"Are we late?" Aynatchavay asked, almost timidly, of the man nearest her at this gathering. The Protectorate Isle meeting grounds were packed with people, dragons and firelizards galore. It was bright with noise and glows, torches and the like.

The man nodded, and looked at Anyatchavay. He glanced at the patch which was embroidered on her riding leathers, which indicated her rank as a Gold rider.

"Not flown yet, has she?" Grunted the man, whose own rank appeared to be of a brown rider somewhere within the Protectorate's wings.

The harper-rider shook her head, "no, not yet. But she will. And I would put marks on it being sooner than I'd like."

"Ah, but you're old enough to take the flight in stride, I think." He nodded, and walked into the milling crowd. Aynatchavay gave a little shrug, and smirked.

"You better not be agreeing so easily," she said to Jyotirth.

I am going to fly, and you will love it as much as I will! The older queens have told me so. They love to find the best mates. I do not think that any of THESE males here will suit me at all.

The dragon seemed to be scanning over their heads, her shining yellow-gold hide glimmering in the torches. She seemed to glow with her own light.

Which got Aynatchavay thinking. She was indeed going to rise. It might not be this evening, but it could very well be by morning at this rate. The harperess felt stifled by the presence of so many people, so she wandered through to another area, where there were people conversing more quietly about politics and such. She sat in, curious.

One of the other riders, a green rider with her own set of Harper badges and knots, beckoned.

"A gold rider joins us," Rue said, smiling. "Welcome. And your name is?"

"Aynatchavay of golden Jyotirth." She tried peering over the woman's page and stylus, but couldn't make out exactly what Rue was writing down. "And you?"

"Rue, of green Beirissath. You should probably just sit and listen. Once the guys get going, it's hard to break in. I just like to jot down their thoughts, because Faranth forbid they ever remember anything come morning..."

Aynatchavay laughed, drawing a little attention to herself, but the men folk seemed intense.

Until one of them looked at her oddly. He was a striking blond-haired slender bodied man, with a sharply cut jaw and pale browns on his clothing. His blue eyes looked right through Aynatchavay, and she shuddered.

"Etan!" Rue said, "don't be rude! The poor thing doesn't know what you're doing!"

"Oh, I know... what he's doing." Aynatchavay said, waving her hand before her face to blow some air over it. "But you don't understand. I inherited some of my father's weaknesses... Did you mean to actually communicate something with that blast through my brain, or were you just doing what she said, and being rude?"

Etan jolted back a bit, and then his dour face broke a smile. "I apologize. You did look familiar. Your father is here somewhere, hiding I think."

"From the noise, yes," Aynatchavay confirmed. "He would be." Then she looked up, oddly turning her head. It wasn't that Jyotirth was communicating something, it was that she was FEELING something.

"Oh my..." Aynatchavay whispered. "... Oh my, she's going to, isn't she? With all these people here?"

"To rise?" Rue said, looking up and seeing the large bright golden form opening her wide wings and trumpeting beyond the ridge. "Apparently so! Congratulations, you're going to have the best selection of mates ever assembled upon the Isle!"

"But..." Aynatchavay whispered, "She doesn't want any of these..."

And that was true: not one of the males here - bronze, brown or blue, nor the occasional rare - seemed to suit the tastes of this large and elegant dragoness. Her head darted back and forth, and she gave off first a snort, then an outright bellow of outrage when one of the bronzes dared come near her.

The greens, including Rue's Beirissath, took wing and fled. Here was an angry Pernese queen in all her glory - glowing as brightly as day, in the night seeming like a star.

"Then she should go somewhere - quickly," Shard said, hurriedly approaching. "Come along, there are weyrs in need of such flights - we'll get you there safely."

The bronze who had offended Jyotirth, the huge pale Synesth, dipped his head and shoulders low enough for his rider H'lis to pick up the feline girl. "We'll get to Tripaldi - I know they're pretty far away in time and space, but Synesth will manage to find it for her."

"What do you mean," the harper said, a bit dizzy from her dragon's insistant emotions, "find it for her? She can't go between now!"

"Of course she can," H'lis said. "And she'll have to."

There was a strange gut-wrenching sensation when H'lis commanded Synesth into the air. For when he did that, he also seemingly commanded her gold to do so as well! The gold could hardly disobey - such was the strength of his command. It was no wonder he was known as the true weyr leader of the Protectorate, even if Shard was it's commander in chief.

"To Tripaldi," H'lis shouted. Down below, on the darkened, torchlit isle gathering place, Aynatchavay could swear she heard a dozen others cheer it as though they were raising a toast!

Then - between. To Aynatchavay this trip was the longest, coldest experience she'd ever had. Perhaps sometime in the past, a blocked out memory of a transport from one world to the next... But then the brightness over the beaches of Tripaldi Weyr blinded both dragon and rider.

Here is where I should fly! Insisted the dragoness, but leave that one behind - he may watch but he is not for me.

Surprised, Aynatchavay shrugged, as H'lis set her down on the weyr's wide landing zone. "I would have thought such a bold and strong bronze was just right," she said.

H'lis laughed, "certainly so did I, but... apparently not. But here she wants to be."

"Did you make her want that?" Asked the feline girl, quietly, and got no response.