DargonZine Volume 2, Issue 3 09/22/89

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   D     D A  A R  R G    O  O N N N     Z   I N N N E     ||Volume 2
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   D    D  AAAA RRR  G GG O  O N N N   Z     I N N N E     || Issue 3
   DDDDD   A  A R  R GGGG OOOO N  NN  ZZZZZZ I N  NN EEEE  ||
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 --   DargonZine Volume 2, Issue 3        09/22/89          Cir 850    --
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 --                            Contents                                --
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
   DAG                        Dafydd                 Editorial
   Sons of Gateway 1: Ne'on   Jon "Grimjack" Evans   Vibr. 17-Fir. 7, '13
   Unwelcome Encounter        Carlo Samson           Melrin 5, 1013
   Fortunes                   Max Khaytsus           1 Yule, 1013
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
                           Dafydd's Amber Glow

          This will be very short.  First, I will apologize to  you
       loyal  (and brand  new) readers  for the  long wait  between
       Issue 2 and Issue 3 of  the second volume of DargonZine. The
       fault  is purely  mine, not  our  writers: my  job has  been
       rather hectic of  late and I just couldn't find  the time to
       put out an issue.
          Second, this is a second  call and a confirmation for the
       DargonZine T-Shirts, which feature  an artist's rendition of
       the  Title figure  of the  'Zine. All  of those  readers who
       ordered a shirt  many moons ago, please get  in contact with
       Rish again.  Anyone wishing  to order  a shirt,  please also
       contact Rish, who is the  instigator and coordinator of this
       aspect of  the Project. They  cost $8 at last  estimate, and
       final plans  will be set  two weeks  after the date  on this
       issue: if there aren't enough orders by then, he may have to
       scrap  the idea  as unfeasible  at  this time.  Rish can  be
       contacted at <C78KCK@IRISHMVS.BitNet>.
          Thank you, and good reading.
             Dafydd, Editor DargonZine (b.c.k.a. White@BUVM.bitnet)
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                          Sons of Gateway
                            Part 1: Ne'on
                       by Jon "Grimjack" Evans
                      (b.c.k.a <v047kfz7@ubvms>)

      Kald hung  his head low. He  had been travelling for  days in the
 cold of Baranur in  Vibril. He didn't like the cold.  He liked it even
 less when he discovered his trip was all for nothing.
      "Is  there nothing  you  can  do? This  means  more  to him  than
 anything else. If he can just have a chance . . ."
      "Kald, he  failed." Marek's  eyes were  sympathetic. He  knew how
 Kald felt. He  had felt the same  way when his son  Jordan had failed.
 But Jordan had more than failed. Jordan was Drained. "There is nothing
 more I can do. He has great potential-"
      "Then  let  him try!"  Kald's  desperation  worked loose  of  his
 morals. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. "You owe
 me . . ."
      The Leaf lowered his gaze. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this,
 but he  should have known better.  Kald always got his  way. "Alright,
 but after this I can't help you again. IF you decide to take the offer
 I'm about to make."
      "Anything, I'll do it." Kald sensed he was rushing into this, but
 it was too important. His son was too important.
      "Hold  on.  Let  me  explain something  first."  Marek  was  very
 nervous; even  thinking about the  Draining made him  flinch. "Chances
 are, your  son will fail again.  If that happens, his  potential power
 will be drained from him. He will never work magic again. Not even the
 most simple  magic skills  will work  for him.  In addition,  he'll be
 instructed by a higher mage, another Leaf most likely, and every thing
 he does  will have  to be  perfect when  he takes  his Branch.  Do you
 understand what that means?"
      "I do; and  so does he." His voice trembled  at the next thought.
 "Let him  decide." Kald rose from  his seat, his tired  bones creaking
 loudly. As he strode out the door he turned, "Thank you, Marek."

      Ne'on couldn't believe it was  happening. Sitting cross legged in
 the testing rooms, he contemplated the  past two hours. He had arrived
 out of the cold  Baranurian winter just in time to  take the test. His
 father,  eyes   shining,  was   proud  to  have   a  son   tested  for
 apprenticeship.  It was  the first  time  he could  ever remember  his
 father being proud of him.
      "Ne'on, of Gateway Keep," the testing mage jarred him back to the
 present,  "you have  been  accepted into  the  Nar-Enthruen, guild  of
 apprentice mages. Congratulations, son of Kald."
      Ne'on was irritated  by the way he was addressed.  "Son of Kald,"
 he muttered  to himself. His mind  filtered back to one  of the myriad
 times in his life he wished he wasn't Kald's son.

      "Ne'on!" Kald's voice bellowed through the manor. His son did not
 join in the hunt today, and he  wanted to know why. "Ne'on! Come here,
 you worthless sack of goat's meal!"
      Ne'on stumbled into the main  hall of his father's home. Brushing
 back his long, snow-white hair and  wiping the sweat off his brow with
 his sleeve, he stepped forward.
      "I am here,  father," he gasped. Having run all  the way from his
 study to the main hall in the short time Kald had been calling him was
 more exertion  than he was  accustomed to. Slightly  light-headed with
 the effort, he wondered how he  would withstand the daily oral barrage
 from his father.
      "You  weren't at  the  hunt,  today, boy.  What  were you  doing?
1Studying?" Kald was seldom happy. He  took no pleasure in being Keeper
 of Gateway  - it was more  politics than he considered  necessary. The
 little  pleasure he  did get  was from  his weekly  hunt; and  today's
 excursion proved  fruitless. Coming down  hard on his sons  had become
 second nature. 'Besides,' he thought, 'it's for their own good.'
      "Yes,  father,  I  was  studying."  Ne'on's  one  pride  was  his
 familiarity with as many of the books  in Gateway Keep as he could get
 his hands on. Cydrian had blessed  him with more intelligence than his
 father, but an equally proportionate  lack of strength. He had learned
 at an early age the power to be found in knowledge.
      "Knowledge is nothing  without the strength to  back your ideas!"
 Kald saw  no use for education  beyond learning to read  and write. 'A
 sword  can solve  any problem'  was his  motto. "Strength  you've been
 doing very little to build. When I  was sixteen, I had the strength of
 your whole body in  my right arm!" As if to prove  this, he thrust his
 massive  arm  out in  a  fist,  muscles  bulging. "You've  barely  the
 strength to wield a blade, and hardly the skill to use it! Marcus says
 you haven't trained in days, let alone touch a quiver an-"
      Ne'on had had enough. "Bloodshed  and barbarism are not my ways!!
 If you wish to kill like an  animal, then do so. I prefer intelligence
 over strength!"  Ne'on looked at himself  in awe. Never before  had he
 spoken out  so blatantly  against his father.  Kald, however,  was not
 quite so intrigued.
      "You prefer  . .  ." A  low rumble, like  an oncoming  storm, was
 building inside Kald. "YOU prefer?! I don't care what YOU prefer!! YOU
 are not Keeper, here. And you shall  not be. Goren is heir apparent at
 Gateway. YOU are to be First Warder. That means leading the men in any
 and all battle situations, as well  as fortifying the Keep in times of
 war. Why should  the men listen to  you when they don't  know they can
 trust you?!  Why should they listen  to you when they  don't even know
 you? If it weren't for  your ghost-like appearance, they wouldn't even
 recognize you at all!" Kald had had a long, tiring, and fruitless day.
 Obviously, this 'discussion' with his youngest son was proving just as
 rewarding. He  gave up, and left  his son standing alone  in the large
 hall.
      'Ghost-like,' thought Ne'on. His  albino-pale skin did leave that
 impression, he supposed. 'The ghost of my mother, I'm told. If you had
 spent more time with her, and less time with this damn Keep, she might
 still be alive today. I wish she had died instead of you.'

      "Ne'on,  would-be mage  of the  Guild!" Again,  the Leaf's  voice
 pulled him back from the past.  "To be accepted into the Nar-Enthruen,
 you must succeed as apprentice to Qord,  Leaf of the Guild. Is it your
 wish to do so?"
      "It is so."
      "Do you know what it means  to fail the Nar-Enthruen?" The Leaf's
 voice was cold and foreboding. Ne'on knew he spoke about the Draining,
 the inevitable fate of all unfortunate apprentices.
      "I do." A hint of fear touched Ne'on's voice.
      "And do you still wish the knowledge?" A last chance to back out.
 Marek hoped the boy  would take it. If Ne'on were  to fail, Kald might
 become 'unreasonable', to say the least.
      'More than  anything', he thought.  "I do!" All fear  escaping in
 his final  words, Ne'on  stood firmly  in his  position, a  great grin
 encompassing his face.
      "Welcome to  the Guild,  apprentice. Let's  hope you  survive the
 experience." A grim frown on his face, the mage shook Ne'on's hand and
 turned away.
      As his  family congratulated him,  he noticed a troubled  look on
 his father's  face. 'Why  are you  not proud,  Father? Would  that you
1could share my joy  with me.' Ne'on began to feel  sad for his father;
 but then,  a voice spoke  to him: "Do  not trouble yourself  with your
 father, Ne'on. He is jealous of the  power you have which he can never
 attain! You should  scorn him, for he begrudges you  this moment." And
 Ne'on felt only bitterness toward Kald.

      "Ne'on," Qord's voice was soft with  worry, "what do you think is
 the problem?"
      Qord  was, of  course, referring  to Ne'on's  past two  months of
 study with the  Leaf. Ne'on remembered these months  well. Vibril, the
 month of  his testing, had  ended as well  as its beginning.  With the
 following Mertz,  however, things had  gotten much worse.  He couldn't
 seem to  concentrate correctly; and  more than  once he had  started a
 fire while mixing  potions, a potentially deadly mistake  in the grass
 huts  of  the  camp.  His latest  difficulty,  last  night's  disaster
 involving a hog and  a kitchen knife, turned out to  be the worst yet.
 The hog  was, supposedly, protected  from the knife by  Ne'on's spell.
 Instead, as Ne'on threw the knife  near the hog, the hog dove straight
 into the  knife's path,  impaling itself  in the  head. Firil  was not
 turning out to be a good  month, starting with that catastrophe on the
 first. Qord thought it was a bad omen.
      "I do not know, Leaf Qord." The Guild mages of this section had a
 way of evaluating  each other by tree parts. Ne'on  was a Root, second
 lowest rank above apprentice. He had taken his "Grounding" - a test of
 the most  simplistic skills - and  passed easily. His Rooting,  on the
 other hand, had not gone so  well. He had burned more spell components
 for potions than any previous mage, and  he might not pass his Bark at
 all! And failure there meant . . .
      "Do  you know  what .  . .  Draining is,  Ne'on?" Qord's  ancient
 visage trembled with the word. What was left of his hair shook in time
 with the chill running up his spine, and his eyes seemed almost to pop
 out.
      "Yes, O  Leaf..." Ne'on  tiredly replied.  Qord had  mentioned it
 time and time again since he fumbled his first potion. His familiarity
 with the word had lessened his fear of it a great deal.
      "No,  young Root..."  Qord's voice  was cold  and hard.  He would
 teach this boy  what the Draining was like. "You  have only heard what
 it is .  . . you do not know  what it is. Let me show  you. Close your
 eyes . . ."
      Ne'on closed his eyes. For a  moment, he saw only blackness; then
 . . .

      He was in a large room,  ornately decorated, with a large crystal
 on a  pedestal. All around  him, black-clad  mages were chanting  in a
 low, solemn voice. Up ahead, Qord lead him toward the crystal.
      "This is the Crystal of Strength, failed mage!" Qord's voice rang
 out  strong and  powerful in  the hall.  Ne'on was  afraid. "Feel  the
 Crystal, and know what it is to be Drained!!"
      The light  of the hall  grew dim as the  Crystal began to  glow a
 deep, dark  purple. As Ne'on reached  his hands toward the  Crystal, a
 force pulled them  closer. Instinctively, he tried to  break away, but
 he couldn't!  He was  trapped! Slowly,  his hands  grew numb,  and the
 Crystal began to pulse with the beat of his heart.
      "No.." Ne'on's voice  was hoarse and stifled. The  beating of his
 heart grew loud,  and his arms were numb to  his shoulders. Louder and
 louder, the  Crystal and his heart  pulsed faster and faster.  He felt
 his head pounding - the numbness reached his chest, driving toward his
 heart. Desperately, he  tried to pull away, each  attempt useless. The
 noise beat louder, his pulse beat quicker - soon, it would have him!

1     "NO!!"  he screamed,  scrambling back  against the  wall. He  was
 breathing very heavily  and his heart was racing. The  light of Qord's
 room filled his  eyes as he recognized his teacher  sitting across the
 room from him, frowning.
      "Your father was  wrong, you were not ready for  this. Damn Marek
 and his eternal  debts! He should have known-" Qord  caught himself in
 mid thought and hoped the boy  was too frightened from the illusion to
 hear him.
      "What's that?" called Ne'on, half  dazed from his experience, but
 still quick enough to understand. "What  are you saying? My father got
 me in here? Not my ability?"
      Ne'on stared  in disbelief. For  the first time he  could recall,
 his father had  thought of Ne'on, and not himself.  Ne'on did not hate
 his father, then; but, again, a voice  spoke to him: "Ne'on, do not be
 proud of  your father. Have you  forgotten how he covets  your talent?
 How he would destroy you and take  your power for his own? He does not
 send you here for  your benefit, but for his! He  would consign you to
 this hell, rather than let you live your life in peace! But, do not be
 dismayed! You can overcome this obstacle and revenge yourself upon him
 yet! Him,  and your bastard  brother Goren who  would rob you  of your
 rightful fate!" And, as before, Ne'on was bitter. He hated his father,
 and silently  swore to pass the  upcoming tests, to become  a powerful
 wizard, in order to bring about his revenge.
      "Your potential is great, Ne'on."  Qord attempted to be soothing.
 He saw the hatred  in Ne'on's face, the likes of  which he hadn't seen
 in some great time. He attempted to  sooth this part of Ne'on, turn it
 to good. "Imagine people are mountains,  and magic is the wind," began
 Qord, his  words all but bouncing  off of Ne'on. He  continued anyway,
 not knowing what else to do. "When  the wind blows, it goes around the
 mountains. Now imagine  a few mountains can let the  wind pass through
 them, affecting it, and shaping it,  as it goes through. Most of these
 mountains, we  mages, can  affect and  shape magic  only to  a certain
 extent. You, however, can  do more than most of us.  You can shape and
 affect the magic  to a greater extent - if  only you would concentrate
 on what you are doing! Concentrate, Ne'on! You've got the ability! I'd
 hate to see it Drained..."
      With that,  Qord stood up,  brushed himself off, and  retired for
 the evening.  Ne'on was  left to  think alone once  more. After  a few
 minutes  of bitter  recollection, he  left for  his own  room. In  the
 morning, he would pack his horse and ride to Gateway. He promised Qord
 he would return, and he never went back on his word.

      The  gentle Firil  air fluttered  over Ne'on,  blowing his  long,
 unkempt hair behind  him. Sitting on his horse, Koros,  he removed his
 cape so  the guardsmen would recognize  him. He nodded slightly  as he
 entered, urged Koros  into the main courtyard of the  keep, and headed
 toward his father's home.
      In the dimming  sunlight of the evening, he made  out the sign to
 his  second  favorite  dwelling,  the  River  Snake's  Den,  where  he
 sometimes  attempted to  outlast  the tavern  keeper's  stock of  ale.
 Sliding out of the saddle, he realized  how much he wanted a flask, or
 two, before he  met with his father. Besides, the  class of people one
 met in  the 'Den had more  . . .  "character" than those found  in the
 Riverside Parlor. A class of people he would be needing in the future.
      Entering the main room, he signalled Mika and took his usual seat
 in  the back  of the  room. After  Mika delivered  the ale,  Luke "the
 acquirer" slid  into the  chair opposite  him. Luke  was one  of those
 people Ne'on was hoping to meet  here tonight; in fact, he was perfect
 for the job. He was looking a  little less than wealthy at the moment;
 Ne'on decided to make the offer now.
1     "Must have been  a slow winter," began Ne'on.  He found insulting
 Luke's type of person was never profitable - intimidation was the key.
 Intimidation, and then an offer. "By  the looks of it, you barely kept
 the meat on your bones. Didn't make it to Magnus, eh?"
      "And what of it?" Luke didn't  particularly like the way the past
 winter had  gone. He was a  respectable thief; it wasn't  his fault he
 got  stuck in  this rat  hole for  the season.  If he  had made  it to
 Magnus, that  would be different.  Plenty of opportunities  in Magnus,
 when you knew where to look for them, and he had connections.
      "What if I told you I had a permanent offer for you here? No need
 to go all the way to Magnus for funds..." Ne'on's voice shook a little
 - he tightened his grip on his  mug and took a drink. He was hesitant.
 He knew an offer which sounded good and was eagerly offered would cost
 him a great deal.  And yet, he wanted Luke, not  a lesser mongrel. "An
 offer that paid well, and gave you status here at Gateway?"
      Luke looked  around for a  moment. 'Status', he  thought. 'Status
 and money,' he thought greedily. When Ne'on said "paid well", he meant
 gold. "Whadda I haf ta do?"
      "Find   me  ten   good  swordsmen.   Not  common   ruffians;  not
 back-stabbing mongrels. I  want men who know the  blade." Ne'on didn't
 want to  imagine the kind  of men Luke would  find if he  hadn't added
 that last statement. Feigning curiosity, "Can you handle a sword?"
      "I can make do - killed more'n  my share o' mugs." This was true.
 Before he had learned to steal quietly, he had killed more men than he
 had stolen from. "Whaddaya want wi' swordsmen? And how do I fit in th'
 picture? I mean, how do I benefit from it?"
      "These men  must be loyal  to their employer.  They are to  be my
 personal guard.  Your part  will be  to lead them.  I'll give  you ten
 golds for each man you bring me. Their pay will be five golds a month.
 Yours will be ten a month. All I want you to do is enforce my will and
 guard me. Agreed?" Ne'on offered his  hand a bit too quickly, and Luke
 knew he could get more.
      "I don't  know...ten golds  isn't very much  for a  personal body
 guard..." Luke  was never one  to settle for  less, when he  could get
 more. Ten gold coins a month would be comfortable living for him; but,
 if he could get more...
      "Ten, and  not a  copper more.  There are a  dozen others  here I
 could have do this job for me."  Ne'on was mildly annoyed, but he knew
 it was his own mistakes to which Luke was responding.
      "Yeah, well;  maybe you  could, and  maybe you  couldn'." Ne'on's
 point was well  taken; unfortunately, Luke's downfall  had always been
 his  greed. "'Course,  them what'll  take  ten don't  know 'bout  your
 previous business wi' me. Fifteen seems more 'propriate ta me . . ."
      "Fifteen!" Ne'on's  eyes flared.  Without realizing it,  his hand
 glowed a hot red, blackening a  small portion of the table. Instantly,
 subconsciously, Ne'on  summoned the magic within  him, fully intending
 to melt the maggot where he sat.
      And for a third  time, the voice spoke to him:  "No, Ne'on - hold
 your anger! Use him now. Kill him once his purpose is served!"
      As  suddenly as  he  started,  he stopped.  This  time with  eyes
 sparkling, "I suppose  my life is worth three times  the amount a city
 guard  makes.  Fifteen  it  is,  then! It's  a  deal."  Extending  his
 no-longer glowing hand, they sealed the deal.
      "Deal!" grabbed  Luke, anxious for  money and quite  pleased with
 himself. "When do ya need these men?" he asked.
      "Four months," he said. "If I need more time, I'll let you know."
      Tossing a pouch of silver on the table, "Here's a downpayment. It
 should last you till  then." He got up and left. As  he walked out the
 door, he heard Luke call Mika for a tankard of ale.

1     Entering Winston Manor - the house  of his father - he tossed his
 cloak to  Horrace, the  butler. "Send a  meal and some  wine up  to my
 room," he barked.  As an after thought, "And get  a fire started; it's
 going to be cold tonight.
      Ignoring Horrace's humble reply, he walked through the main hall,
 making his way to his father's  study. He knew his presence in Gateway
 had been  reported. He would  have to make  a small show  of affection
 toward his  father, at least.  Entering his father's chambers,  he saw
 Kald at his desk, drinking his  nightly flask of wine. 'A useful tool,
 that flask,' he noted with sudden inspiration.
      "Hello, father." As  he crossed the room, Kald stood  up to greet
 him.
      "Ne'on, my son! What brings you  to Gateway?" Slapping his son on
 the shoulder,  "Did you miss your  old father? Come, sit  by the fire.
 You look much older since I last saw you." Kald's eyes shone brightly,
 and Ne'on thought for  a moment that he might not  kill him after all.
 Then   he  remembered   the  Draining,   and  quickly   dispelled  his
 forgiveness.
      "I  have recently  discovered  discipline in  my  life," was  his
 response. Sitting  down in front of  the fire, he poured  wine for the
 two  of them,  the red  light of  the fire  flickering off  the silver
 goblets. "Discipline . . . and purpose." He smiled.
      "Purpose,  eh?" his  father teased  him, "what's  her name?  It's
 about time you became interested in a woman!"
      "It's  not  that,  father."  Seeing  the  disappointment  in  his
 father's eyes, "but it is something I think you'll like." Ne'on paused
 for a moment,  letting a wry smile  curl the corners of  his mouth. "I
 want to have a keep of my own, some day. One very much like this one."
      "Well,  tell me  all  about it!  Perhaps I  can  help you!"  Kald
 smiled, finally having something in common with his son. Ne'on laughed
 at the irony of it all.
      "Yes, father," he said. "Perhaps you can . . ."

      Ne'on strode toward  his brother's chambers. He  knew exactly how
 he  would rid  himself of  both  his brother  and his  father, and  he
 determined to make it as painful  as possible. The hallway echoed as a
 metal ring struck Goren's door.
      When Goren  opened the  door, he could  hardly believe  his eyes.
 "What are  you doing here?"  he snapped, as  he returned to  his seat.
 Taking a sip  from his flask, he calmed himself.  "You are supposed to
 be  with your  magical friends,  not haunting  this house.  What's the
 matter, run  out of  stray cats  to torture?" There  was no  love lost
 between the  brothers. Goren  had realized  several years  ago Ne'on's
 heart was filled with hatred  and bitterness. He was surprised nothing
 had come of it, yet.
      "It is  nice to see you,  too, Goren," mocked Ne'on.  "I see your
 wit has improved with your age." Ne'on had also come to a realization,
 several years ago. This was the fact Goren was everything their father
 loved, and everything Ne'on hated.  Taller than the average man, Goren
 stood  a full  head over  Ne'on. His  shoulders were  broader, and  he
 rivalled even Kald in his skill with  the bow. Goren also had the dark
 hair and eyes  of their father. And, Goren was  all that stood between
 himself and the keep.
      "Enough with the niceties, Ne'on. You are here for a reason. What
 is it?" Goren also had all  the intelligence and tact of their father,
 as well as his stubborn  attitude and hot-headed reactions. Ne'on knew
 this could only help him.
      "Why Goren!"  Ne'on sarcastically  feigned surprise.  "What would
 ever possess  you to  think I was  here for any  other reason  than to
 visit our poor, aging father?!" Ne'on took a seat next to his brother.
1"I wanted to sit  and talk with him about my plans  for the future. In
 fact, I just got back from telling him how I planned to have a keep of
 my own, some day." Ne'on paused for a moment, "just like this one!"
      "Wrong, Ne'on!"  Goren flared with his  realization. "You'll have
 to kill both father and me! Even you couldn't get away with that!"
      There was  a moment  of silence. Ne'on's  visage became  grim. "I
 don't think  you understand," he spoke  with a voice of  ice. "I don't
 want you to die. I want you to live! Live to see me Keeper of Gateway,
 while  you wallow  away  the days  in misery  knowing  you could  have
 prevented it." He  drew a knife from within his  robes. "Here, Goren,"
 he offered, "take my blade. Kill me, and save our father."
      Goren reached for the knife,  stopped, started again, and stopped
 again. Finally,  the battle  ended. "No, Ne'on."  He turned  away, not
 able to  determine if  he had  made the right  choice. "I  couldn't do
 that, and you know it."
      With  Goren's back  to him,  Ne'on  took the  flask from  Goren's
 table. "Yes, brother,"  he sneered, hiding the flask in  his robes, "I
 know it."
      "Then know this, Ne'on," warned  Goren, softly, "I shall stop you
 from taking Gateway if I have to burn it down around you."
      Ne'on  chuckled as  he walked  out of  the room.  "We shall  see,
 brother. We shall see!"
      His laugh stayed in his brother's mind for a long time. Ne'on was
 about to cross a  line Goren had seen drawn a long  time ago. He would
 stop Ne'on, when the time came.
      Ne'on   left  early   the   next  morning,   riding  toward   the
 Nar-Enthruen.
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                         Unwelcome Encounter
                           by Carlo N. Samson

      Cydric Araesto  stood at the  rail of the trading  ship _Vanguard
 Voyager_  and looked  out over  the deep  green waters  of the  Laraka
 River.  The mid-morning  sun  warmed  his face,  and  a gentle  breeze
 whispered  through his  short brown  hair. For  a while  he watched  a
 seagull wheel about in the clear spring sky; then a glint of something
 on the horizon caught his attention. Squinting and shading his eyes to
 get a better  view, he made it  out to be a small  patch of shimmering
 haze. He stared at  it for several minutes, then decided  it must be a
 kind of mirage,  similar to the illusions of water  reported by desert
 travelers.
      "Cydric! There  you are.  Aren't you  glad to  be done  with your
 chores? Brynna's been  working me like a slave all  morning! Pox, if I
 didn't know better I'd swear this was a prison ship. Sometimes I don't
 know why I ever became her cabin girl."
      The young  man turned  at the  sound of the  voice and  smiled as
 Mandi Mercallion approached him, her mandolin slung across her back. A
 gust of  wind disarrayed the  curls of  her tawny-auburn hair;  with a
 look  of  annoyance, she  smoothed  her  locks  back into  place.  Her
 expression brightened as she came to stand next to Cydric.
      "I don't know  if you should be speaking ill  of the captain," he
 said, turning to face the girl.
      "Why not?  She's only my cousin,  and if she does  anything to me
 I'll simply tell Uncle Quill. I'm his favorite niece, you know."
      "Not a very mature way to handle it, but effective."
      Mandi  swatted him  playfully. "Oh,  you. Shall  we get  started?
 Where do you want to do it?"
      Cydric looked around the deck for a place where they would be out
 of the crew's way. He settled on a spot further up the starboard rail,
 near a stack of lashed-down crates.  As they walked over to the space,
 Mandi asked  him, "How's it going  in the galley? Oddfoot  didn't give
 you anything tiring to do this morning, did he?"
      "No, nothing besides the usual kitchen duty," Cydric replied.
      "Good," Mandi said.  "I mean, if you're too tired  to do it right
 now, we can always wait 'till we arrive home."
      "It's no  problem. I've actually  been looking forward to  it all
 morning."
      They reached the place Cydric had selected. He took off his vest,
 while  Mandi  slipped  the  mandolin  off  her  back.  "Is  there  any
 particular position you want me in?" she asked.
      Cydric took  out a charcoal stick  and a piece of  parchment from
 his vest. "Well,  why don't you stand  next to the rail,  and hold the
 mandolin like this."
      Mandi moved to  where he pointed, and copied the  position of his
 arms. "This way?"
      "Yes, perfect. Now hold that pose."
      "What if I put my leg this way? Does that look better?"
      "That's fine. Okay, now--"
      "How's my hair? It hasn't gone flat, has it?"
      "Mandi!"
      "Sorry. I'll be still now," she said with a slight giggle.
      Cydric sat down on a crate. Using a piece of polished wood one of
 the  crew had  given him  earlier as  a writing  surface, he  began to
 sketch  on the  parchment. He  outlined Mandi's  figure, then  quickly
 filled in  the background. As  looked out  at the horizon,  he noticed
 that the patch  of distant haze had gotten somewhat  larger. He didn't
 realize that he'd been staring at it until Mandi spoke.
      "What is it? Do you see something out there?" she asked, starting
1to turn.
      "No,  nothing. Just  glare, I  suppose." Cydric  returned to  his
 sketching. He  drew in  Mandi's loose tunic  and tight  leggings, then
 worked on  her face:  a small,  pert nose,  softly blushed  cheeks, an
 impish smile.
      Just then  a tall, sandy-haired  man swaggered up to  them. "Hey,
 dovey, what're you doing?"
      "Oh pox,  not you  Danner," said Mandi,  dropping her  pose. "Why
 don't you leave us alone?"
      Ignoring Cydric, the  brawny youth stepped up close  to Mandi and
 laid a  hand on  her shoulder.  "Leave you alone,  dovey? Not  me. All
 through my duty  shift all I could  think about was you.  How about us
 going below and--"
      "Excuse me," Cydric said, putting down the sketch and rising. "We
 were in the middle of something here."
      Mandi shoved Danner's hand away. "That's right. Cydric was making
 a nice drawing of me. Now we'd like  to get on with it, so please just
 let us be."
      "Oh, so he's an artist, is he?" Danner turned to face Cydric. "He
 hasn't been  doing naked drawings  of you, has  he? I'd hate  to think
 that's why I haven't seen you all week."
      "Of course not, you swine! And  besides, if he was it wouldn't be
 any of your business."
      "Look, Danner, maybe you should go visit with someone else," said
 Cydric.
      "Go draw a  seagull, sissy boy," Danner sneered. "And  if I catch
 you with Mandi again, the only thing you'll be able to draw is breath.
 And barely that."
      Mandi interposed  herself between the  two young men.  "Don't you
 threaten him! What makes you think I want to be with you, anyway?"
      Danner grinned. "What about that night back in Dargon? You wanted
 to be with me then. I couldn't get you off me until you fell asleep."
      "You lying mouthful of fleas! You  just wish it were true. We all
 know how you can't get a girl--not even a queenie!"
      "You  want me  and you  know  it." To  Cydric's surprise,  Danner
 grabbed Mandi and roughly kissed her on the lips.
      "Pox!" sputtered Mandi, shoving him away.
      Cydric swiftly  went over and  took hold of Danner's  shirt. "See
 here! Who do you think you are?"
      Danner looked  down at  Cydric and slowly  grinned. "I  think I'm
 about to split your skull."
      Just then Cydric  remembered that Danner had once  punched a hole
 in a keg  of ale when the  cork had become stuck.  Releasing his hold,
 Cydric said, "I see the light's better  on the other side of the ship,
 Mandi. Let's go over there, shall we?"
      Danner gripped Cydric by the  tunic and hoisted him upward. "Ever
 see the birds up close, sissy boy?"
      Cydric tried  to back  away, but  found that  his feet  no longer
 touched  the deck.  Smiling frantically,  he said,  "Perhaps we  could
 settle this another way?"
      "How  about  with  swords?"  said  a  voice  from  near  Danner's
 shoulder. Cydric  looked over and  saw with  relief that it  was Tyrus
 Kayne, First Mate of the _Voyager_, who had spoken. Pressing the point
 of his cutlass against Danner's  side, Kayne said, "Let's be civilized
 about this, what say?"
      Danner started and  let Cydric go. "We were just  having a bit of
 fun, sir. Nothing wrong with that."
      "He was about to mash Cydric into pudding!" Mandi exclaimed.
      "Spend your  offshift with  your bunkmates, Danner,"  said Kayne.
 "Or you'll be swallowing the anchor cold."
1     "Aye, sir," Danner  mumbled. He cast a hostile  glance at Cydric,
 then walked away.
      "Now,  what  was all  that  foaming  about?" Kayne  asked.  Mandi
 quickly explained Danner's intrusion.
      "He's at  it again, is he?"  Kayne said when Mandi  had finished.
 "Acting like a snupper so the  Captain'll let him out of his contract.
 Well, I'll  have a speak with  him; but meanwhile, I  caution you both
 keep  him upwind  until we  make port.  Think you  can stay  out of  a
 wrinkle for a couple of hours?"
      "Yes sir," Cydric said. "And--thanks."
      Kayne nodded. "Don't  mention it. Wouldn't want a  new crewman to
 end up as pudding." He sheathed his sword and headed astern.
      "Maybe we  should do this  another time," Cydric said  when Kayne
 had gone.
      "Why? Danner won't  bother us again. And even if  he does, you'll
 be able to handle him."
      "I probably would have been killed if Kayne hadn't come by."
      "I don't think so.  You were very brave, to stand  up for me like
 that."
      "Well, why  wouldn't I? If it  wasn't for you I  wouldn't be with
 the  ship at  all--getting seasick,  sweating in  a hot  galley, being
 threatened by possessive sailors...."
      Mandi giggled and patted him on the cheek. "Yes, and I'm glad you
 enjoy it so!"
      Cydric grinned. "Now, where were we?"
      Mandi started to resume her  pose when a long-haired crewman came
 up to them.  "Hey-o, Cydric! Captain wants to see  you--in her cabin,"
 he said.
      "We're never going to get this done," sighed Mandi.
      "We can continue this later. I'm almost finished, anyway." Cydric
 carefully  folded the  parchment and  tucked  it into  his pocket.  He
 thanked the crewman, and headed for the lower deck hatchway.
      "Hey, I'm coming too!" Mandi said, hurrying to catch up with him.
 "What do you think she wants you for?"
      "I don't know." He looked back, but the crewman who delivered the
 message was  engaged in a dicing  game with several others.  "Should I
 have asked?"
      "Better not, now," said Mandi.  "They take their gaming extremely
 seriously."
      They reached  the hatchway and  descended the stairs to  the mess
 room. A short, stocky man in his  late fifties was wiping off the long
 wooden tables with a multi-colored cloth. He appeared oblivious to the
 pair's approach.
      "Hi, Oddfoot!" Mandi  called. The old ship's cook  made no reply.
 The girl walked up to him  and tapped his shoulder; Oddfoot turned and
 smiled broadly. Mandi repeated her  greeting, making a hand gesture at
 the same time. The cook nodded and wordlessly gestured in response. He
 turned to Cydric and made the same sign.
      "Hello Oddfoot,"  said Cydric, making the  appropriate motions in
 reply. "Does the, ah, Captain want  to see me?" He signed his question
 as he spoke.
      The cook frowned and signed to Mandi, who broke into a laugh.
      "That wasn't exactly a joke," said Cydric, puzzled.
      "You  just  asked  him,  'Does   a  capstan  wet  seaweed?'"  she
 explained.
      "I  really   must  practice   more,"  Cydric   replied,  slightly
 embarrassed.
      Mandi signed  the correct question  to the deaf cook.  He nodded,
 and pointed  to the other  door out of the  room. She thanked  him and
 left with Cydric.
1     "Don't  worry, he  knows you're  still learning  the hand-speak,"
 said Mandi as the walked down the hallway.
      "Couldn't the Captain just have hired a hearing person?"
      Mandi  stopped  and  turned  to  him, hands  on  her  hips.  "I'm
 surprised at  you, Cydric!  Don't you know  Oddfoot is  considered the
 best ship's cook this side of  the Valenfaer? We're lucky to have him!
 Anyway, what does hearing have to do with making great food?"
      Cydric scratched the back of  his head and smiled apologetically.
 "I don't know what I'm talking about, do I?"
      "In two languages, yet!" Mandi said, shoving him playfully.
      They continued  on. Three  doors from  the captain's  cabin Mandi
 stopped. "Let's  check on Scarabin,"  she suggested. They  entered the
 room of Brynna's Master-at-Arms.
      "Hi, Scar!  How're you  feeling?" Mandi said  to the  lean, dark-
 skinned figure occupying the single bed.
      "Ah, Mandi. Cydric. Good that you stopped by," Scarabin said, his
 Desert accent nearly obscuring his words. He raised his head slightly,
 grimacing as he did so.
      "Now,  Scar! Remember  what  Oddfoot said.  You've  got to  rest.
 Razorworms don't  die overnight,  you know."  Mandi gently  pushed the
 Lashkirian back down.
      "How everything is, above?" he asked Cydric.
      "Just fine. Nothing exciting to report."
      "These worms in my gut, how they feed!" Scarabin muttered. "A bed
 is no place for a warrior. If pirates attack, the Captain will need me
 for battle."
      "Brynna wants you to get  better," said Mandi. "Besides, it's not
 your fault. Danner's the one who put the worms in your stew."
      "A dog-skin rug, he is, when I have my health back!"
      "We hope you recover soon," said Cydric.
      "Relax  now, and  I'll bring  your medicine  later," said  Mandi.
 Scarabin smiled faintly as the two left the room.
      They  came to  Brynna's cabin.  Cydric knocked  on the  door, but
 received  no answer.  Mandi went  in anyway,  motioning for  Cydric to
 follow.
      A large map  hung on the left wall of  the room; directly beneath
 stood a long desk and a chair. Opposite  the door was a bed and on the
 right wall hung various objects.
      "I suppose she stepped out for  a moment," Mandi said, turning up
 the lantern that was mounted next to the door.
      Cydric went over to the map  and located the Laraka River, on the
 northwestern edge of  the continent called Cherisk. He  put his finger
 on the town  of Shark's Cove, on the Laraka's  outlet to the Valenfaer
 Ocean,  and traced  the  river's  path inland  to  Port Sevlyn,  their
 current destination. He continued on past Gateway Keep, and stopped at
 the city of Magnus. He shook his head at the memory of his home there,
 and the events that had caused  him to leave. Pushing the thoughts out
 of his  head, he turned  and examined the  Captain's desk. A  piece of
 dragon's horn scrimshaw weighted down a loose stack of papers; next to
 them  was a  large leatherbound  book. Cydric  tried to  make out  the
 gold-scripted title, but the words were in an unfamiliar language.
      "Look at this, Cydric," Mandi  said, tapping him on the shoulder.
 He looked  up to see a  demon's face laughing at  him through twisted,
 gaping jaws.
      "Yaah!" he said, nearly jumping out of his skin.
      Mandi removed the mask and giggled. "Scared you!"
      "Ah, no you didn't," Cydric replied, trying not to breath fast.
      "It's only a  Melrin mask from Comarr. If we  arrive early enough
 today we may be  able to catch the festival dance."  She went over and
 replaced  the mask  on the  other wall.  "Here's something  that won't
1scare you,"  she said, taking  down a large intricately  carved wooden
 bow. "One of Brynna's most favorite things."
      "Should you be touching it, then?" Cydric said as he joined her.
      "She doesn't mind," Mandi replied, holding it out to him.
      Cydric took  the bow and  examined it.  Lines of gold  and silver
 traced   complex  patterns   on  the   back  and   face.  "Very   nice
 workmanship--probably made for a prince or a king," he remarked.
      "Are you any good at archery?"
      "A little. I do better with swords."
      A voice from  the doorway said, "That's quite all  right. I'm not
 such a crack shot myself."
      Cydric and  Mandi turned to  see Captain Brynna Thorne  enter the
 room. She tucked the last bite of a dried fig into her mouth and wiped
 her lips with a handkerchief.
      "You wanted  to see us,  Brynna?" Mandi asked as  Cydric replaced
 the bow onto its peg.
      "I only  asked for  Cydric," she  replied. "Haven't  you anything
 else to keep you occupied?"
      "I won't be in your way. Really! Let me just stay."
      Brynna  sighed  and  ran  a  hand  through  her  slightly  curled
 shoulder-length hair, black  except for a streak of  blue running down
 the  left side,  by  her forehead.  "Oh very  well.  Just don't  start
 playing that mandolin, straight?"
      "Straight! I mean,  right," Mandi said, laying  the instrument on
 the bed and plopping herself beside it.
      Brynna sat down  behind the desk and motioned for  Cydric to come
 forward. "Pull up that stool over there  and have a seat." When he had
 done so, she said, "We'll be  docking before midday, so there won't be
 much more for you  to do until then. I've been  watching you all week,
 and have made my decision on whether to keep you on or not."
      Cydric thought back to the night  in Shark's Cove when Brynna had
 signed him  on. Noting his inexperience,  she had accepted him  on the
 condition that he could be discharged  if she found his performance to
 be unsatisfactory.
      Mandi leaped up. "Yes? Well? What?" she asked excitedly.
      Brynna gave her  a quiet-down look, then said  to Cydric, "You've
 done tolerably well,  for a landling. I  think you could make  it as a
 shipman, if that  was your bent. So  I'm going to let  you decide your
 fate--I'd be glad to have you, but you may have changed your mind."
      Before Cydric could  reply, Mandi danced over to him  and put her
 arms around his  shoulders. "Stay on with us, please!  If you do it'll
 be most fun--Brynna's  planning a voyage AROUND THE  WORLD! Isn't that
 the most exciting thing you're ever heard in your life?"
      The  Captain made  a sound  of  irritation and  twisted the  blue
 streak in her hair. "Gods' breath, girl, I can't tell you anything!"
      "Oh!" Mandi exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth. "Forget I
 said that, Cydric. It's not supposed to be known just now. Pretend you
 never heard it. Sorry, Bryn."
      "It's Captain,  when we're  on the  ship," answered  Brynna. "Sit
 down and  be quiet, all right?"  Mandi went back to  the bed. "Anyway,
 Cydric, did you have an answer for me?"
      The young  man paused  before replying.  He had  been considering
 leaving the ship and finding  other employment, but Mandi's revelation
 now changed his  mind--a voyage around the world was  exactly the kind
 of adventure  he had  been yearning  for ever  since he  abandoned his
 royal heritage.  He decided not  to ask  Brynna for details  about the
 trip; she would no  doubt tell him were he to  become a regular member
 of the crew.
      "Yes," he  finally said.  "I've been thinking  about it  for some
 time. I want to stay."
1     "Oh  goodie!" Mandi  said, springing  up once  again and  hugging
 Cydric. "I was hoping you would."
      "Very well,"  said Brynna, a  faint smile  on her lips.  "Now all
 that remains is the standard articles of agreement--"
      Just then a  crewman burst into the room.  "Captain! Beggin' your
 pardon, but  you'd better  come on deck  quick! There's  somethin' you
 have to see."
      "What is it?" Brynna asked, rising from her chair.
      "I don't know, rightly, but master Kayne says it's real strange."

      Brynna, Cydric, and Mandi followed  the crewman up onto the deck.
 "Captain! Over here," Kayne called  from the starboard rail. The three
 made their way over to him. "What's the trouble, Kayne?" Brynna asked.
      "See  for  yourself,  Captain," he  replied,  motioning  outward.
 Cydric  looked to  where  the  first mate  pointed.  At  first he  saw
 nothing, then became aware of a  large rippling air mass drifting over
 the surface of  the water about two leagues distant.  He surmised that
 it was the same shimmering haze he had noticed earlier.
      "What do you make of it?" queried Brynna.
      "Fog or sea-mist it isn't,"  the first mate replied. "But stiffed
 if I can say  what it is. I was watching a flock  of barjee birds when
 they just went blurry for a second. Thought I was losing my sight, but
 then the lookout spotted the same thing."
      Brynna frowned. "Peculiar. Mandi, fetch the spyglass please."
      The young girl hurried off, and returned a few minutes later with
 the requested  item. Brynna  studied the strange  transparent rippling
 through the ocular for a few moments, then shook her head.
      "You fathom what it is, Captain? " asked Kayne.
      "I'm not sure.  But whatever it's birth, it appears  to be moving
 towards us."
      "Moving towards us?" echoed the first mate. Brynna handed him the
 spyglass.
      "Do you think it's dangerous?" Mandi asked.
      "Perhaps not,  but I don't want  to go petting the  sharks," said
 Brynna. She strode back to the quarterdeck and ordered the helmsman to
 steer well  clear of the shimmering  mass. Cydric felt the  ship lurch
 slightly as it came about onto its new heading.
      Moments  later,  Kayne shouted,  "I  think  it's still  with  us,
 Captain! Looks like it's getting larger, too."
      Brynna dashed  to the  rail. The  rippling entity  had apparently
 altered it's  direction to match  the ship's; it  was now on  a direct
 collision course.
      "Damn peculiar," said Brynna.  She ordered another course change,
 but the shimmering mass still stayed with them.
      "Still think it might not be dangerous?" asked Kayne.
      Brynna bit her  lip. "Sorcerous, more likely,"  she murmured. She
 took Kayne  aside and  spoke to him  in a low  voice. Cydric  tried to
 listen but was unable to hear  what they said. A moment later, Kayne's
 eyebrows shot up and a look  of understanding came over his face. "You
 fathom that's what it is?" he said aloud.
      "I hope I'm  wrong," Brynna replied. "But we have  to be ready in
 case  I'm not.  Alert the  crew, then--battle  readiness. Prepare  the
 scorpion for firing."
      "Aye, Captain." Kayne left to carry out the orders.
      Cydric looked over at Mandi, who had been staring at the mass and
 apparently missed the  exchange. He started to tell her  about it when
 she turned and said, "You know what it looks like, Cydric? Heat waves.
 What if it's just a ball of heat coming towards us?"
      "Ball of heat, indeed," said  Brynna, approaching them. "Mandi, I
 want you to go below and secure the cabin, then stay there. Straight?"
1     "Me?" Mandi said, eyes wide. "But Brynna--"
      The  klaxon bell  sounded,  followed by  Kayne's  call to  action
 stations.
      "You'll just be in the way  up here. Cydric, take her down, would
 you? Go  now, please."  She abruptly  turned on her  heel and  left to
 oversee the preparations.
      The  deck  came  alive  with crewmen  hustling  back  and  forth,
 preparing to defend the ship against its possible danger.
      "She must think I'm a child or something," Mandi said indignantly
 as they headed for the entrance to the lower deck.
      "She's just concerned about your safety," Cydric replied.
      "We don't even know what's out  there, and she's acting if it was
 a fleet of pirates or something! It  could be just a trick of the eye,
 you know. I've heard stories about people being lost at sea for months
 who've thought they saw the All Creator riding a horse backwards while
 eating a chunk of smoked meat."
      "I doubt  that's what it  is. In any  case, you'd be  safest down
 below."
      Mandi stopped and put her hands on her hips. "And what about you?
 You've been at sea barely a week. You ought to be down there as well."
      "Cydric! Come with me!" Kayne called as he dashed past.
      "Hellblaze,  Mandi--just  go, please?  For  my  sake, if  nothing
 else?" Cydric gently squeezed her arm.
      "But--oh, since you asked nice,  I'll go." She started toward the
 lower deck hatchway, then stopped and  turned. "But only until it gets
 exciting."
      Cydric waited  until she had  disappeared below, then  hurried to
 join Kayne.
      The first  mate was waiting  for him  at the scorpion.  The large
 crossbowlike weapon was swivel-mounted  amidships, a little forward of
 the main cargo hatch.
      "Finally getting a little action, eh Cydric?" Kayne said.
      "Yes,  sir," the  young man  replied.  "But shouldn't  we try  to
 understand what's out there first?"
      "The Captain's got a notion, and if she's right we'll all be hard
 up in a clinch."
      "Oh. Sorry sir, I didn't mean to be questioning orders."
      "Ah, I  won't tell.  But, it's  better to  be safe  than flotsam,
 right? Righto.  Well, let  me show  you how this  old girl  works." He
 turned to the three men manning the scorpion. "Line to bow, forty-five
 up, and  hold." Two of  them turned  separate cranks that  aligned the
 weapon with the bowsprit, and tilted the barrel upward. The third took
 a large, heavy  spear from a nearby  long box, dipped the  head into a
 pot of tar,  then loaded the projectile into the  groove along the top
 of the barrel of the scorpion.
      "When I give the signal, all you have to do is set the spear head
 on fire.  Then we pull  back the bowstring and  let her fly!  And pray
 that it hits, of course."
      "I understand, sir," Cydric said.
      "Good. Now  take these." Kayne  handed him  an unlit torch  and a
 piece of flint & steel. "Be ready when the Captain gives the word."
      "Aye,  sir,"  acknowledged  Cydric.  Kayne  clapped  him  on  the
 shoulder and proceed astern to join Brynna.
      The two crank operators started chatting amongst themselves. "So,
 what do  you think it  is?" Cydric asked  the spear loader.  The large
 bearded man shrugged and began chanting a prayer against evil.
      "Ah, I see. You could be very  well be right," Cydric said as the
 man lifted  his arms  to the  sky and  begged for  deliverance. Edging
 away, Cydric looked  out again at the mysterious rippling  mass. As he
 watched,  it appeared  to lose  speed slightly,  but continued  moving
1toward the ship.
      A  frantic shout  jolted him  out  of his  thoughts. "The  wind's
 dying, Captain!" The crewman who  had made the observation gestured up
 at  the  rigging. Cydric  saw  that  the  sails, previously  full  and
 billowing,  were now  flapping idly.  He  realized that  the ship  was
 slowing in its forward motion.
      The  crew  began muttering  in  consternation.  The spear  loader
 stopped his frantic praying just long enough to advise Cydric to light
 his torch.
      "Hard a-port, while we've still got headway!" called Brynna. "All
 hands clear for action. Stinger crew stand ready."
      The ship began turning in a slow arc, and soon came to drift with
 its port side facing the shimmering mass.
      Cydric got the torch lit just as Kayne returned to the scorpion.
      "What  do you  make the  target distance,  Flix?" the  First Mate
 asked.
      "Hard to say, sir," replied  the spear loader. "It's like looking
 for a black cat in the dark. I'd say about a league, though."
      "Fine," Kayne  said. He took  a sighting on the  nearly invisible
 mass using  an astrolabe-like device. "Okay,  lads-- thirty-five marks
 port, down five, and  hold." As the men brought the  weapon to bear on
 the  mass, Kayne  turned in  Brynna's direction  and called,  "Stinger
 clear and steady, Captain! Just give the word."
      "Very well, Kayne. Steady on."  Brynna raised the spyglass to her
 eye.
      Cydric shifted the torch from hand to hand as he watched the mass
 of rippling waves  draw closer to the ship. As  it drifted nearer, the
 area of distortion it caused became  larger and easier to see. The sky
 behind it  appeared to  writhe and  undulate like  a heap  of restless
 snakes.
      "Close enough, I think," said  Brynna, snapping the spyglass away
 from her face. "Fire when ready, Kayne!"
      The First Mate quickly took another sighting.
      "Port plus three, up two, and pull," he said.
      The men made the corrections and cranked back the bowstring.
      "Light up!"
      Cydric set the spear head afire.
      "And let her fly!"
      The  spear  shot  away  into  the  sky.  Cydric  watched  as  the
 projectile  gracefully sailed  through the  air, curved  off into  the
 distance  and shattered  in a  burst of  flame against  the shimmering
 mass.
      The crew's cheers became shouts of dismay.
      "Cirrangill's blood!" exclaimed Kayne.
      A dark  patch appeared at the  center of the shimmering.  From it
 emerged a bright green globe  which darted with amazing speed straight
 toward  the _Vanguard  Voyager_. Cydric  quickly predicted  the impact
 point and  flung himself away  from the  scorpion a second  before the
 globe struck  the weapon  and caused  it to explode  amid a  shower of
 green flames.
      Bits of wood  and metal rained down on the  deck. Cydric lay flat
 on his  stomach, sheltering his head  from the shrapnel. When  no more
 fell, he looked up and saw Mandi crouching before him.
      "Cydric! Are you all right? Did you get any splinters in you?"
      "What are  you doing  up here?"  hissed Cydric,  glancing quickly
 around. Most of  the crew were still covering their  faces against the
 blast. "The Captain will have my head if she sees you!"
      "Is anyone hurt?"  Brynna called, brushing debris  from her hair.
 Flix  the  spear  loader  and  one of  the  crank  operators  reported
 injuries. She instructed them to report to Oddfoot for treatment.
1     "Better go," Cydric said.
      Mandi nodded and started back. She  was halfway to the hatch when
 Brynna caught sight of her.
      "I thought I  told you to stay below, Amanda!"  the Captain said,
 striding toward the girl.
      "I  heard the  noise--just  wanted  to see  what  it was,"  Mandi
 hastily explained.
      Brynna gestured  for her to  be silent. "Cydric, take  Mandi down
 again. And this time stay with her!"
      "Right, Captain," Cydric said. He took  Mandi by the hand and led
 her to the lower deck hatchway. As they started to descend the stairs,
 Cydric looked  once more at  the rippling mass,  now less that  half a
 league from the ship. Suddenly the shimmering became translucent, then
 opaque, and  finally resolved itself into  the shape of a  large black
 ship--a war galleon.
      Brynna smacked her palm. "I knew it! Damn him."
      "A ship!"  gasped Mandi.  "I never  would've guessed.  That's the
 most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life!"
      The men of  the _Vanguard Voyager_ babbled in  amazement and fear
 as the  galleon drew closer. Cydric  saw the name "Black  Swan" on the
 prow, and  that the  figurehead was  the namesake  bird. Long  oars on
 either side of the ship propelled it silently through the water.
      "You were right, Captain," said Kayne. "It's him, by Cirrangill."
      Mandi tugged at Cydric's sleeve.  "We'd better hide before Brynna
 sends us below." She pointed to some barrels near the hatchway. Cydric
 nodded and they both crouched down  behind the casks. Peering over the
 barrel tops, they watched as the black ship slowly pulled up alongside
 the _Voyager_.
      On the  deck of  the _Black  Swan_ were  assembled the  crew, all
 armed with steel. By the rail stood four men: one balding and bearded;
 the  next,  large  and  wearing  a rusty  breastplate;  the  third,  a
 grey-haired gentleman  wearing long  black robes  and holding  a large
 crescent-shaped crystal  object; the  last, somewhat younger  that the
 third man and dressed in green robes. As the _Swan_ drew alongside the
 _Voyager_,  the  black-robed  man  put  a hand  to  his  forehead  and
 collapsed to the deck. Several crewman  rushed to his aid and took him
 below. The green-garbed  man smiled and retrieved  the dropped crystal
 object, tucking it into the folds of his robe.
      "All hands, prepare to repel boarders!" commanded Brynna.
      "Ho there,  Captain Thorne!" the  armor-clad man called out  in a
 deep, resonating  voice. "What kind of  a greeting is that,  hey? What
 makes you think I wish violence upon you?"
      "Ho yourself,  Commander Challion," Brynna answered,  striding to
 the rail. "I suspected you were behind this. And why the freezing hell
 did you fire on my ship?"
      "Indeed, you  fired upon me first.  But I only wished  to disable
 your weapon. I hope no one was hurt."
      "As if you actually cared.  Now tell me straight, Challion-- what
 gives you the right to stop a peaceful vessel in Baranurian waters? Is
 piracy your profession now?""
      "As  you no  doubt saw,  Captain,  I have  regained the  Cavarnon
 Shield; I was merely testing  its effectiveness. And judging from your
 early  reaction, I  think  it  would be  better  used  under cover  of
 darkness."
      "You haven't  answered my question. Is  this a raid? If  not, I'd
 very much  like to get under  way. Tell your mage--the  conscious one,
 that is--to give us the wind back."
      Challion leaned over the rail. "I have one other objective, and I
 think you know what I mean."
      Brynna shrugged. "Do elaborate."
1     "The Codex  Araltakonia, Captain  Thorne. I  wish to  purchase it
 from you."
      Cydric turned to Mandi. "The what?" he whispered.
      "That book  you were  looking at  in the  cabin," she  replied in
 hushed tones. "The one on her desk--it's  supposed to be as old as the
 Mystics!"
      "Sorry. I  don't have what  you're looking for,"  Brynna replied,
 folding her arms.
      "No  lies, no  games, Captain!  I know  you acquired  it back  in
 Dargon. But I'm prepared to offer twice what you paid for it."
      "In  truth, Commander,  I  never thought  our  paths would  cross
 again--the dragon whale seemed rather attached to you, as I recall."
      "I  got  the  better  of  the creature,  in  the  end,"  Challion
 answered. Hitching  his trousers up  around his ample waist,  he said,
 "Well, three times your purchase price, then. You'll be making quite a
 profit."
      "The knowledge in the Codex is beyond price. In any case, what do
 you  want with  it? You're  by no  means a  scholar--neither are  your
 mages."
      Challion rubbed  his fleshy  face and  exhaled loudly.  "My final
 offer--quadruple the amount you paid to acquire it! A fine trader such
 as  yourself cannot  fail to  recognize  a wonderful  bargain such  as
 this."
      "True, but I also recognize barjee squat when I hear it. And I've
 heard enough,"  said Brynna. "Spear detail,  forward!" Several crewmen
 went over to the remains of the scorpion and picked up spears from the
 storage box. After dipping the points  into the tar pot, they lined up
 alongside Brynna  at the rail. Kayne  lit up a torch  and stood behind
 them.
      "It always comes to violence, hey Skoranji?" Challion said to the
 balding man. To Brynna he said, "Very well. If you do not wish to sell
 the book, then I am afraid I will just have to take it."
      "You and  what battle fleet?  Your men  won't set foot  upon this
 ship," Brynna shot back.
      The balding  man spoke. "Truly  now, m'  dear? Be you  willin' to
 test your pups 'gainst me bloodseekers?"
      "Would you  be willing  to bet on  it, Captain  Skoranji?" Brynna
 asked, smirking. The _Voyager_ crew laughed.
      Even from his vantage point Cydric could see Skoranji turn red.
      "Please,  please,  let's  not  bring  my  friend's  fondness  for
 gambling into this," said Challion.  "I appeal to your reason, Captain
 Thorne. Give  the Codex  over peacefully, and  we'll part  on friendly
 terms."
      Brynna shook her  head. "You raffenraker, do  you seriously think
 you intimidate me?"
      Challion motioned to the green-robed man, who lifted his arms and
 spoke a short  phrase. An intense green glow limned  his hands, then a
 ball of  light the  same color  formed and  shot toward  the _Vanguard
 Voyager_. It  came to hover over  Kayne, then sped downward  to strike
 him full  in the  chest and  knock him backwards.  It then  ringed his
 neck, and slowly the First Mate rose into the air.
      "Certainly not, Captain. I know  better than to threaten you. But
 a threat to your friend is another matter," Challion said, smiling.
      "True  men do  not hide  behind magic,"  Brynna returned  coldly,
 gripping the  rail so hard her  knuckles turned white. "Let  him down,
 Commander Challion. Now."
      "We are  going to  board your  ship. If  you or  any of  your men
 resists, mister Kayne will no longer have the use of his head."
      "First let him down, damn you. Then I'll give you the Codex."
      "The book  first, in  exchange for  his life.  That is  your only
1option."
      Brynna chewed on her lower lip, then finally agreed.
      "I think we deserve a little  more for our trouble. We'll also be
 taking whatever cargo you have."
      Behind the barrels, Mandi wrinkled her nose.
      "Don't sneeze!" whispered Cydric.
      "I..I.."  Mandi closed  her eyes  and clamped  her hand  over her
 mouth. "Choo!"
      Brynna's head jerked at the sound, but she did not turn.
      "Now, tell  your men to  lay down their  weapons and move  as far
 astern as possible. It will only take a few moments for us to maneuver
 into boarding position," said Challion.
      Brynna glanced up at Kayne. The  First Mate twisted slowly in the
 air, struggling  feebly to  remove the  ring of  magic from  his neck.
 Sighing heavily, she ordered the crew to obey Challion's instructions.
      "Who  is  this Commander  person,  anyway?"  Cydric whispered  to
 Mandi. "He looks like an old, fat knight to me. And if Skoranji is the
 captain, why is Challion giving the orders?"
      "They're not  high up on  the list of Brynna's  favorite people,"
 Mandi replied.  "Back in--" She looked  up as someone sat  down on the
 barrels.
      "It's the  Captain," said Cydric, recognizing  the silver-blue of
 her tunic.
      Mandi tapped Brynna's  slim posterior. The Captain  put her hands
 behind her back and made signs with her fingers.
      "She's going  too fast," said  Cydric as  he tried to  follow the
 gestures.
      " 'Cydric, shoot the mage,' " Mandi translated. " 'Use my bow and
 arrows. Tap twice, understand.' "
      "She wants me to shoot  their sorcerer?" Cydric said, astonished.
 "I said I wasn't  much good at archery. There's a  good chance I might
 miss. What if--"
      Mandi tapped twice. "He understands, all right."
      Brynna continued signing.  " 'Wait for my word,' "  said Mandi. "
 'Stand up to fire. Get bow now. Be ready.' "
      "What if I miss?" said  Cydric, gripping Mandi's arm. "He'll kill
 Kayne! I don't know if I can do this."
      "You won't miss,"  Mandi reassured him. She  tapped Brynna twice;
 the Captain rose and strode away.
      "I'll go  and get everything,"  Mandi said. "Stay here  and watch
 out." She  quietly edged backwards  toward the hatchway  and carefully
 made her way down to the lower deck.
      Cydric peeped  out over the  barrels again. The _Black  Swan_ had
 dropped behind the _Vanguard Voyager_ a little, and was now angling in
 closer. Brynna went over  and tried to grab Kayne out  of the air, but
 the mage  raised his arms higher,  and the First Mate  floated up just
 beyond her reach.
      "Kayne will be returned to you,  after we have what we came for,"
 Challion boomed out.
      Mandi  silently returned  with the  bow and  a quiver  of arrows.
 "Here. Now get ready when Brynna says."
      Cydric nocked an arrow and sighted  on the mage. "I'm not sure if
 I can  hit him at this  range. Maybe a  little closer. How far  do you
 think she'll let them come?"
      Mandi  did not  reply. Cydric  relaxed the  bowstring and  looked
 around--the girl was nowhere to be seen.
      "Hellblaze!" he muttered.

      The  _Black Swan_  shipped her  oars  and drifted  on a  parallel
 course with  the _Voyager_. "One  more thing, Challion,"  Brynna said.
1"You have to agree to just take the  cargo and leave my ship as it is.
 I've  heard of  how  Skoranji's  men like  to  torch  the wrecks  they
 scavenge."
      "Your  position is  highly unsuitable  for bargaining,"  Challion
 replied,  "but  I will  respect  that.  Let it  not  be  said that  I,
 Commander Artemus Challion, was ever ungracious to a lady."
      "As if a lady would ever have you!" a young voice chimed in.
      Cydric groaned inwardly. Mandi stood  by the bowsprit, waving her
 arms. "Yes, you who looks like a  pregnant toad. Why don't you just go
 home!"
      "Who is that?" Challion asked sharply.
      "My--former--cabin girl," Brynna said through clenched teeth.
      "Look, milord  Scullion, we told  you we  don't want you  on this
 ship. So make  like the wind and blow!" Mandi  said, making an obscene
 gesture.
      "We're all fish food," Cydric sighed.
      Brynna  walked to  the foredeck,  giving Cydric  a clear  line of
 fire. "Amanda Lynn, please come over here. Now."
      "Now?" echoed Mandi. "NOW?"
      "Yes. Now!"
      Cydric drew  back on  the bowstring and  prepared to  stand. Just
 then Mandi  screamed. Looking up,  he saw Danner standing  behind her,
 holding her arms back.
      "Hey,  let me  go,  you pox-ridden  gutter  rat!" Mandi  shouted,
 struggling.
      "Commander Challion! I  want to make a bargain. Let  me join your
 crew, and you can have this girl," Danner called to the other ship.
      "What  do  you  think  you're doing,  Danner?  Release  her  this
 instant," demanded Brynna.
      "It  appears,   Captain  Thorne,  that   one  of  your   crew  is
 dissatisfied with  his lot,"  Challion said. "Perhaps  your reputation
 for running a fair ship is a trifle exaggerated?"
      "Let  Mandi go,  Danner. Immediately."  Brynna ordered.  "Why the
 freezing hell are you doing this?"
      "Sorry, Captain. I've  told you I want out of  my contract. I see
 this as my chance."
      "Ho, son!  Wait until  we board.  Then we  will talk  about this,
 hey?" Challion turned to Skoranji. "Whenever you are ready, Captain."
      "Ayah, Commander," said  Skoranji. He turned to  his crew. "Right
 then, me bloodseekers! Prepare to grapple!"
      Cydric tensed, torn between waiting  for Brynna's command to fire
 on the mage, and trying to save Mandi by firing on Danner instead.
      "Don't try to stop them, Captain Thorne," Danner warned. "Or I'll
 have to get a little rough with Mandi here."
      "Toss  lines!"  called  Skoranji.  A moment  later,  three  rope-
 attached grappling hooks sailed  across and anchored themselves around
 the _Voyager's_ rail.
      "You're a god-cursed disgrace, Danner,"  Brynna said. "I ought to
 shoot you right now.  Do you hear me?" She spun  around and shouted in
 Cydric's direction, "SHOOT YOU RIGHT NOW!"
      Gulping a quick  breath of air, Cydric leaped up,  drew a bead on
 the _Black Swan's_ magic-maker, and let the arrow fly. It sped through
 the air  in a flash  of silver, and  smacked deep into  the sorcerer's
 left eye.
      The man screamed, clutched at his face with both hands, staggered
 forward, and pitched over the rail into the river.
      Kayne fell to the deck as the green ring vanished from around his
 neck. "Battle  positions!" shouted  Brynna. The _Voyager_  crew surged
 forward, scooping up their weapons and whooping in defiance.
      Mandi slammed her heel hard  against Danner's shin. He grunted in
1pain and loosened his grip, allowing the girl to wrench free.
      "Codless traitor!"  she said,  ramming her  knee into  his groin.
 Danner yelped and pushed her away.
      Cydric  ran over  to check  on Kayne.  Challion cursed  as Brynna
 severed the grappling lines.
      "Are you all right, sir?" Cydric asked, helping Kayne to sit up.
      "Never did  like wizards,"  the First  Mate replied,  rubbing his
 throat.
      Danner staggered to the rail.  "Little slut!" he spat. He reached
 into his  boot and pulled  out a  stiletto. Mandi's eyes  widened; she
 turned and ran.
      Brynna instructed two  crewmen to take Kayne  below, then ordered
 the spear detail forward again. She retrieved the torch and re-lit it.
      Challion  ordered the  _Swan's_ oars  back into  the water,  then
 directed Skoranji to prepare the ballista for a counterattack.
      Cydric was about to report to Brynna when Mandi came rushing over
 and hugged him tightly.
      "Thank the  gods you're  safe!" Cydric  said, holding  her close.
 "How'd you get away from him?"
      Mandi looked up.  "Well, let's just say, he  wasn't codless after
 all."
      Brynna handed  the torch to  the first  spearman, who lit  up his
 weapon and passed the  flame to the next man. After  the torch made it
 down the line and  all the spears had been lit,  Brynna gave the order
 to let fly.
      Several  of the  burning spears  struck  the side  of the  _Black
 Swan_. A  few of them  landed on  the deck, and  one managed to  hit a
 sail. The fire  spread quickly, forcing Challion to  abandon his plans
 for a retaliatory strike in favor of saving his ship from the flames.
      Cydric and  Mandi watched the  action from the rail.  As Skoranji
 dashed madly about the deck of the _Swan_ calling out orders, a breeze
 rippled across  Cydric's cheek. At  the same time the  helmsman cried,
 "We've  got the  wind back,  Captain!" Cydric  looked up  and saw  the
 ship's sails billowing proudly once more.
      "Get us under way immediately!" called Brynna.
      As the _Vanguard  Voyager_ slowly pulled away  from the enkindled
 _Black Swan_, Cydric could  see Commander Challion standing motionless
 at  the rail,  flames licking  at his  back. Suddenly  he shouted  out
 across the widening gap between the ships.
      "I will not  forget this, Brynna Thorne! I cannot  be defeated so
 easily--revenge will be mine, in the end!"
      Brynna came over and took the bow and arrows from Cydric. "Wrong,
 Challion. It  ends now!" she said.  She nocked an arrow  and fired. It
 struck the Commander square in the chest, penetrating his breastplate.
 Challion gasped and fell back into the fire.

      Soon  the _Vanguard  Voyager_ had  left the  doomed _Black  Swan_
 behind and was sailing clear on the river.
      "Excellent work, everyone!" Brynna said to the crew, assembled on
 deck.  "When we  dock, there'll  be a  bonus in  your pay.  Right now,
 though, I think a  double ration of spice ale is  in order. You've all
 earned it!"
      The men cheered  her, and began filing below into  the mess room.
 "I've never had to serve the whole crew at once," Cydric said to Mandi
 as they joined the line.
      "You  won't have  to," Brynna  said,  coming over  to them.  "You
 helped save the ship. Mandi will fill in for you."
      "Me?" Mandi said, a look of incredulity on her face.
      "That's right. You almost ruined everything with your antics."
      "I was just trying to help," Mandi protested. "Commander Challion
1might have  figured out  what you  were planning.  I was  just helping
 distract him. And before  you say it, I had no  idea Danner was there.
 Oh, and  besides, wasn't I the  one who got your  message about having
 Cydric shoot the wizard?"
      "You were supposed to be in your cabin," Brynna reminded her.
      "I'm afraid that was my fault," Cydric admitted.
      Brynna sighed.  "Well, since everything  turned out in  our favor
 anyway, I suppose I can overlook these things. But next time, I expect
 _all_ my orders to be followed. Straight?"
      Cydric  and Mandi  exchanged  glances. "Straight!"  they said  in
 unison.

                         (to be continued)
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
1                             Fortunes
                          by Max Khaytsus
              (b.c.k.a khaytsus%tramp@boulder.colorado.edu)

      Taishent walked  quickly through  the market place,  prodling his
 young granddaughter along. "Come along,  come on. I'll be late because
 of you."
      The girl ran after him, looking right and left, distracted by the
 multitude of vendors and people rushing about.
      "Aimee! Would you please move faster!"
      She ran  to catch  up to  her grandfather and  trailed him  to an
 enclosed booth a half block away.
      A young woman  met them at the  door and asked them  to sit down,
 while  she announced  their  arrival. Taishent  lowered  himself in  a
 chair, while Aimee lingered by the door, looking at people pass by.
      "Why is  it you act  like you've never  been to the  market?" the
 mage complained. "Each time I bring you here, it's the same story."
      The girl sat down in a  chair by the door, restlessly kicking her
 feet, a short distance off the floor.
      "Dyann!" Corambis  appeared at the  door through which  the young
 woman disappeared. "I was wondering if you were going to come."
      Taishent rose  to his feet and  greeted the sage. "Aimee  made me
 late again," he complained. "I can't wait for her father to return!"
      "Again," Corambis smiled. "Did you enjoy the holidays?" he asked,
 bending down next to the girl.
      The girl nodded shyly and looked down at her dangling feet.
      "Would you  like Thuna to  show you around the  market?" Corambis
 asked.
      Aimee nodded, still looking at her feet.
      "Good, good. Thuna!" he called for his assistant, getting back to
 his feet. The young woman entered and stopped by Corambis. "Take Aimee
 to the market  for a few hours.  Taishent and I have  some business to
 see to..."  Thuna nodded in  agreement. "...and  if she pick's  up any
 more of your bad habits..." he warned in half voice.
      How I fear  what an influence Thuna might be  on Aimee," Corambis
 told Taishent when  his assistant left with her charge.  "She's such a
 quiet girl."
      "She's only quiet in public,"  Taishent said. "At home she's only
 an angel when asleep in a locked room."
      The two  men laughed for  a moment, then Corambis  suggested they
 get to business and they entered his office.
      "I'm very sorry that Roisart Connall died. You've been predicting
 a holiday disaster for a while now," Taishent mentioned.
      "You know, the  Connall twins stopped here for advice  just a few
 days ago, right  before the murder," Corambis said with  some irony in
 his voice. "I read it on the Wheel and considered our last casting and
 warned  them lightly  and dismissed  it all  as soon  as they  left. I
 thought Fionn Connall's death was it."
      "I hope Luthias recovers," Taishent  sighed. "The two were almost
 inseperable. I've never seen a place love its nobility as much."
      "Quite a  tragedy," Corambis  agreed, preparing ten  wooden discs
 for a new casting. "Have you heard that someone killed Terell?"
      "Bah!  Heard it  and  didn't  feel a  bit  of remorse,"  Taishent
 snapped. "The only thing  we had in common with him  were two years in
 the same  school. I never  did like his style.  I'd bet he  got killed
 after striking a bad deal."
      "Don't be so negative. I'm sure some people out there consider us
 to be eccentric."
      Taishent grunted in disbelief. "Let's do the casting."
      "Let's," Corambis agreed.
1     After a short ceremony, the ten  wooden discs were dropped on the
 Wheel of Life.  Most of them landed  on the symbols of  Fox, Torch and
 Mistweaver.
      Corambis shook his head. "If the last one was bad..."
      The discs of  Heart, Spirit and Body lay in  the center, together
 with the red disc representing  Dargon. "In the Mistweaver's grasp..."
 The ally  lay in  the clutches  of the  Fox and  the adversary  in the
 flames of the Torch.
      "Too symbolic," Taishent said.
      "Trouble. Trouble,"  Corambis verified. "Our allies  won't be our
 allies for  long and adversaries may  crush us. It's very  uncommon to
 have most land on so few symbols."
      "What's the bottom line?"
      "Do your casting first," Corambis said.
      The  two men  moved  to a  small makeshift  table  and sat  down.
 Taishent produced  a deck of cards,  placed a Fate card  on the table,
 then shuffling the  deck, placed an unknown card on  it. He reshuffled
 the deck  and lay  out a  pattern around  the two  cards. Both  he and
 Corambis bent down to scrutinize the pattern.
      "Look  here," Taishent  pointed.  "Good  present, tense  future."
 Knight,  Wizard and  Sorrow decorated  the top  row. Beneath  them lay
 Tranquility, Eagle,  Water and a  hidden card. "The past  doesn't tell
 much," Taishent ignored the bottom three cards. The card covering fate
 was turned over to reveal the ugly face of the Jester.
      "Incredible," Corambis said.
      "I'll  skip  the  dramatics,"  Taishent  hurried.  "I  predict  a
 conflict in Dargon sometime soon."
      Corambis  stood  up  and  walked  over  to  the  Wheel  of  Life,
 contemplating the challenge.  "I say an external conflict,  but in due
 time."
      Taishent came  back to the larger  table, to look at  the pattern
 again. "I see no resolution."
      "The Wheel  hardly ever shows the  means to an end.  Your casting
 wasn't conclusive either."
      Taishent recast the future row,  using the method for far future.
 Fire, Air, Griffin. "Nothing," he said. "Conflict."
      Silence ruled  the room for  some time, while the  men considered
 the fortunes they had cast.
      "You know," Corambis finally broke the silence, "we've been doing
 this after every equinox for for more  time than I wish to account for
 and to what results?"
      "We've been right most of the time."
      "I hope  we're wrong  now," Corambis sighed.  "I couldn't  wish a
 fortune like this on anyone."
      "I feel  guilty for making  predictions like this  too," Taishent
 said.
      "Let's  get some  air," Corambis  said, sweeping  all the  wooden
 discs with his arm to the side of the table.
      Taishent reshuffled the cards.
      "May Dargon get through this with its skin intact..."
 ------------------------------------------------------------------------
   (C) Copyright  September, 1989, DargonZine.  All rights revert  to the
 authors. These  stories may not  be reproduced or redistributed  save in
 the case of reproducing the whole 'zine for further distribution without
 the express permission of the author involved.