They’d returned, finally, to Caer Kista and been given lunch, a family affair, where she’d been gently enfolded among them while fielding a skilled inquisition about her history. After, Malec had excused himself, taking Malachi with him, to attend to business, promising to rejoin them for dinner.

Jolie and Spence had slipped away then to resume their investigation of the library and Jules and Nims had simply disappeared, an occurrence that had made up her mind for her regarding the demands of good manners and her ostensible position. She bent a pointed look on Marc and he’d engineered their escape.

Once free of the family, her head pounding, she’d taken his hand and headed for the first door to the outside she could find, following her nose and heading away from the stables, and out into the orchard that was dozing in the late summer sun, the branches heavy with a fruit she didn’t recognize. She waited until they were clear of the house, and then just stopped, and turning to him, put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. When his arms came up to pull her closer, she sighed and relaxed even more against him.

He rested his chin on the top of her head and she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart under her ear. They stood there for awhile, until he created a bench for them that gave him an nice view of the orchard and the mountains beyond.

"Would you like to just go home? Forget it all?  Let me rephrase. Are you still determined to do this?  Because you didn't choose taking on all this.  It isn't your responsibility, remember."

She lifted her head and eyed him crossly.  "I distinctly recall you taking the nearly opposite tack when you decided coming was a good idea."  Then she sighed and shifted a bit, her hand going to the pocket in the seat of her jeans.  "I'm gonna tell you a story and you're gonna tell me you don't believe it and then I'm gonna cross my heart and say 'swear to god, Ralph,'.  So brace yourself, ok?"

He shifted in his seat a bit more comfortably, stretching his legs out, and wrapping an arm around her and pulling her up against him. "Ready. Braced, although I don't normally like suspenders. Go for it."

"Kevin C'Tal, Minister of Duello and Kanly is a man I've known since I was ten years old.  He called himself Kevin Gilhoulley, had all the maids in love with him, and was the first man I ever danced with.  He told me he sent Mac to the hotel and conspired with him to engineer all this."

"Ah.  I can see why you find this confusing."

'Yeah, well it gets better.  He was soooo sure I'd come he left a letter with Kevvie."  It was clear she was disgusted, unclear with who.  She handed him the envelope and leaned back against him while he read, surveying his choice of views.

Marc glanced at her and then opened the letter.

It started without preamble, just her name....Dinah...and then it went on, "I'll skip the expected if you've got this, then part.  I'll also take it that you're feeling manipulated and angry.  I'm sorry.  By now you've figured it all out or Kevin has explained.  Either way, you're there and you're probably even angrier after talking to Kevin.  Believe me if there'd been another way I'd have taken it.  Just know that you can do this.  Trust that, listen to your heart and don't worry about good guys or bad guys."  It ended the same way, with just his name.  Then a P.S.  "Enjoy the dragons."

"Well," Marc said after he read it. "That's remarkably helpful. Can you hear your heart at this point, past all the manipulation and anger over it?"

"Maybe," she said.  "The trouble is, I keep thinking there's a piece of his scheme I don't see yet.  Kevin made it sound like Mac knew something, but wouldn't tell him.  Something I'm supposed to know or figure out."

"Well, maybe you just don't have all the data yet. We don't really understand this society. Well, I surely don't. Perhaps it will become clearer as we dig and look around. I, for one, am trying to understand how the vendetta got started. These two houses obviously don't trust one another, but I didn't see outright hatred. And for a vendetta to have lasted this long, I'd have expected that. So, are they going through the motions because of some promise made or blood feud sworn? If so, well, that is something to work with there."

"Fits with Mac's good guy, bad guy statement.  I suspect, however, that our hosts are not going to be as forthcoming as one might hope, at least not until after the fact.  Kevin will be here for the ceremony, but he's supposed to be a neutral party and is, so he says, already out on a limb."  She shifted a bit, watching the dragons fly over, playing some sort of tag game.

"I know you loved him, and there is a level of trust and a desire to live up to what he expected of you, and that you want to do this for his memory, but... But don't think you are responsible for fixing something that's been broken for a long time. I'm guessing he thought your perspective as an outsider would help. Maybe it can. But maybe, no matter how much you'd like to help here, you can't."

She twisted around to look at him, her face set.  "I dunno what I'm gonna do or why, but I can promise you two things...If I ever get my hands on him again, he's a dead man and before I'm through with this Celie and Asher are gonna get to ride the dragons."  She grinned.  "And what are your goals for the next week, besides finding out everything you can about how they play those tricks with the genes?"

"Getting your jeans off you every chance I can."

"We could start here and now if you want," she offered.

Marc grinned, "Let's give the dragons a show."

"Oh yeah.  Let's show 'em how to really play."

“Devlin, my love…we’ve got a week to kill. And I’m thinking that the slopes above Caer Kista might be just the place for us to do it in.” Morrigan whispered to her dragon as they emerged over House Sere and began gliding gently to the ground. She laid her cheek against his neck and grinned. “Plus they’ll be having games, and you’ll get to play too.”

Devin turned his head back towards her, rolling his jewel-faceted yellow eyes in glee. “And win,” he assured her.

“Yes you will my lad, but you’ll also behave with the others. We’re here as guests. No shenanigans, promise me.”

Devin pouted and agreed. She brushed a caress across his golden brown nose and dismounted.

When she hit the flag stones of the courtyard it was plain she was close to six feet tall, most of it leg. She held herself straight, unconsciously elegant, neither concealing nor displaying what was obviously an abundance of curves in all the right places.  Full breasted and hipped, her bottom rounded and firm, she appeared to have been built with two things in mind; making babies and then having them.  Her hair was raven colored and pulled back in warrior braids, threaded with the feathers and jewels that declared her status as a daughter of  Kenget’Ster and a veteran of the fighting. She’d dressed in riding gear, of some heavy stuff of a steel blue, embroidered and trimmed in black. Her eyes were a dark, vivid blue set under delicately arched brows.

She patted Devin again and looked around.

Her arrival had been expected, and no doubt watched, and the dragons in the caves above Caer Kista would have raised an alarm had she arrived with anyone. So the fact that the courtyard was pretty empty was most likely a signal of trust rather than an attempt to ignore her. And sure enough Morrigan looked up to see Fianna coming out with a smile on her face. The women of the clans seemed to get along far better than the men, for the most part, even if most of the women were fighters too.

Fianna, heavily pregnant, no longer looked the fighter she had once been.  And Morrigan was delighted to see her looking well and happy and without a sword for a change.

"Welcome, Morrigan." The women hugged with every evidence of of kind regard.

"You must be close now," Morrigan said with a grin.

"Not soon enough," Fianna confided with a groan. "I walk like a goat."

"Come in. We're gathered in the back. Devlin, you are also welcome here. Although I thought I heard Piran say that you were going to fat. But you know Piran, such a clown."

Devlin roared in outrage at the slander, startling the birds and making the women laugh.

"Well,"  Morrigan suggested, "Go prove him wrong."

Devlin took off fast and the women turned towards the house.  "How are you managing, with all the preparations.  I'll be happy to help however I can.  I'm sure the men will be too busy,"  Morrigan teased, "with all the guests to impress."

"Men," Fianna said with a shake of her head.  "Luckily our guests seem uninterested in much pomp. Malec is sulking."

They walked around the side of the house to find the family grouped around. Neither Malec nor Malachi were in evidence, and there was only one of the visitors. He was sitting in a patch of sunlight polishing something that looked vaguely like armor. At least it was shaped like armor, but the material was unlike what she'd seen. And then he was unlike anything she'd seen either.

After Morrigan made her greetings to the family she walked over toward him. He set aside his armor and got to his feet, towering over her.

As for Kalket, he'd noticed Morrigan the first moment she stepped into sight. Now he scrambled to his feet and grinned at her. She was, he thought, the closest thing to home he'd seen in many a year.  She wore leathers and was obviously a warrior. The women of his culture were just as deadly as the men, in some ways more so.

Kalket made a bow as she stopped in front of him. "Kalket, Lord Healer, First Redactor, Redactor House, at your service."

Morrigan, on impulse, swept him a curtsey, "Lady Morrigan'MacCoun, willing to be served."  She grinned as she said it, rising and extending her hand. "So, ah, you are a friend of the heir?  Lady Dinah?"  Her eyes swept him appreciatively as she asked before her lashes, black as soot, veiled them.

Kalket offered Morrigan a seat, which she took, and he sat, carefully, since the chair seemed a bit in danger given his size, near her. "I am a friend of her lover, Marc Rem... Rogatien.  I've only met Dinah recently. She hates it, you know," he confided to Morrigan, his blue eyes dancing, "the calling her Lady. So do it often."

Morrigan laughed delightedly.  "I shall," she promised "and then blame it on you, saying you told me she liked it."  She studied him openly this time.  "I've seen lots of armor in my day and cleaned some too, but never any....if I'm right and that's what you were working on...made of such a material.  What is it?"

"It is made of a sort of glass. And using our powers it glows with our house colours. When we flew on beasts armored with it as well, we lit up the night sky, all the colours of all the Houses."  He sighed, obviously missing that part of his past.

Morrigan looked at him speculatively, an idea blooming.  "It might be possible...there will be dragon games as a part of celebrations and they will want something to set these games a part, to make them memorable, in their own right.  It is possible something might be contrived with the dragons who would certainly think it great fun...would you be interested if I suggested something to Fianna about it...it's a point of honor for the dragons of the House to impress the others who will be here."

Kalket's grin was his answer.  "I can create armor, so yes, we could do it. I think I can show them how to make it glow."

"The dragons will love you, and never stop pestering you, I should warn you about that first.  Anyone who caters to their games, especially if it makes them the center of attention...they are likely to adopt."  She looked like a child plotting mischief as she pictured it.

Kalket conjured up a pad and began thinking about how to design dragon armor. He handed it to Morrigan and the two of them, one blond head and one raven, were busily bent over the notes plotting.

Malec, having returned from some business walked into the family area and noticed them. He raised an eyebrow at Fianna.  She grinned.

Morrigan, well mannered, excused herself to Kalket, promising to return and went to greet her erstwhile host.  "Thank you for the hospitality of your House, Maelcom.  I am honored by it." she said, bowing her head to him, but no more.  She was the daughter of a rival house, his equal in rank and a warrior, blooded.

Malec gave her a rare smile. "You are most welcome to whatever we can offer you. I see you have already made a friend."

"He is charming.  An unusual friend for the Lady, though, I would think." She looked at Kalket.  "But, then again, perhaps not."

"It is true," Malec allowed. "The Lady does not seem to value warriors. Yet he is clearly one.  Perhaps he will be more comfortable here among his own kind than back there."  Malec was frowning, obviously thinking as he said it.

"Piran and Devlin are planning trouble. Not that I have to warn you of that. Something about an insult offered and a challenge accepted?"

Morrigan broke out laughing.  "And it's a duel to the death or what?  Fianna told him Piran said he was getting fat."

"She is more trouble than she is worth," Malec said, looking over affectionately at his wife.  "If we must fight, Morrigan... Do not let me detain you. Please, go enjoy Lord Kalket. He has a uniquely simple outlook on life. I envy him that."

"Yes, he does...and Malec.."

He looked his question.

"I wouldn't sell her short.  She valued Mac who was the epitome of a warrior. While her lover now?  He is from the same mold I would guess, given his...protectiveness."

"Yes, although I suspect he is more comfortable with modernity than with our way of fighting. But yes, you are right. My brother did value her and the more I see of her the more I respect him for it."

"I always said you were a smart man," she teased him, before heading back to Kalket.

She glanced at Kalket's progress from over his shoulder, then pointed to his plans, "Perhaps that isn't exactly how you want the breast plate," she said slipping the pencil from his hand and bending down to sketch a correction.  "There," she said, handing it back and smiling at him.  "Try it that way."

He smiled up at her and made the correction. "What do you do, when you aren't warring, Morrigan. Or riding dragons?"

She considered her days and the steady ebb and flow of her life.  "I read a lot, and when I can I indulge myself by pretending I am the trader my House was founded for by going out with the ships.  I don't get to do it enough.  And truth to tell, I am not all that good at bartering with words.  My skills truly lie in other directions."  She smiled ruefully.  "I have been thinking lately that perhaps I should take up gardening and grow herbs and brew simples, or learn to make ales and wines."

"There is nothing wrong with such simple things, so long as there are battles to fight now and again. I too have some difficulty fitting in. I owe Marc a debt I can never repay, so I help him in what small ways I can.  But I am not comfortable with his world. It becomes too complicated for a simple man such as myself."

"I know little about his world.  Only snippets that I've heard.  Is it so different from your own?"

"Mine... Mine died many many years ago. I am what is left now. A man without a home, locked between worlds, never quite fitting in. It might have been lovely but for our stubbornness and our hatred. But you would have liked to see the Flying Hunt glowing across the night sky, and the cities alight with Guild and House colours. And the Grand Combat and the Great Loving. A simpler time..."

"It is the curse, sometimes, of the warrior," she said, looking across at Malec and his brother.  "Stubbornness and hatred.  They should never be the point of warring."

"My parents found a way to end ours. Let us hope your house and this one can find a way to end yours."

They were huge, so the chamber they gathered in was more than huge, carved out from under the Kenno. They flowed in, chattering like kids on the way back from recess. When they’d all found places, Menatha, the oldest among them called them briskly to order.

It was a Dragon Gathering and a formal event. They happened rarely, meetings eating into play time; but when they did they were taken seriously, or as seriously as a bunch of dragons took anything besides war, choosing a bonded rider, or a mate for procreation. Today’s meeting was to assess the heir and decide who among them, if any would become hers or more accurately who she would belong to.

Briony and Piran, whose status was a reflection of Malec’s and Malachi’s, and Kalie, who’d chosen Mach and was thus interested more than most in his heir, along with the other dragons who already had chosen their personal humans moved to the outside of the gathering, letting the others have the center. It wasn’t unheard of for the negotiations to descend to squabbling and shoving.  Devin was an observer only but would report to his own clan later.

When the cavern was as silent as it would ever be, Menatha shared his own assessment of Dinah briskly, feeling a need to set the tone, “She would ride far, light and well. She has laughter in her and love. And she and her man play without hiding it. She is not for me but I find myself wishing she were.”

Puff piped up without waiting, “Me either, but the short blonde’s mine.”

"You going home with him?" a voice yelled from the back.

"By the time I'm done, he won't be able to leave me behind."  Puff assured them.  "He loves to play games."

There was a general rumble of comments regarding that last. They did appreciate a human who knew how to play.   Plus, there'd be a whole new playground for them to conquer. It was a great honor to be the first dragon on a new playground.

"We need," Piran said, "to bring the Heir here, so that all dragons may meet her. After all, she is the Heir to the House!"

There was a lot of hooting and stamping of feet and flapping of wings in agreement with that.

One dragon, a fairly young one, leaned over to Puff, "Which blond?" he asked, or sort of whispered - it is hard for a dragon to whisper, just in case you didn't know that.

"The short, good looking one.  He's kind of dainty like me."  Puff explained his thinking on the matter.  "I think we have a lot in common, too.  Not the other one.  He's too big." Puff thought for a minute.  "'Sides he wrote me a song...Puff the Magic Dragon, it's called."

The young one nodded sagely. "A very good start for a relationship."

"We should," one dragon opined, "give Kalie the honour of bringing the Heir to meet us."

There was a general nodding of agreement.

Menatha, after some thought, agreed. "Yes, the honor must be Kalie's."

Kalie bowed her head in acknowledgment of the responsibility.

'Now," Menatha asked, "What about the others?"

A rustle swept the cavern as they settled to think.  Finally, a silken maned redhead named Cola, who'd been playing tag over the orchard earlier, said shyly, "I would like to consider the dark haired man, the Heir's lover.  I like his form."

There was considerable snorting on that last, as they'd had a very good look indeed to his form.

"I like the tall one," said another. She was very young and still very small. And rather timid in front of the many large warrior dragons with many years seniority.  "I like his eyes," she said and then hid behind Menatha.

Several others, embolded, spoke up at once, requesting the woman in black.  They all, it seemed, agreed that she had spirit, and suspected that her form would also be excellent.

Briony flapped her wings for attention.  "Do we bring them all, then, with the Heir, or try the others individually?"  She knew very well that if  they brought them all they would still be tested....that was their way.  Still she liked parties and was hoping to incite an impromptu affair.

So did everyone else, so every dragon began saying "All! All!  All!"

It took some time to calm them all down and get on to the other major part of the agenda. "Devlin tells us we are to have a surprise," Piran announced loudly. "So, we need someone to find out what it is!"

Wings rose in a frenzy as they all rushed to volunteer.  Snooping was as fun as parties.  Finally Menatha called them all to order again.  "Who's got the best record at finding out secrets?" he asked, consulting the senior dragons.  After several minutes of private consultation they rendered their verdict.  "Cadfaella."

Cadfaella a dragon who'd never chosen a human but had made it a point to be friends with any she met, blushed.  She was usually so excited about something that she seemed hardly able to talk.  "Who knows the secret?" was her only question.

"Morrigan and the tall one," Devlin told her.

"I will find it out!" Cadfaella promised.

And so it was, just a few minutes later, that the skies above Caer Kista was full of dragons.  The inhabitants, suspecting trouble, and not trouble of the human kind, looked at each other and with a resigned sigh, went out to see what the dragons were up to.

The newcomers, still amused by the dragons all went out too. Even Spence abandoned the library. Jolie was entranced and staring up at them as they swooped lower and lower, calling to each other and sometimes to the humans too.

Julian and Nims appeared from wherever they'd been playing and Dinah and Marc were returning from their tryst in the orchard.

Morrigan was laughing at Devlin doing looping figure eights when Ione swooped down slowly and gathered Kalket, who'd been watching them fly with yearning in his eyes, up into her claws and flew off with him. In short order Kalie was lifting Dinah, whispering reassurances in her mind and showing her memories of flights with Mac as she did.

Puff settled briefly and gave Julian a come hither look he couldn't have bettered.  Julian leapt on his back, a veteran rider already, and they were away.

Marc eyed the dragon eying him, but agreed to go along as they'd already headed off with Dinah.

Nimue, Jolie and Spence were snatched up in short order too. Devlin brought along Morrigan just because.

The family left behind just shook their heads and laughed, knowing there was no stopping the dragons when they got a notion.

It took some time before order was more or less restored to the Grand Chamber. But eventually the noise died down and the humans (or almost humans) were given seats of honor in the center of the room and made comfortable. Then Menatha called everyone to attention.

He bowed low to Dinah, which meant he touched his nose to the floor, then he said, "We wanted to meet you properly and for you to meet us, since you are the Maelcom's heir, who was not just head of the House but a great warrior and great rider.  We honor you."

Dinah, unversed in dragon etiquette smiled at them all and waved hello.  The dragons all responded by waving wings and stomping feet.  Then Menatha recalled them all to order again and began to introduce her to them all, calling by name.  As he did each dragon came forward, bowed, said hello and studied her closely, some chitchatting and some speaking mentally.  He began with Kalie and then went on in order of seniority.

As they finished meeting Dinah several dragons studied the other humans carefully. Puff stayed close to Julian and hissed at anyone who came near him. Little Ione kept peeping out from behind Menatha but was too overwhelmed by it all to dare much more.  Cadfaella had worked her way round to be standing behind Kalket and Morrigan listening carefully to all their comments.

Marc kept glancing over his shoulder certain someone was staring at him. She was. Her name was Cola.

She wandered over casually after she met Dinah and snuffled behind his ear, as gently as a dragon could.  Marc regained his footing and found himself being studied by a pair of multi-faceted green eyes.  She ventured a slight mental touch, as friendly as a puppy, saying, "Hello.  I like your form.  You must play a lot."

"Is it beneath your dignity for me to rub your nose?" Marc asked, fighting back a grin. "I'm afraid I know nothing of dragon etiquette."

"Only if I can rub yours," she said, to general laughter all round.  And then she did, offering him hers in return.

Meanwhile, Ione screwed up her courage and whisked herself over next to Cadfaella before it was gone again.  She slowly lowered her head over Kalket's right shoulder, sneaking up on him from behind.

Morrigan slowly raised a hand and stroked her neck, crooning to her, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Ione flushed and ducked her head back.  "Ione." she whispered, sneaking quick peeks at Kalket.

Morrigan, knowing dragons, had a clue what was going on, Kalket hadn't. He grinned at Iona. "Hullo little one. Aren't you pretty. You must be quite young. Will you grow to be large and fine like the others?"

She nodded, unable to speak at first and then gulped a quick yes, adding before she knew it, "Big enough even for you."

And one dragon, a dragon who played with the best of them, but who generally didn't speak much in enclave, lay with his head on his claws, his violet eyes locked on Dinah. Menatha saw it and smiled.

He nudged Dinah and directed her gaze towards him.  Dinah met the violet gaze and her smile dawned, dazzling and alive with laughter.  "His name's Quinn," Manatha told her, nudging her towards him.

As Dinah approached Quinn gazed at her serenely, then put out his nose for her to touch. She felt a nudge in her mind, and a query. "What's a Mabel and why wouldn't she like dragons?"

She rubbed his nose, thinking about it.  "She's a friend and the woman who runs my hotel.  And I suspect it might be because you'd never fit into one of the beds."

"I can sleep on the beach. I like the beach." Quinn replied. Then, "May I go with you?"

Dinah, still stroking his nose and a sucker for strays, placed her hope in Stephen and his real estate, and tossed caution to the wind.  "Sure.  Will you let Asher and Celie have a ride?"

"Of course!" Quinn said, not quite believing his luck.

Dinah dropped a kiss on his nose and beamed at him.

Then one dragon bumped another and there was general mayhem, until dragons were grabbing the humans up and flying off to play tag with them either hanging from talons or on dragon backs.

Puff, Julian on his back said, "So, this Nimue...."

"What about her?" Julian asked.

"I have to share you?"

"Ayup," Julian replied. "Hey, see if we can't knock Spence off that dragon. I wanna see how well he skydives."

"Sure," Puff said, racing off.  "One of 'em will catch him before he hits the ground."

A few minutes later Julian was grinning as Spence called, as he fell toward an ugly death, "I'll get you for this....................."

Briony, knowing she'd be blamed if he hit the ground, with Piran assisting saved him at the last minute, Piran getting his nose under him and then Briony taking the toss that landed him on her back.  It was maneuver they'd need for the Games and were grateful for the practice.  Spencer stammered his thanks.

Jolie had gone white watching this, but relaxed when she realized how good the dragons were with a ball. Or two.  Spence was busily planning revenge,.

Marc leant over Cola and asked, "So you are fighters too?"

"When it is necessary," Cola agreed.  "And you are a fighter."

"Only when it is necessary. I prefer diplomacy, "Marc explained.

"So long as you get your way?" Cola asked,

"Exactly!" Marc replied.

"Leaves more time for fun that way," Cola agreed.  "So, your woman," she began, banking hard to the right and chasing Quinn, "will she mind having me around, do you think?  Quinn won't.  We get along well."

"Uhm wait.  We can't stay here. I'm sorry," Marc commented.

"We'd go with you," Cola explained.  "It's what we do."

"You'd leave your, uhm, family?" Marc seemed shocked.

"Yep.  We go with the trading ships and to the bases, where they go.  And places they can't go, we take them, through the levels of dimensions.  Sometimes they change us, to make it work better."  Cola said it all matter of factly as she caught up with Quinn.  "It's why we got together."

"Ah," Marc commented, while keeping a weather eye on Nimue who flew by. Never knew when she might deck him. He also filed away the information Cola had shared for further consideration.

Nimue, alight on a silvery, slender and elegant looking beast, flew up next to Jules and Puff. "I like mine better." She called out to Julian. "And darling," She added, addressing the dragon, "If he tells you he wrote a song for you, don't buy it."

Jules blew a raspberry at her. "What can I tell you," he said to Puff. "She's a witch."

Nimue leaned in close to her dragon. "Besides, luvvie, poetry is the real form of flattery. Here is a poem I shall compose on the spot, just for you: She flies in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect, and her eyes." She winked at Julian.

"Brat!" he yelled out lovingly. "I can't wait to spank her for that one," he said to Puff.

"Ooh, I can't wait to be spanked!" She yelled back. She tried to wiggled her bottom at him, but nearly fell off her dragon, who gave her a curious and deeply confused look.