Disclaimer:  The universe, especially Carthak and Queenscove, belong to the marvelous Tamora Pierce.  Athis, Nathaniel of Queenscove, Sir Grailen of Grenfeld, and all unrecognizable characters are mine.

Author's Note:  Hail!  This may be my last one for a bit, as drama takes more time than one would ever guess. Anyway, enjoy and stars bless!     -StarWitch

            Athis yawned and checked the magical leash on the healer yet again.  Neal was resourceful, she gave him that.

            She felt another hard tug on the leash. –And persistent.- Athis had been reluctant to test her magic in front of the man, letting him go out to get food rather than risk either harming Neal or letting him realize she wasn't that powerful or knowledgeable.  Even though the healer thought Athis could crisp him, this had been his sixth attempt in two days.

            With a quick thought and a violet glitter of light, Sir Nathaniel sat before the dragon, a slight frown knitting his brows.  Athis felt her mouth twitch, recognizing the meditation form used to focus one's magical energy.

            -That was a good try.  Did you get some food while you were out?-

            The healer opened his mouth for a moment, then shut it and nodded.  He slowly got up and walked briskly to Athis's wing, jerking slightly when the dragon-woman shifted.  His gentle hands toyed with the torn skin of her wing.  Silence fell.

            Athis's body wanted to sleep, lulled by the afternoon heat and the healer's ministrations, but her mind was wide awake and nervous.  Neal tended to chatter as he worked, humming if he was concentrating.  The silence was odd and boded ill.  So did the lack of his usual energy.  She wished him no harm.

            -Sir Nathaniel?- she said softly.

            The hands on her wing stilled for a moment, then continued.

            -Are you well?- Athis asked again, a warbling note she couldn't help in her mind-voice.  She knew he was scared of her, but if he was hurt…

            The man gave a soft sigh.  "Your wing will be healed soon, my lady."

            -I asked after your health, not my wing, sir healer.-

            The silence gaped again as his hands slowed.  "I am well," Neal said.  Athis tapped him lightly with her tail.  "Well," he admitted, "a touch homesick.  And I have no clue how Sir Grailen took my disappearance."

            Athis twisted her head about to watch Neal, remembering the silver-haired knight.  –He was well when I last checked, if very angry.  He doesn't blame you at all- she assured Neal. –He thinks someone ambushed you.- The man nodded in relief, a slight smile on his lips.  Athis considered him a moment.  –This is your first time so far from home, isn't it?-

            Neal nodded.  "I wasn't-" he stopped, then considered Athis as if measuring her, and shrugged.  "I guess it doesn't matter to you, and you wouldn't be telling a thing to anyone, would you?"  Athis nodded her long head.  Neal settled cross-legged on the ground and the dragon lowered her wing to him.

            "I was only knighted a Midwinter ago" he began, "and before that Sir Grailen was my knight-master.  Someone said he was to teach me tranquility and patience."  Neal's brows quirked and his eyes took a wicked glint.  "To be honest, instead I taught him impatience."  Athis chuckled low in her chest.  Beal continued, "But I did learn being a decent knight from him, and in the end healing taught me to slow down and be calm, for a while.  This was to be my first big mission, out overseas with only Sir Grailen.  I haven't written home for a while now.  I hope they're not worried."

            -Who's at home?-

            "My parents, my grandmother, a tangle of siblings, nieces and nephews.  Some of my brothers and sisters are older than me, and already have way too many little ones underfoot.  Queenscove won't be quiet for another century, at least.

            "I'm one of the younger ones, and basically without a place unless I attract an heiress or earn somewhere from the crown.  Of those, the second is better and much more likely.  Tells something that I doubt it will ever work," he said with a rueful smile.

            Athis cocked her head to the side at that, curiosity questioning how one could know.  As a human, she hadn't been good at divination, but as a dragon…

            On Athis's eyes, she could see the cord of magic connecting her to the young healer-knight, the subtle traces of healings across her wing, and the delicate gold-green tint of healing magic in Neal.  Stretching out a mental claw to that faint aura, Athis carefully thought out a question-spell to the gods.

            -Is there a loving wife and home in his future, Shakith?-

            Her mind walked through a line of violet flames, a gate of glittering gold wind, and finally stopped in front of an opaque black wall.  Athis pressed up against it, distantly surprised that it was human hands she pressed against the wall, a human face she pressed into the smooth, cool surface.  Still shaded by the wall, subtle shapes bloomed and shifted.  Athis squinted, and the image became slightly clearer.  An image of a smiling man with a child on his shoulders, a lovely woman at his side and two more little ones running about them.

            Athis smiled to herself and drifted back into her body.  –You need not worry about your future, sir healer.- she told Neal, resettling her limbs.

            The man frowned slightly as he bent over a shredded flap of skin.  "What makes you say that?" he asked absently.

            -Just trust me.-

~*~*~

            Sir Nathaniel's escape attempts ended that day, Athis thought to herself, but I'm still glad I kept the leash on him.  It wasn't that the man had caused problems, but rather that he seemed to attract them like an open door invited strangers.  For a week worth of healing, she had yanked the healer back to her eight times.  Athis shook her head.

            "Don't you give me that, Lady Athis.  I haven't a clue how I ended up that far in the desert!"

            -You followed a mirage.-

            "What is a mirage?"

            -A mirage is an illusion of the mind.  One often sees them in the desert or at sea when the sun is high.  You do not follow them.-

            "Hm…" the mage hummed.  "Sir Grailen could have mentioned that you don't follow wavering images in the desert."

            -That is common sense.-

            "Which I lack, according to you.  And it's mostly true."

            Athis sighed.  –You're right.  He should have told you because you lack every vestige of sense.-

            Neal mockingly frowned.  "I have some sense!"

            -Your first comment to me was, "After all, who wouldn't want to claim he saved a dragon."  That shows little sense.-  Athis said, cocking her head to one side.

            "You haven't hurt me at all, no nibbles, so I was right.  And I have bragging rights, which is even better."

            -So you were sensible in healing me?- Athis chuckled.

            "Of course!" Neal concluded with a broad grin.

            -But then your first comment saying you have no sense is wrong.  What sense is there in contradicting yourself?-

            Neal made a choking noise and opened his mouth.  Then closed it.  He shook his head.  "Arguing with you gives me a headache, my lady."

            Athis gave a smug draconic smile.  -I know.-

            A comfortable silence reigned for a few minutes, broken only by the healer's humming.  His voice seemed loud.

            "There we are!"

            -Oh?-

            "Your wing is as healed as anyone could make it, my lady," Sir Nathaniel told her.  "Although you may wish to test it first."

            Athis uncurled her long body and rose on her hind legs.  Delicately, she extended her wings and gave a gentle flap.

            It held.

            Athis flapped harder and harder, finally hovering into the air and taking a circle over the place she had lain for over a week.  Neal's upturned face followed her, his expression a mix of glee and awe.

            Athis landed lightly in front of the man, then gave an elegant approximation of a bow.  –You do good work, sir healer.-

            Neal gave a smile.  "I'm glad," he told her honestly.  His smile grew slightly wistful.  "Flying looks wonderful."

            Athis nodded.  –It is the epitome of existence.-

            Neal glanced down.  "This is really the end."

            -Yes.-  A quick movement released the leash spell on the man.  –I thank you for your help, Sir Nathaniel- Athis told him, then prepared to take off.

            The man still stood there.

            Athis hesitated, then crouched down again.  –I will give you a ride back to your companions, Sir Nathaniel.  It is a long way to walk- she told him, wondering why she was doing this.

            Neal's green eyes grew wide.  "Mithros…" he whispered, then carefully walked up beside Athis's neck.  "You're sure about this, lady?" he asked her, suddenly sounding all of six.  A quick image of Oran, eager but cautious, bounced through her mind before Athis shoved it away.

            -Do you want to ride or not?- Athis asked, more irritably than she meant to sound.  She felt a slight weight as Neal clambered up and flung a leg over her neck.  The man leaned against her, holding tight, and the woman thought she felt him take a deep breath.

            "Shall we go, my lady?" Neal asked, his voice scared and excited.

            Athis began to flap her wings in the long-practiced pattern, the knight's weight mattering nothing to her.  She vaguely heard the man whoop as she began to glide back to the forest and the halted caravan, enjoying the feel of the warm air drafts and the sun on her scales and the cheerful shouts of the man on her back.

~*~*~

            Sir Grailen glared at the translator yet again.  "We do not leave until we locate Sir Nathaniel," he snapped.

            "With all due respect, sir," the translator said with one of the low bows Grailen had come to hate three days before, "the young knight is not likely to have survived more than a day without food or weapons.  You should accept the Black God has taken him and pray for his soul."

            Grailen shook his head and walked away from the turbaned Carthaki.  It was unlike Neal to be gone more than a day on his 'expeditions', and the boy's sense of direction was excellent, when he paid attention to it.

            "Boy," Grailen chuckled.  Neal was no longer a boy, but a knight in his own right.  Knighthood, though, protected from little.  The old knight sighed.  Head had lost those he trained before; Mithros willing, Neal would not join their number.

            A soft call made the man raise his head in the direction of the camp, but his servant Bryce looked just as puzzled as Grailen as to the source of the voice.

            "Grailen!" it came again.

            Grailen surged to his feet.  "Nathaniel!" he shouted.  "Get here, boy!"  Sure enough, it was his former squire who tromped through the brush, filthy and grinning.  The young man was unshaven, caked in dirt, and a pinch thinner than when Grailen had last seen him, but the green eyes were bright and excited.  Grailen's mouth involuntarily twitched and he clasped the boy's shoulder.  "Neal," he began, "do that again and I skin you with your own sword."

            Neal put on a serious face.  "Yes sir," he answered before his grin broke out again, "but wait until you hear what happened!"

            Grailen shook his head.  "Very well, lad," he said, "you can tell me on the way to a stream to get this dust off you."

            Neal nodded and started chattering as his former knight-master led him by one shoulder.

            Cloaked and invisible, Athis laughed.