Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Kalendraf: Visits a recent companion
Message-ID: <1992Dec17.043833.22735@walter.cray.com>
From: bdavis@cray.com (Brent G Davis)
Date: 17 Dec 92 04:38:33 CST

   Kalendraf followed the old man, just now surveying his surroundings.
The construction technique was noticeably different from that in his homeland.
These passages had smooth walls, and round, arched ceilings.  The rooms were
built with strange angles, although it may have been due to the limited space
available within this tower.  Along their way, he also noticed several pictures
of huge green octopi, and the guards he had seen also wore a similar symbol
inscribed on their armor.  'Could this be their god?', he thought to himself.
'If so, what manner of people are these?'

   As they approached the stairs, a side door opened and a very rotund
man in brown robes stepped into the hallway.  He then called for a guard,
who came almost instantly from near the stairway.  "The patient should be
allowed to rest for a few days.  Tomorrow, I will return to check on him.
In the mean-time, someone should keep watch on Ezrin, and if his condition 
worsens, send a messenger to my abode."  The guard nodded, and then the  
robed man headed down the passage.  He eyed Kalendraf and Velnar as he
approached and smiled briefly.  As he passed, Kal's eye caught a glimpse of the
gold amulet around his neck.  It bore the outline of a bird in flight.
But his thoughts were oblivious to this new symbol, and instead were focused
on what the man had said.

   "Ezrin.  There."  Kalendraf pointed to the door that the guard was
standing by.  Velnar thought about it, and then decided to grant Kalendraf
the opportunity to see the recovering marestasi.  Velnar spoke briefly to
the guard, and within moments Kalendraf was permitted entry to the room.

   As he entered, Ezrin turned to look at him, but then turned away again.
He seemed very tired and weak as he lay on the narrow cot.  Blankets covered
Ezrin's body from the chest down, but their outline also revealed the absence
of his right leg below the knee.

   "Hel-lo Ezrin."  Kalendraf waited for recognition by his recent companion.

   A strange look came over the marestasi's face, as he tried to place the
stranger.  "Kalendraf!," he beamed, eventually recognizing the voice.  "How are
you?  Or should I say 'ubj tbrf gur qnl?'"   

   "Tbbq gb frr lbh ner nyvir."  Kalendraf pulled a chair up to the bed and
sat down.  "Big fish.  Bad," he said as he motioned toward Ezrin's missing leg.

   Ezrin glanced at it, squinting from the remembered fear and pain.  "Big
hungry shark."  Ezrin looked back at Kalendraf.  "You saved us both, you know.
What type of horn was that?"

   By now Kalendraf had heard the word, 'horn', enough to know that Ezrin was
asking about the conch.  "Good horn..."  He started coughing with a dry throat.
"Wa...ter!"

   Ezrin lifted a glass from near his bed, and gave it to Kalendraf who
quickly emptied it.  "I go."  Kalendraf got up and headed for the door.

   "Wait.  Kalendraf...what's wrong."  Ezrin watched helplessly as Kalendraf
left the room, holding his throat.  Left alone, Ezrin whispered, "you didn't
even say goodbye."  'Of course, I didn't teach him how to say that, either.'
-----
   "I ne'er e'en saw a horse drink tha' much."  The guard watched in awe
as Kalendraf emptied pitcher after pitcher of water.  "Where's 'e put it all?"

   "Perhaps all of his people drink this way, but I would venture that the
dehydration is cause for most of it.  Kalendraf, are you finished now?"  Velnar
waited for his response.

   "Good," replied Kal not understanding what Velnar had asked.  His failure to
pick up yet another pitcher water was answer enough to the old man's question.

   "Come along then.  There may still be a few hours to begin your lessons
today."  Velnar motioned for Kalendraf to follow, and the pair left the room.

   The seaguard stared at the table of mostly empty pitchers, shaking his
head in disbelief.  "Again made the servin' wench", he muttered to himself,
as he began drying the containers.  "An' not e'en a tip for ol' Dra..."
An idea struck without warning, leaving Dramic chuckling, with his eyes
gazing straight into the bottom of a pitcher.  "Looks like my ship's fin'ly
makin' for port."

-- 
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