Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Seteta smiled and bowed her head once more before continuing on her way to where the other Inizae waited. Anai waved for her to join them all, but Seteta shook her head and went to the room set aside for her. If Peridot really was bringing tea, she would be there to meet her.


Nebit listened, and her heart ached. Oh dear... It was... quite a lot that this young man had been through recently. And he couldn't even speak to his mother about it? No wonder he was drinking himself senseless.

"It is... a hard thing to lose a child," she told him, resuming her steps and leading him further away from the dragon throng so their words would remain private. "And it is equally as hard to lose a mate. I have experienced both losses myself, though I suspect not quite in the same way."

Most of the Inizae had experienced the loss of a child or a loved one. The desert was harsh and dangerous in too many ways to count.

"You should seek out Seteta's father," Nebit suggested. "I think his experiences will be more like yours. Seteta is the sixth child that Rehema has birthed, and the first to survive birth.

"He and Rehema have a bond unlike any I've ever seen, but it was a battle they fought and won many times over. If you truly wish to save this relationship, it will be something you have to fight for."

They were looping back around the party, almost back to where they started out from.

"She is grieving right now," Nebit told him, her voice gentle. "Grief makes you feel strange things and make strange decisions. If she wishes to go back to her people, let her go. But you must go after her once more, after she's had time to work her way through the blackness."
 
Cassius listened to her as they walked. "I don't know what to do. I can't just pack up and leave everything can I? My parents, my brother for gods' sake..." He knew she was right, on many accounts. Baylock needed to grieve and be with her people. She needed to sing at the ancestor tree. She needed to be in the waters, fresh waters. He just wished he could be the balm on her soul that she needed, and not the swamps. "I'll see her. I'll give her months, and send correspondence if I can. There's a chance her father will just up and tear my head off the moment I show up...bull trolls aren't nice to men who hurt their daughters. I'll talk to Ausar as well, since he...knows how I'm feeling." Cassius said quietly, and slid his hand into Nebit's. "Thank you. For what it's worth, I hope you and Seteta win this. I'd hate to lose a brother."

Peridot soon knocked at Seteta's room with a similar pitcher of tea, but instead of hovering outside the door she slid inside. She set the tea down and looked anxiously over her shoulder. She drew a line with her finger, around the outside of the door and around the room, and breathed deeply. "Alright. No one can hear us." Peridot said. "It doesn't bar anyone from just bursting in but it at least gives us some cover. I need to speak with you about Nica."

The dragoness poured herself a small cup of the tea she'd brought for Seteta and sipped it, walking slowly around the room. "Now, I've known that boy since he was a slip of a hatchling on Chaceledon's robes. That....man in there...is not Nica." She looked up. "Am I mad? I know Nica as this...fiery little thing who cut his tongue on listening to my son tear people to pieces in arguments. How can a man change so thoroughly unless it isn't him?"
 
Nebit could hear the longing in his voice as he spoke, and smiled sadly. Young love was so like that... she hated that his had already been tested so quickly with the harshness of life. She squeezed his hand gently when it slid into hers.

"You will never be enough for her," she cautioned, hoping that Cassius would understand what she said. "When you take a mate... you are never meant to become each other's entire world. That is not how minds and hearts work. You are meant to enhance each other, but you have to be complete on your own as well. You cannot stand only face to face for the rest of your lives. You should stand side by side, and even at times back to back. That is the only way you'll be able to overcome the hardships."

Nebit reached up to gently pat his cheek. "Thank you, dear boy," she smiled. "Tonight will go however Aptuv wills, no matter what the outcome may be."


Seteta had just about decided to figure out a way to lie down, even on the floor, and doze for a bit when Peridot knocked at the door and slipped inside with the tea. She stood and took the tea tray while Peridot did whatever magic it was to... soundproof the room.

She knew something was bothering the woman when she made no comment on the fact that Seteta seated herself again--she didn't have a choice, really. The earth's strength was helping, but she'd still been upright for several hours and was fighting off some dizziness.

Her breath hitched when Peridot started talking about Nica, and Seteta gnawed at the inside of her lip.

"I've barely spoken to him," Seteta said, sighing. "Do you... remember when rumors started spreading around the desert, about Chaceledon escaping the wraith? We started those rumors intentionally. We'd learned from a pet for sale in Maraan that Chaceledon's estate was about to be sold off. We needed a way to spread word quickly, so that you would hear he was alive. That he was back.

"I... put on a storytelling presentation. Similar, somewhat, to the performance we'll give tonight. Nica was there, and he interrupted it, demanding that Chaceledon come back to him. We... saw him several days later, too, at the Indika Magicka. But we didn't exchange any words then."

She glanced toward the door for a moment, thoughtfully considering things. "I'm not surprised that he's challenging me. He made it clear that he wanted Chaceledon back... but he... is definitely different from my first impressions of him. But I don't know what he's been through since then.

"Chaceledon recently visited him too," she confessed. "He went with Dahn Prunella. But he didn't say anything about a drastic change in personality. He seemed... relieved, honestly. Maybe... maybe it is just nerves."

Seteta had no idea what Nica might have encountered out in the world in the months since she'd last seen him. Anything could have happened...

She sighed again. "You're not crazy," she told Peridot. "Something has definitely happened... but what, I have no idea. And we won't be able to do anything about it tonight, anyway."

She fell quiet for a long moment, watching Peridot closely.

"Forgive me for the impertinence," she eventually said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But Hokkaido knows, doesn't he? That... Chaceledon isn't really his son?"
 
Cassius squeezed her hand, and smiled down at Nebit. He understood. Or at least, he hoped he would understand a little better as time went on. He could never be everything for his woman, but he could try and compliment her and be there for her when she was ready to return to him. "Well, grandmother, are you going to be able to find your way back or should I take you there?" he asked. He was still quite drunk, and the liquor was beginning to catch up with him, but he no longer felt the need to drink more.

Peridot paced, chewing her thumb in a rather unladylike fashion. "He's not like he was. I know he's had it hard since the death of his parents; his dowry is worth very little even to someone interested, most of his income has dried up and his pets have all returned to Pedeo for reassignment. He's too proud to ask for help, but I should have gone to see him." she fretted. "I hope you're right and it's just nerves."

The dragoness stopped, turning to look at Seteta. She blinked owlishly at her for a moment, hesitating. "I...how did you...?" She closed her mouth, as if aware she was gaping, and composed herself. "Yes. He's aware. Cassius is Hokkaido's trueborn son but...Chaceledon was from the last time I saw Saltarello. I knew it as soon as I saw that orange mane. Gods, how Hokkaido has hated him. I don't think Chaceledon has ever truly figured out why."

She took a deep breath. "Seteta, I forbid you from telling him. Being the strange one of a family is hard enough, but dragons do not tolerate bastards. They've caused terrible rows between dragons in the past. If Chaceledon knew, if anyone else knew, he wouldn't be part of any dahn. Not mine or Saltarello's. Not hedahn, not dahn, something in between. It is a terrible place to live."
 
"I'll be fine," Nebit said, noticing the way he fought his eyes glazing over. The liquor was starting to really affect him now. "You should have some food and some water, and apologize to your parents and our host."

She patted his hand. "Talk with your woman before she goes. Don't try to win her back, just make sure you're both on the same page for now, and let her know that you'll coming for her and that she has a choice in staying with her people or returning with you.

"You both need space to grieve without blaming each other constantly."

Nebit stepped back and gave him a slight bow, then headed back to the area Harrier had pointed out for the performers.


Seteta took a deep, shuddering breath. It made sense now. Why Hokkaido had tried to make Chaceledon completely disappear. Why he'd never said anything to Peridot about sending him away to be disciplined, and had rather let her think Chaceledon dead. Hokkaido had clearly underestimated how much Peridot had cherished the son of her former lover.

Saltarello. Her heart ached for just a moment. She'd suspected, especially from Seikilos' behavior, but to have it confirmed was... so strange. What sort of twisted fate was this? A consolation from Aptuv, perhaps, for giving up all hope of ever reuniting with Saltarello or Amphetrion? She swallowed thickly.

"I won't tell him unless it becomes necessary," she promised Peridot. It made no difference to her. She loved him regardless. "But you should know that Seikilos suspects as well. When she looks at him... her eyes are filled with heartache."

She shifted in her seat, unable to quell her concern about Hokkaido's hatred. "What if... Hokkaido reveals it, to drive a wedge between you and Chaceledon?" she said cautiously. "I understand why you want to keep it secret... but if Chaceledon were to learn it from him rather than you... I think that would destroy him more."

Their time was rapidly coming to an end, though. Peridot couldn't tarry much longer without being accused of favoritism. She had one last question, though. A curiosity of her own.

"Does the name Nailah mean anything to you?" she blurted out.
 
"Hokkaido would never reveal it. It brings shame on him too." Peridot said sadly. "He would rather hang it over my head, with the threat that my son would never be accepted by either hedahn or dahn. He knows I must do anything he asks, lest he act like he's suddenly learned of my betrayal and cast Chaceledon out forever." She shook her head. "Of course Seikilos suspects. He has the red hair of a Hedoni."

She fidgeted, and looked about ready to leave, when Seteta mentioned Nailah. She frowned. "Saltarello's lover...an elf. It was a scandal that almost destroyed his dahn's reputation, but the dragons began to like her. Her kind were destroyed when the White Blossom Dahn began sweeping the desert with flames, making those beautiful glass waves you see in the deep desert. Clearly, not all of them were extinguished since you're here...but that was where your people began to fade. Yours, and ours. All the fault of one dragon with an appetite for power." She shook her head. "Nailah is a sad memory in dragon history. Good luck tonight, dear; I hope you won't be another."

Peridot inclined her head, and stepped out of the tent. The soundproofing crumbled around them, and the ambient noise of performers preparing rushed in. The stage was being prepared, and Harrier was taking his seat at the front of the performance with the rest of the Agrys family, inlcuding the granddaughter. She settled into a chair, looking eagerly up at the stage. A pet hurried around to the back of the stage to whisper to the contestants. He had a bowl in his hands, and each performer picked out a number. Oor glanced at his. Last. Well, best to make a good impression.

The pet smiled at Seteta and offered her the bronze bowl. "It's to make it fair." he told her lightly.
 
Seteta almost snorted. Of course the dragons remembered Nailah as Saltarello's lover and not the last ruler of the Inizae empire. Her brow furrowed at the mention of the White Blossom Dahn, though... that wasn't something from Nailah's memories. The waves of glass in the deep desert were, though. And her own.

She couldn't help but smile, though, as Peridot wished her luck. It was the closest she would get to approval from Chaceledon's mother, she thought.

Seteta stood and waited a few moments after Peridot to leave the tent, going to join the rest of her tribe. Ausar and Nebit were there with the others, thankfully, so she didn't have to send anyone else to find them. She waited with them, and willed her body to be strong for the night. The others had paid their pain tolls for the illusion magic they would need the last couple days. She'd made the excruciating decision to not, and after much discussion with her father and grandmother and the healer, they'd come to the conclusion that she needed to use as little of the illusion magic as possible.

When the pet with the bronze bowl stood before her, Seteta quirked a smile. To make it fair, she thought to herself as she reached in and plucked out a number. As if anything about this could be fair when Hokkaido has already decided his vote.

She glanced at the number. Not the first performance, but not the last either, judging by the number of participants she could see. Likely solidly in the middle, which meant they had to make themselves memorable.

Dragons didn't have illusion magic like they did, though. So likely being memorable wouldn't be too difficult.

As the performances began, Seteta felt Ausar step closer to her, his hand resting low on her back, and she leaned against him gratefully as they waited their turn to take the stage. She closed her eyes, and let the earth began to share its strength with her again, allowing the magic to flow through her without taking hold of it yet.

The performances preceding hers were well done. She and her tribe applauded frequently, recognizing some of the acts that Seikilos hosted as well, having caught glimpses of them at the Hedoni estate even as they trained.

All too quickly, though, it was their turn. She took a deep breath as their group was announced, glancing around at the Inizae.

Thank you, she mouthed to them silently, not sure what else to say that would suffice. This was on her now. Whether they won or lost, her people would bear few, if any, of the consequences.

Seteta, her father, and Nebit were the only ones to take the stage. Ausar and Nebit stood at a distance at her right and left, and the rest of the Inizae placed themselves in a line between the stage and the audience. As they waited for the crowd to fall silent, all but Seteta reached into a hidden pocket in their robes to pull out a handful of sand.

Her own sand had been silently scattered beneath her feet as she took the stage. Since... Nailah's awakening, Seteta had been able to use the earth's magic without being in direct contact with it, but when she did have earth to touch, her control of it was better. The sand would give her that control.

She took one further moment, as a hush fell over the waiting crowd, to meet Harrier's eyes, and then bow her head to him in respect. Then she looked up and nodded briskly, and the Inizae all cast their sand into the air. Ausar and Nebit's sand was cast across the stage, and Seteta stretched out her arms so the flying sand brushed against her fingertips.

Seteta let out a breath and her magic rippled through the earth and through the air, tying the grains of sand together so not a single one fell into a neckline or someone's hair. And in her magic's wake, her people's magic followed, the illusions tying themselves to the sand, in the same way she'd done her performance outside Maaran. The illusions spun and wove themselves into being over the audience.

Their only instruments were their voices and their magic--the creation and casting of the illusions artfully concealed behind intricate choreography--and Seteta's voice rose clear and vibrant over all of them.

The song she sang was ancient. If any of the dragons here remembered it, it would be Harrier, and maybe one or two others. Overhead, the story of the song came to life.

A story of when the desert was young, and when the dragons were young, and the Inizae younger still. Of when they worked together to learn to survive. It was, in all honesty, a silent plea to the dragons to remember their shared history.

The desert would only thrive again when the Inizae and the dragons were united once more. It did not take any foresight to know that.

The song, dance, and magic began to wear at her, though.

Subtly, Seteta began to shift the magic. The grains of sand weaving through the air, supporting the illusions, began to shift and transform. As the story-song began to conclude, Seteta drew the sand in closer, tighter. As the final note of the song reverberated through the air, Seteta drew all of the sand back together, setting the whirling mass of it before the granddaughter.

The other Inizae fell silent, and the illusion magic faded away completely.

Seteta's voice alone rose in song again, and she surrendered herself to the magic just a little.

Her tone and words shifted just slightly, more gutteral and archaic, carrying a resonance that reminded her of the singing Harrier had shown her in the hot bed at Cassius' estate.

She sang a song of prayer. Of blessing.

Of prophecy.

And as she sang, the whirling sand began to solidify, shaping itself into a carven statue of a fierce dragoness gazing over the crest of a hill, clearly surveying her vast domain. The dragoness' eyes looked like the granddaughter's.

It was a song of hope. Abundance and fertility, strength and beauty. If only the dragons would see themselves as part of the desert and the world at large again, and not above it. But it was for the Inizae too. It was time for them to stop hiding in the shadows. To take their place once more, along with the dragons.

If they did not, the desert would die, taking dragons and Inizae with it.

Seteta was pale and trembling as the last of the song wrenched itself from her throat, and the magic settled into the sand figurine, solidifying it. Another pulse of magic swept out of her, through the earth, and Dahn Agrys would find their crops to be abundant and disease resistant for many decades.

"Mit..." Seteta managed to gasp, arms falling limply at her sides before her eyes rolled back and she crumpled to the stage floor.

Ausar swore, darting to catch her, but he heard her head thud against the floor.
 
Chaceledon watched the performances politely. They were dances of grain and animal and life, depicting wealth and slender beauty. The strength of Agrys, it was widely agreed, was that their food was so high in quality one only needed a little to survive. Despite their small stomachs here they stood, tall and proud. Harrier seemed to take it as a backhanded compliment, but bowed his head politely at each performance. He wanted their blessings for his granddaughter, and at least Hedoni seemed to have genuine gratitude for the time he put into his crops.

Chaceledon watched, but didn’t see. Only one performance mattered to him, and it terrified him to see her take the stage. Hokkaido was watching, he noted. He was willing to at least see her, even if he’d already made up his mind to grant Chaceledon’s dowry to another. That gave him a bit of hope. If there had been no hope, Hokkaido would have been conversing amongst the others and ignoring it entirely. But there he sat, politely sipping water, eyes on the stage as the Inizae stepped onto it.

The sand cast a wide net over the audience. Chaceledon flinched only once, his hand flying to his hair to protect it from grains of sand…but not a one settled on him. He looked above him. The air sang with her power, each tiny sand grain connected to its brother like a great constellation. Perhaps knowingly, she paid honor to the dragons’ connections with all of the elements with such a thing, and Harrier’s smile was almost too wide to be polite.

Chaceledon didn’t recognize the song, but the implications were clear. The dragons had to bind together again with the Inizae. Her words came with a few furious looks from the crowd; how dare she imply the age of dragons would end if they didn’t cow to the wants of an elf? Her insolence was astounding! A few angry mutterings were silenced by a silently raised hand from Harrier.

Yet, Chaceledon saw her draining. He drew in a sharp breath, sitting up straight in his chair. Oh gods no. No! She looked like a ghost, shaking as she sang forth the last note and collapsed on the stage. Chaceledon was already moving. He angrily tossed his outer layers to the grass, and simply vaulted up onto the stage. By the sound of silk tearing and the gasps of the crowd, he’d caught some of the filigree on the lamps. He pulled Seteta into his arms, brushing her hair back from her face. He cradled her, kissing her forehead.

“Move her from the stage. You still have one more suitor, Chaceledon, and you are embarrassing our host.” Hokkaido’s voice cracked out through the crowd. Chaceledon gritted his teeth, and gathered her in his arms. He tucked her to his chest, looking his father defiantly in the eyes.

“I’ve made my choice for you. She is mine, and I am hers. I need no other suitor.” Chaceledon declared. “Harrier, is there a healer! Please!”

Harrier stood stock still. They all stood still, motionless and silent, except for Hokkaido. “She failed, boy. Do you know what it is you’re doing?” The dahnesh snarled.

“I know.” Chaceledon said calmly. “I choose my true family. I choose my adopted son, Rheinhard Volker, and my dahnsei Ausar, dahnesha Rehema. I choose Seteta of the Inizae as my wife, mate and lover in all lives and the next. And I am no longer your son to give.”

He looked back at Ausar, and turned to him. He could hear the sounds of chairs being pushed back from tables. Angry voices. “Get her help. Please. And get out of here…now! I’ll meet you out on the sands.” Chaceledon said, his voice shaking. Peridot burst into wailing sobs somewhere in the crowd, and he heard the sounds of a scuffle. Chaceledon turned back to see Cassius punch another dragon full in the face. He smiled sadly. His older brother was trying to prevent them from reaching him…but they outnumbered him.

Chaceledon was pulled bodily off the stage, and slammed backward into the grass. His clothing was torn violently from him, fists and feet assaulting his bare skin. His clothing was shredded beyond repair, and one of the dragons hauled his innermost robe off of him so viciously he rolled into one of the tables. A familiar hand grabbed him by the hair and hauled him up to his feet. The pins were torn out, and flung away. People darted away from them; it was cursed to touch the belongings of a hedahn.

“I should have smashed your egg the minute I found out you weren’t mine.” Hokkaido hissed in his ear. Chaceledon’s eyes widened. His father brandished a knife, and put it to his scalp. He sawed through the beautiful red mane Chaceledon had cultivated his entire life, not caring if the dull kitchen blade scored his scalp or nicked his ears. Chaceledon tried not to thrash, and screamed when the last strands were simply torn free of his head. Hands hauled him up again, and dragged him out of the yard and down the cobblestone courtyard. Chaceledon cried out; the stones tore and bit at his skin, and when they flung him out of the gates he didn’t have enough time to get his bearings. He rolled and hit a stone with a loud crack to his ribs.

The other dragons left him there, and returned to the party. Music started up again frighteningly fast, as though his dehumanization had been little more than a broken plate. Chaceledon coughed, pushing himself up on his elbows. He heard footsteps, and looked up.

“You are not mine. You are not even dragon anymore. You were the spawn of that misbegotten fop, Saltarello. Technically, a Hedoni bastard. I tried to help you. I tried to beat every fragment of him out of you. Now look at you.” Hokkaido spat on him, and threw the remains of his hair over him. “Your belongings are now forfeit. Everything. You aren’t even dead to us. It’s like you were never even born. Never come back here again…or I’ll kill you.”

More footsteps, walking away from him. Hokkaido was gone. Chaceledon slowly sat up, looking at the beautiful, dirty remains of his hair. His scalp was bleeding badly, and he could feel wetness running down his neck. Definitely a few broken ribs. He staggered to his feet, grabbing the rock for purchase. The Inizae. He had to find the Inizae. He stumbled a few feet and fell again. He flipped on his back, panting, looking up at the night sky. It was getting cold.

____________________

Damn cold.

Rheinhard stood watch quietly as the Inizae rested. He had felt magic pinging over the bond with Ausar, but he wasn’t quite sure what it meant. Had they succeeded? He sighed and pulled his clothing tighter around him, scanning the silent dunes.

He frowned. A line of men were scrolling silently toward them. He stood up, and counted. Thirty, perhaps thirty five. He growled, lifting his chin and trying to catch their scent on the wind. As they drew closer he smelled sweat and fear. Two men at the front of the column held a long sapling between them, with strips of leather lashing the throats of the slaves to the green, flexible wood. They had the crook of their jaws hooked and bound over the wood, and if their hair was long it had been woven along the shaft of the sapling. Their hands were bound behind their backs, and their ankles to their hands.

Rheinhard regarded the men at the front of the column carefully. “Pedeo?” He called. The head of the column stopped, and two men strolled along the sapling, punching the ribs of anyone who tried to sit and rest.

“Yes, returning from Krynid. We’ve had a long journey, and we’re almost home.” The leader called. “Do we expect any trouble from you?”

“Krynid does not trade slaves, and those two are Floimish.” Rheinhard pointed with a knife at a pair of tanned farm girls struggling to stand. “I am guarding Inizae. Do I expect any trouble from you?”

“Persian forbade the trade of Inizae elves in Pedeo. They’re illegal to touch, on pain of us losing our abilities to trade anything in the city.” The slaver called. “Most men are capturing Krynians and Floimish now.”

“It was easy, we’ve overlooked those areas too long.” Another slaver chuckled. “If you don’t mind, we’ll pass through. We hoped to make it by dawn.”

Rheinhard stood aside, keeping himself between the line of slaves and Inizae tents. He watched them stumble by, slowly.
 
They had made plans for if Seteta lost. For if Chaceledon chose her instead of the dragons. But Ausar hadn't expected Seteta to antagonize the dragons first, or for her to drop like a rock at the end of the performance. He barely noticed as the dragons anger rose while Chaceledon spoke, helping Nebit off the stage and into Supti's care.

He turned back as Chaceledon finished speaking.

Chaceledon said:
“Get her help. Please. And get out of here…now! I’ll meet you out on the sands.” Chaceledon said, his voice shaking.
Click to expand...

Ausar carefully shifted Seteta into his arms, and nodded to Chaceledon before vanishing behind the stage. He didn't like to leave him there alone, but he knew none of the Inizae--not even himself--held a chance against the claws and teeth of the dragons if they decided to turn on them.

Ausar pulled at his magic, and surrounded himself and Seteta in illusion. The sun had set, and being outdoors in the gardens helped greatly. The dragons and their pets would have to look closely to see the strange shadows gliding through the gardens.

They'd set a designated meeting spot outside the estate already, and Ausar headed there once he was through the gates. Seteta was still unconscious when he reached the other Inizae near a stone outcropping. A sand dome had already been erected. He took only a moment to entrust Seteta to Nebit's care, then stepped back out, heading back to the estate.

He sighed with relief when he saw Chaceledon stumbling outside the gate, but didn't slow his steps as he noticed the way he staggered before stumbling to the ground.

"Your turn," Ausar said as he reached the dragon, latching a hand around Chaceledon's wrist to haul him upward and tuck himself under his arm to support him. "You're my son now, right? No one gets left behind in my family."


Hawthorn waited till the celebration had resumed before he made a quiet exit. Hickory had accompanied him along with Hana and Nica, and his son was more than capable of making excuses for him for a little while.

He exited the estate through a quieter entrance than the main gate, staying in the shadows to remain unseen, then walked into the sands until he could no longer hear the sounds of music and laughter behind him. Once there, alone in the darkness, he stripped off his clothing and tied it into a bundle, then shifted into his dragon form. He took the bundle up in his paw, and launched into the air to find the Inizae.

Seteta wasn't the only one who would need tending.


"Slaves taken from Krynid?" Rehema murmured inside the tent where she rested, listening to the brief conversation outside. They'd stopped just before dusk so they'd still have daylight to set up camp for the night, but that was quickly fading now and Kahi was making supper.

"So it seems," Kahi murmured as she turned a spit over the fire. Hunting chuma had been easy enough as they traveled, at least.

"You have coin?" Rehema asked, pushing herself up with a sigh from her blanket. "Enough for...?" she jerked her chin toward the tent flap.

Kahi frowned, handed the spit off to Keket, and rifled through a bag, drawing out a leather coin pouch fatly stuffed. "Maybe?"

Rehema turned to Hassani. "You're more familiar with Pedeo's slavers. Will you buy them, the Krynians? I owe their goddess a debt."
 
Chaceledon grunted as Ausar yanked him up, wincing. “Easy! I think they broke a rib…gods, my head…” he mumbled, touching his scalp. When he pulled it away little wisps of red hair clung to his fingers, sticky with blood. Hokkaido had shorn him down to the scalp. He stumbled to the sand dome, with Ausar’s help. “We can’t stay here long. I’m given a day to get out of dragon lands before I become an…embarrassment.” Chaceledon coughed. “We can’t accept help now. Not from any dragon. You swear to me. Even the friends we’ve made…they could suffer the same fate.”

Chaceledon’s eyes softened as he looked at Seteta. “My koiros, my sweet darling…I never should have put her through this.”

_____________________

Oor watched the proceedings, eyes cold. He hadn’t lifted a hand to hurt Chaceledon; that had long since lost its amusement. But Chaceledon was now hedahn, and it was hard to keep Nica under control. The boy was inside of him, screaming to go to Chaceledon like the love struck fool he was. Oor put his head in his hand, pretending to avert his eyes from the violence, and sank into the Well.

“Shut the fuck up! He is dead to you now!” He roared, and Nica cowered before him.

“You said…you said he’d be mine…” Nica hiccuped, his teal eyes filled with tears.

“Well, I didn’t expect him to be such an idiot. Now you’ll be silent, or I’ll throw you in burning pitch until you are. You honestly thought I would keep a promise to a stupid, young, lovesick little outcast like you? I wanted your body, now I have it. You’re only here to keep it from looking like a wraith.” Oor growled. “Now I expect you in bed when I return. Resist and I’ll beat the skin off of you; I need a little stress relief one way or another. Besides…” he turned his back on Nica, chuckling. “…it’s not as if you can ever leave.”

He lifted his head from his hands, and looked at the crowd settling back into their seats. He scanned the crowd for the Prunella dragons, and blinked. Hawthorn was missing. He put his hand on the crook of Hickory’s arm. “Your father…he can’t go after him…” he whispered.

______________________

Hassani blushed, and took the coin. “They’re to be auctioned off, or sold directly to Persian for training. Pedeo must always have lives. I…he’s clearly trying? He has banned the sale of our people.” He said helplessly, looking at Keket. He really didn’t want to confront the Volker, let alone slavers.

He got up, lifting the tent flap and awkwardly sidling up to Rheinhard. “I…Rehema gave me this. To buy them. The Krynians.” Hassani offered him the pouch. Rheinhard eyed it. For a moment Hassani thought he would take it. Instead, Rheinhard whistled at the slavers. They stopped again, this time with slightly more grumbling, and eyed them.

“We don’t have room for any more. That one’s collar’s been cut. Look at the marks on his collarbone.” The slaver snorted, giving Hassani a disgusted look.

“He wishes to buy the Krynians.” Rheinhard said simply.

“Oh? With what?” The slaver snickered, and Hassani held out the coin purse. Rheinhard took it from him before the slavers could snatch it; who knew what they would get back? He counted quickly.

“Thirty.” He declared.

The slavers laughed. “We’ll get double from Persian. Take your charity elsewhere. You have an issue with Krynians? Take it up with the boss. The god of Pedeo only has two faces, and she’s made of gold.”

They moved off, and Rheinhard herded Hassani back into the tent. He came to sit with them. Hassani gave a small shake of his head to Rehema, and handed her back her pouch. “They said it was too little.” He apologized.

“Persian is harvesting from Floiland and Krynid now. At least he is sticking to his word to make peace with the Inizae; at the cost of the farmlands and mountains. The Krynians fought; there were healing cuts on many of them. Only bruises on the Floimish. They are not a warlike people.” Rheinhard grunted.
 
"Only a fool turns down help before it's even offered," Ausar told Chaceledon as he looked him over, examining his wounds. "Any dragon who offers us aid does so knowing the risk, from the sound of it."

Nebit handed him a flask of water, and Ausar began to gently clean the blood away.

"Hokkaido was certainly eager to get Seteta gone," he grumbled quietly. "She finished the challenge before she passed out. He shouldn't have declared she failed before the other one completed his performance."

Supti raised an alarm then, a silent one through the earth, and darted inside the dome.

"Dragon landing nearby," he warned.

Ausar looked over at Seteta worriedly. She hadn't roused yet. They were in no condition to flee into the desert.


"Too little for even one of them?" Rehema asked dubiously, and Kahi made small noises of disapproval.

"He barely tried," Kahi interjected. "Didn't even bargain. Food 's ready. You all eat.

"Volker, take me to the slavers," Kahi said, drawing herself up to her full height. She wasn't as voluptuous as Keket, but she was tall and broad-shouldered for an elf. "Hassani, if you want to learn, you can tag along."
 
“It wasn’t so much that she failed…it’s that he knew one way or another…he was losing me.” Chaceledon said softly. “His last shred of control over my mother. The last piece of blackmail gone.” He swallowed thickly. He wasn’t anything, and never had been. The cruelty all made sense now. Why Hokkaido had focused on Cassius. Why his parents hated one another. Why Peridot gave into his every whim anyway. It was because at any moment he could have ripped everything away from her and made her son hedahn.

Gods, once he’d done it himself there had been no reason to keep the secret anymore.

Chaceledon froze as Supti came into the shell. A dragon, already? Had someone decided to take his head now? He followed Ausar’s gaze to Seteta. She couldn’t be moved until she woke. Surely if the dragon meant them harm they’d have been swallowed in molten sand by now. “Who is it?” Chaceledon asked nervously.

_____________________

Rheinhard watched Hassani cringe. The ex pet was still adjusting to some things, it seemed, but he would need to cut ties with Pedeo eventually. He sighed, and nodded to the tent flap. He led Kano outside, and this time had to jog to catch up to to the slavers. He wasn’t particularly surprised that this time the leader drew a blade and leveled it at them.

“By the gods you lot better be coming with liquor because you’re keeping me from a water jug and a hot meal.” The slaver growled.

Rheinhard bared his teeth, but backed off a few paces.
 
Hickory chuckled and patted Nica's hand on his arm. "Father isn't someone you need to worry about," Hickory reassured him. The younger dragon had certainly been attempting to woo him over the past month, but Hickory had made sure to put firm boundaries in place. They were not permitted to be that familiar with any of their patients, especially while they were still technically apprentices.

"He has a patient to check on, I believe," Hickory said with a slight shrug. "Not one that I'm privy to information about, and even if I was, I wouldn't tell you."

Hickory grabbed a pastry off a passing tray, broke it in half, and offered Nica a piece. "Are you still going to perform, even though your competition was eliminated? You worked so hard on it."

Nica was... acting strangely unaffected. He'd heard that the dragon was madly in love with Chaceledon. It seemed odd that he hadn't tried to at least change Chaceledon's mind before the crowd set on him.


Hawthorn heard the watchman as he shifted back and quickly put on his robes. He had a small medical kit he always carried with him that would hopefully suffice to care for any wounds. He carefully approached the... sand dome, and paused in the doorway.

Chaceledon said:
“Who is it?” Chaceledon asked nervously.
Click to expand...

"Hawthorn of Dahn Prunella," he said, pausing a moment to let Chaceledon and the Inizae see him. "I'm a doctor. Chaceledon can vouch for me."

Ausar glanced between Chaceledon and Hawthorn. He'd caught a glimpse of this dragon at the celebration, had noted that he seemed to be one of the few that didn't immediately mock and scorn the Inizae. "Well?" Ausar asked Chaceledon. "Can we trust him?"

Seteta needed looking at. And Chaceledon needed his wounds tended, and they didn't have the supplies for it themselves.


Kahi just grinned widely as the slaver turned and growled at them. "Come now," she said merrily. "If a hot meal is what you wanted, you should have just said so! We have some roast chuma inside. I apologize for the... poor manners of my companion. He's learning, you see."

Kahi gestured toward the tent. "Even if you make Pedeo by dawn--which is unlikely in this part of the desert--you'll still have to sand in line for hours. What's a short break compared to that?"

If Hassani was watching, Kahi would seem almost like a different person at that moment. Around Seteta and her family, Kahi was warm and playful. But she was the wife of a caravan guide, and many a merchant had quaked in their boots at the sight of her.
 
“He’s gone after Chaceledon hasn’t he? He’s risking his entire future. Your entire future.” Oor said softly. Damn it all, what was the point of crawling into the son’s good graces if the father knowingly consorted with the hedahn? Even worse, the man had barely hesitated, like he had done it before. When had all dragons turned into loathsome, sentimental fools? He accepted half of the pastry and nibbled at it, careful to bring his sleeve up so Hickory couldn’t see him eat.

Oor had long since shed the idea of becoming stick thin. He would be suitably slender and muscular, of course, but raising the Volkers had taught him the benefits of muscle. Speed was essential. Bulk wasn’t. That didn’t mean he needed to throw away all appearance of dignity, however. He considered Hickory’s question, and swallowed his bit of pastry. He poked his teal eyes up over his sleeve.

“If you’d still like me to.” He said, just a hint of play in his voice. As he finished his food, he could see Peridot staring at him strangely. He returned her gaze with an icy look. She should know better than to stare. She had just been shamed. No one was going to speak to her, and her husband was politely silent. Oor watched Hokkaido stewing in rage. Just a little push would be all he needed.

Hm. Maybe he would topple the Dahn entirely, and force Hokkaido to come crawling to him. It had a nice feeling to it. Oor stood, and smiled at Hickory. “Would be a waste of a dance wouldn’t it?” He said lightly, and made his way toward the stage.

________________________________

Chaceledon looked from Hawthorn to Ausar. What was he doing?! “He risks his Dahna, his entire family coming here.” Chaceledon said to Ausar carefully. “I…” he hesitated. Hawthorn had told him before he worked with the hedahn. He’d offered to get a letter to his sister. This was beyond risky. “Let him in. Dahn Prunella are doctors. It’s not as though we can do anything against a dragon that old anyway. If he wanted to kill us he’d have done it by now.”

Chaceledon laid his head back down, wincing. “Oh…damn the laws, what does a hedahn have need for them? Hawthorn…see to Seteta first. Please.” He looked at the other dragon beseechingly, hoping he would forgive him using his first name instead of his title.

________________________

The slaver eyed her. “You trust Persian’s word we’re not after you? Seems things are mending between Pedeo and Inizae already. Your dog fine with watching them?” He jerked his head toward Volker. “I’d prefer if he doesn’t eat anyone. We’ve just gotten them to settle down and stop crying.”

Rheinhard silently approached the line of slaves. He took the stake’s end in one hand, and half marched, half-dragged the exhausted and unfortunate citizens over to the camp. He sat them down, and wrapped the lead rope around his fist, facing them. They watched him warily, and the moment one of them whispered he pulled in the slack, choking the speaker silent.

The slavers chuckled, and sheathed their weapons. “He’s a Volker right? I saw the eyes. So it’s true. Your kind did steal him from the wraith.” He said in amusement, and gestured to Kahi. “Come, woman, you clearly want to talk.”
 
"He went to tend to a patient," Hickory said again, nibbling at his own pastry. "I don't know who that patient was."

Could it be Chaceledon or his chosen mate? It was possible. But Hawthorn had long made it clear to him and Hyssop would not be privy to all the workings of the dahn, and certainly not to his patients, until it was decided which of them would be inheriting it.

He cringed internally as Nica's reply turned playful. Almost flirtatious. But Hickory just smiled gave Nica's hand one last encouraging pat before the younger dragon took to the stage.

At least it would be a distraction to keep Nica from asking after Hawthorn for a while. Hopefully his father would return before the performance was finished.


Hawthorn chuckled and ducked inside, moving quickly to where Seteta was laid out on the sand, her head cushioned in Nebit's lap. He knelt down at her side and reached for her wrist to take her pulse.

"She hit her head when she collapsed?" Hawthorn asked, frowning slightly.

"Yes," Ausar confirmed. "I couldn't reach her in time to catch her."

Hawthorn nodded, and reached into his medical kit for the small magelight he kept. It was an unusual one, small and narrow, and he gently lifted Seteta's lids and shone it in her eyes. Then he gently prodded at her skull through her hair.

"Any history of illness recently?" he asked. "She seems skinnier and paler than when they attended dinner at Cassius' estate several weeks ago."

"Yes," Ausar sighed, and gave a brief rundown of everything, including the... soul merging, to which Hawthorn gave an incredulous grunt, but didn't question.

"She's been gifted with earth magic since childhood?" Hawthorn asked, checking her pulse once more time before he stood. "Has she had any severe head injuries in the past?"

Ausar nodded again. "Since... infancy, really," he said, voice barely more than a whisper, gaze fixed on Seteta's face. "We had to have Aptuv bind her powers. They were only recently unbound, and soon afterward is when... these things happened. No head injuries that I know of, at least." Ausar glanced at Chaceledon. He didn't know if there had been any that occurred while she was traveling.

"Physically, other than still being weak from the illness, she is... mostly fine," Hawthorn said. "She possibly has a mild concussion, but I don't think there's any need to worry that her brain is bleeding. I think she'll wake on her own within a few hours, but she'll definitely have a headache.

"It concerns me that using magic is still so difficult for her, though. I would suggest taking her to the Autumn Court. Even if your god oversaw the soul merging, they will be able to help her settle into that merging properly. I suspect that's why her magic is still too much for her."

Hawthorn moved to Chaceledon next, frowning as he looked over his scalp.

"You need stitches," he said gently, retrieving the supplies for that from his kit. "But your biggest concern while... traveling" --fleeing, really-- "is going to be flies. You need to find the first spring you can, and boil the water before you wash with it. You'll need to keep the wounds protected, but not bound so tightly they fester."

"There's a spring a few hours from here by foot," Supti said. "And there's one of my caravans a day or two away."


"You make the assumption that even if Persian went back on his word I'm not capable of stopping you singlehandedly," Kahi smirked as Rheinhard watch over the slaves. "Especially since all I'd have to do is hold you back and cut their lines."

She led the slavers into the tent, and carved off some chuma meat for them and served up a couple cups of wine. The rest of the Inizae stayed off to one side, though Rehema watched the exchange with eagle eyes.

"Now," Kahi said as she dished up her own plate and sat with the slavers. "Tell me about your Krynid slaves. They aren't built for this heat."

She haggled and plied them wine and food, until she at last got them to give up two of the Krynians--the one who'd been most troublesome, and the one that was weakest.
 
Chaceledon turned his head to watch the dragon care for Seteta. Waking in a few hours…he swallowed thickly. What would she think of him? Naked, dirty, the makeup forcibly scrubbed or smeared over his face and his scalp crusted and bloody. He was hideous and bald! Worse than that, he could feel how uneven the cut was. There were long strands near his ears and back of his head where the knife had angled awkwardly. He caught Hawthorn looking at him, and nodded slowly.

“We were both struck across the head by a bull troll during our travels. Minor concussions but that would have been months ago.” He whispered. Gods, had it really been that long? He winced, struggling to sit up again. God his head ached! “The Autumn Court wanted to see us…we ought to go. But we need Rheinhard. This concerns all of us as a family. I’m not sure…the Inizae may be forbidden. Myself and Rheinhard are both citizens.” Chaceledon pulled the corner of his mouth back with a claw, showing the emerald set into his first molar.

He let the other dragon see to his head, tensing when he saw the needle and thread. He’d done it to the Volkers a hundred times, why was he so nervous when it came to his own scalp? He chewed his lip. “Am I…I’m not going to permanently lose any hair am I? I can grow it back?” He asked in a terrified whisper. “We should go to the spring. I…suppose I should get used to bathing like a dirty animal. All of my things…my home. Before it was just lost. Now it’s truly gone. I can never go back…my mother…my brother…” he burst into choking sobs, covering his face with his hands. He would never see any of his own kind again. Not anyone he knew, really. Hedahn were expected to keep to themselves. He’d never see Peridot or Cassius again. Not even Nica.

_________________________

The agreement was reached, and the two slaves cut free. “Your new owners bought you some rations.” The slaver joked, throwing down the weaker of the Krynians at Rheinhard’s feet. They prodded their chattel to rise, and wandered on their way full of meat and wine. Rheinhard cocked his head at the one Krynian. Dehydrated, with a few broken ribs. He turned his head to the side and touched his throat. Still beating.

Rheinhard ground his teeth for a moment. It would be easy to tear the weak one to shreds. They needed the rations and he would slow them down.

“Don’t touch him!” The other Krynian spat. She was defiant, with the wide face and narrow eyes of someone whose lineage stretched far beyond the southerners’ exploration of Krynid.

Rheinhard settled the tip of a blade against the weak one’s breastbone. It would be quick. Just a few pounds of pressure.
 
"A bull troll's strike is no joke," Hawthorn said seriously as he assessed Chaceledon's scalp. He had what he needed to clean the largest lacerations, but not enough supplies to thoroughly clean everything. "But if it was minor then, it shouldn't be affecting her too much now. Caution should be taken, though, that she doesn't strike her head again."

"I do not think any Inizae will willingly set foot into the fae realm," Ausar said, though he couldn't help but think of the glimpse Nestor had given him.

Hawthorn paused as the weight of the night finally crashed onto Chaceledon, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. "It will grow back," he reassured. "It will take time, but it will grow back. And you're not alone. I will send word to Carnelia."


"Rehema bought them, not you," Kahi told Rheinhard, gaze unwavering as she bent down to help the weaker one up, barely waiting for Rheinhard to move his blade. She half-carried, half-dragged him into the tent, gesturing for the woman to follow her.

"There's chuma in here for you, Rheinhard," Kahi called back as she brought the pair of Krynians to Rehema, the healer practically on her heels.

"Do either of you speak common?" Rehema asked, gesturing for the woman to sit as the healer began to tend to the man. "I am Rehema, High Priestess of Aptuv. I owe a debt to your goddess Qimmiq. We will feed you and tend to your injuries, and then you are free to go, whether you wish to return to Krynid or remain with us. Unfortunately, I cannot promise you safe passage back to Krynid at this time. You would be on your own."
 
“No! Not Carnelia! Do you want her to see me like this?!” Chaceledon sobbed, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He needed time. He couldn’t see Carnelia cut up and bruised. “She’ll-she’ll just come here and fuss. I don’t want her in danger.” He blinked away tears. He could see it now. Carnelia wailing like a banshee and crushing his head to her considerable bosom. Bawling about how sorry she was and how he could come live with her in Floiland. He adored her, but gods. It was far too soon. He straightened up a bit, letting Hawthorn work on his head. He only cringed once, as the crusty blood and plasma was cleared away. He sniffled, rubbing away the last of the makeup. He looked at the smears of mica on his arm. Gods. That was dozens of gold coins worth of face powder he once wouldn’t have given a thought to scrubbing off.

It was settling on his shoulders. As far as draconian society was concerned, he was no longer a dragon. He was dirt poor. Gods. They might have to rely on Rheinhard and the Inizae for survival for a while yet. He looked at Seteta. His poor love. Hawthorn was right. A god of the living could only do so much.

Chaceledon looked at Ausar. “You at least will have to come with us. There are laws in the Autumn Court. Rheinhard must be muzzled when he isn’t working. He must have his handler with him when he passes the gate. He isn’t free to go. I’m a bit more…ambiguous.” He sighed. “Can you feel him? How is Rheinhard?”

______________________

“He is too dehydrated. He will waste our water stores.” Rheinhard relinquished his prey to her, sheathing his knife. The weak one stumbled, but the Krynian woman rushed to support his other arm, giving Rheinhard a venomous look over her shoulder.

Rheinhard settled next to Rehema near the fire, picking at the chuma and making sure his charge ate. He kept a close eye on the Krynians. “They don’t understand.” He clarified when the woman gave Kahi a helpless look. She clearly recognized some words, like that of her own nation and goddess, but little further. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He slouched a bit, kicking out one leg straight, and blinked.

“She says she is a high priest of her tribe. She’s bought your freedom because of a debt she owes to the Mother Mountain. She offers you food and care…then you do as you please. Stay or leave. If you leave, you’re alone.” He translated.

The girl couldn’t have been more surprised. “You speak like a native.” She said guardedly, and pointed at Kahi. “Food and…until he gets on his feet. Then we return to the mountain. It’s too hot here.”

“She wants food and medical care. Probably some supplies. Then she wants to take him home.” Tianau translated for Kahi. He leaned back against Rehema and smiled, touching her cheek. “You’re going to have to pick up some Krynian.”
 
"Carnelia will not care what you look like," Hawthorn stated as he quickly stitched up the worst cuts. He didn't hesitate, knowing that speed was more important without any numbing. "But give her some credit. Your sister has been hedahn for longer than you were gone. She visits the desert regularly without incident. She will be safe."

Ausar frowned when Chaceledon said he would have to go. It was one thing to be separated from Rehema by the sands. Another to have to leave her behind and enter the fae realm while she was with child.

He would rather delay that as long as possible.

"Does Rheinhard have to go with you?" he asked, at the same time tentatively reaching for the bond. They did need to know what had happened.

Rheinhard? We're on our way to the temple. Seteta failed. Chaceledon is hedahn now.

Hawthorn finished tending to Chaceledon's wounds. "Do you want me to trim up the rest of your hair?" he asked quietly.


"We can find more water," Kahi grunted. "If we decided someone's fate by how dehydrated they were in the desert, the Inizae would have died off within the first fifty years of the empire's collapse."

Rehema smiled and chuckled as Rheinhard set aside food for her from his own. "I already ate," she told him, but still took what he gave her.

Her smile softened a few moments later when Tianau took control of Rheinhard, nodding as he translated.

Kahi nodded, and began helping the healer.

"You'll have to teach me, then," Rehema teased Tianau, reaching up to touch his hand, then turned her focus back to the Krynian woman.

"We are traveling to Aptuv's temple. It is a few day's journey yet from here. There, you will be able to rest and heal."
 
“I care what I look like! Don’t you dare send word to her yet.” Chaceledon sniffed. He didn’t want Carnelia to see him. They’d both cry and that wasn’t what he wanted. Besides, it would be a cold day in hell before he showed up to his sister’s house looking like a shaved brush! He winced at the stitches, his jaw tightening. He had to sit still. He remembered how much he’d hated having to yell at the Volkers to sit still. He eyed Ausar. “Rheinhard is the only true citizen out of the two of us. I was given citizenship by marriage. He was given citizenship because he holds half a town of dead men in his head. They didn’t know what else to do with him. He must go to give us safe passage, and you’ve got to go to give him safe passage.” He explained. Why was Ausar so-

Of course. Rehema. “She received a blessing to protect her child, didn’t she?” Chaceledon said gently. “Don’t worry. She’s with her people and her god. She couldn’t be safer.”

____________________

“We’re a few days out from the temple of Aptuv, the god of the sands. You should be able to rest there until you’re ready.” Tianau translated effortlessly, and grasped Rehema’s fingers in his own. “I’m happy to teach you, pinniqtuq. Beautiful.”

He relinquished control, and Rheinhard pulled his hand away from Rehema. He sat up with a huff, and shifted to sit a few feet away from her. We will meet you there. He replied to Ausar.

He curled up near the mouth of the tent that evening, eyeing the Krynians. Tianau reassured him his countrymen wouldn’t hurt a host that had freed them, but Rheinhard was far less trusting. He slept with one eye open to watch them.
 
Yet, Hawthorn noted as he placed the last of the stitches, then brought out a small pair of shears to trim up his remaining hair. He would wait a few months, then. Enough time for Chaceledon's scalp to at least heal. He listened quietly to the conversation, but made no interjections.

She, he assumed, was Ausar's wife. Likely Seteta's mother.

Ausar gave Chaceledon a slightly annoyed look. "You'll understand better one day," he said, nodding toward Seteta. "For now, we'll wait to finish the discussion once Seteta is awake and we can speak with Rheinhard face to face."

"I'm finished," Hawthorn said, patting Chaceledon's shoulder, then beginning to clean his tools. "Your main priority now is getting the dried blood off your skin. The Inizae healers should be able to keep your scalp from getting infected."

He packed his medical kit back up, then had Ausar check him for stray blood and hair before he departed. Hawthorn gave Ausar brief instructions for how he could be reached if... there was anything dire that needed to be attended, for either Chaceledon or Seteta, and then left.

Supti took Chaceledon to the nearby spring, while the other Inizae waited with Seteta. By foot, it would be at least an hour's walk.

"I've sent out a signal to my nearby caravan," Supti told Chaceledon as they set out. "If Seteta wakes soon, we should be able to rendezvous with them late tomorrow afternoon."


It had taken barely three days to go from the temple to Hedoni, but that had been flying at a leisurely pace. On foot at a leisurely pace took a solid week, with the healer dictating their pace. Rehema could tell that it drove Rheinhard crazy.

"We'll be there soon," she told him when they stepped over the magical boundary--invisible, and only able to be sensed by the Inizae--that separated the temple lands from the rest of the desert. "Well before dusk. Aetes will be there to greet us."


Aetes had felt her presence through the sand several hours ago, and knew when Rehema and the others had crossed into the boundaries of the temple land.

The sun was bright, but the wind was fierce that day, tempering the heat. He had a scarf wrapped around his face to protect his eyes from blowing sand.

Aetes waited outside the temple, looking the direction where Rehema and her party would approach from. Volker was with them. He'd sensed the foulness of the Well's magic. But... would it be Rheinhard?
 
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Chaceledon was grateful for the spring. He washed himself, and the last traces of his hair away. He was able to drink some water, and the coolness relieved some of the ache in his ribs. He was quiet, thinking. He had fought so hard to get back into the dragons’ good graces, only to realize they weren’t the sort of people he wanted to be in the graces of. Selfish, in many cases evil creatures. He carefully ducked his head under water, wincing as the last of the dirt was carefully swept away. He watched little filaments of long red hair drift down into the water. Some diver, or trader, or even Inizae might find it…years or decades from now.

Chaceledon lifted his head out of the water, and sighed. “I look like Rheinhard. No makeup, bruised, shorn head…if I begin biting people you’ve full permission to muzzle me.” He muttered at Supti.

He sat by Seteta when they returned, holding her hand and kissing her fingers. When she woke, he offered her a sad and crooked smile. “I’m hoping you didn’t agree to marry me because of my hair.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead tenderly.

The next few days weren’t easy. Chaceledon was exhausted and Seteta needed rest, but the dragons weren’t about to suffer them so close. At the first sign of a jewel colored steak in the sky, Chaceledon bade them to move. Chaceledon counted them lucky they were in Harrier’s lands. Several bundles of supplies were left for them, quietly and without comment, in the night.

_________________________

Rheinhard was anxious at the slow pace. He kept guard over Rehema, at Tianau’s insistence. He couldn’t tell when they had crossed the border, but for Rehema’s comment, and said little. He circled the slow moving group as they went, under the guise of safety, but they had little to fear in temple lands and he knew it.

The wind was blowing away from them, but little shifts brought bits of familiar scent as they drew closer to the temple. Dust, from people instead of the sand, and the scent of warmed stone. Food from the campfire. Incense, once. Rheinhard stopped when he spotted a familiar figure, waiting patiently to greet them. Even with the scarf around his face, Rheinhard knew.

He hesitated, letting the others go ahead of him. The last time they had…been together…was when he had shattered. When Tianau had taken over him. He pulled his own scarf down to show Aetes who it was. He wanted to greet him. There was a significant part of him that wanted to rush to Aetes and bury his head under his collarbone for comfort. The other part wondered if it had been too much for the priest, and he never wanted to see him again.

After all, bathing the camp in blood and such a drastic shift in the middle of their coupling couldn’t have left a good impression.

Rheinhard backed away a few paces. Perhaps he was better off camping in the sands for a day or two.
 
Seteta flinched when she opened her eyes, what little light there was in the sand dome feeling like glass shards piercing her eyes and traveling through her skull.

But when her gaze focused and she saw his shorn hair, tears welled up in her eyes.

"Oh sehejib," she murmured as Chaceledon kissed her forehead. "I'd marry you even if you lost all your scales."

Ausar quickly caught her up on everything that had happened as Supti and another Inizae hauled in the supplies left for them. Seteta sent silent thanks for Harrier and Seikilos. She suspected one or both of them were responsible for that.

Ausar and Supti took turns carrying her on their backs until they reached the caravan. She nearly wept with relief at the sight of camels and howdah.

After taking the few camels and supplies they caravan could spare, their pace was steady as they made their way to the temple. They were still several days out.


It was him. Rheinhard. Aetes eyes gleamed faintly, and there was a strange pang in his chest. And relief.

He'd been bracing himself to learn that Rheinhard was gone. Forever.

He couldn't go to him yet, though. He was acting high priest, but Rehema was still high priestess, and he had to greet her.

Aetes bowed his head as she approached, fisted hand raised to his mouth and thumb resting against his lips. He waited until she stopped in front of him and gently rested her hand against his head.

"May Aptuv's waters restore you," he said quietly as he rose. "Welcome home, priestess."

Rehema smiled and patted his cheek. "We have injured with us," she told him, gesturing to the Krynians. "Persian is taking slaves now from Krynid and Floiland instead of the Inizae. We will have to do something about that.

"He was also sending representatives for... brokering some sort of treaty, I believe."

Aetes frowned, and began to update her on all the happenings since their departure as he led her to the temple. The healer took over the care of the Krynians, with a stern warning to Rehema to get off her feet soon. Temple acolytes were brought out to help tend to the Krynians.

Once all of that was finished, and Aetes had her settled back in her quarters in the temple, he went to find Rheinhard.
 
Chaceledon traveled quietly. He wouldn’t leave Seteta’s side, curling up with her on the camel despite how much he despised the smelly animals. He kept his head covered in shame, despite Seteta’s reassurances. He ate three meals a day, hoping to ease her anxiety, and wasn’t surprised to find that eating consistently made him feel better. He didn’t regret his decision, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t mourn his parents.

“Hokkaido wasn’t my father.” He whispered quietly as they bedded down for the evening. “He told me everything. About my mother having an egg with Dahnesh Saltarello…how he considered killing me.” He ran his fingers tentatively over his scalp, hissing as he touched the stitches.

___________________

Rheinhard hovered around the edges of the camp, and watched Aetes converse with Rehema. He saw the man looking at him, and moved behind one of the dunes to break his own camp. He set up his tent silently, rolling his bedroll out. He eyed the canvas, and touched one of the bloodstains on the walls, now a dark brown. He couldn’t help what he was. Certainly Aetes would see that…either that, or they’d never want him around.

Rheinhard wasn’t sure where he stood. He was a member of the tribe, but still didn’t feel as though he could walk among them freely. He started a small fire and took out the last of his own dry supplies, making a little bit of soup with dried chuma, the last of his dried vegetables and stock, and half his water. He was sure they wouldn’t deny him basic supplies.

He settled down to eat, drinking his soup quietly as the sun went down and the temperature dipped with it.
 
Seteta reached for his hands. "Stop touching the cuts," she murmured, kissing his fingers. "You'll make them get infected. I wish we still had the salve from Pedeo."

She tucked herself into his side, careful not to jostle his ribs.

"I know," she whispered. "I have Nailah's memories. You... look very much like Saltarello."

He didn't need to know that Saltarello and Nailah had been lovers. She might, in some ways, be Nailah... but she was Seteta before all else.

"I spoke with Peridot, before the performance," she confessed. "I'd suspected for a while. She begged me not to tell you... but I don't think she'd even contemplated you becoming hedahn at that point."

Her heart ached for Peridot. She'd believed he was alive, held out hope longer than anyone, and now...

Gods, Draconian culture was cruel.


Aetes' footsteps were near silent as he approached Rheinhard's tent, coming around the sand dune just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. Winter in the sands meant the days were comfortable, but the nights were bitterly cold.

The scent of Rheinhard's stew was delicious, but he wouldn't ask to eat. Perhaps... Rheinhard's feelings had changed, in the last several weeks.

Aetes quietly sat, close enough to feel the fire's warmth, but far enough to make sure Rheinhard did not feel crowded.

He watched the man for a few minutes, quietly taking in his appearance. He seemed... well. Unharmed.

"How are you?" Aetes asked softly.
 
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