[Qedhar]

He came to slowly, hearing the jabber of the foreign tongue of his masters.

His tribe was gone.  He had had only Omana left and she was gone now as 
well.  He opened his eyes slowly, taking in all the strange faces-- strange 
faces, pale, with oddly wide eyes, like they were constantly surprised or 
angry, in odd colours, and hair colours he had never seen until his 
awakening in the strange cave the day before.  Now he was in another of 
those caves and surrounded by strangers.

Omana.

He sat up, struggling to do it one-armed, then lost the battle against 
tears.  He buried his head in his hand.

He heard Sol let out an exasperated string of babble.

Another voice said something, then a child's voice spoke.  He felt the bed 
shift and looked down to see a little girl looking into his face earnestly, 
offering her doll.  She could be one of his people easily.  She looked a 
little like his daughter Airia had.  Airia who was dead.

"Cummon, Benna," the man's voice said.

Benna?  His head jerked up in surprise to look at the man who called this 
one 'my daughter', his tears forgotten.  The man was a slave, by his hair, 
and did not look to be of Qedhar's people.  But the little girl looked like 
she could be a half-breed.

"She is your daughter?  You can speak my tongue?"

The man backed away, muttering something in the strange gibberish.  But the 
little girl's eyes lit up.  "You speak like my mama!  That's M'tan.  He and 
Aleta, the one with the red hair, take care of me.  My mama is gone.  It 
made me sad.  Why are you crying?  Are you hurt?"  She turned to M'tan and 
told him something, then turned back to Qedhar to hear his answer.

Relief flooded through him to find anyone to talk to, even a little girl.  
"I am crying because my daughter Omana is hurt and I can't see her."

"Why not?"

"Because that man brought me here and left her."

"M'tan will go get her for you."

He smiled at her.  "I don't know if that is possible or not.  People there 
may not let her come."

"Oh, I'm sure people wouldn't be mean like that to you."

They continued to talk, ignoring the brief exchange between the others in 
the room.

[Almiron]

Almiron stepped into the room, taking in M'tan settling his mate into a 
chair, Christalla and an unknown dragonrider sitting by a bedside where 
Benna and a strange man were lost in conversation.

The man was obviously one of Almiron's people, and he and Benna were 
speaking in Almiron's native tongue.  Almiron's eyes widened in surprise as 
he studied the man closer.  The man's left arm was missing and there were 
some bandages on him.

"Almiron," Christalla greeted, "we need a translator and this man, Qedhar, 
appears to speak your tongue.  He was found yesterday morning, wraith 
burned, in the Wastes near Whiteriver.  There was a little girl with him, 
who is very badly injured.  Saul brought him here in the hopes that we could 
find out how he came to be there."

Almiron nodded and settled next to the man in a chair.  "Qedhar?"

The man glanced up from speaking to Benna, taking in Almiron's face and 
form, his eyes travelling down to the twin swords hanging at Almiron's belt. 
 Knowing him then for a chieftain or a chieftain's son, he nodded respectfully.

"I am Almiron dain Hehran."

Qedhar was confused.  This was not the tribe of Hehran, yet a man of that 
tribe wore the swords here.  By all rights, Almiron should be a slave here.  
His mind was too full of questions to take it all in, so he decided to be 
polite and ask questions later.  "Healer, respects.  I am Qedhar dain Gamal, 
formerly chieftain."

"Formerly?"

"The tribe is dead except for my daughter Omana and me.  It appears Omana is 
to be kept at place I awoke while I am to be slave here."

"What?" Almiron asked, confused.

"That man, Sol.  I believe he acquired me for warrior woman with yellow hair."

"Christalla?"

"Is that my mistress's name?" Qedhar asked, nodding at the woman.

Almiron debated.  He was familiar with the tribe of Gamal.  By the time 
Almiron had fled his home, Qedhar's reputation as an especially violent and 
bloodthirsty man among a people not known for peace was already firmly 
entrenched.  It might be best to let him think himself a captive here.

"He's sad because he can't see his daughter," Benna said.

Almiron smiled at her.  "I will take care of that."

"You will?" Qedhar asked, fearing to even hope.

"As soon as Omana is well enough to travel."

Qedhar's eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, thank you, master."

Almiron started to correct him, then thought better of it.  Later.  Right 
now he needed answers.  "How did you come to be hurt in that place?"

Qedhar's eyes closed, remembering the horror of it all.  "I can't--"

"You must tell me."

Qedhar nodded.  "Yes, master."  Then he slowly began to tell the tale.

Almiron listened in horror as the man described the wraith attack on his 
tribe's encampment.  Halfway through, he handed Benna back to M'tan and told 
him to take her out of the room.  He asked a few questions about the 
location of the emcampment.  It was some distance from the mountains that 
began the are that Almiron now knew were the Wastes.  Qedhar continued, 
telling about having to amputate his own daughter's legs and his own arm.  
Almiron found an unbandaged spot on the man's arm and squeezed it 
comfortingly, feeling the energy flow out of him.

"I must tell Christalla what you have told me."

Qedhar nodded.  "I... I have some question for you later.  I need to know 
who owns me and what I'll be expected to do."

Almiron nodded-- this was going to take some explaining-- and turned to 
Christalla.  "His tribe was attacked by wraith.  It was some distance from 
where Waste used to be."

"Wraiths?  Are you sure?"

"Yes.  Only he and his daughter Omana survived."

"How long ago?"

"He doesn't know.  He wandered for long time.  Age of his wounds would be 
good indication."

Christalla nodded.

"It was bad attack.  He thought it was storm cloud at first, there were that 
many."

She nodded, taking it all in.

"He is chieftain of tribe of Gamal.  I remember his name-- he was known to 
be very bloodthirsty-- great talent for war.  He thinks he and Omana are 
slave here.  It will take some explaining."

"How so?" the man from Whiteriver asked.

"Among Nomad, you never live in different tribe unless you are slave.  Since 
this is not his tribe, he is slave.  I didn't want to take time to explain."

Christalla nodded.  "Well, try to explain it to him, anyway."

Almiron nodded, then turned to the other man.

<Darshan, tell Malekith to tell his rider I will not make wing practice 
today and probably not patrol.  And tell Dencia to tell Salinda I may be while.>

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

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 * Lynette R. F. Cowper       *  Official INWO Rules NetRep & Goddess *
 * lcowper@io.com             *        Circle of Janus Secretary      *
 * lcowper@indy.net           *   VP of P.U.R.P.L.E. (People United   *
 * http://www.io.com/~lcowper/*   Respecting Purple Legal Equality)   *
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 *    I write of things which I have neither seen nor suffered nor    *
 *  learned from another, things which are not and never could have   *
 *  been, and therefore my readers should by no means believe them.   *
 *                                            --Lucian of Samosata    *
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