NRPG:  This takes place just before Alton's post for Cynthia, since I
was waiting for Allen to pass along Geode's information.  Everyone at
Cleft can take my name off their lists, and for those of you at Geode,
I'm keri_rodgers@execacco.com

----Callana----

She met her dragon outside, basking in the sun.

<Bring any oil?> Slaire asked hopefully.

<I did.>  Callana produced a bottle of oil and a cloth.  Slaire sighed
in pleasure, and made sure her rider paid thorough attention to the
rough spots.

Slaire, her eyes half-lidded in pleasure, gave a draconian grunt as her
tongue lolled out of the side of her mouth.  Callana half expected her
dragon to fall over asleep.  She was surprised when Slaire jerked awake,
her eyes wide, and frantic.

<You have to see the Warrenlady,> Slaire sent hurridly.  <Now.>

<What?  Why?>

<Can't you hear them?>  Slaire's long neck snaked upwards.  <They'll be
here any minute.  I just received the announcement!>

<_What_ announcement?> Callana demanded.

<Merranie alCath and her dragon, Zerasantha, have requested to land on
the green in announcement of their transfer from Falagand to Cleft.>

<What?  No!  They were at Marrid!>

<Merranie sat through three hatching at Marrid, and none would take
her.  Look's like the Wicked Witch's prize broomstick finally laid a bat
that would take to the little cow.>

It was distinctly easy to discern Slaire's feelings towards Merranie. 
They clearly mirrored and duplicated Callana's.

	[Flashback/Dream]  *Oh gods, not again..*

	"So, you want to be a dragonrider."
	"Don't you?"
	"That's not what I said, Blade.  What makes you think you make the
grade?  Why would any dragon want you?"
	"I haven't been to a hatching yet, Merranie, so I wouldn't know."
	Callana let Merranie sethe for a moment under that last statement,
which referred to the most recent hatching at the warren.  Merranie had
been chosen to attend, because she had been searched out long before any
of the others.
	"What would you know, Blade?  You're just a backwoods little
know-nothing who dreams of riding a dragon.  But oh, no, that's not all
the puny whelp wants to ride- she wants T'keth, too!"
	Callana didn't answer.  Merranie had already heard her answer on that
one.  Finally, after a long, cool silence, Callana lifted her chin and
quietly stated, "I don't know what your problem is, Merranie, but it's
not mine.  Go talk to M'lach.  Maybe he cares enough about you to
actually listen to what comes out of your mouth, instead of concerning
himself on what goes _in_ it."
	She turned and walked away.

	[End Flashback/Dream]  *Aaah..*

"I'll go and see the Warrenlady now," Callana said softly.  "Please tell
Tergath's rider that I won't be joining him for practise this
afternoon."

Slaire complied, and did not answer.

Callana made her way back through Cleft, and found herself at Cynthia's
door.  She knocked twice, heard her entry granted, and opened the door.

"Callana," Cynthia said.  "What can I do for you?"

"It's easiest if I put this bluntly, Warrenlady," Callana sighed.  "I'm
requesting a transfer.  Cleft is not working out."

"Why?  What's wrong?" Cynthia asked immediately.

"It's not as remote as I'd hoped," Callana shrugged.  *My past caught up
with me,* she thought dismally, seeing the warrenlady frown.

"Well," Cynthia sighed.  "I need a more substantial reason than
location, Callana."

"It's personal," Callana said crisply.  "I received word that Merranie
alCath and her dragon Zerasantha are transferring to Cleft.  We were at
Marrid together, and we do not work well together."

"I see.  Well, I'm afraid your differences will have to be overcome. 
Frankly, you're useful at Cleft.  I'd -we'd' lose a lot."

<May as well spell it out for her, Blade,> Slaire sent.

Callana cleared her throat.  "When I returned to Marrid a year ago, I
returned alone.  When I was well enough to resume my life, I was
confronted with the blame of being responsible for my partner's death. 
The blame and confrontation stemmed entirely from Zerasantha's rider.  I
did not appreciate, at that time, any reminders of what I had gone
through.  Nor do I desire that now, so I am respectfully requesting a
transfer both for my health and the wellbeing of this warren."

Cynthia absorbed this information, quickly adding it to the snatches she
had gleaned from Callana's papers from Marrid, and the few things that
had been circulating through the warren.

"Agreed," Cynthia nodded at last.  "Give me some time to arrange
something, but I believe you would be interested in a Warren north..
very north, in the Lost Dragonlands.  Geode's warrenlady, Phaedra, would
be lucky to have you.  I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Callana said quietly, and for the first time, Cynthia heard
the sincerity of emotion that lay beneath Callana's cold exterior.  She
gave her respects to the warrenlady, and quickly exited the office.

She didn't even try to speak, feeling something close in her throat. 
*Damn!  Damn, damn, damn!  Everything settles in, and for once, just
when everything starts going right- wham!  _She_ has to show up!  Gods,
that slimy little whore'll probably move right in here, what with the
hot water and piping and such all finished... Poor Farr'in, he's gonna
get saddled with a real ..prize.. if Cynthia passes Merranie onto him..*

Merranie's graceful, hip-swinging walk thrust itself into Callana's
mind, accompanied by Merranie's tall, lithe form, rich chestnut-red hair
and bright, startling brown-green eyes.

*Then again, maybe he won't mind.*

<But you do,> Slaire cut in.  Callana didn't answer.  She met her dragon
outside, and flew to her apartment.  She had a lot more stuff to pack. 
It was cold in the north, still.  Snow was common right now, and Callana
was thankful for the all-weather gear dragonriders wore.

Her carving supplies and gems were nestled gently in amidst her
clothing.  There were a few unfinished pieces of dragon sculptures she
had been working on for a few of the riders at Cleft, but only one was
finished.  It was the first one she had started on since she had
finished the one of Furl.

It was made of brown and gold tiger's eye, patterned very accurately
after Tergath.  Two chips of pure gold winked from the eyes.  It was
carved in the shape of a dragon just leaping to catch hold of the wind,
mid-takeoff.

*I'll send the others back once I've finished them,* Callana told
herself, thinking of the lavender chunk of lapis lazuli that she had
picked out for Blanchie.

*I can get more furniture at the new warren,* she thought, looking
around at the furniture in the room.  There were a few trinkets she'd
take with her, and her gaze rested on the couch that had taken so long
for her to choose.

No long farewells, though.  She hadnât really made friends well enough
for that.  It would be easiest to just slip away.  Resoloutely, she
turned back to her packing.

Though only an hour passed, it felt like eternity.  At last, Slaireâs
relieved voice echoed through her head.

<Syren says our transfer has been approved.  I have a picture of Geode.>

<I have completed my packing.  Iâll meet you out on the green.>

<All right.>  Then, slowly, a moment later, <Zerasantha has landed.>

<Then Iâll make my exit brief.>

Gathering up the small dragon figurine, she headed for the practise
ground, where she knew Farrâin would be.  She made her way there,
wondering what to tell him, what to say, how to say it.  She still had
no idea going about it when she arrived.

"A little late, arenât we?ä Farrâin asked casually.  ãAnd cold?ä

ãWhat?  Oh,ä she said, looking down at the riding gear she was wearing. 
It was the warmest stuff she had.  ãNo.  My lack of appearance for any
more practise is going to be permanent.  Iâm transferring, Farrâin.  To
Geode.ä

Now it was Farrâinâs turn to say, ãWhat?!  Why?  Youâre doing great
here!ä

<Hurry up, Blade.  Iâm having an incredibly diffucult time keeping from
biting Zerasanthaâs head off.>

ãIt suffices to say that my past has caught with me, and I donât care to
stick around and find out what itâll do to me.ä

ãWhat ever happened to starting over?ä Farrâin demanded.  ãYou came to
Cleft for a fresh start, a new beginning-ä

ãI came to Cleft to leave behind everything uncomfortable and
unresolved, because there is nothing I can do to tie it up.  The
discomfort has followed me here, in the form of what probably will
become your new patrol partner, in my absence,ä Callana said calmly. 
ãGeode is remote enough that there is no chance my former life can
follow me there.ä

ãIs this person so terrible?  Is it so- so dire that you canât work it
out?ä

ãMy dragon is showing admirable restraint out on the green, where
Merranieâs dragon Zerasantha has landed.  I too, feel the urge to find
Zerasanthaâs rider, before I leave.  I didnât come here to argue about
leaving, Farrâin.  I came to give you this, for the work you did on my
apartment with Turner, and for the saddle, Iâve left certain pieces in
my apartment.. itâs easy to tell what is for whom.  I have unfinished
pieces with me that Iâll send back with couriers when they are
completed.ä

ãOf course,ä Farrâin said, after a quiet moment, accepting the small,
silk-wrapped parcel.  The cloth slipped away, and he smiled when he saw
what rested in his hands.  ãThank you.  I wish you luck at Geode.ä

ãThank you,ä Callana returned.  ãPass on my good wishes to your family
for me, and let the others know where Iâve gone.ä

Farrâin only nodded, as Callana turned to go.  Halfway across the
practise ground, she turned, and gave a small wave, which was still much
more like a salute than anything else.  ãFarrâin?ä she called. 
ãWhatever you do, and whatever you think of me, donât believe whatever
Merranie says about me or my past.ä  She left the practise grounds all
together, leaving Farrâin to puzzle out the last mystery she had thrown
him.

<Ready, Blade?> Slaire asked as her rider appeared on the green. 
Callana easily spotted Zerasantha, the large, brilliant lake-green
newbie on the field.  It was even easier to spot Merranie, surrounded by
a rather large welcoming committee.

ãOh my _gods_, Blade!?  Is it really you?!ä

Callana halted, mid-stride, as the breathy, sweet, painfully familiar
voice struck her ears.  Sheâd have worn the same expression if someone
had removed her hand.

ãGods, it is!  I never thought Iâd find you here,ä Merranie gushed,
breaking free of the welcomers and striding across the green towards
her.  Callana continued on to her dragon.

ãHey, slow down, Blade!  Donât you recognize me?  Itâs me, Merranie!ä

ãHow could anyone ever miss you,ä Callana responded dryly, turning
around.  Her expression was now carefully controlled, a pleasant mask
against a hot, explosive inner rage, barely contained.  ãWhat brings you
to Cleft?ä

ãOh, the sun, the fresh air, the warmth,ä Merranie sighed happily, her
gesture taking in the surrouding area.  ãYou look like youâre ready to
go somewhere yourself, though!ä

ãI am transferring to Geode Warren, in the north,ä Callana replied,
still carefully neutral.

ãOh!  I do love snow,ä Merranie smiled dreamily.  ãAll that white,
powdery stuff just makes my skin tingle!  Youâll have to learn to ski,
of course, though that shouldnât be too hard for you.  Youâre naturally
suited to such a cold climate.ä

ãAnd Iâm sure the sun wonât do you much harm here, either,ä Callana
returned, her eyes beginning to flash dangerously.  She continued on to
her dragon, not bothering to wonder if Merranie had understood what she
had implied.

<Prissy as ever, the little bitch,> Slaire grumbled.  <Her dragonâs no
prize mind, either.>

<Not our problem now,> Callana returned, hiding a small smile.  ãBest of
luck to you, Merranie, I think youâll need it.ä  <I hope she gets sucked
out by a wraith, or taken as plunder by those rogue dragons, or
kidnapped by nomads, or->

<Hush.  There are pleasanter things to dream about.>

<And nicer places to be.>  Callana swung up in the saddle, made sure her
bags were secure, and fastened her jacket.  It was warm here, and she
was beginning to sweat.

Slaire turned, and leapt into the air, her powerful wings catching and
holding, pulling her aloft.  They gained altitude quickly, and circled
over Cleft once.  Callana looked down, and saw another part of herself
disappear as the people and dragons on the ground dwindled to the size
of ants and beetles.

Callana gave silent assent, and Slaire teleported.  The air went from
warm, to nothing, to cold.  The screams were quiet, not much more than
the rushing sound of air turbulence now.  They snapped back into
existance in the middle of a light snow-fall.

It was cold.  The sweat from the warmth of extra clothing seemed to
freeze on her skin, or else it felt like it.  She was chilled to the
bone in an instant, up in the cold air.

<Land, now.>

Slaire angled down and began a fast, spiraling descent.

<I've got to be careful.  There are thermals coming off the lakes that
can flatten us into dragonrider pancakes if we hit them wrong.>

<That shouldn't be too hard,> Callana sighed.  <Can't be as bad as the
ones .. you know.>  Slaire's cold silence answered her much more clearly
than words ever could.  She remembered, very, very clearly.

<Looks like we can brush up on youth relations,> Slaire sent, as Geode
came into view.  <I feel positively old.  I hear the hatching grounds
are lovely.  They consider all that amethyst garbage, though.>

<Let them know we're here,> Callana told her dragon.  <And none of that
back-winging stuff.  You'll start a snow storm.>

<Yes, my rider.>

Callana groaned.  Her dragon had that 'whatever-you-say,
oh-great-master' tone again, which means she could expect the exact
oppsite.  She held her breath and locked her legs in the saddle,
securely prepared for a heart-stopping, breath-stealing dive, a
wrenching backwinging halt, and a butterfly-to-flower landing.

Instead, Slaire flew in lazy spirals down to a relatively clear patch of
ground.  The snow was much more wet, almost rain.  It seemed impossible,
but it was warmer on the ground.  She could feel it.  Slaire dipped her
shoulder so her rider could dismount.

<I think our welcoming committee's arrived,> Slaire sent.

-----------

NRPG:  Well, Callana's at Geode... who wants to say 'hi'?  I'll send
along her (updated) bio shortly.  I look forward to writing with you
all!

Keri Rodgers
Callana & Slaire

Return to Geode Posts for May 1997