Revlis

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The older highborns sat at the other High Table, but the tide of talk definitely came from the first.  Only a single seat was empty.</div> <div> The owner of that seat flung open the foyer doors, bringing a gust of hot air with him.  It was summer, and Windwhip Hold was having an unusually warm season.  </div> <div> That <I>could</I> have explained why the gorgeous young man was shirtless when he entered the Great Hall.  Yet…his ivory skin showed no sweat.  His pants were as crisp and tailored as if they'd just been pressed.  And while his hair was damp, it was also <I>clean</I>.  It framed his handsome face in jet tendrils.</div> <div> Every female head at the fosterlings' table turned toward the door, and painted lips snapped shut.  Nine pairs of eyes widened.  </div> <div> Aschiane, seated with Gherol, her heir, and the nanny at the dais-table, scowled.  "Revlis," she said, her voice sharp, "you may be used to other customs, but here we only come to the table when we are fully dressed. "</div> <div> The handsome Bitran shrugged.  His shirt-which had been hanging over his arm the whole time-went on without a word, and Revlis made the whole affair look decidedly…sensual.  Jaws agape, the female contingent was silent.  </div> <div> Pleased, Revlis sat down in his accustomed place.  A hooked-nose Igeni, on his right, rolled his eyes.  "You're such a showoff, Rev."</div> <div> "I know."  Meticulously, he scraped butter onto his roll, scraping most of it off again and slathering it on the edge of its dish.  The pale, sweet butter looked like it was growing fuzzy spots of mold.  "Any luck with the weaver today, Briyon?"</div> <div> A mahogany-skinned beauty took possession of the butter dish and gave him a look of disgust.  "Honestly, Revlis, it won't <I>hurt</I> you to have visible butter on your bread.  Why don't you take less, if you don't want it all?"</div> <div> "It tears up the roll," Aschiane's brother-in-law replied condescendingly.  "The loaf is too delicate.  But I expect you don't have stuff like this where you come from, Erif.  Barley bread's tougher, isn't it?" </div> <div> "So you ruin it for everyone else," the woman snapped, blue eyes narrowing.  </div> <div> Revlis gave her a long, cool look out of grey-green eyes, as detached as any Farmcrafter looking at a slide.  "I was <I>talking</I> to Briyon, before you so rudely interrupted me.  Do go on, Briyon."</div> <div> Briyon shook his head resignedly.  "She's still refusing to talk to you.  I think she's really mad."</div> <div> The Bitran's petulant frown deepened.  "I shall have to talk to Gherol about this.  It's quite inexcusable."  He turned his haughty gaze down the table.  "Pass the tubers, girl."  </div> <div> The dark-eyed girl blushed and paled in turn, fumbling for the dish with one hand.  She couldn't seem to look away.  Her grasping hand succeeded only in knocking over her glass.  </div> <div> Revlis sighed.  Ignoring the girl's scarlet cheeks and the livid stain growing on the white tablecloth, he leaned over the table and got the tubers himself.  </div> <bR> <div> "That really wasn't very nice," Briyon said later, watching the younger man stretch in preparation for more strenuous exercise.  The shirt was off again, thrown over the back of a chair.    </div> <div> Revlis looked up from a leg-stretch, blinking.  "What wasn't nice?"</div> <div> "That with the girl and all."  Briyon leaned loose-jointedly against the wall.  He wouldn't join the Bitran; Briyon didn't care to work out, and he was naturally thin anyway.  But he did find it amusing to watch his friend sweat, so he stayed.  </div> <div> "What, Erif?  She's always nagging about <I>something</I>.  Shoots her mouth off like she was a Lord's daughter, not a second cousin."</div> <div> The Igeni frowned.  "No.  That dark-eyed girl with the really long hair.  Kessha, I think her name is.  She was really embarrassed."  </div> <div> Revlis' face showed no signs of recognition.    "The one who spilled her drink all over at dinner, Rev!"  Briyon snapped, losing his temper.  "Shards, don't you realize what goes on around you?"</div> <div> "Oh, her.  So what?"  No one could shrug whilst doing pushups, but Revlis did.</div> <div> Briyon grumbled under his breath, but did not comment.</div> <bR> <div> There was a dragon in the Courtyard.  Revlis wasn't surprised.  It was a brown, which was unusual; Search dragons were usually blue or green-or some other odd color, nowadays-and any transport dragon would be of those colors or a bronze, since most folk traveling from Windwhip who rated a dragon-taxi rated a bronze.  </div> <div> It was also, he saw, not from Dicytra at all.  The rider was a smiling, curly-haired fellow, lean and well-muscled.  On his chest, he wore a badge, blazoned with a stylized dragon flying west, away from a rising sun.  </div> <div> The man slithered down from his dragon in a graceful dismount, landed lightly on his feet, and grinned at Revlis.  His manner was far too familiar, but what <I>really</I> got to Revlis were his words.  </div> <div> "Good day.  I'm Al'jan.  Pack up, laddy, you're going to <A HREF="http://www.geocities.com/ryslen_red/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.geocities.com/ryslen_red/"><U>Ryslen</U></A>.  Fivrith says you're perfect."</div> <div> He agreed with the dragon in principle.  However, it was the command that actually filtered through Revlis' brain, and it went straight to the resistance section.   He stamped.  "I will <I>not!</I>  I'm of the Blood, and you've no right to just cart me off to do drudgework on the say-so of some carnivorous beast who can't even remember where to come home to at night."</div> <div> Al'jan gawked, tonsils gleaming, before the charm kicked in again.  "But m'lord," he wheedled, "you'd Stand for the very finest of dragons.  Ryslen is known far and wide for the quality of its bonds."  </div> <div> The dragon just growled, low in its throat.  Revlis glared his handsome glare at the young rider.  "No.  I'm not giving up what I've got here."</div> <div> "Look," Al'jan said, desperately.  "If you'll just come and <I>see</I> them before you make up your mind…"</div> <div> "I'm not going, and that's final.  And I'm going to report your harassment to Lady Aschiane, who will doubtless take it back to your Weyrleader.  Go home."  Revlis stalked back inside the Hold, smirking inwardly at the wide eyes of the witnesses.  He'd have twice the attention for weeks.  And the Hold girls would admire him…maybe he could even convince the dracophobic weaver to deal with him again.  </div> <bR> <div> Lord Consort Gherol paced like a caged lion, glaring at his brother all the while.  "What were you <I>thinking?"</I>  he snarled.  "That was a <I>dragonrider</I>.  He was <I>Searching</I> you."</div> <div> Revlis, sulky and irritable, only set his jaw a little more.  "I'm happy <I>here</I>.  And I don't need your interference.  I'm of the Bitran line.  No OutWeyr dragonrider has any right to carry me off."</div> <div> With the whisper of satin, Aschiane swept into Gherol's relatively tiny office.  "Ah, Revlis," she purred, sitting primly in the most comfortable chair.  Her teal skirts were so wide, they draped the chair's arms as well as flowing from knee to floor.  "I must invite you to reconsider your decision.  As wonderful as it is to see someone invoking their rights as a member of the core families, and denying the dragonriders their delusions of grandeur, there are facets of this situation I think you have not considered."</div> <div> "What?"  The young Bitran's voice was sullen.  "Why do <I>you</I> want me out of here?"</div> <div> Aschiane's striking blue-green eyes narrowed.  "Think about it, Revlis.  For once in your life, think.  My line has <I>never</I> had a dragonrider in the family, and I doubt if Gheri's has, either.  This is a Weyr very far away-not tied to the influence of Dicytra.  Probably <I>senior</I> to Dicytra.  Do you know how very valuable you'd be, Revlis?  You'd be a prize there, too, I've no doubt; Weyrs seldom get Candidates of the Blood.  They'd treat you with all the respect you deserve.  I've no doubt they could do better than this backwater Hold."</div> <div> Grey-green eyes unfocused as Revlis pondered.  At last, tired of Gherol and Aschiane's eyes upon him, he rose, brushing his tailored tunic off.  "I'll consider it," he said with ill grace.  "Now leave me <I>alone!</I>"</div> <bR> <div> ****</div> <div> Al'jan flung himself down on the sunwarmed stone of the promontory beside his lifemate.  The brownrider was annoyed, and he didn't like it.  That UnSearched candidate prickled at him like a burr or thistle in his boot.  Why couldn't that holdbrat be convinced?</div> <div> <<He <I>would</I> be perfect for Damselth's clutch,>> Fivrith said, aggrieved.  <<But he is unwilling.  I've never met <I>anyone</I> who couldn't be cajoled into coming to Ryslen.>></div> <div> He lay there for a while, musing in silence, before a sudden movement in the sky caught his eye.  A cheerful voice yelled out a greeting moments before a smallish blue stooped from the sky.  The blue landed with panache on the stone tongue, but not before Fivrith had half-risen in alarm.  </div> <div> "Ah, Al'jan!  So good to see you again!" The rider, rapidly shimmying down his dragon's side, practically bounced as he landed.  </div> <div> "T'mael," Al'jan returned dryly, not sure whether he should be amused or resigned at the Searchrider's magical appearance.  "What're you doing at Ryslen?"</div> <div> "Peering `round, looking for some way to assist someone…you know me, Al'jan!  Ever at your service."  The man grinned down at him, and Al'jan couldn't help but smile back.  T'mael's enthusiasm was infectious, and his charm was finely tuned.  The bluerider had never <I>quite</I> laid it on too thick.  </div> <div> "You'll excuse me if I don't bound up to greet you, but I'm afraid my back has adhered to the stone here," the brownrider sighed.  "Please, have a seat."</div> <div> The Searchrider's eyes were disconcertingly intense as they looked him over.  T'mael did accept the seat, but he didn't relax.  "Is there something wrong?" he asked lightly, rubbing his hand up and down Alnath's ankle.  "You look like a thundercloud."</div> <div> Al'jan shrugged.  "Some wherrybrained holdbrat.  He wouldn't be Searched.  I know he'd be <I>perfect</I> to fill up this last space, but…no."  He rolled his eyes.  "Arrogant, beautiful kid.  Ve-e-ery used to having all the attention and no resistance."</div> <div> The other man perked up.  "Really?  And he refused you point-blank?"  He studied Fivrith for a moment.  "I didn't think you two were of the Searching persuasion."</div> <div> "I'm not, not really," the curly-haired rider shrugged.  "Just got bored and decided to go looking.  This rotten holdbrat was my only find, and it's kind of depressing."</div> <div> T'mael cocked his head with a grin.  "We-ell, maybe there <I>is</I> something I could do for you, then.  I bet you I know <I>exactly</I> what'll make that kid jump a-dragonback, and I could Search him right now!"</div> <div> Black eyebrows arched dubiously.  "I don't know.  He was awfully firm about it…"</div> <div> "I'll bet you five marks that I <I>can</I> get him back here.  If I win, you don't have to pay-I just want first rights to Weyr-bating if and when the lad Impresses.  Moire needs more dragons!"  </div> <div> Al'jan shook his head in bemusement.  "Well, if you want to try, I'll argue your case with Jeyann.  But I don't know the kid's name-just that he's one of the holders at Windwhip, down in Dicytra lands on the old world."</div> <div> T'mael bounded back up to his feet, and grinned cockily at his dragon.  "Alnath's the cleverest Searchdragon anywhere.  He'll smell him out, I'm sure!"  </div> <div>   ***</div> <div> The next day at Windwhip, Revlis was infuriated to find the `track' clogged with yet another dragon.  "What do you <I>want?"</I> he yelled up to the somewhat distressed-looking man on the blue's back.  "I said <I>no!"</I></div> <div> Leather creaked as the rider dismounted.  "I want to see you, of course," he said pleasantly, smiling.  "Are you the mighty…Revlis?  I've heard all about you.  I'm just thrilled to meet you."  He clasped the Bitran's hand reverently.</div> <div> Despite the man's self-assurance, he was damp with a cold sweat.  Revlis wrinkled his nose and pried his hand out of the clammy grip.  The rider grinned self-deprecatingly, not at all bothered.  "Sorry.  Airsick.  Nothing seems to help…  But that's not anything you need concern yourself about.  I'm T'mael of the Moire Protectorate, on the world of Lao Daemia.  The dragons have been talking about you all over the Nexus."</div> <div> Revlis blinked.  "They have?"</div> <div> "Oh, indeed.  The candidate that couldn't be caught, the big fish that Al'jan let get away…why, you're practically a celebrity.  It's a pity, though, that you won't.  Alnath is just raving about your potential worth as a dragonrider."  T'mael leaned forward conspiratorially.  "Although, between you and me, I'm kind of relieved that you said no.  With a face like yours, you'd be the center of attention at the Weyr.  No one would even notice any <I>other</I> candidates I brought in.  And as for the Searchrider who brought them-bah!  I'd be cursed into living in obscurity for eternity!"</div> <div> The boy raised his eyebrows and looked thoughtful, drawing himself proudly upright.  "Well, I…you really think I'd go over that well?"</div> <div> T'mael nodded solemnly, without a hint of a smile.  "You'd've been the biggest eye-catcher at Ryslen, if you had said yes.  It's just too bad for those Ryslen ladies…"</div> <div> "Well, who's to say that I can't change my mind?  Take me to Ryslen, bluerider."  </div> <div> The shadow of a grimace, barely visible, flashed across T'mael's face before he nodded and bowed Revlis across to Alnath's back.  It was just as quickly replaced by a grin as he thought of the trouble the boy would be at Ryslen.  </div> <div> <I>Well, he asked for it…</I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> Revlis was profoundly disturbed by the lack of anything resembling a social order at Ryslen.  Even at Dicytra, there had at least been a class difference between, say, blue riders and brown riders.  Here, almost nobody <I>cared</I>.  </div> <div> And they didn't care much about him, either. His status, at least.  There <I>were</I> still the hangers-on, but they had gotten…frightening.  He had several female riders and some female weyrfolk who mobbed about him in a familiar and reassuring way.  But there were…others.  Like Jalemar.  </div> <div> The Bitran shuddered at the thought.  Jalemar was very popular with both sexes, and handsome enough.  Yet, despite all those willing partners, the rider was chasing <I>him</I>.  And drooling.  It was <I>most</I> disquieting.  </div> <div> In fact, Jalemar even followed him onto the Sands when Orypith and Damselth announced their clutch.  Revlis shook off the feeling of those warm eyes following him with an effort, and settled down to pose for his future lifemate.  For of course, there would be a dragon here for him.  </div> <div> A silvery-blue creature hatched first, Impressing another dragon.  The young man snorted in disgust, crossing his arms.  <I>His</I> dragon should have hatched <I>first</I>.  But that had definitely not been his dragon.  Revlis wouldn't be caught dead on a blue, even an off-color one.  </div> <div> Subsequently, there hatched a brown, a green, and a blue.  They bored him, and he let the world know it with his body-language.  Since he wore his robe open, and only thin cotton pants beneath, there were plenty of people watching.  His muscles rippled under his lightly tanned, gleaming skin.  </div> <div> A silvery-green appeared, and Impressed to some girl or other.  What was <I>with</I> these weird-colored dragons?  Revlis had never seen any glinty ones like these before.  He considered being affronted at being forced to Stand for a defective clutch…but there was only one egg left on the Sands, and it <I>must</I> be his.  </div> <div> The last egg shivered, and began to open.  Revlis preened, smoothing down his dark hair and straightening his robe.  This was his dragon-bronze, right?-and he wanted to look his best for it-just in case it had a roving eye. Jalemar was drooling again, he saw, and his dragons-dragons!  <I>Two!</I>-were watching from the ledges.  Good.  </div> <div> As the dragon emerged, Revlis stared. The occupant was a silver-purple, and <I>she</I> was definitely female.  But she was just as certainly <I>his</I>; she touched his arm with his nose, fondly.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#CC66FF" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" > <<<I>Close your mouth, Revlis my dearest, and tell them my name.>></I></FONT></div> <div>  "Cszaiath. Her name is Cszaiath."  </div> <div> He could ignore Jalemar's cat-who-got-the-cream grin.  He had all the time in the world to regain his poise…all the time in Cszaiath's indigo-violet eyes.  </div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><IMG SRC="0839ae60.gif" border=0 width="410" height="230" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <<Dearest, darling Revlis, will you please either oil me or scratch me for about an hour?>>  Cszaiath's tone was honeyed, but there was a definite bite underneath.  </div> <bR> <div> "There's already grease spots on half my clothing!" Revlis said wildly, more than a little hysterical.  Brilliantly-colored outfits were flying left and right as he burrowed through his chest.  "Shards, I <I>need</I> an <I>ironing board</I>!"  </div> <bR> <div> One lambent indigo-violet eye swiveled to glower at him.  <<D'lrik is already making loud noises about the inappropriateness of your daywear, Revlis,>> she said calmly.  <<And can you please take a <I>moment</I> to get yourself off your mind?  Put on something out-of-style and take care of my hide.  It's beginning to crack.>></div> <bR> <div> "Oh!  Not cracking, Cszaiath, please don't say that!"  Repentant, the handsome rider pulled an intricately-embroidered tunic over his head and picked up the oil cloth.  </div> <bR> <div> She sighed contentedly as Revlis began to rub the scented oil into her hide.  <<Well, maybe not yet.  But almost.>>  Cszaiath was pleased.  She had turned Revlis from someone who thought only of himself into someone who thought of only her and himself.  She <I>was</I> his true love, and she knew it.  </div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><IMG SRC="08cf4d20.gif" border=0 width="500" height="466" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> Cszaiath arched her long and lovely neck, peering down over the threshold of her ledge at Ryslen.  <<There is a very impressively marked dragon and his rider to see you,>> she said offhandedly.  <<I think you'll want to talk to him.>></div> <div> "Invite him up, won't you, Zai?"  Revlis was sullying his hands with work, but as it pertained to his wardrobe, he didn't appear to mind very much.  Grosgrain ribbon fluttered under his fingers.  "I'm very busy."</div> <div> There was a faint mental echo of her sultry `voice' extending that invitation.  Revlis concentrated on threading the ribbon through another microscopic slit.  He didn't even look up as a thunder of wings told him that the visitor had arrived.  </div> <div> "Well, good evening, young peacock!  I hear that the mighty Revlis has Impressed."  </div> <div> Revlis' jaw dropped.  Sharp grey-green eyes blinked upward at the slightly green-in-the-face rider, a man with dark eyes and a pleasant smile.  "Wha-"</div> <div> "Although, I must say, I never thought you'd end up with the likes of <I>her</I>."  T'mael slapped Cszaiath's gleaming haunch, and she thrummed at him. </div> <div> "Traitor," Revlis muttered half-heartedly.  He looked at the flashy blue-and-white dragon with some suspicion.  "Weren't you riding something different when you Searched me?"</div> <div> The point-marked male snorted.  <<Brilliant observation.>></div> <div> "Is he <I>talking</I> to me?"</div> <div> T'mael grinned his easy grin, cheerful as ever.  "Oh, this is Metchentoth.  He's my show-dragon."</div> <div> <<I am <I>not</I> a show-dragon.  Just because <I>Al</I>-nath can smell candidate a mile away…>>  Metchentoth snaked his head down to glower sulkily at his rider.  </div> <div> "You're a dragon of many talents too, Metchentoth.  You know that I loved you first."  T'mael stroked his lifemate's nose.  </div> <div> <<But you take him more.  It's not my fault that my talents are useless.>></div> <div> The rider sighed.  "Metch, you are both <I>equally</I> talented.  Alnath's gifts just make him a good Searchdragon.  Now, why don't you, O verbose one, explain why we're here today?"</div> <div> <<We are here today, Revlis and ever-so-lovely Cszaiath, to invite you to join the Moire Protectorate.  It is a place of shining towers and towering spires, of sinuous black stone and spray-laden wind.  Moire is home to the legendary Efellai, and would like to be home to you.>>  Glancing at Revlis, Metchentoth added, <<We have need of some truly superlative riders.>></div> <div> Revlis' chin went up.  "Why should I believe you two?  <I>He's</I> the one who got me into this situation in the first place!" He jerked his thumb at T'mael.  "You gave me a <I>completely</I> wrong impression of this place!"</div> <div> T'mael smiled that utterly guileless smile of his again.  "Did I?  Don't they respect you? "</div> <div> "Some of them," Revlis admitted.  Some of them liked him entirely too much.  But he wasn't thinking about Jalemar now, was he?</div> <div> "We are prepared," T'mael said, drawing out a verbal trump with a flourish, "to offer your Cszaiath a position as Point of Iarthoron Talon.  It's one of the only leadership positions available."</div> <div> Cszaiath's interest surged in his mind.  <<They're offering to let me lead something?  We are going, Revlis.  Start packing; I want to leave this week.>></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><IMG SRC="08df4b50.gif" border=0 width="500" height="693" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></I></div> <bR> <div> The silver-purple was going to rise soon, that was certain.  Far be it from Cszaiath's mind to avoid those pesky males...no, she courted them, flirting outrageously, testing and pitting them against each other as she pleased.  This morning, she was toying with the fascinating dichotomy of brown Porth and copper Yarpath.  At the moment, Porth was having a power-struggle with their rider, Rugan.</div> <bR> <div> Cszaiath stifled a rather unmusical squawk as Porth went down.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>My sh</I></FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#C0C0C0" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>ell,</I></FONT> she said in awe.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>He's let her have the upper hand so much</I></FONT><I> </I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#C0C0C0" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>that she's gone and taken over!</I></FONT>  She gazed at him with respect in her indigo-violet eyes.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >She's your rider too?  </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#C0C0C0" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >How do you get along with her…and him?</FONT>  She shivered her dark-bright hide at the thought.  Her Revlis better not learn any tricks from this Rugan woman.  If <I>he</I> tried anything like that, he'd better be prepared to live a miserable existence for the rest of his pathetic life… </div> <div>   </div> <div>  Revlis…just…stared, his sculpted jaw hanging open to display brilliantly white teeth and some lovely tonsils.  "Scorch it!" he exclaimed, all his haughtiness evaporated in sheer amazement.  "How did you do that?  I never thought I'd see anyone who could wrestle a brown to the ground-never mind a woman!"</div> <bR> <div> <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>Uh... yeah.  He let her have the upper hand.</I></FONT>  Yarpath replied somewhat hesitantly.  His luminescent gaze flickered briefly to Porth and Rugan, as if the glance alone would encourage his brother to try impressing this beauty instead of losing horribly to their rider.  As usual, Porth was too intent on trying to wrap his tail around Rugan's neck to notice either the female he was trying to swoon, or his brother's urgent look.  Yarpath sighed and shook his teardrop shaped head.  Light glittered on the copper highlights of his well oiled hide as he turned another intelligent, yet tentative, gaze on the silven dragoness at his side.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#808000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>Getting along with them isn't the problem.  Rugan respects me for my intelligence, and Porth treats me as if I have always been his brother.</I></FONT>  *Again the muscular, copper-toned giant sighed gustily.  The sinuous muscles in his long neck pulsed and pulled as he turned his head, looking with a mixture of sadness and concern upon his bonds.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#808000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>The problem is finding a moment in the day where they aren't fighting.</I></FONT>  </div> <bR> <bR> <div> Cszaiath was sympathetic, if rather shocked.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>I…see.  I don't think you're the </I></FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#C0C0C0" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>warlike sort.  It must be hard for you.</I></FONT> She was still vamping, almost unconsciously, tilting her wings /so/, her tail coiling and uncoiling in a sinuous motion. Her shining hide was very bright in the warm Ryslen sun; daylight glanced off her flanks to blind as she moved.   </div> <div>   </div> <div> At Revlis' comment, a sudden dead silence filled the air.  Porth and Rugan ceased to fight, frozen in their battle positions with equal gazes locked on the willowy young man.  Porth's facetted eyes blazed with crimson fire, still heated from his struggle with his rider.  Rugan's black eyes seemed to bore holes into Revlis' soul, tearing into the shallow pool that he was and leaving only a dark feeling of dread in her wake. </div> <div> <I>He thinks you're weak because you're a woman.</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >  Porth said off-handedly to his rider.  Rugan returned with a slow, deliberate nod.  </FONT></div> <div>    </div> <div>  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>Oh dear.</I></FONT>  Yarpath's eyes widened in shock as he watched Rugan release Porth and begin a long-legged walk towards Revlis.  His yellow tinted eyes found Cszaiath and attempted to block her view of the two humans.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>I deeply apologize for my rider's actions and her considerably uncouth ways. </I></FONT>He talked quickly, as if he was rushing to say something before time ran out.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>Please don't judge my brother and I by her actions.  I swear to you, Porth and I are far too civilized to-</I></FONT>  He paused and winced as a thunderous crack filled the air.  Rugan had reached Revlis, and her fist had been quick to reach his pretty boy face.  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>-do... anything of that caliber.  I apologize again.  I am...</I></FONT> he sighed, hanging his head in shame. <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>deeply sorry you had to see this.</I></FONT></div> <div>   </div> <div> Revlis went over beautifully, her practiced blow hitting him like a ton of bricks.  He took the punch right in the eye, too, eliminating half of the Look immediately, and producing a sharp crack that boded ill.   </div> <div>  The handsome rider was too shocked even to moan.  He just lay there, jaw slack, hand moving feebly toward his face.  For once, Revlis' thoughts weren't on his clothes, which were getting ruined by the mud of the bowl floor.  Indeed, he couldn't think well at all… </div> <div>   </div> <div> <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" > </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>Rev</I></FONT><I>lis?</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" > said Czsaiath, her voice a little shrill.  When her rider moaned and moved his head a little, she relaxed.  </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>It's all ri</I></FONT><I>ght, Yarpath,</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" > she said gently, although one indigo-violet eye did swivel darkly Rugan-wards.  </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>None of us can control eve</I></FONT><I>rything our riders do.</I> <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >She surveyed the situation, and sighed.  </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>Besides, he had it coming.  I did not Impress Monsignor Rev</I></FONT><I>lis to let him be such a chauvinist.  He </I><I><B>rides</b></I><I> a female.</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >   </FONT></div> <div> <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" > A flush of heat made the silver-purple falter.  There was a sudden claustrophobia clutching at her chest, and she tried to breathe regularly.  </FONT><I>He's…not…going…to b</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#C0C0C0" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>e…happy…about this!</I> </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >she said breathlessly</FONT>.    <I>You're…forgiven,…of course, Yarpath.  How…cou</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#C0C0C0" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>ld I…hold anything…against you?</I></FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >  Her hide was almost lambent of itself now, her silver glowing molten-bright, her purple hide as dark and glossy as lacquer.   </FONT></div> <div> <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" > Thirst, sudden and inexorable, struck the Ryslen dragoness.  Her mouth was dry, and her stomach churned as if it were trying to digest itself.  Realization lit Czsaiath's eyes for a moment. </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>Yarp</I></FONT><I>ath</I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>,</I></FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" > she said carefully, rising to her feet with unseemly haste.  </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>You'd better get your brother's attention quick</I></FONT><I>ly, or he'll have no chance of stopping me.  </I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >She looked over him, her eyes feverishly bright.  </FONT><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800080" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>But then, neither will you.  None of you are wor</I></FONT><I>thy of me.  No one is going to </I><I><B>touch</b></I><I> me!</I>  <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" >Frantically, she sprang into the sky, gleaming wings catching the wind in skeins of light.  She was headed for what she craved most, sweet-copper blood, the kill, to give her energy to escape…  </FONT></div> <div>  </div> <div> Yarpath and Porth followed immediately, orange-copper wings and dark, dark brown thundering at her heels.  They were the first, the forewarned.  The others were not so lucky.  Only the delicately crested two-tone blue Jatecosth managed to slay a beast before Cszaiath was discarding her second.  Sleek blue Ciwyth and the svelte starry dark blue Emlekezeth were forced to choose between energy-giving food and a good start.  Ciwyth, wary of the silver-purple's panic, slashed a beast's throat and sucked it dry as the others ascended; Emlekezeth chose to follow without feeding.  The other dragons at the feeding pen ate uneasily.</div> <bR> <div> Below, the riders were gathering in a little knot beside the dazed Revlis.  Elille, Emlekezeth's rider, reached him before the others, and was considerate enough to pick him up and deposit him in a ground weyr.  Although Revlis was scarcely easy to pick up--being willowy but also rather tall--Elille was taller, and she handled him with ease.  Rugan strode stiffly after her, her face still dark with fury.  </div> <div> L'tic, with his pleasant voice, went at once to fetch a cold cloth for that eye.  The infamous Jalemar was at Revlis' side the moment he saw the young man lying prone.  The silver-purple's arrogant rider blinked, groaning as he sat up.  His back propped against the wall, Revlis stared at the four riders with a peculiar double-vision.  He didn't even protest the fussing, or shoot an accusatory glance at Rugan.  The young man simply sat, his good eye wide, breathing in a shallow pant.  His fair skin was clammy to the touch.  </div> <div> Revlis was with Cszaiath, and her feelings were his…</div> <bR> <div> But as the silver-purple shot into the heavens, another arrowed up to parallel her.  It was Halutath, the glorious yellow-green Halutath, lifemate to Jalemar.  And Halutath was definitely <I>not</I> male.  The males' attention was torn between the streak of shadowed mercury and the peridot blur only two dragonlengths away from her. </div> <div> Jalemar was unnaturally still as his other bond took flight, his mind split between two very aroused dragons with opposite urges…   </div> <bR> <div> Cszaiath was panicking, panting, already rowing the air with her silvered wings.  Those who sought to confine her could barely keep up.  She could not stand this another second, she was going to scream--</div> <div> The air whipping past her blew on only four dragons now, after an interminable time of racing flat-out in the matte dome of the sky.  She would be safe from one.  Breathing in great gasps, Cszaiath tried to calm herself, to steady her wingbeats.  <I>Who have I lost?  </I>  There were the warm colors of Yarpath and Porth, the dark sparkle of Emlekezeth, and, at an angle, the vivid contrast of Jatecosth.  <I>Ciwyth.  Ciwyth is gone.  Revlis would not have been happy should he catch me.  Too far behind when I started.  Scorch it, I've got to get away from them!</I></div> <bR> <div> Halutath was amused by Cszaiath's panic, keeping pace with her rival with a steady rhythm to her wingbeats.  The silver-purple hadn't even noticed that she was not the only female in the air.  But all the better for Halutath.  </div> <div> The two-tone dragon was not frightened.  Indeed, she was in her element, feeling stronger, faster, and more confident than ever.  This was a race, but she <I>knew</I> she wouldn't win.  But Halutath intended to make it a sharding good challenge for that lucky male… and she was going to catch her <I>own</I> partner.</div> <bR> <div> Cszaiath's wingbeats were a staccato rhythm next to the steady beat of the larger males.  Only Jatecosth was smaller…only Jatecosth was more agile than she.  But he was further back in the pack.  She must avoid that one.  </div> <div> The <I>crack</I> of wings overhead told her that someone was making a bid for her capture.  Lithe as a cat, she rolled and fell a few feet, just as larger wings folded overhead.  </div> <bR> <div> Emlekezeth trumpeted his disappointment as he dropped too far, hissing between his teeth.  In the ground weyr, Elille hissed her own disappointment, edging out the door in the same path as L'tic.  At least it had been purely strategy, and not discrimination.</div> <div> That may have been a comforting thought for her; it was just as well she couldn't read Revlis' mind.  There were groggy notions in the mist that he'd better not have to bed a woman who was taller than <I>he</I> was.  And she looked, to his uncertain vision, altogether too Ruganesque.  </div> <bR> <div> Halutath's wingbeats were growing a little slower now, and she was panting.  Cszaiath was not fast, but she was larger than the yellow-green, and still had <I>some</I> stamina left.  She looked thoughtfully back at Emlekezeth, but did not follow.  She was not <I>that</I> desperate, and she didn't want to be accused of scavenging, now, did she?  </div> <div> No, the dragoness thought.  It was far better to be a <I>pirate</I>.</div> <bR> <div> The fast flying wasn't getting rid of any more males.  Her lungs were burning at this point, something echoed by the muscles from keel to joint, and from joint to `wrist' and wingsails.  She needed a plan.  Indigo-violet eyes, milky with flight membranes, swiveled to look behind her.</div> <div> Porth and Jatecosth were nearly wingtip to wingtip.  That would do.  Like a maniac, she suddenly lofted up, killing her speed as she went for height.  A breath later, she folded her wings.  Her plummet took her directly between them.  </div> <div> With squawks and bellows of surprise, the two males jerked aside.  They barely missed the saberish points of her wingsails as Cszaiath flung her wings wide.  The drop-and-roll required to stay out of the female's way, of course, had completely killed <I>their</I> momentum, and left them several feel lower to boot.  They did not look very happy as they spiraled down toward Ryslen again.  <I>Dirty rotten trick…</I></div> <bR> <div> However, Halutath had conveniently been a bit lowed and further to the right.  And it was Porth that dropped into her lap.  As expected, the serpentine brown realized exactly what he'd fallen into in a split second, and he spun and grasped her shoulders in a truly spectacular show of agility.  Well-satisfied, Halutath let herself fall, tumbling with Porth in the fall of their lives. </div> <bR> <div> That made four down for Cszaiath.  She saw, with a flash of irrational rage, the other dragoness poaching <I>her</I> chaser.  But there was no time for that now. Where was the fifth?  Where was Yarpath?</div> <div> <FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#800000" FACE="Tempus Sans ITC" ><I>I am here for you, Cszaiath.  I am here to bring you back to earth.</I>  </FONT>Beneath her, there was a swoop and flicker of coppery wings, and copper claws locked around her forearms.  He'd flown upside <I>down</I>…</div> <div> <I>Nothing is impossible when one is courting a lady.  </I></div> <bR> <div> Revlis' sculpted jaw fell a little as Cszaiath fell in the sky with her copper partner.  That was <I>Rugan's</I> dragon… Flaming moons, he didn't want… let it not be so…</div> <div> But someone had shouldered in before that baneful woman, someone who was <I>definitely</I> interested in Revlis' charms.  And as hot as his dragon's passions ran, the boy from Bitra didn't really care whether Jalemar was male, female, or android.  What he could see looked very welcome indeed.</div> <bR> <div> After that humiliating debacle at Ryslen, Revlis was very glad indeed to have Moire to come home to.  He had been shaken up, and the arrogant young man couldn't think straight until he had put his self-image back together again.  </div> <bR> <div> Cszaiath was unusually quiet.  Her beautiful children were a consolation, but she was still rather fond of the partner she had taken, no matter what Revlis thought.  She did, however, regret bringing him pain. It was the first time that her self-interest and Revlis' had not coincided, and she was actually pondering that point.</div> <bR> <div> So it was that Revlis found himself practically alone again.  He had always liked keeping in shape, feeling his muscles stretch and work.  Revlis enjoyed the power of his body, and took pains to keep it at its peak.  </div> <div> Along with being enjoyable, exercise was a distraction, and right now Revlis wanted a distraction desperately.  So he stripped to the waist, threw off his shoes, and began doing pushups, right there in the wide-open space between the Towers.  He began to propel himself up and down furiously, a fierce frown of concentration on his face.  The muscles on his back began to burn.</div> <div> "An admirable display of strength," a powerful, arrogant voice crackled in his ear, "but what is it <I>for?</I>  Surely you have purpose in your exercise.  None of the rest of your race seem to enjoy it."</div> <div> "I…do…" Revlis said shortly, his eyes on the ground.  </div> <div> There was a thoughtful pause.  "Well," said the thunderous voice, "this <I>is</I> a noble effort then.  What is your name?"</div> <div> "Revlis."  The sweat was positively running off him.</div> <div> "Do you live here?"  The voice seemed to be warming to him.</div> <div> "Yes."</div> <div> "Fascinating."  Talons clicked by his ear.  <I>So it's a dragon...</I></div> <div> "Who…are you?"  he asked, still straightening his arms explosively every time he rose.  </div> <div> "Ksathra, greatest of the offspring of Shibboleth and Rutanth.  The line of my mother runs through the mighty Califath, and my father's line is a rare and precious one."</div> <div> Revlis didn't look.  "What…are you…doing here?  Where…is your…bond?"</div> <div> "I have no bond," Ksathra said sharply.  "He was not there for me."</div> <div> "Oh."  Then this dragon had every right to be as upset as Revlis was.  "You planning…on getting one?"</div> <div> A hissing laugh raised the dust that clung to the grass.  "Soon.  I have sired what will be a great dynasty already.  A bond cannot be harder to catch than my mate there."</div> <div> "Congrat…ulations," Revlis panted politely, and there was silence.  A headache grew between his eyes, but he ignored it.  Finally, when even the young athlete's muscles were shaking with fatigue and the grass beneath him was wet with sweat, Ksathra stirred.  </div> <div> "Why do you not look at me?" the dragon snapped.  "You have been at your exercise too long.  You will wear your body out, and you will be good to no one."</div> <div>  Startled, Revlis propped himself up on his elbows and looked up. </div> <div> The dragon flamed red, right up to the wash of sunset colors over his wings.  About his brow and neck, and everywhere else he could have been adorned, Ksathra had been blessed with wreaths of shimmering white spots over his skin.  They shone like diamonds against his hide; he looked like some barbaric dragon king.  </div> <div> "Barbaric?  I think not," said the glorious creature, and he bowed his long neck until his exquisite head was aligned with Revlis' own.  "Know this, Revlis of the Blood.  I, Ksathra, of the blood of Talis and the Healing Den, shall be unbonded no longer.  I have searched your thoughts; I  know your mind as well as you.  You are my match, he whom I was fated to bond.  I forgive you for not being there upon my emergence from the shell.  Bond me now, and we will be all that we have the potential to become.  "</div> <div> "I…" Revlis started, staring.  "But Ksathra, I am already bonded.  I cannot be your lifemate."</div> <div> "Nonsense," said the enormous red.  His tone was scathing.  "I will bond you whether another has laid claim to you or not.  Where is this dragon, that I may fight him for a place in your affections?"</div> <div> "Um.  Cszaiath is on the flat of the tower there," and he pointed, "but you'll never hear the end of it if you take me from her by force.  Besides, I don't think I would go."</div> <div> One massive brow arched.  "You bonded a <I>female?"  </I></div> <div> The silence thickened and chilled into ice--until Ksathra exploded into laughter.  "I find both a bond and a lady worthy of my attentions in the same day, and they are linked!  No, I shall not wait to tell Efellai; I shall not wait even for Tygiri.  We shall be a trio, my bond, my Revlis.  I have long courted your Cszaiath."</div> <div> <I>"And right handsome and pretty he is,"</I> Cszaiath said in a quiet aside.  <I>"Not that he'll remain interested.  But he will open doors for us, Revlis…and he will always keep his word.  He needs you as you needed me.  I will consent to share--this once."</I></div> <div> Bewildered but agreeable, Revlis rose carefully from the grass.  Without prompting, Ksathra bent his head until the nobleman could see straight into one smelted-gold eye.  </div> <div> It was nothing like bonded Cszaiath.  But the euphoria was the same, and Revlis rode it.  It flooded his body with energy, and he strode with a renewed swagger toward the foremost Tower and Efellai's office.  </div> <bR> <div> <IMG SRC="0b2492e0.gif" border=0 width="841" height="558" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> </td> </tr></table></body>