Spiritus aduro
My dear readers - I am heartily sorry. Believe me when I tell you that I did not intend to spend over a year working on one chapter. This has been a particularly difficult part to write, and has been through more incarnations than I care to remember. It has finally met with my lovely editor, Andy's, approval, and thus I am at liberty to make it available to my readers. If you're still reading after such a long time, then kudos to you. The last year has been somewhat crazy in my neck of the woods, lots of changes. I won't say when Part XVI will be up, because I can't guarantee my pace. I promise you that I'm not planning to abandon Ria and Charlie to their fates, though, and hopefully this will be concluded by the beginning of 2006!!
Thanks, as always, to Andy for the support and editing he so willingly gives, and also to my other half, who has offered me unfailing support throughout the past year, and who was responsible for the final edit. Also, many thanks to the ladies of the SugarQuill Workshop 2, who supported me through the final manifestation of this baby. Thanks to you all. :o)
Part XV
Making sure that the door was locked behind him, Charlie picked up the basket he had prepared for Ria and set off on his way, his relaxed stride setting a rhythmic backing for his chirpy whistle. He was pretty happy with life as it stood. After the unmitigated disaster that had been the Valentine's Ball, and the emotional turmoil that it had created, things had really settled down, on the domestic front at least. Ria seemed to be pretty happy with life - something he was always pleased to note; Merri appeared to be on Cloud Nine and hopelessly in love, which was both sweet and irritating, and as for himself…well, he was pretty good too. All in all, life was going rather well.
It didn't take him long to reach the paddock where Ria was working with Trident, a young Hungarian Horntail, trying to convince the notoriously stubborn dragon that mating was both natural and right. Thus far, it appeared that she was having little success.
"There's a good boy," she crooned, when the dragon deigned to enter the mating paddock. "Good boy, Trident!" Lovingly, she raised her hand to stroke his side, apparently oblivious to the fact that the reason dragons weren't allowed at Hogwarts because they'd fall under the category of 'confiscated and highly dangerous', or indeed, 'run like hell'! Charlie watched her in awe, as she talked to her charge, treating him as though he was a child. Trident was notoriously difficult to manage, and although all the researchers had been willing to work with him, Ria seemed to have a magic touch. Whether this was due to instinctive talent or training, Charlie didn't know, but her technique worked, and as the other researchers were required elsewhere, Trident had become Ria's pet project.
Setting the basket at his feet, he raised his fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle, startling both Ria and Trident. The dragon reared, its lethal tail thrashing, nearly knocking Ria off of her feet. Skittishly, he backed out of the mating paddock and back into the familiar confines of his own territory. Ria hurried towards him, soothing him with love-words.
"It's all right, sweetheart. I'm here. Nothing can hurt you, my precious. I won't let anyone hurt you. There, there. It's all right. I'm here. You're okay. I'll look after you. You're fine, darling. It's all fine..." Charlie marvelled at the patience in her tone, and her obvious affection for the yellow-eyed creature. There was a definite maternal undertone to her words, and the femininity of her actions surprised him.
Then she rounded on him, and all semblance of a nursing mother flew out of the window as she fixed him with a glare, of which Molly Weasley would have been proud.
"What did you do that for?" she demanded. "We had come so far. I've been working on getting him into the damn paddock for the last four weeks, and now look what you've gone and done! Are you mad? On loony tablets? Suffering from the after effects of a Memory Charm? You know you don't startle dragons at this time of year! You know you don't!"
"Sure," Charlie said, torn between annoyance at her countenance and amusement at her words. "But generally, it's considered proper for a dragon's keeper to eat every now and again." She looked at him as though eating was a foreign concept. "I brought you lunch," he added, unnecessarily holding up his basket.
"Oh... Thank you." She had the grace to look embarrassed. "You still shouldn't have upset Trident." She glanced in the direction of the Horntail, who was now crunching the some unfortunate creature's bones with relish.
"Sorry," Charlie said, forcing a contrite measure into his voice. "Are you going to be in before nine this evening, do you think? I was wondering whether I should keep dinner until later...you should come home earlier, you know... Falling into bed in the wee hours isn't good for you..."
"I know that," Ria sighed, tiredly. "But I have a job to do, and Trident here isn't the easiest of customers. And no one else will go near him, poor baby!" She really did sound aghast at the slight being made towards her pet. "I can't just leave him."
"Ria, my dear, I hate to point out the obvious, but Trident is a fully grown Hungarian Horntail. He's the most lethal breed of dragon known to man. I think we can fairly safely say that he is fully equipped to look after himself. And as for no one else going near him - they did, until you got your knickers in a twist and insisted that they were...what was it... 'about as much good as a broken wand?'...in dealing with him."
"He's only a baby," Ria countered. "And it's all very overwhelming for him, poor mite. Besides, if I don't make sure he's fully settled, he might eat somebody, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" There it was again, that barely disguised annoyance.
"No, of course not." Charlie glanced at his watch. He had five minutes to get half way across the reserve. Ria's antics had delayed him considerably more than he had anticipated. "Much as I'd love to stay and discuss all of Trident's...er...shortcomings..., I really do have to get going."
"Yeah, yeah," Ria brushed him off. "You're scared of him, just like the rest of those sorry excuses for professionals. Well, cry me a river. Go on then. Off you go."
"See you later!" Charlie chose to ignore her jibe, knowing it to be false anyway. "AND DON'T FORGET TO EAT!" he yelled, as he left the paddock, earning himself another death stare. He grinned, and continued on his way.
Charlie had his hand up the business end of a Peruvian Vipertooth when Jon's owl arrived, and consequently, it took him a while to get around to reading it. Vipertooths don't tend to appreciate human hands at the best of times, and Charlie wasn't prepared to risk his life at the hands of an enraged reptile, no matter how urgent Jon's message was! Several keepers had voiced concerns that the Vipertooth might have some sort of infection of it's reproductive system, and Charlie had drawn the short straw. As far as he could feel, there was nothing ailing the dragon that a good kick up the backside couldn't fix, not that he was volunteering for that particular task!
Once he had scrubbed himself clean of the Vipertooth's excrement, Charlie finally caught the owl, and untied the message. As he read it, he absentmindedly fed her a treat.
'Charlie,
Please come to my office as soon as is humanly possible - there should be a relief keeper available to take your position in the field. I have just had a very interesting conversation with a Ministry official in London, and it would appear that we are required to turn our skills to their ends once again.
Jon'
Charlie couldn't imagine what London wanted that was so important. The breeding season was the reserve's busiest and most stressful time, and it was very rare for Jon - or indeed, any of the higher-ups - to allow any of their personnel time off until all of the dragons had mated successfully. Even then it was generally accepted that leave would not be granted until the final egg had hatched. Baby dragons being particularly susceptible to illness, it was imperative that there was always a keeper on hand to ensure a safe first month or so. Whatever the bureaucrats wanted, it would have to be pretty extraordinary for Jon to act against the strictures of dragon care passed down through the centuries. An image of The front page of the Daily Prophet formed in his mind, with the headline 'Dragon Ruins Annual St George Feast. Aurors Suggest An Irony Curse Is To Blame.' The Ilfracombe incident also came to mind, and he was torn between an heroic desire to save the day, and the beginnings of a headache, thinking of all the memory charms that would have to be administered. Still, at least that wasn't his job. He'd never been too good at such things; the one time he had tried it on Percy, his mother had still found out about the ferret, and that he was breeding kneazles besides!
Having arranged for the relief keeper to cover for him, Charlie hurried into the woods that shielded Jon's hut from drunken employees, ensuring that he didn't wake up to discovered that the exterior had been turned a brilliant shade of fuchsia overnight. It was a fair trot from the dragons' enclosures to Jon's hut, but Charlie participated in rough physical work for a living, and besides, it wasn't especially dangerous.
Jon met Charlie upon his arrival at the hut, and ushered him through the living quarters to his office. It struck Charlie as odd that the architect had designed the hut in such a way that its owner was constantly subject to scrutiny from potentially unfriendly eyes, but the regimented tidiness of it all suggested that it wasn't much of an issue to Jon himself. Jon's office was strangely bare of any type of décor. Painted in white with a simple blind at the window, it was dominated by a huge desk, at which Jon now sat. It was covered in papers, parchment and quills. Jon gestured for Charlie to take a seat, and then took the seat opposite him, rifling through various sheets of parchment as he did so.
"I'm sorry to have brought you here," he apologised. "I know how busy you all are at the moment. You know I would avoid this kind of interruption if I could, but it appears that our colleagues at the Ministry of Magic are of the opinion that our services are indispensable. Whether we should take that as a compliment or not, I'll leave you to decide."
"It's the Ministry," Charlie said, grinning. "When have they ever cared about us? We're just lackeys to them, keeping the dangerous creatures away from their prize pagodas! I swear, some of them think that this is like a holiday job with a domestic magizoologist!"
"Quite," Jon agreed, a mixture of amusement and tiredness in his tone. "I really am sorry, Charlie, but it really can't be helped. I don't like this assignment particularly much, but for once I'm inclined to agree with the Ministry. We have to deal with it."
"What exactly does 'it' involve?" Charlie asked, curiously. It was unlike Jon to beat about the bush.
"A trip to Siberia. possibly prolonged," Jon replied, rubbing at his temples. He sighed. "Basically, a colony of Ironbellies appear to be threatening the Muggle population, and our Russian counterparts are at their wits' end as to what to do. The Ministry sent me a communiqué to that effect this morning, and I've just finished talking with one of their diplomacy men. By all accounts, these dragons are a particularly wild lot. I need two keepers to go, and they need to be good. Obviously, I'm asking you to go...?"
"Of course," Charlie said, although he wasn't smiling. He accepted that it was his duty to protect innocents from the threat of dragon attack, but the prospect of a trip to Siberia didn't exactly thrill him. It wasn't that he didn't like the col...he did...but really, deserts, sunny or otherwise, were Bill's speciality, not his. Then again, he could make his heroic debut. Such a thought brought the smile back to his lips. It was more likely that he was going to spend a few days with fiddling with unmentionable dragon parts, ensuring the safety of the population. Still, his duty was to serve, and although Siberia didn't appeal to him in the same way somewhere more exotic...say Tenerife, or Barbados...did, he was pleased to be of service to wizardkind. Suddenly a thought struck him. "Who else are you intending to send?"
Jon hesitated, and Charlie could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. He knew what the answer would be before Jon said it.
"Ria."
"She's not going to like it, you know. She'll kick up a right royal fuss. You'll be lucky if she says yes."
"She doesn't really have an option," Jon said. "She has to say yes. She's the best we've got. I'll see to it that she says yes."
"You think it's going to be that easy? You clearly don't know Ria," Charlie felt a bubble of concern develop in his stomach. "She can well and truly stick her heels in, if she wants to. Do you think it's fair to ask her, even? She's been under a lot of stress recently."
"I can accept that," Jon said, tiredly. "But there's a limit to how much we can coddle her. People's lives are at risk. At the end of the day, we can't sacrifice the lives of innocents to suit the whims of a spoiled kid. Ria knows her duty. She'll do what she's told."
Charlie was about to question the morality of such a decision, and object to Jon's description of Ria as a 'spoiled kid', but a rap at the door interrupted him.
"That will be Ria. Would you mind...?"
Wordlessly, Charlie left the room and made to open the door to his friend. Ria looked very put out at the interruption into her life.
"Charlie?! What are you doing here? Is Jon having some sort of crisis? Merri dumped him, has she?" She didn't sound too happy, either.
"No," Charlie said, quietly, and led her to the office. Once in there, Jon waved/gestured for both of them to take a seat. Glowering, Ria did so immediately, but Charlie paused behind his chair for a second, fixing Jon with a warning stare, before settling into it once again. Both of them looked at Jon expectantly, Charlie hoping that Ria wouldn't resist too much, and praying that Jon would exercise restraint in his dealing with her.
"I imagine you're wondering why I've called you here," Jon began. Charlie instantly noted the authoritative nature of his address; so completely different from the informal conversation he'd had with Charlie a minute ago. "It's a matter of some delicacy, I'm afraid, and it requires professionals of a certain calibre. The Ministry has managed to involve the reserve in matters of diplomacy. Naturally, I'm not too happy about this, but they are justified in their requests." Charlie glanced sideways at Ria, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. Well, generally if Jon summoned you at a time like this, you weren't going to like the consequences. This time, in particular, she really wasn't going to like the consequences "You are well aware," Jon continued, "that this reserve is possibly the leading institute of its kind in the world. As an international body, we are under some obligation to ensure that the entire wizarding population is safeguarded from any potential threat, regardless of political or religious motivation. Such a clause was detailed on the contract that you were required to sign on joining the reserve." Charlie wondered why Jon didn't just cut to the chase, instead of talking about paperwork. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ria looking at him, hoping for reassurance. None was forthcoming, a frown was etched on his features, and his usually jolly eyes were distinctly serious. Jon paused and glanced at a rather lengthy piece of parchment: "I received this communiqué from London this morning. In it are detailed instructions pertaining to a wizarding colony in Siberia. It seems the Russian Ministry has requested assistance in ensuring the security of the peoples in question."
"And you want us to go?" Ria was incredulous.
"Yes."
Charlie waited for the inevitable explosion. He was not to be disappointed.
"Are you mad?! Do you know anything about Russian history?! You're sending us into a politically volatile nation that could blow up at any time. More than that, you're sending us to Siberia of all places! Do you know what the Muggles used Siberia for? They sent people to die there!"
Charlie had to give Ria her due...she certainly had a flair for dramatic outbursts. He sincerely hoped that Jon knew what he was doing. He was uncomfortably aware of the tension in the room. He also thought that Ria was being childish. Her complaints were somewhat irrelevant, given that human lives were in danger. He was torn between anger at her inability to see beyond her own worldview, and sympathy for her current plight.
"I am aware of the history of the nation, Ria. That is irrelevant in the current case. If you'd allow me to continue..." Ria reluctantly acquiesced. "The matter in question is one of some delicacy. As I imagine you know, the population of Russian wizards have long been estranged from their Muggle counterparts, ever since the Middle Ages. The friction between the tsarist aristocracy's fear of assassination led to Muggle persecution of wizards. In the interest of ethics, the Russia's magical population deemed that it would be wise for them to separate from the Muggle world, and in 1654 they set themselves up as an independent state. They are, to date, the only such state in existence. They are governed by strict laws. They have practised a programme of segregation from Muggles for so long now that they view it as imperative to retain their distance. They have had difficulty with a colony of Ukrainian Ironbellies, and are increasingly concerned that the Muggle population is at risk. Consequently they have requested the assistance of the reserve, and naturally we have accepted."
"But why us?" Ria asked, and Charlie had to admit that she had a point, although, again, it was somewhat beside the point. They were wasting time, and dangerous creatures were putting the lives of innocents at risk. Finding out why they had been chosen for the task was pretty low down on his list of priorities at that moment. "Don't they have any specialists of their own? Why come to us for help?"
"I don't know," Jon admitted candidly, and Charlie began to hope that the conversation wouldn't be as much of a disaster as he had anticipated. Ria's concerns were understandable, although he thought she was placing too much weight on Muggle politics, but thus far Jon had dealt with them well.
"You don't know?" Charlie realised that he had hoped too soon. Jon would only be able to cope with Ria's dramatics for so long before he snapped. "How can you send us there when you don't even know why it has to be us?"
"I can. I have to. I have all the necessary paperwork here. You should be on your way this evening."
Ria told Jon where he could place his paperwork, although in far more colourful terms. Charlie hadn't been aware that she even knew such obscenities, and he sincerely wished he hadn't had cause to find out. You could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife. He realised he was staring at Ria when she spoke again.
"What?" she demanded. "You don't want to go, do you?"
He began to feel the beginnings of anger rising in his gut. Of course he didn't want to go, but it wasn't about wanting or not wanting to do things. It was about doing what was right, and protecting others. Unbidden, an image of his parents and siblings came to mind. If they'd been at risk then he'd want someone to help them. Going to Siberia wasn't desirable, but it was right. And Ria was just being bloody minded if she couldn't see that. He was about to tell her as much, but fortunately, Jon spoke first.
"It's not a case of wanting to go, Ria. You have to go. You signed a contract."
"To hell with contracts!I've had it up to here with contracts! I signed on to this job to look after dragons, not to lose my life! I'm not going."
It was going to be a battle of wills, then. Charlie looked from one to the other, almost sensing the clash of swords. He didn't want to be here. He was tired of mediating in petty quarrels, and for all the while they were fighting, there were people out there at risk. He wanted to shout at them both, but something held him back.
"I beg your pardon?" Jon's tone was icy, but Ria met his eyes unflinchingly.
"I said I'm not going," she said, simply. "I can't afford to leave Trident right now, and I don't want to go to Siberia."
"I'm sorry," Jon still looked every inch the boss. "There's no one else that can go, Miss Rutherford. It has to be you. There are factors beyond our control involved. Russia is not a politically stable country. You can't refuse to go."
"I just did," Ria said defiantly. "Charlie! Back me up here! He can't make us do this!"
Charlie looked at her disbelievingly. What was he supposed to say? Of course Jon couldn't force her to go, but that was neither here nor there. He felt his barely contained anger rise again.
"No, he can't make you go," Charlie admitted, forcing himself to remain calm. "It's a free country. You can walk out of here and go home tonight if that's what you want to do. You'd be breaking your contract, of course, but pay can be withheld in lieu of notice. Do you really want to do that, Ria?"
He congratulated himself on remaining diplomatic, in spite of the battle instinct raging inside him. Deep down he knew that shouting at Ria would get him nowhere, and he knew as well as Jon did that, other than Jon himself, she was the best qualified person for the job in hand. Then Ria shot him a look that distinctly said 'traitor', and he was torn between a desire to physically knock some sense into her and frustration that she was now annoyed with him as well.
"Don't be stupid, Miss Rutherford," Jon said, authoritatively. "This is ridiculous."
"Ridiculous?" Ria spluttered. "Ridiculous?" She fixed him with a steely glare. "No one ever thinks about what I want around here. Maybe I don't want to be a hero. Maybe I just want to mind my own business and do the job I signed up to do. Just what do you think I am, that you dictate orders to me as though I was a common scullery maid?!"
"What you are, Miss Rutherford, is an employee. What you want is, of course, important to me, but our first concern has to be for the greater good. And I am convinced that you and Mr Weasley are the only people who can satisfactorily do the job. You have until tomorrow morning to make your decision. I understand that you've been under considerable personal stress recently, but I will not have the reputation of this institution in any way tarnished."
"Maybe I don't give a damn about your 'institution', Jonathan Sommers. Maybe, just maybe, I've had it with your over-blown, sycophantic paper-spewing reserve! Oh, you think you have power...well, it might not be a democracy, Mister Sommers, but I still have my rights. You might like to think about that!" With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Jon and Charlie gaping in her wake.
*
"Well, that went well," Jon remarked, drily, once they had recovered from Ria's dramatic exit.
"I don't know what else you were expecting, to be quite honest," Charlie said, fighting to keep the annoyance out of his tone, as he rose to his feet. Whilst he didn't agree with Ria's behaviour - it was verging on childish, the way she'd refused to go - he didn't think that Jon had dealt with the situation in the most tactful of ways, either.
"I was expecting to be treated with the respect I deserve," Jon said, calmly. "It may have escaped your notice, but I am in charge around here, not Ariadne Rutherford. And it is considered usual to do as you're told in the employment hierarchy."
"Sure. But you could have been politer about it."
"I was polite.
"No, Jon, you were condescending. And you know that Ria hates it when people patronise her." Charlie resisted the urge to throttle the man in front of him. Jon sat, composed, behind his desk. It was as if he didn't care about Ria at all, and Charlie knew that wasn't true. He also knew that there was something more than a trip to Siberia behind the friction between his friends.
"Look, Charlie," Jon met his gaze frankly. "It's not just a case of sign this and do that in this job, you know. It's about being a leader, taking responsibility. And all leaders have to make sacrifices of their people. That's what I'm doing with Ria. You need her in Russia. I know that, you know that, and deep down, Ria knows that. But she would never agree to it if I just asked her. You know that."
"She hasn't agreed to it now," Charlie pointed out, still frustrated. Whilst Jon had a point - Ria was unlikely to willingly accept a ticket to Russia - he still felt that a less fraught atmosphere would have made her more receptive to such a proposal.
"She will." Jon said, confidently. "My family has known the Rutherfords for centuries. They always do the right thing. Always. It's all part of their 'honour before honours' motto. It's not just something on the family crest - they live by it. They might be one of the highest-ranking families in the world - and they are, you know - but there's this whole 'we must live up to our responsibility' ethos floating around. It used to drive my mother crazy."
"Is that all this is? A power trip? I thought better of you! You know that Ria will do the right thing, you knew that! What was all the patronising about, then? And the condescending? Was that just to make you feel big?
"Power trip?" Jon looked scathing. "Is that what you think this is?" Charlie looked at him, startled by the bitterness of his expression. "This has nothing to do with power trips. It's about peoples' lives. Real people, Charlie. People like you and me. I don't know much about the situation in Russia, but if the Ministry want us involved, I can guarantee that it's potentially life threatening. And I don't want to be responsible for some child losing a family member. Power has nothing to do with it. Survival, on the other hand..."
"And you think that your power games are going to make a difference in Ria's decision making process? I can tell you now that all you've done is frustrate her. That's never a good thing, particularly not with Ria. She's a reasonable woman, and she'd have been much more likely to listen if you'd treated her with the respect that she deserves. Instead of which, you treated her like a child-" Jon opened his mouth to protest at that, but Charlie waved him aside, allowing his anger free reign. "You did treat her like a child, Jon, and a naughty child at that. She's been working herself sick out there, and you showed absolutely no sensitivity to her at all. As long as you patronise, condescend and bully her - or pull rank, if you prefer to call it that - she's not going to be receptive to you. You should know that."
"Are you questioning my professionalism?" Jon demanded, and there was a dangerous note in his voice now.
"Yes," said Charlie, in a suddenly quiet voice. "I think I am. I think that rather than treating Ria as an employee, you're trying to show that even though you've always been close, and you grew up together, you can still be the one in charge. You're letting childish competitiveness affect your professional judgement, and I - I for one disagree with it." And with that, he turned on his heel and left.
*
Taking the long route through the forest, Charlie mused over how to approach Ria and convince her that her actions had been rude, rash and downright foolish. There was also the small matter of convincing her to reconsider her decision, and persuading her that a trip to one of the coldest, most inhospitable landscapes of the world was actually a good idea. He sighed. It was going to be a long, slow walk home at this rate. He paused to look up at the canopy created by the branches of the ancient trees that surrounded him. Touching one with one hand, and rubbing his temple wearily with the other, he pondered. Judging by the way that Ria had stormed out, she was in no mood to be 'dealt' with. It was imperative that he didn't treat her like a child. At the same time, her actions had been childish. Understandable, certainly, especially given Jon's manner, but childish nonetheless. Would it be possible to reason with her? As a general rule, Ria reacted well to scientific thinking, but his gut instinct was that no, reasoning would not help in this instance. And what option did that leave him? Coaxing. But coaxing-
"Charlie!" He was startled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. "Why are you being propped up by a tree? Are you drunk?"
"No," he shook his head. "Just stupid. Mediating a...discussion...between your other half and Ria."
"That is stupid," Merri said, laughing. "I bumped into Ria on the way out. She didn't seem too happy. Muttered something derogatory about Jon!"
"Sounds about right," Charlie sighed. "To be honest, I can't say I blame her. He wasn't at his best this afternoon."
"He's under a lot of pressure," Merri told him. "The Ministry wants to cut funds to the reserve. If that happens, he'll have to let some of the staff go. He doesn't want that to happen."
"That explains a lot," Charlie told her. He hesitated, and then decided that Jon would probably tell her anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if the Siberian field trip was top secret. "He wants Ria and me to go to Siberia - the Ministry has asked him to send a couple of keepers."
"And if he doesn't do what they ask, he's definitely not going to get the funding," Merri finished his train of thought for him.
"No wonder he was terse," Charlie said. "It didn't do his cause much good, though."
"No, well...Ria rarely responds to antsy people. Goodness only knows why - she was engaged to Aiden Pontin, and he was about as antsy as you could get."
"Key word there: was." Charlie pointed out, sighing again.
"You reckon there's more to it?"
"Perhaps. Who knows? It's not like Ria's telling us anything. She doesn't need to - we're only her colleagues after all." Even to his own ears, Charlie sounded bitter.
"Soft on her, are you, Charlie?" Merri surveyed him critically.
"No."
"Sure. Anyway, saying that Ri views you as a 'colleague' isn't exactly fair. She thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread!"
"She certainly has a funny way of showing it," Charlie said, ruefully.
"Maybe. But her personal history is exactly that...hers. She'll tell you what she needs to tell you in her own time. You just have to be patient, that's all."
"I know. But it's not always easy." He hefted himself up. "And reasoning with her about Siberia isn't going to be easy, either."
"That's true," Merri squeezed his arm. "But you will. You always do." She smiled at him. "I'd best get going, though. Jon will worry if I'm not there before dark."
Charlie watched her retreating figure, thinking. Merri was right, of course. Ria wouldn't volunteer any more information than she wanted to. That didn't make it any easier though. Wearily, he trudged onwards. He wasn't looking forward to getting home. Life with Ria was a balancing act, and tilting the scales had potentially catastrophic consequences, not just for the two of them, but also for the dragon reserve as a whole.