[The day of the Council, the morning after B'kez and Rotha's deaths]

Almiron rose from the bed during the steel grey hour of the morning and 
went to one of the lakes to bathe.  Darshan joined him, but there was no 
splashing or laughter.  Almiron arranged his hair in a braid, pulled on 
his clothes and headed for the Medical Center.

He was tired and knew his patients would suffer for it.  He felt as if he
had failed Hehran yet again by missing sleep playing over the incidents of
the previous day, as if by reviewing them he could chage the outcome.  He 
vowed that if anyone were to suffer for his mistakes, it would be him.  
He also hoped that he would beat Kyven to the Center.  Perhaps, perhaps...

He had no such luck.  The healer was sitting in his mate's room.  A cot 
had been folded up in the corner and Kyven's hair was still damp.  He had 
spent the night in the Center.  By the look in his eyes, he had not slept 
much, either.

He glanced up as Almiron entered the room, looking suddenly wary, but
Almiron looked whipped and his fear soon turned to pity.  So, B'kez's
death was bothering him?  Kyven regretted that he could not offer Almiron
some small bit of comfort, but there was none to give.  B'kez hadn't been 
old or ill and he had not died peacefully.  And Rotha had been virtually 
uninjured.  Kyven had watched B'kez die, and the anger in him still 
burned, though it was now a small coal where it had been a flame the 
night before.  Kyven didn't like to lose patients.  He didn't like to 
lose at all, in fact.  But something in Almiron's eyes reminded him of 
eyes that had stared at himself out of a mirror-- the eyes of a man who 
has had to deal with the fact that he is fallible and people have died 
for his mistakes.  For all that he was angry at the loss, he couldn't be 
angry at Almiron.  He had taken the young man for granted.  There would 
have been a lot more losses if not for him.

"You look like death warmed over," he commented, trying to ease the strain.

Almiron nodded, but said nothing.

"You're here early today."

"I could not sleep after..."

Kyven nodded.  "Look, Almiron, about what I said last night..."

"No, don't apologise.  You were right.  I cannot afford to make mistake."

Kyven sighed.  "You're not Hehran or any other deity, Almiron.  You're 
human.  You make mistakes, you have emotions, you get tired or sick or 
stupid sometimes.  I... was too harsh on you....  And I'm terribly sorry 
about what I said about Hehran.  It was uncalled for.  I hope you can 
take the ragings of a man under a lot of stress with a lot of salt?"

Almiron nodded, but it was not the nod of a man who agreed, so much as the
nod of someone who wished to drop the topic and go on.  Kyven knew when 
to give up, though, so he accepted the nod and pulled out the paper he'd 
listed his most critical patients on.  "Well, let's go to work so I can 
get out of here and have breakfast with my kids.  D'you think you're up 
to it?"

There was a momentary flash of resolve in Almiron's dark eyes.  "I will 
do what I can."

Kyven nodded and consulted his list, and so the day began.

******

"T'kar is off the critical list, so I'm going to have you see someone 
else instead," Kyven was saying.

They had seen several patients-- two less than the day before when you 
included S'brogh-- and were almost done.  Almiron was fighting nausea and 
there was a burning along his back.  He hadn't had any nosebleeds, 
fortunately, or faintness, so Kyven had yet to catch on.

"Are you okay?" Kyven asked suddenly.

"I am... just tired.  I think after two more patient, I will go home and 
sleep."

"You sure you can handle two more?"

"I know my limitation."

"Yes, but will you stay within them?  I don't need you in a coma.  That 
doesn't do me any good.  Okay?"

Almiron's eyes met his.  "I promise.  I will not go into coma."

Kyven sighed.  He wished the young man would gain some life back in his 
eyes, but knew such things took time to work through.  "Okay, with T'kar 
moved down, that moves B'k..." he stopped at the name, and silently 
crossed the name off the list, "... Suayla of Marrid up."

The two walked into the area where the young woman was laying.  She was 
conscious, but groggy from painkillers and her face looked feverish.  
Next to her bed sat M'tan's brother Al'dairan, holding her hand as if it 
were made of glass.  He was talking in a light, joking voice to the 
woman, but the smile on his lips didn't extend to his eyes.  He was 
afraid, and trying to hide it.

Healing her was excruciating.  Almiron hid it behind the blank mask he 
wore often in the face of emotions he didn't want to display.

If Kyven noticed, he kept it to himself.  He patted Al'dairan on the
shoulder and encouraged him to hang in there, and consulted his list. 
"Next is..." He stopped and wet his lips, fighting the fear in him.  "Next
is Reetsada."  He hadn't realised B'kez's death moved Ree onto Almiron's 
list of patients.  He was at once exultant, guilty, and afraid.  Mostly 
afraid.  Afraid of losing that small whisp of hope he kept locked inside 
him, a hope fed by the phenomenon that was Almiron.  He felt Aethnod's 
strength flowing into him, comforting him.  There were no words of 
comfort, only that strength of love sent through the bond.

They walked into Ree's room and Almiron laid his hands on her.  Kyven
waited the requisite amount of time and reched to pull him away, then
hesitated.  Would it hurt to let the healer touch her a minute longer?  He
clenched his jaw and gently pulled the young man away.  So lost in his own
emotions was he that he didn't see the foreigner grimace in pain.  There
was no immediate change in Ree's appearance.  He stood, staring down at
her, willing some sign that it was working.

"I must go," Almiron said.

Without turning to look at the young man, Kyven replied distractedly, 
"Yeah, thanks for your help, Almiron.  I'll see you tomorrow."

******

Almiron ate a quick breakfast of fruit and bread in his apartment and 
then laid down to sleep, still fully clothed.  As he was drifting off, he 
received the message from Darshan that they were looking for volunteers 
to go to Marrid.  He considered it briefly, but the strong pull of 
friendship here made the thought almost impossible to consider.  It was 
too recently home to abandon.

He drifted alseep and then started awake at a dream... or a memory.  
Briana had kissed him-- almost, but not quite on the mouth-- and he 
didn't know what to make of it.  No, it wasn't a dream, it was a memory.  
He lay wondering for a moment, before his exhaustion pulled him under 
once more.

******

He awoke to find that it was evening.  He had sweated profusely in his
sleep and now his clothes were damp and clammy against him.  He pulled
them off.  And stared at the bruises on his chest and back in the mirror. 
He realised one eye was black and swollen, as if someone had hit him.  He
washed quickly with a cloth, soap and water, and dressed in some clean
clothes.  His stomach growled impatiently. 

<Darshan, come get me for dinner, please.>

Darshan huffed an exasperated sigh through the bond.  <Oh, very well.  
You will have someone thinking you have been in a fight, though, if you 
go out in public with that black eye.>

Almiron shrugged.  <It cannot be helped.  I want warm food and I don't 
feel like cooking.>

******

He landed on the green outside the dining hall at the same time as Michel 
arrived.  The red-head looked quite down.

"Are you all right?" Almiron asked him, concerned.

Michel looked up and did a double take.  "I think I could ask you the 
same question.  Who gave you that shiner?"

Almiron touched the black eye lightly.  "This?  It is long story."

"Hmmm... okay, you don't wanna talk, I understand.  As for me, well, 
Carie volunteered to go to Marrid and it's kinda..." he shrugged.  "I've 
realised I don't know too many people here, because I always had Carie 
around, you know?"

Almiron patted his back sympathetically.  "If it helps, I would be 
honoured to have you as dinner companion."

The two walked into the hall.  Several people seemed to notice the black 
eye as they passed the various tables.  The two of them sat at a table 
made up of some of Gamma wing and some of the new trainees.  He noticed 
Briana, several seats down, take note of the eye.  Several other people 
were studying him speculatively.

<Pet, I have just had several dragons ask me what happened to your eye, 
so they can relay it back to their riders.  Some are thinking that you 
may have been beaten up by some like V'rdeen.  What should I tell them?>

Almiron sighed.  <Say I fell.>

<And if they don't believe it?>

<That is their problem.>

His conversation was interrupted by Darlea throwing her arms around him 
from behind.  "Almiron, I haven't seen you in a couple of days.  I'm glad 
you're here."

He turned and smiled at her, and she stepped back with a gasp.  "What 
happened?"

He sighed again.  It was going to be a long night.

Respectfully submitted,
 Lynette R. F. Cowper
  Almiron and Darshan

NRPG: Welp, I think that catches me up.

Chris C: Almiron will be willing to listen if Michel wants to talk during 
or after dinner.

All: He'll pretty much stick to his story that he fell, though since he's 
bruised elsewhere than the eye, almost any decent touch to his body is 
going to make him wince.  ANd anyone who gets the shirt off him will see 
how bad it is...


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 * Lynette R. F. Cowper       *     Official INWO NetRep & Goddess    *
 * lcowper@io.com             *        Circle of Janus Secretary      *
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 *     The INWO rulings I make are official.  All other opinions,     *
 *  discussions, deck ideas, card ideas, political beliefs, etc. are  *
 *  my own and not those of Steve Jackson Games, the Circle of Janus, *
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