[dl]

	Shard was awakened after a short while by Chal's insistent voice 
in his head.
	<Shard!  Shard!  Wake up!  There's a hatching!  THe eggs are hatching!>
	<What?!>
	<Shard, the eggs are hatching.  I want to go see. Will you come 
with me?  _Please_?>
	<Yeah yeah.  Hang on.>
	Mind a little woozy from the wine and the talk of the evening, 
Shard pulled his rumpled clothing into place, fastened his cloak, and 
climbed onto the amber dragon's back.
	<OK.  Let's go.>

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

	D'gerrit was still planning and pacing when Orobos contacted him.
	<D'Gerrit.  The eggs are hatching.  I thought you would want to know.>
	Orobos shifted his enormous bulk on the 'porch' of D'Gerrit's 
apartment.  The brick-red dragon was enormous, a monster, resembling, in 
some ways, a dinosaur more than a dragon, and his bulk was covered by 
rasping scales with ridges of horny knobs running down both sides.  He 
was an old battle-dragon, with little in the way of humor or 
sentimentality.  And yet he and D'Gerrit cooperated perfectly, augmenting 
each other's mental strength and tenacity.
	<Try not to go all sentimental on me, you titanic softie.>
	<Hatchings are good. They carry on the dragon race.  But humans 
make an enormous, appalling production out of it.>
	D'Gerrit laughed a bit.
	<Well, I'm expected at the appalling production, so if you can 
deliver me, you don't have to stick around.>
	D'Gerrit donned his best clothing, a grey and brown outfit, laced 
with silver, with the sigil of Norwall on a silver medallion, and a 
silver-handled dagger.
	<Shall we ... ?>
 
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

	The hatching cavern was filled to brimming with people, dragons, 
old riders, new riders, kitchen stewards darting in and out with 
refreshments, clamoring with the music of laughter and cries of delight 
at each new Joining.
	Shard stood in a corner and looked on silently.  A few feet away, 
Chal watched as well.  He headed towards one of the kitchen hands to get 
a sweetmeat; nearby, a girl sighed slightly.  "Isn't it beautiful?"
	He nodded slightly.  'I-I've n-never s-seen a h-hatching.'
	He recognized her -- she was Lacy, the Queenrider, sister of the 
ascendant Warrenlady -- Warren'girl' many called her -- Naomi.  He turned 
quickly and headed back towards Chaldecony.
	<You're really enjoying this aren't you, Chal?>
	<Yes.  I always wondered what it might be like to have been -- to 
have been hatched alongside mother and my brothers and sisters -- in 
peace, joy ... >
	<It turned out well as it happened, didn't it?>
	<Yes, Shard. I am honored to have you as my rider.>
	<Then just be happy for them.>
	And the two watched the happy chaos unfold before them.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
	It was perhaps a half-hour later when Shard approached D'Gerrit.  
He was laughing, wiping wine off of his shirt, watching a nearby girl 
joined to a pretty blue dragon.  "That's Lapis Lazuli."  He pointed.
	Shard nodded.  'I th-think I'm g-going to 'port back t-tonight, 
D'gerrit.  I just wanted t-to th-thank you for your advice and h-help.'
	D'Gerrit nodded.  He followed Shard with his eyes, watching the 
lad say his goodbyes to his mother.
	'M-mother, I'm going now.  I j-just w-wanted to l-let Chal see 
the hatching.'  "Alright, son.  Take care.  I love you."  She put both 
hands on his shoulders.  He nodded slightly.  'S-see you.'
	Both of them watched Shard take off, fly outside the hatching 
cavern, wave, and wink out of existence.
	"That's quite a boy you have, Neire." D'gerrit stated.  Neire nodded.
	"By the way, Neire, I was wondering -- if you were busy tomorrow, 
say, three hours earlier than now --"
	Her voice was polite, but tightly controlled, and her jaw muscles 
clenched slightly.  "Yes, D'Gerrit, I am busy right tomorrow.  I have 
C'vrinn and Slessa to take care of."  "You know, Sasha can take care of 
them --"  She looked in his eyes.  "I prefer to take care of my own 
children, D'Gerrit.  Speaking of which."  Her voice dipped into a low 
octave.  "Leave. My. Son. Alone."
	D'Gerrit's tone was also low, but patient.  "But he's not just 
your son now.  He's mine."
	Neire glared in hatred.  "You were never a father.  You forget I 
was there.  Not to Ganni.  Not to Sahsa.  Not to F'rathim --"
	"_Enough_!" He almost-shouted.  "Your beauty makes you a fine lady, 
Neire, but your pride ruins it.  Be careful of how you speak to me."
	D'Gerrit stalked away, face flushed with anger.  Neire fingered 
the small knife she had hidden in a fold of her dress.  She wondered how 
long she would have to taste her children's food before she let them eat it.
	
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
	Shard awoke the next day to Chaldecony's telepathic call.
	<Again.  You should be named Reveille, y'know.>
	<What?  I don't understand.>
	<Nevermind.  What is it?>
	<Z'Lec is calling together all combat riders for practice, and 
for wing organization.>
	<Blast.  Can't miss that.  Let's go.>
	He arrived exactly on time, almost late, and took his place just 
as Z'Lec was beginning to speak.

> "We'll be reorganising and adding the new riders into our patrol schedule 
> soon.  All of you consider who you'd like to be paired with and turn your 
> requests in to me by tomorrow evening.  I'll try to honour as many of them 
> as I can."

Shard wondered.  'Who would I ask to be paired with?  Or does it really 
matter.'

> Z'lec continued.  "I will be announcing my choice of a new Wingsecond as 
> soon as I have observed everyone enough to decide on one.  I *do* *not* want 
> anyone proposing themselves or anyone else for the position.  I'll make my 
> own judgement."

	Shard proceeded with the combat maneuvers.  ahving completed most of 
the regular combat rider training at militaristic Norwall, he did quite 
well, and retired to the kitchens after training was over, ravenous.
	<Shard.  There is terrible news.  Araminta's child ...>
	Chaldecony did not continue. <The child what?  Did it ... oh no.  
How is she?  And David?>
	<David is better, physically.  Beyond that I do not know.>
	<I'd better go visit them.>

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-		

	D'Gerrit cursed slightly to himself.  He was aware that Neire had 
not favored him especially, and that she had turned down all proffered 
dinner offers and the like, but this open hostility ... the new 
Warrenchild was becoming a massive pain, and now this ...
	D'gerrit pushed the door open softly.  Jaquel was within, at her 
desk, her rightful place.  "Lady Jaquel ... "
	She started.  "Oh, come in D'Gerrit, do come in, I was just doing 
a bit of paperwork ..." D'Gerrit reflected that for the past three days 
she had done nothing but stare at old drawings and read old letters, or 
stare off into empty space.  He wondered if it was the hatching that had 
caused this fit in her.  Perhaps he should look for a secretary -- _He_ 
certainly did not have time to scribble on pieces of paper all of the 
time, any mroe than he did, with his responsibilities ...
	"Lady.  I have just been looking over the files on our riders ... 
we now have enough riders, both newly Joined and old hands, that we may 
now consider splitting our main combat wing in two. T'Grat is doing an 
excellent job.  I was wondering if perhaps, you had anyone in mind for 
the other wing ..."  
	Jaquel's eyes regained something of their natural piercing 
aspect.  "No I do not ... do we have anyone?"  "I do not think so, 
m'lady. But we will require the versatility of a pair of wings should we 
suffer another Wild attack.  Perhaps I should lead one ..."
	Jaquel smiled. "That's an excellent idea, it has my full 
approval.  You always were an expert strategist, Jaquel.  Even Constance 
said ..." her voice broke slightly.  She shook her head, as if refusing 
to acknowledge the tears by wiping them away.  "Your idea is approved."
	He eased the door shut.  Excellent.
	D'Gerrit continued his rounds.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
	

[nrpg]
Welcome to Michelle/Soleil of Norwall!
Did any of the others overhear the altercation between Neire and D'Gerrit?

Talk t'ya later,

	Josh 'Khan' Kubli

	'There has not been any great genius without an lement of madness.'
		--Seneca