The music stopped as the haze of dawn pinked the horizon to the
East of the Warren.  The conscious partiers rushed outside, stepping
around and over their drunken comrades who had not quite made it to the
end.  The fading exuberance of the party fell to silence charged with
anticipation.

	Then, at last, the first gold rays showed above the horizon.  The
cheers of Humans amongst the trumpets of Dragons was deafening.

	Aleta and D'neor stood out on the ledge of Kyven's apartment
amongst the huge forms of Melianth, Aethnod, and Shatavari.  The fresh
dawn light set the Dragon hides glowing.  Even Kyven, propped up between
them, seemed to show more color in his face.  Aleta looked over Kyven's
head at D'neor and smiled as she caught his eye.  "Happy New Year."

	R'mar looked up from Briana's peaceful, slumbering form in his
arms to take in the golden glow from his window.  He stroked her hair,
saying nothing.

	M'tan could not see the sun rise from the West-facing window of
his room, but he could hear the festivities.  Mama, never to be swayed
from her schedule by something so trivial as tradition, was probably
sleeping through it.  He smiled wanly at his companion, attempting to
dissolve some of the tension that filled the space between them.  "I don't
know how your culture handles dating, but Happy New Year anyway."

	Christalla was snatched from a dreamless drowse by a strong hand
pulling her wrist.  She stumbled to her feet, staggering, her mind racing
with confusion and fear.  Then she felt the firm, familiar arms around
her, drawing her out into the fresh morning light.  M'ressan pressed his
lips against her throat, mumurring into her skin, "You made it one more
year, my love.  Welcome to 2999."

	The deafening cheer lasted only moments.  Then the Warrenfolk
buried themselves in the welcoming of their friends and family into the
new year.  Hugs, kisses, exclamations, promises...  The group gradually
dissipated, people staggering off to apartments or Dragons to take them to
apartments, some even falling asleep in the corners of the Great Hall or
against their Dragons on the Green.

	The sun rose fully on a silent, slumbering Warren.

**********

	<HUNGRY!  HUNGRY!  HUNGRY!>

	M'ressan started awake, his hands moving to cover his ears.  Not
that the instinctive action would do anything to block out the voice in
his head.

	<M'ressan, I really hate to bother you, but the hatchling says-->

	M'ressan grunted.  <Alanth, shut up and talk to me when I'm
awake.>

	Alanth was taken aback.  <Whatever.>

	<DADDY!  Why haven't you come?  Where are you??>  A suffocating
wave of confusion, frustration, and loneliness hit M'ressan full in the
head.  He groaned, clutching his temples.

	<I'm awake now,> he sent soothingly, <I'll be right there.>  His
headache abruptly eased to a dull throb.

	"I've really got to teach her to tone it down," M'ressan grumbled
to himself as he forced his way out of bed.

	In a half hour, Mista was calmed and fed, and M'ressan was
completely awake.  It was midmorning.  He estimated that he'd gotten about
four hours of sleep, but if he really tried to get any more he'd end up
groggy for his training at noon... and the trial in the afternoon.  He'd
been avoiding thinking about that.  Mista, of course, had fallen asleep
long before dawn.  She was doing fine.

	He had a while to wait before the Warren got going.  No one did
anything before noon on the first day of a new year.  It took that long to
sleep off the long night and, of course, the hangovers.  Sheltie might be
up by now, clearing away the debris of the celebration with her diligent
team.  Evelle, S'brough, and their companions had certainly already left
for Jasra Warren.  M'ressan would notice their absence, but he'd never
really been close enough to Evelle's circle socially to feel anything more
than the annoyance of picking up the pieces after the Warrenlady's
departure.  He worried about Christalla.

	His mate was still sleeping.  She lay curled around her pillow,
her leg extending to his side of the bed as if questing for him.  Her long
blonde hair tangled over the rumpled bedclothes she had pushed away from
her body during the night.  A slight smile touched her lips, giving her
the look of an innocent child.  She looked infinitely peaceful.  M'ressan
leaned against the doorframe of their bedroom, watching her
affectionately.  He enjoyed the opportunity to look at her when she was
unaware of him.  And it was so nice to see her relaxing, after all the
stress she'd put herself through....

	Mista took a step forward, and M'ressan caught her swiftly,
sweeping her up in his arms and bringing her face up to his level.  <Let's
leave Mommy in peace,> he told her gently.  <And don't you go talking to
Kaeryth either.  Prodding her will wake Mommy up for sure.>

	Mista responded with an inarticulate protest and squirmed to get
down.  He lowered her to the floor, but kept a hold of her hand.  Together
they walked out of the apartment onto the Dragons' ledge.  He sat down,
pulled her into his lap, and they peered over the edge together.  She sent
him ripples of wonder and joy.

	There were a few people wandering the Green, walking like animated
dolls from their perch above.  No Dragons could be seen.  Mista pointed
and sent him exclamations and observations.  She had a very articulate
mind for a 2 1/2 year old, he thought with a flash of pride, far in
advance of any child her age he'd ever known.  Of course, Christalla would
rest easier if she started to talk.

	It was midmorning, but the air was already like Dragon's breath on
his face, a warning of the heat that would come by afternoon.  He wondered
at the abruptness of the weather change, wondered where Springtime had
gone.  The overlong winter had clung to Keldarra long past the time it
should have surrendered gracefully.  Spring, it appeared, had been
swallowed.  The growing season would be poor this year.

	He thought about Misty Valley.  They had always been a very
agricultural demense.  He hoped that whoever had been appointed as the new
Lord would be able to pull the people through what promised to be a poor
first harvest in the new order after Feldrik's defeat.  Then again, maybe
the weather was better there.  It was farther South, after all.  Sudden
longing hit him, to see the land of his birth after all these years.  He
remembered the disturbing dreams of his father that had plagued him last
year-- after his whole life had plunged into Hell.  Sometimes he still
dreamed that dream.  Perhaps he could return... *should* return, even if
it was only as M'ressan of Keldarra.  Not Moressan.  Never again Moressan
son of Mortan, of the House Valere.

	He wondered if anyone he remembered was still alive.

	Mista pulled at his arm, freeing him from ponderings that, quite
frankly, frightened him.  He laughed and pulled her into his arms,
tickling her and feeling his mind fill with giggles.  She could even laugh
without making a sound.

	Then he sent out a feeler to Melianth and Darshan.  To his
surprise, both Dragons were awake, as were their Humans.  Apparently, none
of the Wingleaders had slept especially well.  He sent a request for a
Wingleader meeting in an hour or so, and received acceptances from both
parties.

	At about that time, an odd image snaked into his mind.  In the
image, he was speaking to a large figure in the shadows of the Keldarran
cliffs.  The figure wouldn't come into focus, but it was nevertheless
familiar.  He looked suspiciously at Mista, but the picture had not come
from her.  He passed it on to Alanth.  <What do you think of this?>

	<It's Shatavari, I'm sure,> Alanth said.  <I'm not sure, but I
think she wants you to meet with her Human.>

	He'd *thought* the figure was D'neor.  <OK,> he said.  <Could you
tell her I'll be there?>

	<You could tell her yourself, you know,> Alanth sniffed.  He still
sounded a bit put out from M'ressan's foul temper in the morning.

	<How do you talk to a Dragon who thinks in *pictures*?>

	<Think pictures back, I guess.>

	The image in M'ressan's mind came harshly, impatiently into
focus-- even over-focused.  The edges of the figures became sharper than
reality, the colors more intense, more commanding of his attention.  It
was indeed D'neor speaking with M'ressan, and now M'ressan could pinpoint
the location Shatavari had in mind.  He hesitantly sent an image of
himself and Alanth flying down to meet D'neor and Shatavari.  He was
uncertain how she would react; he'd never attempted communication like
this before.  The image abruptly snapped out of his mind.  He wasn't sure,
but he thought she was satisfied.

	On an afterthought, he picked up Mista and hurried back into the
apartment, grabbed a scrap of paper, and scribbled a note on it.  He left
the note on his pillow beside Christalla, who still slept soundly and
peacefully.  She needed this, damn it.

	He and Mista left the apartment again, and he closed the door
softly behind them.  <OK, you big hunk of red, it looks like we're off.>

	<If you insist, oh Master.>

	M'ressan looked testily up into the Dragon's huge grey eye.
<Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you.  Really.  But if Mista's complaining
at you, she's complaining louder at me.>

	Alanth gave forth a rumbling, shuddering Dragon sigh.  <OK, I
forgive you this time.>  He streched out his leg at a shallow incline to
help Mista climb astride.  She scrambled up eagerly, sending Alanth a
steady telepathic commentary, sat down at the base of the huge Dragon's
shoulder, and looked back impatiently at M'ressan.  She loved to fly.

	Grinning, M'ressan mounted deftly and hugged his daughter to him.
Alanth took them down to the Green, then took off to eat.  M'ressan led
Mista across the Green to the office that had once been Evelle's.  It was
the Warrenlady's-- Warrenlord's-- raditional office.  He knocked on the
door.

	"Um, come in."

	M'ressan opened the office door to find the hulking Queenrider
standing behind Evelle's desk, a catastrophe of disorganized paperwork.
He was holding a stack of papers uncertainly in one hand.  M'ressan bit
back a chuckle at the absurdity of the scene.  This really wasn't Evelle's
office anymore.  D'neor deserved the respect his office demanded.  "You
wanted to see me?"

	D'neor glanced miserably at the paper in his hand, then set the
whole ungainly stack as neatly as he could on the desk.  "Yeah, I did.
Thanks for coming.  I've been sorting through all this stuff, trying to
figure out what Evelle's done and what I'm supposed to do.  She's not the
most organized person I ever met."

	"I'm sure Christalla could help with that," M'ressan suggested
helpfully.  

	He was rewarded with a disgusted look.  "I think I can handle it
myself."  There was a pause while D'neor rummaged through the marginally
neater left side of the desk-- presumably the side he had already sorted
through.  "Look, I found this stack of complaints that Evelle doesn't seem
to have done a thing about.  I sorta think something should be done.  You
know."  He held up the papers as he found them.  M'ressan stepped forward
to look at them.

	"These are about Reetsada," he observed levelly.

	"Yeah.  She's been on medical leave for, like, almost a year and a
half now."

	"She was seriously injured at the Battle of Marrid," M'ressan
said.  "She was one of Aleta's best fighters before that."  He sighed.  He
suspected that Evelle had intentionally ignored these complaints.  No one
knew what to do with Reetsada.  He himself was hardly immune to the pain
her continued memory loss had caused her family and friends.  It was a
situation nobody wanted to touch.

	"She lost her memory," D'neor clarified firmly, a trifle coldly.
"There's nothing wrong with her body.  She's a freeloader on the Warren
now.  She's been one for almost a year."

	M'ressan dropped the papers back on the desk.  "So what do you
want me to do?"

	"She's got to start doing something productive around here,"
D'neor replied.  "Somebody's got to talk to her.  You game?"

	M'ressan shrugged.  "I guess I'm as good a person as anyone.  I'll
see what I can do."

	"Thanks, 'Ressan.  Thanks a lot."  He looked down at the papers on
his desk, then back up at M'ressan.  Uncertain silence hung between them.

	"I guess I should be going," M'ressan suggested.

	"Yeah, sure.  Um, carry on.  Close the door on your way out."

	M'ressan turned and led Mista out of the office, puzzling the
conversation over in his mind.  It was a strange exchange to have with
someone who'd always been a borderline freeloader himself.  Still,
whatever D'neor's motives were for targetting Reetsada now, M'ressan was
forced to admit that it was an issue -- no matter now ugly -- that needed
to be addressed.  The Warren could not afford to allow capable Warrenfolk
to live off everyone else's hard work.  Reetsada would have to be
confronted.  M'ressan was, after all, probably as good a choice as anyone.
D'neor looked like he might have some potential as Warrenlord after all,
despite Christalla's transparent lack of faith in him.  He needed to hone
up that protocol thing, though.

	It was nearly time for his meeting with the other Wingleaders.
M'ressan led Mista across the Green-- which was actually getting green in
the wake of the dangerously long winter.  The grass was damn difficult to
kill for long.

	Almiron and Aleta had already gathered.  They both looked a wreck;
he imagined much more traumatic reasons for their lack of sleep than his.
Aleta had Benna with her, which M'ressan thought was a good chance to get
Mista playing with other children.  Unfortunately, Mista found it more
interesting to talk to Alanth, so Benna played alone while the three
Wingleaders divvied up the new trainees.  He did note that Almiron glanced
strangely at Aleta, as if he wasn't sure how to act toward her.  He
pretended not to notice.  Now that Almiron was a Wingleader, he would have
to at least act as if he didn't know all that had been going on between
him and *M'tan*.

	Afterward, it was nearly noon.  M'ressan folded up the list of
trainees and assignments, tucked it into the pocket of his pants, and bade
the other Wingleaders farewell.  He hoped Aleta went back to bed.  Then he
left Mista playing on the Green with Alanth and went to his scheduled
meeting with the trainees.  

	They were gathered earlier than he expected, waiting breathlessly
for news of where they would be assigned.  Of course, rumors spread faster
than fire.  He played it up for a bit, running everyone through drills
they should find painfully familiar.  Afterward, he brought everyone
together.  "Based *entirely* on your performance today, I've decided which
Wing you're best suited for," he announced.  "I hope you worked hard."
Then he began to announce the assignments.  Everyone listened in silence.
He loved this part.

	He glanced in Shae's direction meaninfully as he announced,
"Shaelesta and red Kaaren, Beta Wing, Flight to be assigned later," and
gauged her reaction.  She seemed surprised and -- he thought --
*relieved*.  Actually, he'd pulled a deal with Aleta and Almiron to get
Shae in Beta Wing.  Based on a few things he'd overheard last night, he
wanted to keep an eye on her, and this had nothing to do with the bogus
charges against her.


	After he made the assignments, he congratulated everyone on their
hard work, mentioned that he expected them to visit sometime.  It was a
small Warren, but he still felt the emptiness of children leaving home as
he graduated his latest class.  He shook everyone's hand and watched them
bubbling off to find others in their Wing.  He smiled wistfully.

	Shaelesta caught his eye, and he hurried over before she could
mount Kaaren and fly away.  He drew a folded piece of paper out his
pocket.  "I picked this up yesterday with you in mind."  He grinned
disarmingly.  "I hope you don't mind."

	She took the paper from him hesitantly, holding it between her
thumb and forefinger.  "What is it?"

	"It's a list of available apartments," he told her. "I just
happened to be going by the quartermasters office and thought I'd pick up
a copy of the list for you while I was there."  He'd narrowed the list a
bit for her, culled out the best he could find... and they were all well
within sight of the Watch Dragon.  If nothing else, *that* should keep her
safe from the thugs who kept raiding her room.  After the last attack,
where she'd been injured, he'd become very worried about her.  And that
had nothing to do with his new suspicions about her.

	"Humm... Thank you," she told him, and mounted Kaaren
thoughtfully.

	"Oh, one more thing!" he called up at her.  "You're part of Beta
Wing now, and I was hoping for a favor."

	"What can I do?" she asked.

	"Well, I have a training class set up for Aedra and Aesir's
Humans, since the Dragons are out of sync with the ones hatched here.
Unfortunately, Aedra's older than Aesir.  I was hoping for a little help."

	Shae flushed.  "I'd be glad to help!"

	He grinned.  "I was hoping you'd say that.  We're meeting after
lunch, same place as your class used to meet.  I bet you'll have an
apartment by then."

	Shaelesta nodded.  "That's the plan.  See you then!"  Kaaren
bounded into the air, buffetting M'ressan with the air displaced by her
powerful wings.  She looked down to see him still watching her, smiling,
with his dark hair whipping about his face.

	He sighed and turned as she left.  He needed to pick up Mista, and
then he had a much less pleasant task to accomplish during the break
between classes.  He sent a thought out, <Krithis, could I meet with your
Human?>

	<She's in the Dining Hall,> Krithis responded, <I'll tell her
you're coming.>  Her thought-voice still held that uncertainty of a Dragon
who no longer fully knew her Human.  The whole thing was terribly sad.

	M'ressan headed back to the patch of Green were he'd left Mista.
He'd kept a thought on her during the training to reassure himself that
she was all right, though he did trust Alanth to let him know.  The little
girl saw him as he approached, sending him happy giggles.  He looked up to
find not one, but two Dragons towering over her.  The second one surprised
him.... Shatavari.  Why would the reclusive Queen have taken interest in
his daughter?

	Because a 2-year-old would have no trouble with thinking in
pictures, of course.  He laughed.

	As he approached, the wind picked up a Kaeryth glided down to
land.  Christalla slid off and hurried forward to give him a hug.  "Thanks
for letting me sleep," she murmurred.  

	"Anytime," he smiled.  She did look healthier, but the expression
on her face was grim, hardly what he'd been hoping for.

	"I talked with Aleta," Christalla said in a low voice.  "Aylin has
insisted on keeping Benna with her for," she took a breath, "the trial
this afternoon.  I was thinking that it would be better if she watched
Mista as well."

	His face hardened, and he nodded.  He'd been trying very hard not
to think about this.  "Sounds like a good idea," he said evenly.  "Do you
want to take her?"

	Christalla squeezed his hand.  "That's what I had in mind.  I'll
see you... this afternoon."  She forced a smile and went to gather up
Mista.

	<<There was the flash of sunlight against metal, suspended in the 
air before M'ressan's vision.  Christalla stiffened.  Blood.  
Christalla's blood.>>

	M'ressan shook his head violently, trying to force the images
away.  He watched his mate and daughter walking away as if to reassure
himself that they were really still there.  

	He needed to talk to Reetsada.  He'd think about that now.

	He hurried into the Dining Hall, where most of the Warren had
gathered for their *first* meal of the day, gathered a plate of food, and
located Reetsada in the throng.  She was, as Krithis had implied, eating
alone.  He took a deep breath and slid into the seat beside her.

	She started, glancing at him suspiciously.

	"Hi," he said, putting on his most friendly smile.  "How was the
party last night?"

	Her blue eyes shifted from suspicion to disgust.  "If this is
about K'wen, I don't want to hear it again," she said harshly.  "I've had
two people show up to tell me the error of my ways already today.  Just
because Kyven still considers us mates doesn't make it true."  She testily
brushed grey-streaked black hair, revealing the port wine birthmark that
spashed over her neck and shoulder.

	M'ressan blinked.  He'd seen her at the party once or twice last
night, but hadn't really made note of her company.  He wracked his brain
for more details.  K'wen was Asphenel's Human, that transfer from Alpha to
Gamma Wing last year.  Some hubbub about involvement with D'neor before
he'd become a Queenrider.  M'ressan had ignored the gossip.

	Kyven must have been heartbroken.  

	M'ressan forced a shrug.  "I wouldn't know about that," he said.
"Your personal life is your own.  You should know I don't go prying into
the personal lives of people who aren't my family."  Emphasis on *aren't
my family*.  He thought of M'tan, and seethed again.

	She looked at him blankly.  Of course she didn't know that.  He
had Reetsada had joined at the same hatching, spent their adolescent years
together.  They'd even served in the same flight before he'd become Alpha
Wingsecond.  She would have known two years ago, but now she did not.  "I
just wanted to know how things were going," he persisted.  "If you've
found any work to do."

	She glanced at him sharply, refusing to accept any kind of
friendly concern as motive for his sudden interest in her.  "That's it,
isn't it?" she demanded.  "I'm not doing anything useful."

	M'ressan avoided her eyes, focussing on the food he was pushing
around on his plate.  "It's been a year a half, Reetsada," he said.
"Don't you think it's time to move on?"

	"I *am* moving on," Reetsada retorted.  He glanced up, and for a
moment he caught the uncertainty-- the fear-- behind the false bravado.
She rose her voice slightly, challenging him.  "So basically you're
telling me that I have to stop being a deadbeat or I'm out on my ear?"

	"The Warren will find something for you to do if you can't decide
for yourself," he said quietly.

	She met his eyes, and he held her gaze for a long moment.  "I was
a combat rider before?" she asked at last.

	"One of Alpha's best."

	"Then teach me again," she said.  "Teach me how to fight."

	He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  "Meet
me on the Green after lunch," he said.  "I'm setting up training there.
Is that acceptable?"

	She stood up, take her plate with her.  "I'll be there," she
replied, offering him a sudden smile.  "And thanks."  Then she was gone.

	M'ressan ate a bit more, chewing thoughtfully.  Then it was nearly
time for training.  He dumped his plate in the kitchen and dashed off to
the Green.  The four dragonriders had already already assembled: Arden
with Aesir, Elswyth with glistening white Aedra, Reetsada with aqua
Krithis, and Shae with her flaming red Kaaren.  He grinned at Shae.  Not a
bad team.

	"It's not going to be but about an hour today," M'ressan explained
carefully.  "The trial is this afternoon.  I hope that we'll be able to
have an extended session tomorrow, depending on whether or not there has
been a decision."  The four of them nodded solemnly.

	He started with the rudimenary-- care of Dragons, harnessing, what
to expect from growth, when the Dragons might fly.  Tomorrow he'd use
Shaelesta to better divide the class by Dragon ability, but today he just
couldn't manage it.  He left them with wing excercises to prepare the
Dragons for combat flight.  These would even be useful to Krithis, who had
not flown combat since the Battle of Marrid.

	Halfway through, his eye caught another Dragon on the edge of his
vision, this one also white.  Briana's Starleanna.  He could catch the red
of Briana's hair against the white.

	"Hey Shae," he called.  "You know how it goes from here.  I need
to talk to someone.  See you at the trial?"  He said the last words in a
carefully controlled voice.  He'd been practicing.

	"Sure," Shae agreed.  She'd seemed a bit distance since her
assignment this morning.  He hoped she was all right.

	He strode swiftly over to where Briana sat with Starleanna, on the
top of a small rise at the edge of the Green.  He sat down beside her.
"How's it going?"

	Briana looked up at him in surprise, then looked away again
quickly.  "I'm doing all right," she said flatly.  "I guess I should thank
you for what you said about Star."

	He took her hand.  "I know it's hard.  Do you think you will be
all right to testify this afternoon?"


Respectfully Submitted,

Susan Rati
Creator, DragonLands

NRPG: Whew!  That gets us up to right before the trial.  I'm pulling
serious fluid-time with the seasons.  I'd like to see us catch up to
what's outside, so let's do summer for "today" and see if we can't be
doing autumn by at least next month.

Jill, Kurt, Barb, sorry I didn't do more with the training.  I just
totally ran out of steam there at the end.  Feel free to do more with it.
M'ressan's not too terribly difficult to play ;).

Barb: Mildly altered your timeline.  Hope you don't mind.

Mia: I warned you that D'neor might do something dangerously responsible. 

Kat: Tag!