"Well spoken, sister," I said, squatting down next to her and
Kyven.  "And entirely true.  Have you ever considered that you may be
better off without her?"
	Aleta gasped, shocked.  "D'neor!  That's an awful thing to say!"
	I shrugged.  "Perhaps.  But don't tell me you haven't thought the
same about my brother."
	Aleta shot me a nasty glance and looked away, holding Kyven closer
to her.  "You're an awful man, D'neor," she said quietly.  "How your mother
could have ended up with you, I'll never know."
	I shrugged again, reaching for the half-empty bottle by the
cabinet, sniffing it tentatively.  Ralengarde '47, the label said.
Impressive stuff.  Expensive stuff.  "Every family has to have their black
sheep, I suppose," I offered, taking a sip and settling down on the floor.
Good stuff.  "She'd already had two perfect children--I guess it was high
time for a screwup to come along.  Trust me, Aleta.  I've got enough
ex-relationships under my belt, I'm an expert.  I know how it feels when
someone leaves you."
	Kyven shifted in her arms, brought bleary eyes up to meet mine.
"She's not gone," he mumbled.  "She lives here.  She'll be back--she lives
here, with me."
	"Not tonight," I replied, offering the bottle as a substitute.
Aleta, giving me another nasty look, pushed it away; Kyven in response
clung tighter to her.  "Not with two dragons sitting outside the door.
'Vari left," I explained to her questioning eyebrow.  "She's not much for
maudlin things.  She's not much for any sort of social interaction, come to
think of it.  Oh well, I'm not worried; she'll be back.  But anyway--not
with two dragons sitting outside the door.  If he doesn't take her to his
place--and I doubt he will, not since he's still got G'far trapped up in
there--she'll see Melianth here and no doubt think the worst."  If she
cares at all, that is.

	If she came back here at all--and I really doubted she would.
Maybe it was the drink and Al'dairan had softened me up for the evening,
but I really didn't have the heart to tell the man that all of K'wen's
dances and romances ended up the same way, with his poor deluded victim
practically on their hands and knees, begging for him to take them and end
the suffering that comes from lust, again and again and again.  K'wen could
do such wonderful things with his hands.
	I should know.  He'd taught me everything I'd known, once, and
G'far--oh, G'far!  I wish I knew where he was at the moment--certainly not
with K'wen, that was for sure--Reetsada's not his type.
	Such an unassuming little fellow, G'far, so small and delicate.  So
mousy.  But so talented, and not just in bed.  If he hadn't left me for
K'wen, I would have asked him to come live with me.  If he comes back, I
still might.

	" . . . spreading unrest about the Warren," Aleta was hissing
softly at me.  "You should watch what you say, have a care for others'
feelings sometime."
	I shook my head.  "I'm not the architect of the things I report,
Aleta.  I didn't send her into K'wen's arms--having been there, I can tell
you it's not a fate I'd wish on anyone.  And I'm not the one that drove
M'tan away from you, either."  There.  That one hit home, I could see it in
her eyes.  "So don't you tell me or anyone else that I'm the cause of all
the bad feelings in the Warren, sister, especially not since it's my
ex-lover that's the enemy of the hour, one who happens to stolen something
just as dear to me as she was to Kyven."  My voice cracked as my throat ran
dry, and I took another largish sip of the '47.  "I'm just as much a victim
of my supposed dissent-stirring as you are."
	"You have no right," she said to me, green eyes glistening faintly
with yet-unreleased tears.  "You don't have the right to say that to me,
D'neor of Keldarra.  I didn't drive M'tan away; he left of his own accord."
	Of Keldarra, that actually sounded kind of neat.  I'd never really
been of anything before.  "Look, I'm sorry," I sighed.  "I was kind of out
of line with that one, I guess.  It's not your fault he left you, either.
But maybe you will be better off with someone else, admit it."
	"Someone like who, pray tell?"
	"Someone like, like--" I waved my hand uselessly, searching for a
name.  Aha.  "Like him," I said, gesturing at Kyven's limp form.  And why
not?  Matches have been made on less steady ground before.  And it's not as
if they didn't have anything at all in common--both healers, they were
close in age and had each had enough experience with relationships--I
hoped, although certainly not as much as I had--to realize when something
was going wrong and try to fix it.  Although I have to admit, having had so
much experience certainly hadn't made some things easier for me.
	It could work, I thought.  I could see it happening.

	"Kyven?" Aleta said uncertainly.  "He's . . . "
	"Asleep," I finished for her, reaching across the space between us
to give him a shake.  "Bad idea, in his condition."
	She gave me a strange look, half puzzled and perhaps half grateful
that I'd changed the subject.  "His condition?  Lovesick and depressed?  I
fail to see the connection."
	I shook my head, and gave Kyven a light slap on the cheek.  "No no.
Drunk.  'Specially on this stuff--it's good, I can feel it going to my head
already.  If he falls asleep, he'll have one shitter of a hangover when he
finally gets up.  Trust me."  Again, the voice of experience speaking
through my lips.  "Hey there, you.  It's time to come back to the real
world, Kyven."
	Under my prodding, Kyven stirred, grunted, and snuggled deeper into
Aleta's side, head pillowed on her breast.  "Ree. . . " he mumbled, sighing.
	"No no," I replied, pulling the lamp closer and shining it in his
face.  "Ree isn't here, remember?  She was dancing with K'wen."
	Aleta took a deep breath as if to say something, but I cut her off.
	"The mother of your children, Kyven, she left you for a slimy waste
of bones called K'wen.  You remember now?"
	Kyven sniffled, his face screwing up and getting all red and
blotchy.  Fair-skinned people do that, I've noticed.  "She forgot," he
began, "She loved me, forgot that she loves me . . . "

	I took a drink and sat back against the wall in satisfaction,
dangling the bottle between my knees.  "Good," I said, cracking my knuckles
and smiling.  "I'd be terribly disappointed if you forgot all of that.
Keep talking."

*****

	<<Sun over the cliffs,>> she thought at me.
	I looked towards the ledge, where Melianth and Aethnod sat--sure
enough, the sky was just beginning to show the barest hint of pink in it.
As I gazed at it, a slender silhouette touched down on the ledge, the other
two dragons graciously moving aside to make room.  Shatavari.

	"Alright," I said brightly, shoving the almost-empty bottle aside
and clambering to my feet.  "Everyone, get up and greet the New Year."
	Kyven looked up at me uncomprehendingly; I bent back down and
hauled him to his feet.  "Dawn, buddy," I explained, dragging him out to
the ledge and setting him mostly upright beside me.

	Aleta came up on Kyven's other side, and draped his arm over her
shoulders.  "Happy New Year," she said to me, smiling over Kyven's sagging
head.
	I had to smile back, couldn't help it.  "Happy New Year, sister, I
replied.  Looking at her, I could see why M'tan had fallen in love with
her--sure, she was strong-willed and temperamental, and she could really be
a handful to deal with at times.  But then again, she really did care, not
only for Melianth and for her own brother but also for mine too, and I
guess in some way also for Zareth.  And, even though I admit I'm not a very
good judge of women, she was also rather pretty.
	I guess it was the dawn and the new year making me charitable, as
well as the drink.  Past Aleta, I could see the forest, with the Dragon
River peeking coyly through the trees and sparkling in the sun.  And the
dragons, on every ledge in the Warren, lining the walls and gleaming in the
morning light like the jewels I remembered my mother working with when I
was a child, gems of every possible hue and even some impossible ones,
scattered like tiny multicolored stars across the black velvet on her
workbench.  Even Shatavari, sitting bathed in the dawn like she was, I
could say was almost beautiful.

	"Remember this," Aleta said quietly to the two of us.  "I've never
seen a New Year morning quite like this one."
	I nodded, not having any better response than her own, and watched
silently as the dragons bugled their own response to the New Year's morn.

	Swiftly, before the sun could rise too high and turn the morning
back into something ordinary, I snatched Kyven up and tossed him over my
shoulder.  For such a tall fellow, he certainly was a skinny one.  "I think
he's safe now," I explained to Aleta as I carried him back inside to his
bed.  "I'm pretty sure he's talked off the worst of the booze."
	She nodded, pulling off his shoes as I lay him on the bed.  "You're
planning something, I can tell.  What is it?"
	I shook my head.  "Not much," I lied.  "Mostly to take a shower and
try and catch some sleep before anyone requires that I actually do
something."
	She shot me yet another one of her patented odd looks, but didn't
say anything.

	I dropped Kyven's shoes on the floor by his bed, and nodded to
Aleta.  "See you around, sister," I said, hurrying out the door.  I knew
what I had to do.  I just didn't know quite how to do it.

*****

	If I had to pick one and only one person, and I had to pick the
most diplomatic person possible, who would I choose?  Hard to say.  At one
point, I would have picked M'tan--but, for obvious reasons, my idiot elder
brother was quite clearly not the best of choices at the moment.  M'ressan,
who I'm absolutely certain hated me on Aleta's behalf?  Possibly--but
wether he'd talk to me or not was a completely different matter.
	I almost picked Almiron, to tell the truth--yeah, he didn't have a
very good command of the language, still, and he was an outsider and a bit
weird, but he was fairly reliable, or so I'd heard.  But I still wasn't too
keen on him, either--although the little guy'd gone quite a bit upwards in
my esteem after he'd saved M'tan.  That he'd been able to do it at all was
quite impressive, actually, although once I'd learned the truth I started
to regret fetching him.  If I'd know how much of a complete ass my brother
was, I probably would have gone for one of the lesser healers, and let
Almiron have his sleep.
	So Almiron--or maybe not.  From what I'd heard, lots of people
still didn't quite trust the little guy, even if he had been made Gamma
Wingleader.  So he probably wasn't the best choice after all.
	It would have to be M'ressan, and take the chance that he'd either
ignore me completely or scream epithets in my face and try to sock me.  I
couldn't really be too sure how M'ressan felt about me--I knew that
Christalla didn't like me at all, and they say after you live with someone
for long enough you start to think like them.  But he was still worth a
shot.

	"M'ressan," I said to the air, confident that 'Vari could hear me
and figure out who I wanted.  "Ask Alanth to tell him that I want to talk
to him.  In Evelle's--in my office."  As an afterthought, I added, "Please."

	I wasn't certain if she'd paid attention to me or not, but within a
few minutes someone did knock on the door.  "Um, come in," I called, more
than slightly distracted (and also more than slightly daunted) by the mess
in front of me.  Evelle, for all her ideas and sheer bubblyness, was one of
the most disorganized people I'd even had the pleasure to meet.  Even I
wasn't as bad as she was-- a slob, yeah, but at least I knew where all my
stuff was.
	Sure enough, it was M'ressan at the door.  "You wanted to see me?"
he asked, glancing over the mess in the room.
	"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.  I
guess he was trying to be helpful.  It wasn't appreciated.  I could do
perfectly fine without Christalla, and I told him so.
	"I can handle it myself," I said, searching through a stack of
Evelle's papers for the ones I'd wanted to talk to him about.  "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."  I held
the papers out to him, a stack about as thick as my thumb.
	He took them, leafed through them, pursed his lips.  "These are
about Reetsada," he said evenly.
	M'ressan, Master of The Obvious.  "Yeah.  She's been on medical
leave for, like," I reached over and checked the date on the top of the
stack, "Almost a year and a half now."
	He gave me that Look, so very much like Aleta's.  "She was
seriously injured at the Battle of Marrid," he reminded me.  "She was one
of Aleta's best fighters before that."
	Big hairy deal.  What the body learns, the body remembers.  Once
you learn how to ride a horse--or a dragon--you never forget.  Just get a
little rusty.  "She lost her memory," I reminded him back.  "There's
nothing wrong with her body."  Just ask Kyven.  Or K'wen.  "She's a
freeloader on the Warren now, she's been one for almost a year."

	Something tugged at my pants leg; I looked down and noticed Mista,
sitting on the floor by my feet.  I hadn't noticed that he'd brought her
in; she must have been crawling around while we talked.
	An image formed itself in my head, of a gigantic me seen from the
point of view of a quite small someone else.  Shatavari'd passed it on, I
knew--the picture had a very distinct style to it that I'd figured was
hers.  There was a tang of confusion passed along with the picture, also,
which in turn confused me for a moment--until I realized that she'd
probably never met Mista.
	I'd heard the kid was telepathic like M'ressan was.  Guess it
wasn't just a rumor.
	<<It's Mista,>> I told 'Vari.  <<M'ressan's daughter.>>  I don't
know that she understood 'daughter,' but I think it was good enough.  At
least she felt back that she was content with that explanation.

	"So what do you want me to do?" M'ressan said, returning the papers
to the mess on the desk.
	Good grief!  Did he really have to ask?  "She's got to start doing
something around here," I said matter-of-factly, trying to keep my temper
in check and my patience on an even keel.  "Someone's got to talk to her.
You game?"
	"I guess I'm as good a person as anyone," he shrugged. "I'll see
what I can do."
	I know what he was thinking.  I'm a better person to do it than
you, D'neor.  I didn't blame him in the least.  It's exactly what I would
have said.  "Thanks, 'Ressan," I replied.  "Thanks a lot"

	There was a stiff silence in the room then.  Suddenly very
uncomfortable, I glanced at the papers and then back up at M'ressan.  What
now?  Was I supposed to dismiss him, or something?
	"I guess I should be going," he offered.
	Good idea.  "Yeah, sure.  Um, carry on.  Close the door on your way
out."
	With a nod, he scooped up Mista and carried her out, letting the
door swing shut behind him.

	At least I think that was the right thing to say.  Well.
	Dragging up a chair--not Evelle's chair, she'd taken that one with
her for some reason--I fell into it and glared at the pile of her papers on
the desk.  No, not her papers.  My papers now, and my problems to deal
with.  One down, and eight thousand to go.

*****
	NRPG: I think that's all my tags, or at least the ones I could
find.  If I missed any, just thwap me over the head.  Then thwap me again,
I'll enjoy it.

	Hope you all don't mind the radical style change.  D'neor wouldn't
just sit back and be a player for this one.
	And he kept me up until almost 6am for it too.  I hope he's happy.  :)

---m

***********************************************
Prop me up beside the jukebox when I die
I want to go to Heaven, I just don't wanna go tonight
Fill my boots all up with sand, shove a stiff drink in my hand
And prop me up beside the jukebox when I die.

shatavari@erols.com