olive tones of the Rovers. And incredibly deep blue eyes, the color of midnight at the full moon.
    Rejiia’s eyes.
    Lanciar allowed his eyes to cross so he could study his son’s aura. Undistinguished layers of purple, blue, red, green, and yellow frothed about him. He hadn’t yet developed enough personality to push one color through to dominance.
    “Marry me, and we will raise the boy together. You need never be separated from him again,” Maija said. She lifted the babe into her arms, one hand beneath his bottom, the other supporting his head as she held him close against her shoulder.
    “And if I choose to take my son back to my own land?”
    “You will never see him again,” she replied sternly.
    “Then I will marry you.” He swallowed, trying to get rid of his increasingly dry throat.
    And then he noticed, eyes still crossed, how Maija’s aura completely engulfed his son’s, replacing it with her