Elvenbane

magic was. Emotion definitely played a part, the stronger, the better.

She had discovered another talent, though what use it could be, she had no idea. She could find water, just by being thirsty. She had followed Keman out on one of his explorations, and forgot to take a water flask with her. By midmorning she was half-mad with thirst...and at that point had felt a peculiar tugging at her wrist, as if something had hold of her and was trying to lead her away.

Curious, she had followed where the signal led, and had discovered a patch of the sajus-brush and fir-grass that marked a 'seep.' A few moments of digging at the foot of the bushes, and patience, and she had her drink. Once her thirst was satisfied, the 'tugging' stopped.

It was an interesting talent, but right now, her ability to move things about was of more use, and a great deal more fun. She'd even managed to get Rovy and Myre quarreling a time or two, by plinking them with small stones and letting each think that the other had been poking him.

And she'd been able to make Rovy think she had taken to the hills when in fact she was hiding near the lair, by making the sounds of someone running up a path on two feet and bringing down showers of gravel from the side of the hill. He'd been completely taken in, enough to follow the path until it narrowed to a point where he couldn't use it anymore. If he'd been less lazy he could have taken to the rock and climbed, but Shana had judged his temper correctly; it was too much effort to follow her at that point. He was a bully, but he preferred to use a minimum of effort, a characteristic Shana and Keman were able to use to their advantage.

And of course, she was able to have fun with the otter using her magic, and with other small creatures that were both curious and playful. There were night-birds that greatly enjoyed the flocks of moths she called to her, and would circle around her, calling to each other and snatching the moths out of the air. There was also a kind of long- legged runner-bird that would even play 'fetch,' provided she did not move.

Shana laughed, and sent the pebbles through loops and dives; she turned the otter back on himself, so that he was chasing a pebble that was chasing his tail. The otter redoubled his efforts to catch the shiny bit of stone, both parties having the times of their lives, and both oblivious to the rest of the world.

Alara raised her head from her foreclaws as a sound like a jayee's trill sang inside her mind, briefly interrupting her perusal of the weather patterns for many leagues around the Lair.

It came again. She stared down from her cliff-top perch at the Lair, took a moment to focus and identify the source, and dismissed it. The child was playing with the otter. So long as it kept her content, and she was no longer so unhappy about not being of the Kin, what harm could there possibly be?

She put her head back down on her crossed foreclaws, closed her eyes, and went back to her task of weather-calling. The plains where the herds of this Lair roamed were dry and badly in need of a good, soaking rain. Summer had brought no more than half the expected rainfall, and now that fall was here, the rains had dried up altogether. Ordinarily Alara would not have meddled in weather patterns at this time of year other than to call storms for the Thunder Dance, but she had no choice but to act if things were to be returned to normal. She must play with the weather because the elven lords had already done so, twisting the storm-flows out of all resemblance to the normal autumn systems.

Now she must restore them, or else the herds would starve and many animals would die; animals the Lair needed to see it through the winter. And who knew what other problems this interference had caused? She only watched over her Lair's territory; elsewhere there could be further droughts, or floods, and not all shamans were weather-workers.

At least she could work her will knowing that those who had made the changes would assume some other rival was revoking what they had done.

Of course, to ensure this, she would have to go out of the Lair again, taking the guise of a young elven messenger, and deliver a cleverly worded, anonymous message to the lord responsible for this foolish and careless tampering. That, too, was part of her duty, for all that it took her away from her children. And Myre was being so troublesome...

She would worry about that when the time came. For now, it would be enough to set things aright.

She settled back into her trance, sending her mind into the sky and becoming one with the world around her. She moved from the earth where she lay, to the heavens; reaching out to the winds and the clouds, calling them gently back to the paths they should be taking. And canceling the spells that had sent and held them elsewhere.

Another trill brushed the surface of her mind, but now that she had identified young Shana's magic-working, it was easy to ignore it.

Mostly. There was always a part of her that was 'mother' first and 'shaman' second.

Still, she wished the child were a little quieter, with an unoccupied corner of her mind that worried at the strength of the disturbance. She couldn't help wondering who else could 'hear' the child, and if they knew who it was that was making the noise.

She dismissed the thought as it began to intrude on her task. Nothing was going to happen to Shana at the moment. Any dragon with the ability to 'hear' her would also be one of the seniors in the Lair, and the seniors would come to the shaman before acting.

Restoring what the elves had twisted was rather like untangling several skeins of madly snarled yarn. Before she had finished, Alara was in something of a temper. There was not just one spell, there were layers upon layers of them, all interacting, some in quite peculiar ways.

Didn't they ever pay any attention to the consequences before they did something, she thought resentfully. Or did they just wait until disaster hit, then shove things back into place by brute force?

She was beginning to think that the latter was the case, at least for the more powerful lords. The lesser seemed to create muddles like this one; piling spell atop spell until the entire structure collapsed, or warped into something no one intended, with effects that were completely unpredictable.

And then, of course, the powerful mages would have to intervene.

Provided the Kin don't do so first, she thought, a little smugly.

She set to her task of unraveling and unweaving, determined to do the job properly, which took both time and energy. It took her most of the afternoon to set everything right, and by the time the rains were falling (as they should have been) on the parched grasslands, Alara was famished and short-tempered. She had been up on her retreat all day, and had begun this job fasting; all she wanted at the moment was a nice fat three-horn, or even two. Being hungry made her irritable, and her temper was not improved by finding three of the oldest dragons in the Lair waiting at the stone gazebo when she descended. Two were coiled within the marble edifice; one draped on the wide stone benches that rimmed the inside, and one sprawled on the floor. The third actually sat on the threshold of the entrance to her lair, sunning himself, and so positioned that he was keeping her from entering. She doubted that was an accident.

'Alara!' said the one on the floor, looking oh-so-innocent, which expression Alara did not in the least believe. 'We've been waiting for you to come down. We knew you'd be hungry, so Anoa killed you a three-horn and left it in your lair.'

'Now, about that two-legged fosterling of yours...' Orolanela began hesitantly, raising her head from the bench at Alara's approach. 'She's...'

'What?' Alara snapped impatiently, not in the least mollified by the bribe. 'I thought we had all agreed after that episode with Rovylern that you all would leave her in peace so long as she didn't do anything to cause quarrels between the youngsters!'

'I know that, but she's noisy, shaman,' Anoahalo replied, calmly. 'Magic-noisy. You know what I mean. We can hear her, and probably some of the others can, too...they just haven't figured out who it is that's making the disturbance.' She stretched, flexing her claws against the rough rock of the cave entrance. 'Since most of them consider her an animal, they probably won't ever make the connection...but you never know. And if they find out she has magic...well, I can't say what they might or might not think. Or do. Especially Lori.'

Alara sighed, and wished she had hands to rub her aching head. Instead, she massaged her temple with a knuckle, hoping to ease the pain. 'Is she bothering you?' she asked finally. 'I really could care less what Lori says or does, so long as you seniors aren't being bothered.'

'Well, no, not really,' the third, Keokeshala, said lazily, from his position on the floor of the gazebo. He yawned delicately, and smiled. 'Interesting effect, that trill. She's actually rather nice to listen to, if you like birds.