Chamele

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there wasn't a competitive bone in the rhianir's body.</div> <div> It was with these that Chamele traveled, a frothing tide of rainbows that lapped against her waist, and they followed her across the border between one world and the next.  </div> <div> She was acquainted with many people, whether human, humanoid, or something else entirely, but she world-walked too often to have friends.  </div> <div> As she grew older, she could control where she went a little more, could even strain and hold herself to /one/ world for a period of time.  Chamele earned coin by racing the rhianir against horse, dog, or the world's equivalent… </div> <bR> <div> "Sulë wins," Chamele said cheerfully, both hands buried in iridescent fur.  Sador and Glamren leaned into the caress.  "That's quite a lot of money you owe me, Anashla.  You want to stop here?"</div> <div> The Zekiran woman scowled at her.  "Run a different one.  The greenish stripy one, say."  </div> <div> She frowned and tapped her chin, considering.  "Oh, all right.  Start, Revia."    </div> <div> Like some enormous, iridescent tiger, Revia stalked toward the starting line.  She ignored the soft-blue Sulë, who looked after her longingly.  Paying no notice to the steed and its rider, the rhianir crouched at the starting line, tail lashing.  </div> <div> "Wait," Anashla cautioned.  "Put a few more of yours in there.  The big one, and those two females.  I'll have a bet on one of them, and take out my rider.  I don't think those beasts of yours are dogs at all."  She glared accusingly at Chamele.  "You've been doing illegal Breeding…."</div> <div> The world-walker shook her head, her unbound hair swaying from its white-blond roots to its black tips.  "I never said that they were dogs.  They're rhianir, and quite approved.  I got them from my father.  He said that they were from offworld." But nonetheless, she ordered Thurin, Keleka, and Kalata to the track, reassuring the big male and the twin formels that it was permissible to race their packmate.</div> <div> When Anashla placed a bet on Thurin, Chamele worked hard to conceal a smile.  She'd be getting good coin out of this race, and would be assured of enough to pay Tirza's wages.  She did love the gambling sort…</div> <div> The bettor started them off, and the rhianir flew around the track.  With the first leap, Thurin was in front, but it was only three strides when his nose was even with Revia's flank.  Lithe Keleka and light-footed Kalata were within a head-bob of each other, flying in the lead…but three-quarters of the way into the race, a stripy green streak shot past the twin formels, loping seven lengths ahead when it sped over the finish line.  Revia…</div> <div> Chamele laughed as the emerald-furred rhianir strode into her arms, nose questing anxiously over her owner's face.  "That's a good lass, good girl."  The formel's fierce, triumphal joy washed over the world-walker.  </div> <div> It was too much-the world wavered in front of Chamele's eyes.  Swallowing hard, she stood as still as she could.  "If you could please send the money to Prism Shift Run, m'lady…"</div> <div> Disgruntled, Anashla nodded.  "A pleasure, as always, Dona Chamele," she gritted.</div> <div> The world-walker nodded and staggered forward.  Zekira's bounds broke against her face like soapbubbles…</div> <bR> <div> Chamele nearly fell as her feet hit uneven pebbles.  An oceanic heartbeat throbbed in her ears, a frigid wind frosted her lashes with spume, <I>step…</I></div> <div>  </div> <div> Something hurtled into her before she had time to take a breath, <I>step…</I></div> <bR> <div> She sprawled facedown on sharp black sand, panting.  Waves lapped at her cheek, and the unconcerned rhianir lapped at the ocean.  Slinging her wet hair, the world-walker got shakily to her feet, and set herself as firmly as she dared in this place.  It didn't seem hostile, and for now, that was all she asked.  </div> <div> Far out in the surf, a…fleet? A flight? A fair? A drove?  A great quantity of enormous beasts and humanfolk played in the breakers, and Chamele sighed happily.  </div> <div> They had dragons here.   And that, Chamele thought to herself, was the surest sign of a wonderful place to stop. </div> <bR> <div> Chamele squirmed inwardly as she stood in the MasterHealer's office.  The tiny, prickly woman made her feel ten feet tall and as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.  </div> <div> Saro sighed and rolled her varicolored eyes.  "You're who again?  And explain the animals, please."</div> <div> Chin held high, the world-walker replied, "I am Chamele, daughter of Morpheus and Iris, a walker of worlds from Amron-Olympes.  My flight of rhianir are the descendents of the First Tiercel and the First Formel, who were given as a courting gift to my mother."</div> <div> The masterhealer arched her brows.  "Pleased to meet you."  Saro's tone was dry.  "Now, there's this matter of Livya going crazy over you," she continued, her voice weary.  "What exactly is it that you do, Chamele?"</div> <div> "I'm a breeder," Chamele said warily.  "A geneticist, if you know the term.  I bred about half of my flight, I have a center on another world for some different creatures.  I help farmers a lot and all.  I like to make a creature's chemistry work to create swifter, prettier, stronger, or odder offspring.  Variety is the spice of life, you know."</div> <div> Gray eye and brown eye rolled again.  "Indeed.  Well, you're welcome to ply your craft here, I suppose, but you'd work under me.  Also, that crazy camouflaged dragon of Sirannon's wants you to Stand for Shanath's clutch.  Do you know how that works?"</div> <div> Chamele nodded emphatically.  "I've been on a few dragonriding worlds before, and learned the rules."  The spectrum-skinned woman had been flattered by Livya's attentions originally, but since she'd seen the candidate group, well….</div> <div> "Good.  You'll Stand.  You're officially a candidate, and are under no conditions to leave Lao Daemia."  </div> <div> "But Masterhealer, I…" Chamele stuttered, alarmed.  She didn't know if she could hold herself here that long.</div> <div> Saro gave her a sardonic look, and turned back to her papers in a clear dismissal.</div> <div> Jaw jutting, the immortal world-walker stepped lightly out into the pearly halls of Pelar.</div> </td> </tr></table></body>