You step off the Scarlet Ascent’s gangplank with a sigh of relief.  Solid land at last! A slight, pretty woman, well into middle age, catches your arm as you follow the lines of dock workers.  “Visitors this way,” she says firmly.  “You’re all to report to me, didn’t Cador tell you?” At your dazed headshake, she purses her lips and sighs.  “I suppose I’ll have to have it out with Captain Morwyr later.  For now, follow me .” The woman leads you through the twists and turns of the docking cavern, moving with a firm, slow step.  As she escorts you through the maze of activity, she speaks in time with her stride.  “I am Cyfrin of indigo Caswir, Covelady of Agendor Cove,” she introduces herself.  “I run the Cove along with my partner, Nerthol, whose aqua Celwyddaur is Caswir’s mate. “Agendor is very small; our limited resources and dangerous waters cannot support a large seadragon population.  Once the unbonded or dragon-bonded are grown, they generally strike out for deeper water or other shores.  Sometimes they come back to breed.  Many of our bonders go elsewhere as well.” She halts for a moment on the edge of the pier, and whistles shrilly.  A moment later, you’re drenched with colder-than-ice seawater as something lunges out of the deeps.  Your cry of protest is cut off as you see the enormous dragon, a creature that carpets a schooner’s berth with its broad, boneless wings. Cyfrin laughs, and caresses her lifemate’s dark blue muzzle.  “You never change your tricks, do you, Caswir?” Horns as thick as your wrist dip as the indigo female shoves her nose into the Covelady’s chest.  “You’d think I was ill if I stopped,” Caswir replies, her projected voice a mellow alto.  “Now, what to do with our guest?” Grinning like a teenager, Cyfrin pirouettes neatly and saunters back toward the Scarlet Ascent.  “That’s your department, O living navigational hazard,” she calls back over her shoulder.  The enormous indigo seadragon bares her teeth in what you fervently hope is a mock-grimace.  Snorting, she lowers her head so that her eyes are roughly level with yours.  “Well?” Caswir says sharply, as you try not to breathe.  “What shall we do with you?” You stammer that you don’t know. Eyes the size of your fist roll back in their sockets.  “You don’t know.  Let me give you some choices, then. “You can visit: The Beach The Tidepools The Residents The Library “Or,” she sighs, “I can get Cyffredin to take you on a tour.”

Caswir