Time: early morning
Place: sitting room of Isabeau,  Kall's apartments, north tower, Breven Hold
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"I don't care, Grey.  I have never let that man run my life, and I don't
intend to now.  and I am most certainly not about to let him hand me over to
another selfish bastard who only wants me to do the same.  I'll not be a
broodmare for anybody's pleasure."  She shouted at the wide, grey-tunicked
wall of a back, her hurt making her anger all the more fierce.

Grey turned away from the orange-gold flames in the black marbled fireplace
and saw just how out of place she looked in these elegant rooms.  He could
see the fury that flushed the face of his exact opposite and twin.  Her aqua
eyes were two shades lighter than his own deep blue green.  Her face was a
soft creamy gold, pink cheeked with anger and yet another day spent
traipsing under the sun with the Master of the Hunt.  He knew his own face
was pale from too many days shut up inside this Hold.  Her hair, a rich
honeyed gold and thick with natural heavy curls, was a wild tangle and
streaked with pale wheat strands from days spent outside.  His own hair was
straight and so black it was almost blue, reaching just past his shoulders
and tied back in a neat queue.  She wore rough spun linen, a tunic of plain
cut and no embellishments over deep brown breeches borrowed from a
stablehand.  No shoes.  He wore grey silk embroidered with silver keywork
and charcoal velvet breeches and matching suede indoor boots.  He was a
tower, standing over six feet, broad through the shoulders and kept muscled
through weaponswork.  She was slim as a sprite and softly curved despite her
attempts to hide it.  She'd bound her curves for so long trying to disquise
them from their father.  But she was seventeen now and, bound or no, she'd
attracted the eyes of the men, and more than their eyes.  This was the fifth
marriage offer she'd now refused.

"What _do_ you want, Isabeau?  If you are so determined not to marry, what
do you want to do with your life?"

"I don't understand why I have to do anything.  Why can't I just stay here
where I am, doing what I love to do?"

"Because your seventeen and you should have been married two years ago.  Do
you want Father to support you for the rest of his days?  And what then?"

"Do you have any idea how much you sound like the old bastard?!  What
happened to the Grey I know and love?"

"Maybe I sound like father because he's right."  His constantly unruffled
calm was like fingernails on school slates to Beau.  She could never
understand how he kept in the emotions that seethed beneath his icy
demeaner.  She knew they were there.  She had felt the backdraft of them all
to often through the invisable link they shared.    Like the frustration she
could sense now.
"Look, I just...I just can't watch you struggling so hard here anymore.  I
just think that you have a better chance further away from Creth and the
court.  You aren't going to get another chance to get away.  I guess I
thought that Nerak's so smitten with you, he'd let you do what ever you
wanted after the marriage.  And his estate is far enough away from court to
keep their eyes off you."

"Nerek is more than sixty years old and he's worn out three wives already
from having too many babies.  And he married all of them as soon as they
became marriageable.  The last one was twelve.  He has fifteen children,
Grey.  Did your little court spies find that out?"  She'd learned all that
within moments of finding out about the offer.  She got all her information
from the best source.  The servants, slaves, and guards of Creth's court
were easily bribeable, except where Isabeau was concerned.  She'd long ago
earned their respect and friendship, and most importantly, their loyalty.
Gwenna the old cook had been the one to sit her down and give her the facts
on her prespective bridegroom.  

"No.  I knew he'd been married three times, but that was all.  I thought..I
knew he was older, but I thought once he was gone you'd be a widow and could
do what you pleased.  I was trying to look out for you."

Isabeau walked forward slowly and buried her lovely face at the base of his
throat.  His arms came up around her and held her close, each trying to
comfort the other in a hopeless situation.  They stayed that way for a
moment, but then he felt her tense, steeling her determination even as her
body stiffened.  She pulled away, her face animated by new life and hope.

"To Hell with this place, Grey.  I'm getting out of here.  Domas says I'm
good enough to be a Master of the Hunt.  I couldn't do that at a Hold, but I
can offer the same services to others.  I can beat you two out of three in a
fight and the weaponsmaster one out of two.  I could go mercenary, or be a
bodyguard.  And I can always fall back on herding if I can't get a job doing
the other."

"But where?  How can you get a job?"  Grey felt more than a few doubts about
this new plan.  Not that he doubted her abilities, but there weren't that
many people who would hire a woman.  Especially one that looked like
Isabeau.  For all her rough ways and manly talents, she was a graceful as
any court lady, and much admired among the men at court.  He had no doubt
that she would be more so among those who would appreciate her skills rather
than shunning her for them.  And that in itself was a new danger.

"The fair at Marketa.  It's a harvest festival.  Surely there will be some
jobs for guards and mercenaries with all the Hold Lords taking tithes to the
Warrens.  And now that they're opening up that new Warren, there will be
even more caravans.  I'll probably have to sign with a company until I get
some experience under my belt, but I know that Marketa has a Guild house
that will help me get started.  I can pay the guild fee out of my stash."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?"  It hurt to think of her
leaving him.  Hurt to think that she was going beyond his protection.  She
must have picked up on that hurt though.

"I thought about it a couple of times, but I didn't have the will to go
through with it."  She paused to look him in his eyes, so like hers and yet
so much darker. "Will you come with me to the festival and help me get set
up?  I want to get with a good company."

"Yes.  I'll come.  And if I throw my stash in with yours, maybe we can get
you some better armor too."

The sudden smile that stretched her pink mouth was worth everything in the
world to him and then she was throwing herself back in his arms to hug him
with a strength that most people would not have guessed in so slim a girl.
And suddenly he knew it was going to be okay.  

^V^V^V^
time: mid afternoon, well after lunchtime
place: east Marketa, fairgrounds
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Grey held tightly to her hand, wanting to make sure she didn't get pulled
away by the crowd, but she was the one leading the way through the crowd.
For her sake he'd abandoned his court finery, knowing it would have confuse
things when she brought him with her to the Guild office.  He'd worn a
guard's uniform instead.  An off-duty Brevenite guard didn't even get a
blink at a Marketa fair.  And Beau did not look completely out of place in
the new mail shirt he'd managed to get her.   And she'd pulled a deep green
tunic on over the mail. She still had her own shoulder guard and forearm
guards. She had pulled her green riding boots over her knees and belted her
own sword at her tiny waist.  On her back she had a small pack that held a
change of clothes, most of her money, and a few necessities.  She'd managed
to pull her thick blond hair up in a coronet braid rather than cut it off.
It would be a hinderance, but she couldn't manage to cut it with Grey
looking so sadly at her.  He loved her hair.  

Even more than the new chainmail and clothes, she looked the part.  Her
mouth was set in a determined line, her face looked more severe with her
hair all pulled back, and the boots showed just how long her legs, and her
stride, were.  There was something so capable about her, like she could do
anything she put her mind to, and something just a little bit dangerous. 

Maybe it was the way she moved.  They'd both been taught by the same man, a
famous fighter of several schools who'd turned teacher.  He'd been of the
firm belief that the best way to avoid an assassin was to know all their
tricks ahead of time.  But he'd also taught them about honor in fighting.
Isabeau had taken to both sets of lessons with equal skill.

"Come on, Grey, we're almost there."  They fought their way through the
carnival dressed crowd.  Lots of red and gold flashed amid the throng of
people.  Tricksters and jesters dressed for autumn.  The two of them were
keeping their eyes out for pickpockets and thieves, both of which would be
making the most of the crowds.  

They were looking for an inn.  Supposidly, the man incharge of recruitment
was also incharge of part of the festivities today.  He and most of the the
others that were sponsering this fair were involved in a card game at the
East End Inn. 

"There it is."  Grey's great height made it easier for him to see over the
heads of the farmers and travelers that seem to follow all fairs.  It was a
big building.  Whitewashed and trimmed in dark green.  Today the doors were
wide open, and the smell of something cooking drifted out over the crowd.

Grey took the lead now and managed to manuever them closer to the doors.

Inside the atmosphere was hot.  There was a small crowd gathered around a
table where four men were playing cards.  Isabeau, being pulled towards the
table, jerked to a halt, looking the men over.  The man at the Guildhouse
had given her a description of the recruiter.  There he was.  Beside the
bearded man with the blue eyes.  Aqua eyes fastened on the recruiter, an
aging fellow with muscles now going soft and grey hair at the temples.
There was a scar running across his cheek that looked old and his nose was
crooked where it'd been broken once and not set.  But for all of that, he
looked like a man to be reckoned with.  Especially judging from the pile of
coins infront of him.

She dropped Grey's hand then and moved ahead of him towards the table.  The
crowd parted for her like butter and she made it to the table just as the
bearded man laid his cards down with a jovial smile and raked in the
considerable 'pot' from the center of the table.  

"I apologise, gentlemen, for interupting your game, but I'd like to have a
brief word with Mr. Raneu if I may."  Every person at that table, and most
of the crowd around it looked up to see the tall, leggy blond in armor and
the even taller man who shadowed her.  Her mercenary styled clothing was
illmatched with the soft silvery voice and elegant speech.

She ignored them all to watch Raneu's expression.  Even the bearded man, who
was looking at her and Grey like they were blue.  She did notice he was
dressed differently.  In riding leathers.  

Raneu recovered quickly and sat back in his chair to question her.  

"And what would you need to see me about, pretty thing?"

She felt Grey tense up behind her, but settled him with a discrete touch.
"The Guildhouse sent me to find you.  They said your signiture is needed to
okay my voucher."  

"Well,well.  And what position would a pretty thing like to be put in?"
Several of the men laughed openly at the man's double entendre.  

Grey reached for his sword pommel, though his face remained calm, his eyes
had gone a dark smokey blue.  He'd kill the next man that made a comment
like that to his sister.

At that point the bearded man in riding leathers stood up.  The tall fellow
behind the girl must be her man for him to look so dark at these petty
quips.  he felt the need to break in before someone drew steel.

"What kind of work can you do, miss?"

Isabeau could have kissed the man.  She could feel the tension from Grey and
knew he had trouble controling his instinct to protect her.  She had taken
no real offense to the comments simply because she'd fully expected them.
It was a man's world outside of the Warrens and from the stories she'd heard
of Them...Well, Creth had made it clear that the Dragonriders were to be
shunned at all cost.  

"I'm looking for work as a guard or tracker."  A couple of folks snickered,
but she stood her ground, relaxing as Grey let go of his hilt.  "I'm an
exerienced fighter, and I can track near anything.  I'm not bad taking care
of animals either."  The man nodded, his blue eyes twinkling slightly.

"What about your big friend there?  Is he part of the deal?"

Beau cracked a smile.  She knew how much hell she was going to catch for her
next comment.  "No, sir.  Big Grey already has a job.  He just likes to
follow me around."

"That's a shame.  But I might have a job openning up for you, miss.  Let me
get my stuff and we can go somewhere and discuss it."  He glanced at his
table companions and smiled as he raked up the pot he'd just won and poured
it into a purse-bag.  His goodbyes and pardons were not well received by his
companions who wouldn't be getting a chance to win back their money now, but
that didn't seem to dim the twinkling eyes and the smile that seemed to
flutter about his lips and land on them so frequently.

He took the lead as the girl and her large fellow followed him out of the
inn and back into the chaos of the festival.  across the street to a small
apothicary shop.  The man behind the farwall counter, a heavy set fellow,
looked up brightly, then deflated just as quickly when the oldest of the
three, a bearded fellow, waved him down.  The shop was quiet and private,
that was all they needed.

Saul caught a brief look pass between the couple as he turned back from the
shop clerk.  He had a feeling she hadn't been completely straight about the
man's situation, and now she'd managed to confirm it.  

He decided to hit them with it all head on.

"My name's Saul."  She nodded but didn't offer her own name.  "I'm not sure
exactly if what I can offer you is what you had in mind.  You see, I'm the
Head Searcher for Whiteriver Warren.  And I'm Searching you.  Both of you."

The word Warren seemed to have an unfavorable sound to it.  The girl tensed
up immediately and anger settled over her features.  The man...he seemed to
just ice over.

"I'm sorry, sir, to have troubled you and taken you away from your game.
I'm sure your offer is most sincere, but I can not accept."  She turned in
perfect unison with the dark haired man toward the door.

Saul faced a delema.  They had refused him, but both of them were strong in
the dragon affinity.  He didn't want to give up just yet.  He reached across
and tugged at the sleeve of her tunic.

And found a knife suddenly at his throat.  The big man looked Saul in the eyes.

"Let go of the lady now, or even this good apothicary will not be able to
stop your lifeblood from staining his floor."  The deep soft voice was as
cultured as any Hold Lord's and as cold as any assassin.  

Saul dropped his hand from her sleeve, and the knife dropped from his throat
back into it's sheath.  "I at least deserve to know why you're refusing my
offer."

Again the couple met eyes as though he'd just confirmed something to them both.
She stepped forward to face him with a look of mild repugnance.

"Warrens are full of nothing but Dragonriders, disgusting, insane beasts
that worship dragons with blood sacrifices, and fornicate with dragons as
well as with each other.  They're all mad, dirty, animals."

Saul wasn't sure whether to be appalled or to laugh.  He glanced down at
himself as though checking to see if he'd suddenly changed.  "I can't say
that I've ever 
fornicated with a dragon, and my last medical exam didn't say anything about
being insane.  I know for a fact that my dragon would laugh himself silly if
I ever even proposed to 'worship' him.  Who told you these lies, miss?"

Doubt crept into her eyes.  Pretty aqua eyes with a thick fringe of lashes.
She was a stunning girl, more so for the lively animation that lit her
features.  It wasn't really a wonder that she'd attracted the interest of
this man.  And it had been clear from _his_ speech that he was no simple
guard.  He wondered why a nobleman's mistress was out seeking work as a
mercenary.

"My uncle said it, sir.  He said all dragonriders were mad and made me swear
an oath to stay away from them.  In all good conscious I can stay in your
presence no longer.  You are a dragonrider, and the very thing I swore to
stay away from."  She said the words, but doubt still lingered in her voice.
It was clear that she was merely repeating what she'd been told and not some
conviction of her own.  Obviously she'd never come incontact with a
dragonrider before or she would have known her statements to be false.

"Your uncle is a fool, and I'll not beg pardon for insulting him. He's
managed to insult me, my dragon Fayloth, and my fellow riders.  I'd like to
know his name so I can report him to the Council of Warrenladies."  

The man glanced down a warning at the woman, but she was looking at him
pecularly.  Somewhere between the glances a battle of wills was waged and
won.  She turned back to Saul.

"Would it be an imposition to ask to see your dragon, sir?  This Fayloth you
mentioned?"  Saul had the sudden sure sensation that a fisherman gets when
he knows he's hooked a big one and it isn't slipping off the hook.

"I can do that.  But at least give me your name first so I can properly
introduce you to him."

"My name is Isabeau.  This"  she thumbed over her shoulder at the big man,
"is my twin, Grey.  We're both of Breven Hold."

Saul moved beside her and gallantly extended his elbow to the young woman.
She hesitated, glanced up at the dark blue-green eyes of her so-called twin,
and moved to gingerly take his arm.  

<..>

"He's beautiful."  The awed, reverently spoken words didn't quite seem to
fit the blue dragon that lounged on the hilltop just outside of Marketa
looking down at the edge of the festival.  The big blue creature was lying
on his stomach, feet sprawled out in all directions and his nose buried in a
bunch of late-blooming wildflowers.  He looked bored to Saul.  But at the
sound of the woman's words the dragon raised his head and looked at her with
his red eyes, and immediately shifted into a more regal pose.  

"Fayloth, meet Isabeau and Grey of Breven Hold."    The blue dragon
graciously inclined his head to them in greeting, and Grey suddenly knew
that Beau would be going to the Warren.  Saul had explained to them what
Searching was on the way to the hill top, and Isabeau, though still wary,
seemed entranced by the idea.  Practically, it would be the best position
she could hope to get with no guild connections.  Even if she didn't want a
dragon, she could still stay on as a hunter, or taking care of the herds
collected from tithe.  She'd have good housing and food, and a job to help
with the extras.  And she'd get to be around the dragons.  Grey could tell
right off that his sister trusted the dragon, if not the dragonrider.  She
had an instinct about animals.  It was what made her a good tracker and
hunter.  And Grey trusted that instinct too.  The only question now, was
should he go with her.

Isabeau felt the conflict in Grey and turned her eyes from the glorious
dragon to her brother's.  She knew she wanted to go to this place.  This
Whiteriver.  but she wasn't ready to leave Grey.  She wanted him with her in
this new strange place.  It must have shown in her eyes because he turned to
look at the suddenly quiet Saul.  

"We'll come."

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Isabeau and Grey  
20 novembre, 1996








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}Captain Aaron Michael,GALILEO;Sebastion Chance,STEELE; {
{Lt.Lily Darkheart,JAVELIN;Windstorm Kayrella,ECLIPSE;  }
}Isabeau & Maganthea ~ Grey & Razanthor,DRAGONLANDS;    { 
{Allessin Ashlynn Night,IMF;Glory Brittain,SSV1&RL;     )
........................................................
}<> Glory Brittain <> http://www.crl.com/~nimh/glory <> {
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