[Christalla's Office]

	"It didn't work, Christalla.  V'rdeen's crazy, I guess-- first he
insulted her, then he cried in her lap, and then he completely ignored her
and asked for paper and a pen.  So we left."
	Christalla frowned.  "Were you in the room?"
	"I know better than that.  I was standing outside, listening
through the bars.  He didn't even know I was there-- just Darlea.  I think
we should try someone else-- after he's done writing his will, or whatever
it is."
	She nodded, unconsciously biting her lip.  "Briana.  She's always
stood up for him, even during the troubles with Evelle.  He trusts her--
maybe he'll talk to her."  Her eyes unfocussed for a moment and she shook
her head.  "No good.  Kaeryth says Star won't answer, that they're both in
seclusion.  I think we're stuck on this one, D'neor."
	"Wise choice," I said dryly.  "Seclusion, that is.  Ask Michel.
Lori was her friend-- he may be able to get through to Briana."
	Christalla nodded again, and relayed the request to Kaeryth.  "You
know," she said with a vague smile on her face, "You could do this once in
a while, talking to the dragons."
	I snorted.  "There's a difference between us, Christalla.  Kaeryth
actually does what you ask her to."

	"Christalla," I said after a while, breaking the silence while we
sat waiting for Michel to arrive.  "Have you read Arden's report?"
	"I've looked it over," she replied, giving me one of those patented
what-are-you-up-to-now looks.  "Is there any particular part I should read?"
	I knew the part.  It wasn't terribly easy to forget.  "Fourth page,
second paragraph from the bottom.  It starts with 'How I Came to the
Warren.'"
	She raised an eyebrow and riffled through the papers until she
found the right one, and began reading.  "I see," she said when she had
finished, and looked up at me with a measuring gaze.  "There isn't any
proof."
	"I'm quite aware of that.  That's why I have to go."
	"You can't.  You have to be here, D'neor, the Warren needs you.
The middle of a crisis is not the right time to go running off in search of
something that may or may not be true, especially since it has no bearing
on what's going on here."
	Damnit!  "I won't be gone that long, Christalla.  Wolf's Crossing
is not that far, even if we do have to fly straight."
	"It's irrelevant.  You need to stay here and deal with Warren matters."
	"You don't understand!" I cried, slamming my hands down on the
desk.  "Look.  Even if it isn't-- if it isn't him, K'wen still had
/someone/ on his dragon when he picked up the kid.  And that sick merchant
story is a load of dragoncrap, and you know it.  All the merchants that
we've had through were headed north, and Wolf's Crossing is south of here.
They wouldn't have been back to pick up this so-called merchant until next
year.  I think, Christalla, that whoever it was K'wen left there was left
for a reason.  He knew or saw something, and that's why he had to be
disposed of.  We need to find out what he knew-- and that's why I have to
go."
	"You really are intent on doing this, aren't you?" she asked,
making a show of picking up the papers that I'd knocked off her desk.  "If
this person really has the information you think he does, then K'wen will
object it he hears of it.  That's if he's involved."
	"He can object all he wants," I replied, hunkering down to collect
her papers.  "But he-- or any of the others on that list, for that matter--
can't do a thing about it if they're in jail, can they?"
	She gaped at me, blinking in shock.  "You mean to arrest them?
Just because they're listed on Arden's paper?  That's not a very good
reason!"
	I stood up and put my handful of papers back on her desk.  "Who
said I needed a reason?  I'm the Warrenlord.  Ah, Michel," I said, turning
as he knocked on the door.  "Do I look fat?"

*****
[Warren Green, sometime later]

	"You're back," Christalla said dully as I caught up to her.  "How
did it go?"
	I shook my head.  "Not well.  Whoever he was, he's dissappeared.
You were right; it was a futile quest."
	She sighed, and shook her head.  "Did you get a name?"
	"No.  No one even saw his face, although the innkeep does remember
the man and K'wen's paying for his room and board," I lied.  And what of
it?  It wouldn't make one whit of difference wether or not she knew what
the folk of Wolf's Crossing had told me, about a gentle young man with
sandy brown hair and astonishing grey-green eyes, his slim body feverish
and prone to fits of horrible coughing.  K'wen had brought him to the
village with their Arden, lost in the last snowstorm, and gave him over to
the innkeep with a purse of gold and instructions for his care.  They knew
he was no merchant-- that much was clear from the moment the wise-woman
unwrapped his cloaks.  When he finally awoke, he was confused and had only
the vaguest memories of where he was from or who he was.  Reluctantly, they
let him go at his own insistence, giving him warm clothes and food, and he
rode out of the village in the back of a farmer's wagon not two weeks
before.  And in two weeks, I knew, he could be anywhere.
	But, like I said, why tell Christalla?  She'd only worry.  Or,
worse yet, she wouldn't.  "So what's going on?"
	"I've called a Warrenwide meeting-- someone showed up and gave me
advice on how to handle this affair.  The assassin part of it, at least.
The rest we have to handle on our own."
	"How?" I asked, stepping up my pace to keep stride with her.  For a
little woman, she could move pretty quick. "And who told you this?"
	Her face darkened, and I could tell she didn't like the solution
one bit.  "Trial by combat, our champion against the assassin.  And I'll
tell you later.  Come on."

---

	"You, you and you.  Find some people and clear out this area," I
directed, waving at the cavern of the Hatching Ground.  "And find me a cow."
	"Excuse me?"
	"Nevermind.  Just clean it up.  I don't want anyone breaking their
necks on these rocks in here."  Turning, I stomped away towards my office
to deal with the mess.  And no, I was not in a good mood.  Hungry because I
hadn't eaten in an entire half a day.  Tired because of all these people
coming by at all hours of the day and night, stomping in and out past my
couch without even so much as a by-your-leave, and not seeming to care
wether or not they woke me up from my hard-earned sleep.  Frustrated by the
fruitless trip to Wolf's Crossing, annoyed by all the people fleeing the
Warren as if there were death warrants on all their heads, and made damned
uncomfortable with this perpetual feeling that I had to-- well, nevermind.
And I was hungry.  Again.
	Michel wanted to see me, or so I was told.  That was fine, but
'Vari told me in no uncertain terms that she had no intention of playing
interpreter for him.  Paranth was coming, and he would have to do.
	"Michel," I said as he stuck his head inside the door.  "Good to
see you.  What can I do for you?"  A large part of Paranth's head blocked
the door behind him, the rest of the dragon presumably threaded through the
short hallway and into 'Vari's ledge.  Wether Michel's dragon could hear me
or was reading lips, I had no idea.
	Either way, it worked, because Michel smiled warmly.  "D'neor, I
want to be the Warren's defender," he said.
	"You what?  You can't do that!"
	"Why not?  I think that, all things considered, I am the best
choice.  Paranth agrees with me."
	It was true; I looked to the eye-filled doorway for confirmation
and saw it.  "Well then-- prove it to me, Michel.  Why should I let you
defend the Warren against this woman?"
	Michel took a deep breath, and nodded.  "Because I'm one of the
best fighters in the Warren.  You may be able to beat me everytime at
wrestling and boxing, but I'm much better with weapons than you, or anyone
else here is.  I learned tricks on the streets when I was a kid that could
trip up professional soldiers.  And I--" he paused, and the smile he'd worn
since entering slipped a little bit.  "I feel that I owe it to the Warren.
We wouldn't be in this mess if it hadn't been for me."
	I nodded, pondering his reasons and the situation as a whole for a
few minutes.  He did have a point.  "But does that qualify you to beat a
professional assassin?"  A professional assassin.  I was starting to get an
idea about this.  "I'll let you know right now, Michel, that I won't
tolerate your losing."
	He brightened visibly, and smiled.  "Does that mean I have your
blessing?"
	I snorted.  "Since you're the only one who's volunteered so far,
yes.  Now get out and practice-- I feel like a cow."
	Michel paused on his way to the door, blinked at me, and shook his
head.   "I told you already, D'neor, you aren't fat."
	"What?  Who said anything about fat?"
	"You-- ah, you said you felt like a cow.  I thought, well, you
know, cows are fat, and . . . "
	"I'm hungry.  I want a cow."
	He hesitated for a moment before agreeing with me.  "Uh, sure,
D'neor.  That, ah, sounds pretty good, actually.  I think I'll have a cow
too.  In fact, I'm going to go get one right now . . . goodbye!"
	That was definitely odd, even for Michel.  But I figured he must
have something else on his mind, and so I didn't stop him to ask what it
was.  I waited until I was sure they were gone before yanking out my pen.
Things Michel had said had given me an idea-- a desperate one, but these
were desperate times.  So I wrote.

*****
[Hatching Ground]

	"What's going on here?" I asked, more than slightly annoyed at
being summoned.  At first glance, it was a strange sight-- K'wen's
foundling Arden the detective was protecting a leather-clad Elswyth from
Darrin the grumpy leatherworker with a flute and a knife.   Such strange
relationships the Warren breeds.
	Elswyth smiled.  "Nothing much, WarrenLord," she said, the barest
hint of laughter in her tone.  "Arden and I, we were just removing a few
remaining... interferences from the arena of combat..."
	"They was cheating," Darrin asserted, striding forward suddenly and
plucking the knife out of a stunned Arden's hand.  "These fool kids,
they're on *her* side-- you know, that bitch of an assassin.  Planting
weapons in the sand, can you imagine!  It's a good thing I came along, and
saw the brat trying to hide this!" He thrust the dagger at me, lined face
flushed and angry.
	"I did not!" Arden protested indignantly, marching up to me with
his hands on his hips.  "I came back to find my flute, and found that
hidden in the sand!  There's more of them, too, and he's the man that put
them there!" he cried, jabbing a finger at the taller man.
	I looked at Elswyth, who shrugged.  "I only just got here," she
said.  "But I believe that Blink is telling the truth."
	"I'll show them to you!" Arden said, and turned and ran across the
sand.
"There's one here, and here," he ran again and paused, "and here!  All
marked by her symbol, so she knows where to find them.  I saw him do it!"
	"Of course the boy knows where the hidden weapons are," Darrin
replied smoothly.  "I would too-- if I'd put them there."
	"But you did!  I saw you, and Aesir saw you too!  You're lying,
trying to blame me for this, you--!"
	"ENOUGH!" I roared, startling both man and boy into submission.
Elswyth, as usual, had remained calm and silent throughout the whole
interchange.  "I've half a mind--"
	"Obviously," Darrin said under his breath, and I shot him a glare.
	"-- to just have you all arrested," I said, looking sternly at all
three.  "I don't have time for shenanigans like this, and at this point I
don't really care who did what or not.  Arden, bring me all of the hidden
weapons."  I waited while the boy trotted out and uncovered the other
three, and then added the whip, throwing dagger, and blowgun that he
brought me to the knife already in my possession.  "Thank you.  You all may
go now."
	"You aren't worried that someone will try to plant more weapons?"
the leatherworker sneered, with a significant glance at Arden.
	"Not at all," I replied easily.  "In fact, I'm declaring the entire
Hatching Ground to be off-limits until the day of the challenge-- and I
can't honestly promise you that I'll let people in then, either.  Good day."
	"Oh?  And what's to stop a brat like him coming in anyway?
Children are sneaky-- this one more than most," he returned insolently.
"They'll slip by you if you don't watch carefully."
	"Not by her they won't." I pointed at Shatavari, brooding darkly in
the rear of the cavern.  She paused in her digging for the briefest of
moments and looked up at us, the afternoon sun glimmering in her eyes.  I
could have sworn that she smiled.

*****
[The Inn at Wolf's Crossing]

	She walked in, pausing as her eyes adjusted to the dim light
inside.  She scowled when she saw me, but threaded her way through the
half-empty common room anyway and came to my table.
	"I'm glad you could make it," I said, rising and pulling out a
chair for her.  "May I take your cloak?  It's dripping wet."
	She glared at me and slapped my hands away, resolutely thumping
into the chair with a soft squelch.  "I'm fine."
	"Wine?  Ale?" I asked, avoiding her question for the moment.
"Water, or have you had enough of that?  Something to eat?  The innkeeper's
wife makes a marvelous roast."
	"Cut the act, dragonman.  I got your letter, and I'm here.  What do
you want?"
	"Since you insist, lady, I need your services.  There's something
that needs to be done, and I believe that only you can do it, due to your--
special talents.  I'm prepared to pay quite well, or offer other, ah, less
tangible benefits if you accept."
	Her mouth dropped open in shock.  "I can't believe I'm hearing
this, and from one of you people, too!  I thought you were honorable,
peaceful like you all claim to be-- but now I know that's wrong.  My
teachers were right.  You're all dirty, self-serving scum, ready to kill
anyone who stands in your way.  You disgust me," she said, shuddering as
she stood up and turned away.  "I was a fool to believe that you thought I
was more than just a killer.  Well, I'm not like you, dragonman-- I have
scruples."
	I sighed and finished my beer.  "You don't understand," I said as
she wrapped herself in her cloak and prepared to go back into the rain.  "I
don't want anybody to die, not this time.  As a matter of fact, I want to
save someone's life."
	She turned around, stunned. "You what?"
	I pointed with my mug to the chair she'd just vacated.  "Sit down.
I'll explain."

*****
[Warren Green]

	"Brisse, rider of Tymor?"  With a dragon that big it could only be
her, but I figured I'd check first.
	"That's me," she said, turning around.  "I'm here to be trained for
the position of Dragonlady, by Christalla."
	I harrumphed.  "I'm sure.  Well, she's busy right now, but she'll
see you as soon as possible.  Come on, I'll show you your quarters."  I
grabbed her bag and slung it over my shoulder, starting off towards the
main Warren.
	"Wait a minute," she said, jogging to catch up.  "Um, if you don't
mind my asking-- who are you?"
	"D'neor," I grunted, only half paying attention to her.
	"Oh.  I'm pleased to meet you."  She paused for a moment, then
asked, "What's that, over there?"
	I glanced momentarily to where she pointed, and shrugged.  "Medical
Center.  Nothing special.  That," I continued, gesturing to the large
opening, "Is the Hatching Ground.  You can reach your quarters through
there.  The Dining hall is over there, various workshops and unjoined
apartments around there.  You like music?" When she didn't answer I turned,
hesitated a moment, and then jumped to grab her by the arm and yank her
away.  "Don't go in there!  She'll bit your fool head off!  This way."
	"Why?" she asked, rubbing her arm and giving me an odd look.  "You
said my quarters were through there.  Who's going to bite my head off?"
	"And so they are," I replied.  "But there's more than one entrance,
girl, and if you use *that* one," I jerked my thumb towards the gaping maw
of the Hatching Ground, "You'll be sorry.  'Vari's reconciled to this
challenge, but she's not letting anyone in until then.  She thinks they'll
steal her damn eggs."
	"I don't see any eggs," she said, moving back to peer into the
cavern.  "All I see is a dragon and a pile of sand."
	"Of course you don't.  She hid them.  Are you coming or not?"

*****
[Hatching Cavern]

	I stood beside Brisse and Christalla, almost dancing with my
impatience and edginess.  In the ring of watchers, I couldn't see the sky--
and at least then I'd have something to watch other than Michel's sure
slaughter.
	If it had been up to me, I would have shot Celeste as soon as she
walked into the ring-- I had a clear shot, could have wiped out that
arrogant and sure smile on her face with one of my best deer-hunting
arrows, stopped dead in her tracks before she could so much as squeak.  But
it wasn't, and so I had to listen to her snide voice ring out across the
sands.  "Who is it that challenges me as the Champion of this Warren?" she
called, fixing my end of the circle with an icy eye.
	Michel looked up and opened his mouth, but before he could speak a
cloaked figure stepped out from the encircling crowd, and pushed back her
hood.  I smiled.
	"I accept the challenge as the Champion for the riders of
Keldarra." Lori announced in a clear voice that carried across the crowds.
	A shocked murmur ran through the Warrenfolk as the recognized her,
and Michel blanched and stepped towards her.  They exchanged a few low
words and then Christalla recovered her composure and stepped forward,
gesturing me to follow her.
	"You have been banished from this warren," she said coldly.  "I
will not lift that banishment."
	The girl inclined her head towards Christalla. "I don't expect you
to. I would bring nothing but trouble down on this warren even if you saw
fit to
let me return."
	"Then why would you fight for us?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.
	"Not for you, Dragonlady" Lori said. "I fight for a safe place for my
child to be raised."
	Christalla nodded and turned towards Michel. "She will be the
champion. I can not let you risk yours or Paranth's life."
	Michel looked outraged and was about to protest when Christalla
silenced
him. "My decision is made."
	Michel turned to Lori, a stricken look on his face. "What if you
die? How will I find my son then?"
	"If I do not return in one week, Jadan will be brought to the warren to
you," she replied. "But I will not lose."
	"How can I trust you?" he asked.
	"You can't," Lori said simply, and turned away to face her opponent.
"Ready, Celeste?"
	I grabbed Michel's arm and dragged him across the sand as the two
women squared off.  "She's not supposed to be here!" he protested,
struggling in my grip.
	I picked him up and set him down again behind Christalla and
Brisse.  "It doesn't matter, Michel.  She's here now, and she's going to
fight.  And if you try and go back out there," I warned, looking him
directly in the eye, "I'll slug you.  Now shut up and watch the show, and
pray to whatever Gods you believe in that they don't bleed on that sand, or
'Vari will be quite heartily pissed."

*****
NRPG: I've been told that Kat and Chris are collaborating on a fight post,
so I'll leave it here.  :)

--m

***********************************************
"Vae, puto deus fio."
	--Emperor Vespasian

Mia Karen Sherman <shatavari@erols.com>
World Weavers Roster Keeper: http://www.andrew.cmu.edu/~roboman/rosters/
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IM: CmdrMarit