From: andrea@cm.deakin.OZ.AU (Andrea Todkill)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Kadrys farewells Zia's apparition and waits for the DragonQuestors
Message-ID: <3464@sol.deakin.OZ.AU>
Date: 16 Jul 92 04:54:47 GMT

Kadrys sits, silent and still, as the last traces of his recent burns fade
from his hand. He stares out the window as if insensible to the vivid rays.
Insensible or uncaring. His eyes are wide and unfocused, wells of darkness.
Watching the sunset. Remembering Zia's words to him: 'I have lived so long.
And every day, I have lived for one thing, if nothing else. I have lived for
the sun rise. There are always answers. This time I know the question.' 
Kadrys thinks, 'Now I have some questions of my own. Who are you, that you
can
remember the Kutuk language, that you can know the hour of your death and
rejoice in it? What manner of being are you, that can make me concerned about
your fate? That can raise a spark from embers as long-dead as mine?'
As he waits, and wonders, the sun sets. 
And as the last rays disappear over the horizon a grinning visage makes
her show at the Dragons Inn.
Zia, transparent, but most certainly Zia, stands in the doorway, grinning.
Tears stream down her face, and she is surrounded in a halo of light as
she waves.
'Goodbye my friends.', and she laughs.
'In this final matter, I misjudged.  Goodbye my friends, for I am dead.
Fare thee well.'
...and fades from sight.
Kadrys starts to his feet, and seems to blur for the briefest instant. You
realise he had begun to move toward the apparition with inhuman speed, but
has
managed to restrain that instinctive impulse. Trembling with physical and
mental stress, he stands rigid until the last shimmering radiance vanishes.
Then, slowly he resumes his seat. His visage tightens as he clamps down on
his
emotions. He stares at the hands knotted together on the table before him as
if they were suddenly fascinating. In a dry, unsteady voice he mutters:
"Down through the ages, it is forever the same. I meet them. I learn a little
about them. I enjoy their company. Briefly. Then, I lose them. Eternally."
He pauses, drawing a long, hissing breath. "I lose them because I would damn
them, _worse_ than damn them, if I made them stay." He sighs, the soft sound
seeming to contain a long, long lifetime of sorrow. "You would think that
their happiness would be a comfort for my loss, and I suppose it is. But it
is
a very ... cold comfort." He lowers his head onto his hands. Perhaps
shielding
others from his gaze. Perhaps simply hiding his own face from others' eyes.

Kadrys thinks, 'I am glad now I chose to accompany Lancos on SunStorm's
quest.
I need time. Time for the bitterest edge of grief to grow dull. Time away
from
the place where we met.' He slides further into his slumped posture, closing
his eyes and retreating into memories while he waits for the questors to
start.
Memories of a young and smiling face beneath a mop of black hair. Memories of
a slightly older face crowned by tresses of red. 'Ah yes, another redhead,
but
how unlike my earlier one!' Memories of poems, and cards, and a mage's spell
of silence releasing her laughter, laughter that he would never hear again.