Dorothea, the heir-apparent to Fort Hold kneed her mount into order. The beast quieted and ceased fidgeting, instead stood there in the mud of the road and waited calmly.

"Okay Dorothea, we're ready for you and yer beast," called the Headman of the caravan she was currently riding with.

Her cousin, Lord Treize, felt that it would be a good thing for Dorothea if she could get a wider view of the world before she settled in to running Fort Hold. So he was cross crating her out and sending her to Tilleck to get a look at life in a Sea Hold for a Turn or two. She'd beed land-locked all of her life and had never had any sort of experience with a ship. He had given her specific instructions to engage the people in conversation and figure out how they thought.

"Motivations are what breed action," he insisted. "You should be exposed to as wide a variety of thought and lifestyle and ways of doing things while you are young enough to adjust well. When you are the Head of the Hold, you must be able to understand what motivates the people you will interact with in your dealings in the future. The better you understand them, the better you will know how to deal with them and what will appeal to them. This will save you from making costly business mistakes."

And so that was the reason that she was mounted on her Ruathan-bred Runner beast (a gift from Lord Milliardo on achieving her Minor Majority) and traveling with the traders to Tillek Sea Hold. That was also the reason why she was waiting in the unpleasant drizzle with the mist hanging heavy about her soaking through her well-oiled hides and making the cloth under her riding suit damp and clammy. Visibility was poor, she could see only about five feet in front of her due to the early morning mist. It was one of those mornings where the sky was an impenetrable steely-grey that seemed to hang directly above her head. The mist made the air choking-thick and penetrated all manner of clothing, making whatever she wore uncomfortable. Her hair was damp, her skin was sticky and it made her want to find a place to bathe, even though she knew that as soon as she got out, she'd be sticky again. That wasn't even the worst of itit was cold. Because it was new spring and Fort Hold was in the middle of the continent with no ocean nearby to moderate the temperature, also because of the high elevations due to the mountains, the temperature was unpleasant. Dorothy had no clue how there could be humidty like this and the wheather still be so cold she cold see her breath, but there it was. The when it wasn't drizzling, the water was a fine mist just shy of a drizzle. Her clothing was clinging to her under her oiled riding leathers like the seed-pods of a pricker bush ((A.N. the Pernese equivalent to a "cling-on," or "burr-dock" of the northern temperate zones. You know those things that are like a natural velcro, you can't get them out of your clothes or shoelaces? Nevermind.)) She was not pleased.

<Stupid drizzle, stupid mud,> she thought darkly. The mud was the reason that she was currently standing around doing nothing instead of riding along on her merry little way. One of the wagon wheels in the caravan train had gotten stuck in a rut and the train had stopped while everyone worked to get the thing unstuck from the mud. Unfortunately it was slick going. The melt-water from the mountains had flooded parts of the road in the early spring about a month ago and because of that the ground was particularly soggy. So when the spring rains had rolled through a little early, the ground which was already nicely saturated, had become a mire. The weak places in the gravel of the dirt traveling roads (which were usually safe at this time of year) had filled in and become mud-traps for the wheels to get caught in.

<My poor Niiko,> she thought as she reluctantly harnessed her beautiful, finely bred Ruathan runner up with the others as if it were nothing but a common hauling-beast. She saw the neccessity though, if they did not all contribute the wagon would never get unstuck. That was one thing that Dorothea had learned about the traders and those who followed their lifestyle. They all placed more value on the team or on the family than they did upon individual gain. To them everything was about teamwork, nothing was ever done alone. They liked music around the campfires (which was also enjoyed as a huge group) their children were raised together almost like a herd, they set up camp and broke camp quickly and efficiently and again, as a huge team everyone helping out everyone else to get the job done. They all worked together and shared the rewards together. But even despite their emphasis on the group and teamwork, the people who comprised the trders caravans were some of the most....eccentric and free-spirited individuals Dorothea had ever met.

She was glad that Treize had insisted that she go now. Dorothea felt that she had learned a lot just in the time it took to travel from Fort Hold up to Velen Stakehold (a small Claim somewhere in between Fort Hold and Ruatha Hold). She felt she had a pretty good handle on how the Treaders thought and what motivated them now. Before the speech Treize had given her about understanding some of the differing cultures and lifestyles on Pern, Dorothea had never given it much thought.

"Ready now Miss Dorothea?" called the one leading the mud-hole rescue.

"Yes," she called, holding on to her beast's reigns to ensure that it didn't panic with the press of so many other bodies around it. The group with the pry-bars hovered just on the other side of the wagon, waiting for the wheel to raise up just enough for them to rush in there and stick the levers under the wheel to pry it up. There were wooden slats just in front of the wheels for the wagon wheels to find purchase on.

"Heave!" shouted the leader.

All at once the beasts began straining on the slick ground before them. Even though it had been coated with sand to decrease moisture and increase traction, the road was still slick and their hooves dug in and managed to scoop up great clods of mud. If they didn't get the wagon out soon, the way would devolve into unmanageability.

Suddenly Dorothea heard a war whoop off to the side of her.

<What the-?> she looked over.

Oh shit.

The sound of the fierce and defiant cries of an ambush resounded from the forest cover nearby. The caravan was being attacked.

<It was a trap!> she though dimly as the cries came nearer. <It was a trap and we fell right into it!>

"Arm yourselves!" the voice of the Caravan Leader, a swarthy man by the name of Jimbob, called from his position at the wheels.

"Get the children to cover!" ordered another voice, that of his wife Kinida. "All civilians and non-combatants are to get in the wagons now!"

"Come on Miss Dorothea," said one of the workers next to her. "You'd better get inside now."

"No!" she refused forcefully, drawing her blade with a well-practiced metallic shiiing sound. "I can fight. I will fight!"

"Miss Dorothea...." the man gave up at the look of fierce detirmination in her eye. It was her life after all.

"Van Guards, to the fore!" commanded Jimbob. The central part of the caravan was what needed to be protected the most. The guards were gathering there to fend off the Raiders. Dorothea took a fighting stance alongside two other women trained in the use of steel and prepared to defend her life and the lives of the people who had been so kind to her for the past week.

With a ferocity like a blazing forest fire the Raiders struck at the partially defended caravan. Now Dorothea knew why people claimed that attacks came in waves....They really did come in waves. Like the great waves of a storm crashing into the cliff walls, the onslaught of scoudrels and vandals battered at the defenses around the caravan. Wall after wall of humans surged at their position.

It wasn't at all romantic like it was described in story and song. Who ever had written about the clash of steel upon steel had been an idiot...a sheltered idiot! The cries of men and women as they were hurt and killed filled the air. Smoke and the heavy metallic smell of fresh blood filled the air. These were people she knew, people she had laughed with and sang songs with. And now they were being slaughtered...butchered like cattle. Dorothea would have wept if it were not for the fact that the Raiding party had broken through to her section and she was faced with a smelly, dirty, unshaven scumbag scrap from the dregs of humanity intent on killing her and probably worse than that before he was through.

Dorothea raised her sword. She was an excellent swords woman, but she knew that the man before her had no intention if fighting fair. Her back was to the caravan, there would be no surrender, and no retreat. They would fight until one of them was dead.

"Ah! A comely wench, I like 'em saucy!" proclaimed the Raider with a lecherous perusal of her body.

Dorothea did not bother with replies. Why waste breath on scum like him? Instead she Lunged straight into an attack, one arm extended, the other thrust back behind her, her weight centered. The rogue backed up ungracefully and Dorothea Recovered. She stood in the En Gaurde position for a moment before exploding into a Double Advance, then a Half Advance and a Retreat. Her movements were perfect, her form beyond reproach. She made another Half Advance, bringing her Target Area up to tantalize him. As predicted her went for the attack. Dorothea countered with a textbook Parry Six which was immediately followed by a Riposte. She grazed a rib bone in his side before she recovered and Double Retreated out of range of a Riposte from him. Back in the En Guarde position Dorothea immediately went into a Double Advance lunge, but was Parried by the Raider. She managed to block his Riposte with a Circle Eight Parry and Riposted herself. It fell short as he retreated. Dorothea Recovered back into en guarde position so she would not be caught off guard.

<Enough of this!> she thought. Dorothea pressed the attack. She Double Advanced and he retreated, the Cross-Over Advanced and he Retreated. Finally, he got sick of the retreating, as she knew he would, and went in for the attack. It was a painfully obvious attempt at a half advance faint (Dorothea had had more class with that move when she had been a five-year-old!). She made a Parry Four and Riposted. The Riposte hit off target on his shoulder.

<I'll show him how it should be done!> she thought feircely. Her heart was pumping in her chest and her blood seemed to practically sing through her veins. She had sweat pouring down her back and sides but it was being absorbed by the cotton of her clothes. The light scarf she wore against the cold and rain was fortunately absorbing all of the sweat before it could run down into her eyes and distract her. Oddly, despite the grim conditions of the battlefeild and the sounds of the skirmish raging around her, Dorothea felt almostlight. A sort of savage joy hummed through her body, betrayed only by the feral snarl on her face.

Dorothea made a Double Advance and then a hald andance to tanalize him with her target area again, as predicted he went for the attack again. She waited until he was fully commited to the attack and then made one of her own. It was a Beat-Disengage. Her fingers tightened around the french handle of her blade slightly causing the blade to jerk sideways into his own and knock it out of her way. She then made another very slight movement with her hand and wrist and her blade circled around (this was called a disengage) his parry six and came in directly at his target area.

This time instead of the tip bending and a halt being called to the match....the blade remained straight and true, sliding into his flesh and scraping against bone. Dorothea made the mistake of looking into his eyes as the blade sliced into his chest. His eyes widened in surprise pain then slowly filmed over. He stared. The part of her that was not engaged in contemplating the look of horror on his face, that was quite disconnected with everything her body was doing at the moment, noted that the feeling of the blade running through him felt remarkably like she was cutting up meat for a stew.

She pulled the blade from his body with a jerk and let him fall to the ground. She had other things to worry about now that he was out of action. Another attack came at her, this one was a double team effort and they were fighting for everything they were worth. Most probably because they had just witnessed her slay their brother or cousin and not think twice about it.

Dorothea knew when the odds were aganst her. Battling one to one was easy enough for her, but she knew that as soon as the ones trying to kill her now called for back up it would be all over. Dorothy couldn't lunge for an attack because that would leave her fanks wide open for the other one to dart in there and run her through. Likewise if she played defensively they would keep at her until they wore her down. When she was tired. she would eventually open herself up for an attack.

<Why did I have to insist on fighting?> she wondered absently. But she already knew the answer.

It was better than the alternative. She could not simply wait, cowering inside the wagons with the frightened women and children, for an enemy attack that might or might not make it through the defensive lines. She would rather be out there fighting than waiting like some kind of sheep biding their time at a slaughterhouse. At least she was doing something, not sitting in the dark hoping that others would save her. This way she would live or die by her own blade and no one else's, and who knew, she might just be able to save a life or two.

The two raiders attacking her tried to chase her around until she was in a bad position, tried to make her stumble on uneven ground or slip in the mud. Unfortunately for them Dorothea stood her ground and refused to give an inch. She parried and riposted each of their attacks and was actually managing to score more hits on the two of them then they were on her.

"Hurry up and kill this wench," one urged the other. The two Raiders looked like polar opposites, one was dark-haired and dark-skinned, while the other was fair-haired and fair skinned. Both were amateur with a blade at best, they did okay at hack and bash, but when it came down to skill she had them hopelessly outclassed.

"Our employers won't be happy if we let this one escape," said the fair one breathlessly. They were getting winded from the fight while Dorothea was still relatively fresh. She was expending a lot less energy with her movements where as they had been running and leaping about before meeting up with her and were even now flailing about with their blades clumsily trying to beat aside hers.

<It's a rapier, not a rolling pin!> she thought in disgust as she deflected another attack. Still, she knew she could not afford to get over-confident, one mistake here would cost her her life. <Hey, wait a minute....>

The full import of what the one Raider had said to the other struck her.

<Employer?!>

That would mean that this attack was more than just a random attack on a defenseless caravan. If the Raiders had an employer it meant that someone was pulling the strings, that someone had ordered this attack specifically. And if that were so then things were worse than even she had imagined.

<I must get more information out of them. I have to know who is behind all of this!> Dorothea was well aware of the recent troubles that everyone was having with regards to the recent Raider attacks on shipping lines and increased hostile activities along the borderlands between hold-territories. If these attacks were actually being ordered by someone else

<This is bad. Really bad. I must get the information!>

With that, Dorothea suddenly leapt into the offensive with a surprise beat-diengage, then a lunge which planted her rapier point right in the chest cavity of the dark-haired raider. Another man was dead by her blade. Dorothea knew that the look in his eyes as she ran him through would come back to haunt her in her sleep for the next few nights, but she would worry about that later.

"Who is it?" She demanded. "Who is paying you to attack?"

She advanced on the fair-haired Raider, slaughter in her eyes. She knew that the Raider knew by looking at her that she meant business and she would not hesitate to kill him if she didn't get what she was after.

"I-I....I don't know!" he blutred out, trying to back away into an escape.

"I don't believe you. Give. Me. The names!" she growled.

"I don't- I don't know anything!"

The fair-haired raider stumbled over a tree root and was pushed back against a tree trunk. While he was mometarily distracted and off balance, Dorothea rushed at him like a pouncing southern lion and beat his blade out of his (incorrect) grip. The tip of her rapier danced at his throat.

"Unacceptable. Try harder. I'm sure you can come up with something, tell me what you know."

The Raider stood there, gasping in fear and didn't say anything. Dorothea pressed the tip softly against his throat, a small ruby of blood blossomed on his skin.

"Okay! Okay....." he relented. "I was never told any of the important stuff, I'm not in charge. But the boss says that every few days or so he gets new orders for an attack, someone sends us the coordinates and a sack of marks as half-payment for taking on the job. Boss keeps saying something about being on top right along with 'em when the time comes. I've also heard it's the same jack every time."

"Who's sending the money?" she snarled, raising her blade.

"I said I don't know! All I know is something about a ledger the boss has on him at all times," the Raider babbled. "He keeps all the stuff in there, something about a great plan. That's all I know I swear."

Dorothea let the blade slide off his throat. She knew when the person was tapped out, she wouldn't get anything more useful out of him. Still, what he had told her was enough to confirm her fears. This was bad.

<I have to find that Raider-boss of his!> she thought as she stepped forward and pommeled him with the pommel of her rapier. Sure, the move was not allowable in a civilized fencing match, but this was not a civilized battle and she needed the raider out of her way for good. One should never leave their rear unprotected.

Dorothea charged off into the fray, looking for the man in charge.

<Logically, the best place for him to be would be back behind his men. Raiders are essentially a greedy and self-interested lot, and the boss is probably the greediest and most self-interested out of all of them so naturally he would want to stay out of danger.>

She surveyed the area around her, the caravan traders were just barely hanging on and people on both sides were falling left and right. However, she knew that if she did not find this king-pin (she had always wondered what the hell that term meant) and get his ledger and figure out what was going on, the Raider attacks would continue unabated and many more innosents would die. More children would be slaughtered....More children that were like her cousin Mariemaia.

Her expression hardened. <No more.> She ducked in and out of fights, helping where she could as she moved ever farther away from the battlerfeild intent of hunting down her chosen quarry. She collected not a small amount of scratches on her, but because of the adrenaline pumping through her veins her pain-senses were deadened and she didn't notice them much. She was soon surrounded by the tree cover, the sound of leaves whispered softly under her feet, the recent rain had made them soggy and limp so they did not crackle as they otherwise would have, betraying her position. At the sound of movement not too far ahead of her she froze and crouched low, her ears keen and every sense alert as she craned her head from side to side listening. The mists parted.

She'd spotted him. He was right where she'd thought he would be. She knew him by the exceptionally fine clothing he wore, by the well-filled mark-pouch at his waist, and by the ledger he clutched in his right arm. He was about two dragonlengths from her and there was no one in between her and him.

<No sense being careless,> she thought and surveyed the area around her once again, looking carefully for hidden foes. <Stupid. I guess he figured that no one would come out here looking for him, and under normal circumstances he'd be right. No one would have any interest in seeking him out when they're all busy defending their caravan and women and children.>

She felt a small pang of guilt for abandoning her escorts on the battlefield but brushed it aside, she had an obligation to Pern to find out what was in that ledger. She hesitated no longer and crept around until she was behind him, three dragonlengths away.

There was no more hesitation in her. She rushed up at his back and swung with all her might at his neck. It slid cleanly into his flesh, the bone of his upper vertebrae causing almost no obstructions. Blood spurted out of the wound to the rhythm of his momentarily beating heart and splattered on Dorothea, who ignored it as she watched the head slide off from the neck and fall to the ground like a stone. Half a second later the body toppled over and joined it. The blood stopped spurting and oozed out into a thicening pool before it was absorbed by the ground.

<Damn,> she realized too late. <I should have kept him alive. We could have pumped him for information.>

Oh well. It was probably just as well. She wasn't sure how strong he was and if she could keep him detained long enough for help to arrive. He probably had a hard head anyways and she might not have been able to render him unconscious. Besides, interrogation went against her cousin Lord Treize's scruples (although Lady Une might not have any problems with it).

She riffled his body and cut off his pouch full of marks.

<It is quite fitting indeed that the raider should reimburse the traders that he attacked with his own money,> she thought. <One might even call it justice.>

Pulling out the ledger and turning her attention to his inside pockets she discovered noting further that might possibly serve as any kind of a clue to helping with the Raider problem that was fast becoming a dilemma.

The sound of a trumpet called into the air and the distant noise of a pitched battle changed to the sound of an all out retreat. The Raiders would be coming in her direction to escape .

<I'd better take cover, they probably wouldn't mind killing me on their way out,> she thought glancing around. There was no immediate ground cover, no bushes nearby, not a fallen log to hide under. Dorothea tucked the precious ledger that was their only link between the raiders and whoever was behind it all and sheathed her rapier in preparation. She grabbed the lowest branch of the largest tree nearby and hauled herself up onto it. The sound of the route was coming closer. Frantically she scrambled the rest of the way up, tree climbing hadn't really been her thing when she was younger.....Dorothea had an eensy-teensy fear of heights. Regardless of the heights, the tree was her only refuge at the moment and she was damned if she was going to wait down there to be trampled by a horde of panicked cattle with blades.

<What could have spooked them so greatly into retreating from a battle that they were already winning?> she wondered, puzzled.

She had her answer a few minutes later when a great shadow passed over her. A dragon. The Dragonriders had arrived.

Dorothea watched from the tree top (being very careful to not look down) as the two bronze dragons swooped down on the offending team like a stooping avian predator, trumpeting their anger at the Raiders for daring to attack on their watch. It was a spectacular sight, and one Dorothea probably would have enjoyed more if she had been on the ground.

<Okay, now I have to get down and ask one of them to take me to cousin Trieze, he must know about this immediately!>

Being very careful to not look down as she carefully felt her way back down the trunk, Dorothea slowly and cautiously made her way to the ground, dropping the last few feet in her haste to make it to the site before the Dragonriders could leave.

Dorothea rushed back up to camp which was swiftly being sorted out and put back into order. The sick were being dragged to a triage infirmary, the dead being laid out and covered, the living were searching among the kin for their loved ones.

"Miss Dorothea!" cried one of the ones at the triage post. "By the first egg! Are you alright?!"

Suddenly Dorothea realized how she must look. She covered in blood from the last man she had killed and running towards the camp like she had wherries on her tail.

"I'm fine," she said, resisting the urge to start laughing at the poor woman. She had the distinct feeling it would have come out hysterical anyway. "I need to talk to the leader, and to one of the dragonriders immediately."

She rushed off to where the two Dragonriders stood, side by side, over a prone body covered in a jacket.

"Excuse me," she said urgently. Her upbringing to be proper and polite warred with her sense of the immediate need to take her information the Lord Treize. "I hate to interrupt but what she have to say can't wait."

The two riders looked up and over at her. One was tall and lanky, with medium brown hair combed over one of his deep green eyes. The other was shorter with platinum blonde hair and sea blue eyes. Their dragons waited nearby, trying to stay out of the way.

"Yes miss?" quiried the tall brown-haired one quietly. Dorothea got the feeling that he did everything quietly, but effectively none the less. She brushed aside her idle speculation impatiently, now was not the time for it.

"I'm Dorothea of Fort Hold," she said. "I really need to get this information to Cousin Treize immediately."

"If it's about the attack I'm sure he-"

"No," she cut him off. "I'm soory to be rude, but I need one of you to take me to Fort Hold right away, this can't wait."

"Calm down miss Dorothea, you're alright now. What can't wait?" asked the blonde one, trying to get her to calm down enough to make sense.

"This!" she replied, sliding the ledger out of her waist and shoving it at the blonde. The man took it from her and flipped it open, skimming the pages swiftly. His eyes widened as he grasped the import of what was written in the ledger. Dorothea noted that it didn't take him long. He had to have some kind of background in accounts.

"She's right, this can't wait," said the blonde.

"You go to Fort Hold with Miss Dorothea to deliver that book to Lord Trieze, he'll know best what should be done with it. I wouldn't trust any other Lord Holder to know what to do with it as Lord Treize," said The brown-haired one. "Good luck Quatre, I'll meet up with you later."

"Right Trowa, I'll see you then," the blonde named Quatre. He turned to Dorothea. "If you would come with me miss?"

She didn't hesitate, at least not until she saw his dragon. Then the full import of what she was about to do hit her. She was going to be riding on a dragonup in the air. Hundreds of feet up in the air. Dorothea suddenly got that roiling sick feeling in her stomach.

"Don't worry," he said mistaking her sudden hesitation for fear of his dragon. "Roketh won't hurt you." And he quickly and neatly bundled her onto his bronze dragons back and climbed up in front of her.

"That's not the problem," she told him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "You see, I have this terrible fear of heiiiiiiights," her last word was dragged out as the dragon gave a mighty heaving leap and launched himself into the air. His wings caught the current and soared them up higher. Even so, it felt to Dorothea like they were plummeting downwards and her stomach leapt up into her throat. Roketh beat the air with his wings and for a moment Dorothea felt stableand then she accidentally looked down.

"Eeeeeeeeeek!!!" she shrieked involuntarily, fear seizing hold of her throat and forcing the scream from it.

"Don't look down," Quatre called over his shoulder against the wind rushing around them.

"Now he tells me," she muttered, just barely managing to keep down the contents of her fear-knotted stomach.

"We're going to go Between now," he told her. "Don't worry, it will all be over soon."

"I'm not-"

Then everything suddenly stopped. There was no sight, no sound, no sensation except bitter coldness. Dorothea couldn't feel a thing and it was at that moment that she realized.....there were worse things than being in a far up place....and this was it.

Before she could gather her breath enough to scream in terror, light exploded back around her again. She could feel, she could hear, she could seethe groundand it was rushing towards her. Her heart and stomach suddenly tried to crawl out her throat again. She tightened her grip on the only thing solid she had to hold onto to keep from screaming in mortal terror again.

"Miss Dorothea....I can't breathe," she could hear Quatre gasp out over the rushing wind.

"And I can't let go," she whimpered in embarrassment. "Please, just get me on the ground!"

Heartbeats of eternity later Roketh was backwinging into the courtyard of Fort Hold. He settled into land with a very gentle bump and all was blessedly still. No more wind, no more falling, just the steady feel of the sweet solid terra firma beneath herunder the dragon actually, but Dorothea found that her muscles had frozen up and she couldn't move.

"Miss Dorthea, we're on the groundyou can let go now," Quatre gasped as she still had his waist in a death-grip.

Dorothea released her hold muscle by muscle, trembling silently in reaction. Quatre sighed in relief as he was no longer being squeezed like a tube of nutra-paste. Dorothy leaned to one side and fell off the dragons back onto the ground, not even able to get her mind working ell enough to dismount properly.

"Miss Dorothea!" Quatre cried in alarm. He hadn't really been expecting that.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," she said distantly, simply laying there on the ground in the middle of the courtyard, apparently wishing nothing more than to feel the solid earth beneath her. Quatre dismounted and bent over her, hand on his knees.

"You know, you did really well for someone who is afraid of heights," he told her, looking down at her drawn and pale face in concern.

"I nearly wet myself," she admitted. The shock going through her system at the moment was making her unusually candid.

"People who have no such fears have soiled themselves their first time going Between," he said. "You were very brave today."

"I don't feel brave. I feel sick."

"Here, let's get you on your feet" he reached out a hand to help her up. For once, instead of refusing, the proud Dorothea took the help offered gratefully and allowed herself to be assisted to a vertical position. But once there she discovered that her stomach and her nerves were still in a rather delicate position.

"Huuhhn," she gasped inarticulately. It was the universal I'm-gonna-puke sound.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she muttered as she turned and ran for an out-of-the-way corner of the courtyard. There she doubled over and threw dignity and elegance to the wind as her stomach heaved and emptied itself of its contents all over the neat paving stones.

"That man....I killed," she gasped. "Those eyes....staring. Blood." "Huuhhhnn. Huuhhhnn."

Quatre held her shoulders and rubbed her back as the heaving continued. Eventually, she ran out of vomit and then was faced with the horrid feeling of dry-heaves. Dorothea felt like her stomach was trying to force its way from her throat. Finally the heaving ceased and Dorothea's legs gave way beneath her, fortunately it was out of range of the vomit splatter. She swallowed and wiped her lips, grimacing in disgust. Quatre offered her a swig of water from the skin at his side.

"Don't you have anything stronger?" she said hopefully.

"Sorry. I never consume alcohol while on patrol," he said. "Drink some more, you need to replenish your body's liquid reserves. Water is best for that."

"We shouldn't waste anymore time here," she said, suddenly remembering the urgency of her mission. "I have to get to cousin Treize with the ledger immediately." She hauled herself to her wobbly feet and tried to strike off in the right direction.

"Whatever is going on here?" called the calm and capable voice of Lady Une from the entrance of the courtyard. She was followed swiftly by her husband and her child. She took one look at Dorothy, still covered in blood, and rushed to help her into the hold. "mariemaia, go get the Healer."

"Oh, don't! It's not mine," she said gesturing to the blood. "It's the Raider leaders blood. And that's why I'm here. Cousin trieze you have to see this immediately it-"

"Can wait until we reach the privacy of my office," he said smoothly. "Come along. Mariemaia, if you would kindly trot down to the kitchens and round up a tray of food, I do believe my dear cousin could use something to eat."

"Are you certain that you are unharmed," said Lady Une, peering into her cousin's face intently.

"If you think I look bad, you should see the other guy."

Soon Dorothea was seated in a comfortable chair in Treize and Une's private office, meatroll in one hand glass of brandy in the other. Treize had her begin her tale at the beginning, with the wagon wheel getting stuck in the mud. From there she continued her narrative about how the caravan had been attacked, with either Trieze or Une inserting a question here or there to try to extract more precise information. Dorothea didn't venture any guesses, not yet. This was the time for straight facts and bare information.

When she reached the part about where she had killed the Raider boss, it triggered the memory of the pouch of marks which she had hidden carefully away.

"Oh, and QuatreI would like to ask an additional favor of you. I forgot in the rush to get here to give this to Jimbob, the leader of the caravan. I want you to take it back with you and hand it over to them. It is fitting that the Raiders pay for their attacks out of their own pockets. It won't recompense the lives lost, but at least it will help pay for any damaged equipment."

"You're kind Miss Dorothea," said Quatre.

"Can I see the pouch?" requested Treize. He had a small frown on his face, as if he were hoping for something but already knew that it wouldn't turn out that way. Without hesitation, Dorothea handed over the pouch. She knew that Treize had no interest in taking the marks for himself, he did not practice such underhanded things. It was inelegant.

Treize untied the knot and pulled apart the drawstring. He peeked inside and his eyebrows involuntarily raised at the amassed wealth in the simple hide bag. Then he gave a disappointed shrug and handed it to Lady Une. She too, looked disappointed.

"Damn. I was hoping...." he said. Treize rarely ever cursed. He considered it too crude for his refined tastes.

"Hoping for what?" asked Quatre. The he understood. "You were hoping that all of the marks would be particular to one hold, or at least one Crafthall within a Hold. Something that could easily be traced back to the real culprit."

"Yes," said Lady Une. "But, no such luck. All of the marks are of differing origins. They can't be traced back to any one hold and so that hope's a dead end. Here Quatre, take these back to the caravan traders with our condolences." She added and additional small pouch of marks to the raider's pouch, ones from Fort Hold.

"I will," he said agreeably.

"And you," said Treize, turning to Dorothea. "You should get some rest. We've heard everything of immediate use, you should go to bed and get some sleep."

"But I'm not tired, and I'm not a child," she said, looking a trifle defiant and offended.

Une chuckled. "No one said you were dear, but you've had a very long day already. Full of horrors. You'll feel better after a good rest under your ear."

"But what about Tillek?" she asked suddenly. "I was supposed to go there"

"If you like Miss Dorothea, I can come by tomorrow and convey you there on Roketh," suggeted Quatre kindly. Forgetting for the moment about her agoraphobia.

Dorothea shot him a wide-eyed "you've-got-to-be-kidding-me" look.

"No thanks, I think I'll walk," she said dryly. Treize smothered a chuckle, and Dorothea glared at him.

"It won't be so bad," said Quatre. "And there's no faster way to get where you're going."

"Very well. For the sake of convenience then," she yielded reluctantly. Then she found herself yawning, much to her surprise and with a cordial good-bye to Holders and Rider, she took herself up to bed for that rest.

Once they had seen the young dragon rider on his way with the pouch full of coins and wishes for a safe trip, Lord Treize and Lady Une retired to the office they shared.

They looked at the ledger sitting harmlessly on Treize's desk. Neither spoke. There was complete silence in the study as they both contemplated the meaning of what that book represented. It was the confirmation of every fear regarding the recent increased Raider attacks that they had been secretly hoping against hope wasn't so. It was proof of what they had known all along but had been afraid to acknowledge. The Attacks were part of a plan, not random as they seemed to be.

Suddenly, needing the comfort of the others embrace as strongly as they had ever needed food or drink, they fell into each others arms. Trieze crushed his beloved lady to his chest and she wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder. They stood there silently for a while, just breathing, neither speaking, just comforting and being comforted. After a long pause Lady Une broke the silence with a simple question.

"What should we do?"

He voice sounded small and afraid in the stillness of the room.

Trieze took a deep breath, but continued holding her, as if he was drawing strength from her physical presence.

"I....Don't know Lady."

"Treize..." she broke their embrace to face him, showing her unconditional love and support. The person or group of people behind paying off the Raiders for these attacks on Hold shipping lines has covered their tracks very well. Right now we only know that someone in a Hold somewhere is behind this. We only have half of the puzzle..."

He finished her reluctant thought for her.

"Perhaps we should wait a bit longer and see what else we might do to flush out the ones responsible for this mess."

He held up a hand to forestall her protests.

"I know...I want them as bad as you do, love, but as long as we have the ledger and they don't know how much we know or have been able to figure out," said Treize. "That gives us an edge. There is a further matter to consider."

Une nodded. "The reaction of the Council when we confront them with this evidence that one of our peers is plotting against us."

"You know as well as I do that once word of this gets out, they'll immediately start blaming each other," Treize said with resignation. "The tensions have been rising among the Lord Holders for the past few years. Ever since Thread began to fall from our skies once more the other Lord Holders have been burning the candles at both ends trying to keep their fields and people safe. This has made them all ornery and snappish. Quicker to take offense and less inclined to forgive it. Putting further pressure on the already precarious balance between our colleagues could be the final straw to break the runner beasts back and cause them to splinter instead of drawing closer and working together to solve this difficulty."

"If we come forward with this knowledge now the enemy will know precisely how much we know and will be able to adjust their plans accordingly and act in ways we will not be able to predict," said Lady Une. Her finely tuned, strategist mind turning the problem over and over for examination. "However, if we keep the ledger and study it's contents we will perhaps be able to predict where their next strike will be and....what is that old saying 'beat them to the punch?' With any luck our unseen enemy will be caught of guard and grow careless, make a mistake that will enable us to discover the face of our enemy."

"That particular plan relies entirely too much on luck for my taste. Unfortunately, I do not see another way around it. No Lady, you're correct. Now is the time to watch and wait, study the moves of our shadow enemy and try to predict their moves. Also, there is a certain wisdom in not putting all of our eggs in one basket so to speak. Right now this ledger is the only clue we have to the connection between the Raiders attacks and the Hidden Agenda of one of the Lord Holders."

"And if we were to bring our knowledge to the Council chamber as it is, not only will it cause them to splinter and grow suspicious of one another no matter how much we reassure them that the ledger is our only link and we came upon it almost by accident, they are all automatically going to assume that we're holding something back."

"Another good point my Lady," said Treize, more than a little relived that she was seeing things his way in this. He and his beloved Lady did not always see matters eye to eye, and she could be frightfully stubborn when she felt she was right. He needed her support in this, he needed her there by his side. He needed her strength just as much as she needed his for he knew deep in his soul that things were going to get ugly before long. He hoped by any guiding power in the universe that it would never come to a war between all holds. Civil War left scars on the souls of people that were generations in healing, family might be forced to fight family before all of it was over.

"Well at least now we know that they do in fact have someone backing them. That only leaves us with two basic questions right now. Who and why. Raiders are generally a self-interested mercenary lot, they all want to make sure they're going to survive to spend their marks. So they always have an objective, a set of goals that they feel are at least attainable. These random attacks on shipping lines didn't make much sense until now."

"Yes, they were completely unpredictable due to their randomness. It made no sense for when a Raiding party attacks they have set procedures that they follow. They come in, they take whatever they can grab, and they leave. They do not trap, they do not burn, and they cetainly do not massacre innoscent women and children. At least they never had before now. But faced with the knowledge in this ledger, we can see clearly that there is a goal. The goal is the cause as much dissention between the other Holds and to split the gaps between holds and weyrs. They wish to break down communications and create conflict."

Yes, and it looks like they might succeed in their goals regardless. I don't know Lady Une," at this Treizr ran a hand through his hair worriedly. He didn'' do that very often (he felt that it gave him an unneccessarily messy appearance and Treize hated to look messy) and when he did Une knew that he was very worried indeed.

"It seems like keeping the council chambers from devolving into a screaming match is like trying to argue with a thunderstorm. No matter how you scream at it, you'll still get wet."

"Not all of the Lord Holders are as unreasonable as those of Bitra and Nabol. You and I both still carry enough weight in the council chambers to keep things together. At least for a little while. Long enough to do what needs to be done."

"I am now more than ever glad that you are with me My Lady," said Treize, his voice reflecting the tenderness he found in her eyes. But she saw that his eyes were still clouded with troubles.

"Do not look so sad my love," she said. "Yes, the path ahead will most probably be a difficult one, but admit it, you would not want things to always be easy."

Treize gave a small laugh and held her closer as he said

"Don't you think we have enough to deal with with Thread?"

"The universe puts obstacles before us in our path so that we may learn from our struggles. This is no different. At least in the end, Mariemaia will be safe. She can be fostered over to Lord Milliardo and Lady Une at Ruatha. They will take care of her."

"We're not defeated yet, my Lady," he told her raising her chin to look into her eyes.

"No. And now is the time to prepare. In preparation we may gather the hope of winning the battle if we cannot outmaneuver our foes."

Treize looked down into the shining and confidant eyes of his wife and love and for the moment, found comfort.

Trowa looked around the mess that was the temporary camp of the Traders caravan. There was the sound of weeping accompanied by subdued chatter. People spoke in low, hushed voices out of respect for the newly dead, newly widowed, newly deprived. The Family would always be there for the caravans, there were no orphans among the traders. But Trowa well remembered the feeling of loss and desolation that accompanied the painful loss of loose family. He was supposed to have been to young to remember anything, but he remembered. He remembered and he carried it with him.

-Roketh is retuning, Quatre says he was given something to deliver to the leader of the caravan. He seems somewhat happy about it, at least as happy as the situation permits.-

-Thank you Armyth,- said Trowa. He turned his head to watch the graceful landing of Roketh and Quatre.

Quatre, the former heir to Tilleck Sea Hold, had been Trowa's best friend for many years. Like Catherine and Armyth, Quatre was the one who comprised his little make-shift family. Sometimes, like when he watched the young bronze rider slip smoothly from his dragons back and alight on the ground with a cheerful smile, he confused Trowa. Catherine did nothing to enlighten him about his odd confusion, other than smile mysteriously when he asked her about it and told him that he'd know when he needed to.

"Hey Trowa," Quatre greeted. The subdued atmosphere managed to dim even his smile. "I need to fine the leader of this caravan. Dorothy recovered a rather large pouch full of marks from the body of one of the Raiders and she wanted me to give it to the traders to help out with their recent difficulties. As she said, it won't bring anyone back, but it will help out around here."

"Jimbob died in the struggle. It now falls to his nephew Corwin to handle these matters," said Trowa gravely. "I'll show you to him."

"Lady Une also gave a pouch of coins in consolation, Miss Dorothea is resting. She's had quite a day."

"Yes," said Trowa, leading his friend through the camp to the main wagon wherein the newly promoted Caravan Leader was desperately trying to sort out the mess that the raid had left of his uncles caravan. There were signs of grief etched in lines on his face, lines that should not have been there for many years yet.

"This," said quatre presenting the small pouch of coins first. "Is from Lady Une and Lord Treize in condolences for your rcent losses, and to thank you for protecting their cousin so diligently. This," he presented the much larger pouch of coins. "Is yours by right. Dorothea took it from he body of a dead raider and feels that it would be fitting for the raiders to pay for the defacement they inflicted."

"I couldn't..." Corwin began.

"Hush," said Quatre. You can and you will. Your people may need this before long, it will help to cover the damages. A good half of your caravans were set fire to by the raiders, there are tents and other articles that they managed to make off with that need to be replaced, there's the routine maintenance... Trust me, I know. These things don't come cheaply. You must consider the needs of the people in your charge first."

"Of course. Thank you, and please give my thanks to the Lady and Lord of Fort, and to Miss Dorothea when you next see them."

"I will do that," promised Quatre. "Now, go and tell your people. After such a shocking blow they need every bit of good news they can get."

Aye, that they do," said the young leader. With a formal bow to the two bronze wingleaders Corwin exited the main wagon and went to tell those that could listen the good news.

"How much longer will these attacks continue, do you think?" Trowa asked.

"It's hard to say. I guess....Until the Raiders get whatever it is their after."

"They knew we were coming," said Trowa suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Some how, they knew when our Dragons were apporaching because they were already retreating by the time we arrived."

"Maybe the traders had them on the defensive," ventured Quatre hopefully.

"No," said Trowa with final certainty. "No there were too many Raiders for that. With that great an oppositional force the Raiders had to know they had the advantage. They wouldn't have given up, not until this caravan ended up like all the others."

The young Bronze riders voice carried the death toll of finality. He knew what he was talking about.

Quatre knew that he was right.

"I have to go and pick up Dorothea tomorrow. She got a better look at what was in the ledger, perhaps I'll bring her by and we'll see what she can remember."

"Do that," said Trowa, the notes of grimness sotened from his voice. "This girl....she really impressed you?"

"I suppose she did, yes. She's brave. She's afraid of heights and yet she rode on the back of a dragon to get the ledger to her cousin. That takes guts."

"Indeed," Trowa agreed. "Perhaps we should bring her in on out little conspiracy of light, what do you think?"

"I'll sound her out. She'd be a good addition."

Trowa nodded quietly, then said

"You do realize that these attacks can't be just random attacks anymore..."

"The ledger proved that," Quatre agreed. Then he said hesitantly. "Trowa...How much do you trust Lord Treize and Lady Une?"

"A year ago I would have told you that I thought they were about as trustworthy as any other Lord and Lady Holder, but in my dealings as wingleader I've gotten to know them a little better. I've revised my opinion of them. I think they are a pair of the few true and honorable Lord Holders on Pern. I believe they truly do want what's best for Pern."

"They did indeed look worried when they saw what was in the ledger. My instincts tell me that they're on our side. I think we should offer our assisstance, perhaps through Wufei. He's a wyerleader, that gives him equal rank with a Lord Holder. If anyone could convince him that our conspiracy is more than a bunch of young people jumping at shadows he could."

"Perhaps, and maybe they're the Holders behind the conspiracy," Trowa felt obligated to point out.

"No, I don't think they are," said Quatre. "For one thing, Treize is too...fastidious to encourage the kinds of practices Raiders have been employing. Everything in me says their on our side."

"Even so, it would be wise to wait a while before we reveal our hand, just to make sure."

"What do you think they'll do with the ledger?"

"It's hard to say. Friend or foe, they may need to wait a while before they play their cards." ((A.N. Pern does indeed have its own deck of cards called dragon poker cards...Three suits of seventeen cars each, (Hold, craft and weyr) four ace cards a piece. Harpers cards are usually wild, Faces of local or poular Lord Holders are often painted as face cards of a deck. For further reading of Dragon Poker cards consult the DragonLovers Guide to Pern.))

"Even with the ledger, the connection between the Raiders and their unseen Holder allies is tenuous," Quatre said. "It would be the wisest course to wait. However, I have a feeling that Dorothea at least is not on the side of the Raiders or she would not have risked so much to kill the Raider chief, and get the ledger back to someone she trusted with it. This, if nothing else should tell us that the Lord and Lady od Fort are honorable and wish to see these Raiders stopped just as much as we do."

"I hope you're right Quatre. Try to sound Dorothea out tomorrow about her cousin, and about how she feels about the Raider attacks. If she seems okay we shoud bring her in. We could use someone besides Wufei that has an ear in on The Council."

"Your sister still works as Headwoman of the Lower Caverns," Quatre pursued.

"Look, I don't want Cathy involved in any of this," Trowa said stubbonly. It was an argument worn thin with time. Quatre thought she was in an optimum position to gather intelligence from the wide variety of persons who came and went through the lower caverns at Fort Wyer. Trowa was as protective of his elder sister in his own way as she was of him, and he refused to even consider it.

"All I'm saying is that-"

"No. Quatre. It's safer for her if she never has a hand in any of this. If any of the Raiders thought she might know something because they'd heard she was asking uncomfortable questions, they might decide to do something about her."

"She's forever in the middle of the wyer, surrounded by dragonriders, there's no place on all of Pern that's safer than that!" protested Quatre. "Look, we need all the help we can get in this. Just you and me, and sometimes Heero or Duo flying patrols isn't going to be enough to catch these guys. We need to recruit as many honest and capable people as possible."

"You sound like Heero," Trowa noted.

"We've talked about this," Quatre admitted. "Still, whatever the source, it's a good point admit it."

"It is a good point," Trowa agreed readily. "However, it's a point that will never have anything to do with my sister. Look, she's happy where she is. And if the supplies she needs don't always reach her on time via caravan, then I have no problem betweening it to the nearest supplier and getting it for her. I do not want her involved in this. End of story."

Quatre knew when he'd hit against a wall. Trowa, for all that he was quiet, was as stubborn as they came when it came to protecting his family. Quarter let the matter drop, as usual. He'd considered going around Trowa and asking Catherine about it directly...But Trowa was his best friend, he didn't want to risk upsetting him over something like that.

"Did you hear about the plans for the "Thread-proof" ship that Mastersmith Howard of Crom and Mastersailor Rachiid of Tillek are working on?" asked Quatre.

"No, I hadn't," replied Trowa. "I know that the return of Thread has had an adverse impact on the Sailor craft of Tillek Sea Hold. The ship havent been able to go out whenever they've wanted to, have had to maintain a strict schedule to avoid getting caught out in a Fall. Thread eats through the wood of a ship I believe you told me."

"Yes, they're working on a way to lessen the ships, especillay the main deck and masts from being ravaged by Thread"

And the conversation continued along on that vein until they said their goodbyes for the nonce. They would fly patrol again soon, after they flew Thread of course, barring injury.

Authors Notes: Well, here it is at last. It would have been done sooner but I got the most marvelous inspiration for a short story and had to write it. I hope this chapter lived up to the wait, and I'll start working on the next chapter. As you can see, I don't like short chapters and if it's going to be posted, it's going to be worth posting. I usually try not to go under twenty one pages, that was the standard set by the first chapter and that's my standard and I;m sticking to it! **grins** I'll start on Chapter Six now. Oh, and in case you hadn't noticed a pattern with the chaptering, every odd chaptr fits interaction between all of the charactors I can write about in a reasonable amount of time and still keep the story thread going smoothly. Every even chapter is the Heero and Relena story arc. Until next posting. Read and Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. The charactors therin belong to bandai, sunrise and sotsu agency. I don't own Pern or any of the term used therin, Those are the sole creative property of the dragonlady herself Anne McCaffrey.

Additional Authors Notes: I wish to give special thanks to those who reviewed as well as to my beta-reader/reveiwer/cheerleader Chia! Thanx girl, you're the best! Acknowledgements also go out to Jody Lynn Nye and Todd Johnson and all those who helped compile "The Dragonlovers Guide to Pern" also to the people who put Encarta Encyclopedia on a disk, without which I wouldn't have as easy a time researching the specifics in my story to make it a scientifically accurate as possible. (Also, Rakshasha, you were right on target with the fire lizard thing for next chapter, great minds think alike!) One of the reasons it takes so long for my chapters to come out is that I do a lot of reasearch on them, the fencing scene for exampleI'm actually taking a fencing class right now so all of the terms that are capitallized are real fencing terms. Any self defense moves that may or may not show up in later chapters will be described exactly as I have learned them in self defense. Animals, plants and other details will be meticulously researched and based on at least some real facts before they go into my story! Research. Research, research, research people I cannot stress this enough! I take my cue from the works of not only Anne mcCaffrey, but from Jean M. Auel, she spends several years doing research for her books and they are some of the best works of fiction extant. Anybody read Asimov? A LOT of his science fiction is based in fact. If I'm going to write, I'm going to write well, after all, in the Words of J. Micheal Strazynski "The story is the story is the story." Okay, rant over and done with, I'm done for real this time. Bye!

~Nightheart.