[Timeframe: New Year's, afternoon, sometime after Christalla and Evelle's
interview with Almiron.]

	The door burst open without warning.  Chill, moist outside air
gusted into Christalla's office, sending papers flying.  Christalla looked
up in surprise as her door rebounded off the wall and retraced its arc
into the unsuspecting shoulder of the intruder.

	"I'm -- Ouch! -- so sorry I didn't get here sooner.  One thing
just lead to another, I and I forgot..."

	Christalla blinked uncomprehendingly at the partial silohette in
the doorway against the brighter outside light.  "M'ressan?"

	"Um, yeah.  I'm sorry I didn't bring it sooner.  I had to have
this important talk with Briana and then, well, you know how it is."  His
left hand was draped in pink, while his right hand held their daughter's.
He strode into the room and draped the pink over the windblown wasteland
of her desk, pushing more papers off the edge to fall rustlingly to the
floor.  "I hope it's what you wanted."

	Christalla lifted a pink sleeve with two fingers of her unbandaged
left hand.  "I always *hated* this dress," she murmurred.  Then she
abruptly slumped against the desk, hiding her face in the fabric.  Her
shoulders began to shake.

	"Talla?  Love, are you all *right*?" M'ressan exclaimed,
staggering around the desk to hold on to her.  "What happened?  Tell me
what happened!"

	Christalla's muffled gasps into the cloth became clearer, shaping
the sounds into aughter.  As M'ressan drew close to her, she bounded out
of the chair and threw herself into his unprepared arms.  "It's
wonderful!" she cried.

	Belatedly, M'ressan's arms tightened around her.  "I don't know
what it is," he said into her hair, "but it doesn't matter if you're this
happy."  He hadn't been hiding his concern about the amount of pressure
she'd been under lately.

	She took his arms and swung him around, her dress dragging along
the wall in the narrow space.  She laughed aloud.  Her eyes were shining.
"I'll show show you," she said, and released him to rummage through the
carnage of her desk.  M'ressan suddenly noticed what a mess he'd made of
her organized paperwork, but Christalla didn't seem to mind.

	"Here," she said, waving a paper in the air.  "A message from
Telnor.  The dragonrider there has been aquitted of the murder of a
landbound townsman.  That means the faceoff there is over, and my
negotiations with King Jaldor on the issue are now completely
unnecessary."

	"That's terrific!" M'ressan grinned.  "I know what a headache all
that correspondence with the King has been."

	Christalla's face was flushed as she shook her head.  "That's not
all," she said.  "That's not nearly all of it."  She held up a second
sheet of paper, which rustled slightly with the trembling of her hand.
"This just arrived from Cleft."

	M'ressan uncertainly took the paper from her hand, glanced over
it, and froze.

	"They just measured her," Christalla added excitedly as he read in
stunned silence.  "Tymor's larger than Beryth *NOW*, and she's still
growing.  She could easily exceed Kaeryth in size by the end of the
month."

	"Christalla," he breathed.  "Do you realize--"

	"Of course I realize!" Christalla retorted, her delight suddenly
flaring to self-defensiveness.  "Would it bother you if you weren't mate
of the DragonLady any longer?"

	"No, no, of course not," M'ressan replied, shaking his head for
emphasis.  "You know that.  It's just that this is really sudden."

	"That's the only way it can be," Christalla reminded him, her face
fading back to a smile.  She took the paper from M'ressan and placed it
carefully back on her desk.  "This Queen Tymor's new rider is a Landborn
girl named Brisse, and she's a bit younger than I was when Kaeryth
finished growing.  I'm sending word with Darlea that I want to meet and
talk with her as soon as possible.  She doesn't have a Warren background,
so she's probably going to need a lot of extra guidance to start with.  Of
course, it's unfair to leave Cleft Warren with only one Queen when it
needs the eggs so badly, but with me moving into the Warrenlady position
here, I'm sure we could transfer D'neor--"

	"Woah!  Slow down!"  M'ressan caught his mate's arm a bit too
tightly.  "We don't know how big this Dragon's going to get.  Why don't we
wait and see?"

	"I've been doing this a long time," Christalla said.  "I'm
*tired*."

	He sighed.  "Nothing's decided yet.  We don't have to think about
it right now."

	But Christalla was no longer paying attention to him.  "Mista!
Honey, don't put that in your mouth.  I don't know what the ink might do."
She deftly unhooked her forearm from his grasp and dropped to her knees by
the desk to retrieve her papers from their daughter.  She continued to
address him without looking up.  "Why don't I take her back to the
apartment to clean up for the celebration?  It looks like my business for
the day is done."

	M'ressan shoved his hands into his pockets.  "Sure, I guess.  I
have a few things I need to take care of down here.  I can meet you at the
feast if you like."

	She smiled up at him.  "That would be wonderful.  But remember
I'll be filling your name into the first line of my dance card."

	M'ressan managed to keep most of the worry out of his answering
smile.  "Sure thing.  I'm holding you to it."

	<The hatchling is hungry!> Kaeryth told Christalla.  <She wants to
eat now.>

	"She's pretty hungry," M'ressan said suddenly.  "Why don't I take
her with me to the Dining Hall instead?  I'm sure Sheltie's got
something."

	Christalla threw him a disgusted look.  "It's the middle of the
afternoon, honey," she said to the silent toddler.  "There will be a lot
of food this evening.  Let's wait to eat until then."  Mista screwed up
her round face and pouted up at her mother.  "Faces like that aren't going
to get you anything," she added matter-of-factly.

	M'ressan shrugged.  "OK, I'm out of here.  I'll see you at the
feast, alright?"

	"See you then."

	M'ressan strolled out of the office and pondered what it would be
like to be mate of an ex-DragonLady.

Respectfully Submitted,

Susan Rati
Creator, DragonLands

NRPG: This was going to be part of a larger post, but this is a good
stopping point, so I'll just continue on the rest of the story in a bit.

Lyn: Pass this on to Cleft?  Since it involves Brisse and Tymor, I thought
that crew might be interested.