By Calvin Daniels (an excellent Author and Journalist) and myself, Threnody.

To: Brigitte Ariene
From: Master Tendlar Tantallon
Arcana Academy of Invocation
Pendle Province, Chiron

Dearest Brigitte:

I rather hope this finds you safe dearest one. You know how I feel about you - always the favorite which always did make Myrana scowl so. She tried so hard, but the little ones always have to work the hardest to weave the energies don't they? While a few have the heart for it, their small fingers and short attention spans always create hardships for them. To her credit Myrana has developed into a component hedgemage for her burrow near the Black Bear Hills. She does well keeping the locusts from the millet crops and creating brooms of sweeping for the burrow matrons.

As for you, yes, I know, you are ready for the journey you are on. You learned well here at the academy. You were my best student, although Aleron was a better pure wizard. You use more thought before you act. That is one thing I never have found a way to teach. Aleron wanted it all in a heartbeat, while you saw the strength that is gained by inner patience. There are times a moment of thought is more critical than tapping the
greatest of the energies to defeat a foe, or solve a puzzlement. Of course why do I retell you this yet again, it was a lesson you have known within yourself since before the mark was first spied upon your left forearm, the mark which foretold your path� to the academy and my classes.

Still, I worry whether you teleported safely. I know often you take things for granted Brigitte. You have always had access to the Pah, but your mind as easily chases the butterfly or the dream, even as your fingers try to weave the energy. Like a sweater dear heart, remember one thread out of place� can ruin the entire garment.
�
I recall the time I was with this band of sell swords. it was a chance for gold and I was young. We were moving through a dungeon west of Brampton, in the Mountains of Orhm. We had been told it was the hiding place of a band of roving Orcs. Well we found Orcs all right, under the control of a Mindslayer. The hideous thing turned the warriors into blithering idiots barely able to walk let alone stand and fight effectively. Luck, thank the Goddess' wisdom was with me that day. I had hid in the back of the cave behind a rock outcropping. I remembered what old Timissin had told me, when young and the spells few, let those with swords enjoy the glory.

The priest of course ran to the warriors aid. That's the problem with those that seek their spells from their gods, they get all tied up in the tenants of aiding others. It's a good way to die as poor Justin learned. The Mindslayer must have enjoyed him for as I faded into the swirl of a teleport he was standing over the priest's body the tentacles snaking into his ears, eyes, nose and mouth. The creature looked at me with those hollow eyes, like eyes devoid of a soul to fire a glimmer within the orbs.�

Sweet Brigitte I still remember those eyes in the night. I may have escaped, but the chill that those eyes caused to course through me can
still be felt as the images flash to the fore of memories now decades later. Justin was the first friend I saw die. I learned later from
Timissin that the creature was feeding on Justin's brains. By the Goddess Innana I should have stayed to fight � No, I did as I was taught I lived
to fight again. It's just that Justin and the others.

Please Brigitte, learn to concentrate.

But enough of such tales. Just remember I mean not to scare you as much as to steel your resolve to be careful as you venture beyond these walls of learning.

Of course I am hoping these twin pouches of message exchange work. You know what I tend to think of tinker gnomes, confounded little people that never seem to grow up. You recall when the cook bought that apple peeler, of Smoygi Smuts the little traveller with his wagon filled with the most wonderful whirly gigs and most useless items the near insane mind of a gnomish genius could envision. Of the course the peeler went berserk. Took you students half a day to clean the peel and seeds off the walls. I thought old Shala was going to skin the cook, Smoygi and myself for that one. Dear old Shala all bluster and scowls, but they still can't hide the heart she has.

I do know a few tools and a little time in the hands of a Gnome tends toward a dangerous thing, so who knows if this letter will ever reach you.
At least Smoygi seems a bit more in tune with the magicks than most of his race, so these pouches might actually keep us in touch, and it's safer
than scrying the pool of divination, what with the flux in the energy lines. We know something is going on out there. Just be careful, for your
destination is rather close to the energy line that runs from the plains to the great red sea.

I wish I could tell you what was going on, but frankly I am baffled. Even the ancient tome of Janalar doesn't seem to hint at this occurrence, but
that old wizard always did write in riddles, and you know I lack humour almost as much as I myself lack patience with my students. How a wizard of Janalar's skill could be bothered with hiding things in layers of rhyming words and false leads I'll never know. A stone is a stone, the sky the sky and a spell a spell in my world.

The only hint I've had about what is happening came on a chance meeting with an old friend. You recall old Reglon, the Grand Red Dragon of the Porcupine Forest? He visited the Academy in your third year, as I recall. Well he was back the other day. Reglon's arrival made me smile, and with the things seemingly afoot these days, smiles have been rare. As is the inherent nature of the beast, Reglon arrived from the way of the sun. First a mere speck of black against the grand yellow orb, becoming an ever larger shadow of black as he swooped toward the courtyard, finally nearly blocking the sun with his great form. He has continued to grow as dragons do, and now is more than three full horse and delivery carts long from head to tail. The little ones at the school dove for cover behind walls and wagons and matrons' skirt at his arrival.

For his part Reglon seemed pleased he could illicit such fear, even though the hunt was no on his mind that day.

In our talks through the heat of the afternoon, to grand mugs of cider and legs of mutton, Reglon regaled me with tales, but the only one worth the effort to write at this moment is the one surrounding the very twists in the norm you are out to survey. He says the goblins of the Flarg are
readying to attack the dwarves of Tinderrock. That's the clan of my old�� friend Dulok Stonehammer. I don't believe the dwarves are in danger, Dulok has always trained his ram-riders well to defend the clan, but why would the goblins suddenly be so bold ?

Reglon was out hunting and heard the news so swooped by to tell me the news. I doubt Reglon even understands the import of the news. Dragons do tend to be above the meddling mechanics of our politics, but perhaps he is more in tune than I think. He thinks the goblins may have stumbled on the Gem of Princess Shandella. If so they have a great power in their grasp, but can they use it? Or does the gem's energy muddle their feeble minds to a frenzy? But I digress.

I'm sure you are curious about how Shala is doing. Well dear heart she is well. The old gal is still the grand matron of the place keeping all the
young would-be wizards fed and clothed. She can be harsh, but you know she cares more than she would let anyone know. Even when she uses the switch, which we both know you felt more often than most. A head strong young thing you were.

As for Tarkion, I think he misses you. Strange for an Imp, they usually seem happy to feed on anyone's energy and be tickled behind the ear. Ah
well, young Asmir is doing her best in your absence. You know she has such potential, but lacks confidence. You never did that. Where she feels she can't levitate a mug of ale across the room, you always wanted to start with a barrel. You always were older than the circles of time that marked your years. Those years on the streets of Eldersley I suspect taught you much, and robbed you of your youth at the same time.

Well dear heart, you have become a beautiful woman, and I miss that on nights when the two moons shine in the sky and the warbler beasts howl in the distance. I still dream your smile. I can see you eyes glistening green in the darkness, like the cat. I was never sure I should have given you that first kiss the day you created the fire in the palm of your hand, it was a natural, untaught, unseen talent, and I rejoiced in its discovery more than I should have given my position here. But I have not regretted it. Only now I find I worry more of you than I should. A teacher should have his distance � but I say too much with you there and the responsibility of a journey full upon you. Enough of that or I will not
find sleep again this night as you dance in my mind.�

As for my research, I'm close to creating an elixir that allows one to breath under water. It has the scale off the terrapin, the down of the
dandelion and a few things I won't mention in case you lose the pouch. It should prove useful for peasants on the coast seeking pearls, and I have no doubt generals will see it as an aid in battles with the merfolk and others from the denizens of the deep. Those who live by the sword are
always eager to find ways to improve their chances to find battle and thus die by the sword as well.

Write soon and tell me you are safe and that these infernal pouches do indeed work. And Brigitte, please protect the tube I entrusted you with
with your life, as precious as that is, the tube is more so.�
Master Tendlar Tantallon


To: Master Tendlar Tantallon
From: Brigitte Ariene
Location: the road to Tridalte

Dear Tendlar

How formal our greetings seem, now, when less than the second moon ago, I would walk into your study without ceremony, without greeting. We needed none. But that is gone for now. Your missive finds me in firelight, a hearth, Master, flickering the walls in shadows and patterns. I could light the lamps, but it seems less of a distance from the academy with the firelight. It holds secrets and fears and hopes in it s gentle light, and dowses them with the day. The teleport did indeed work, though still the trembling of body and mind that comes with such travel. My mind is in turmoil, I cannot concentrate, even meditation does not help. I suspect sleep would ease me, but I am loath to use a soporific at this time. I
need the unease I have now, I need my mind be alert to protect me. For now I feel I need protection, perhaps not from outside influence, but from myself. Forgive me, I ramble.

Something has gone wrong, Tendlar, for I arrived not at the city of Moriyu, but an estate a few days travel from the city. My host of the
estate is yet unknown. I have a feeling that he be a gentleman, and that he somehow knows Logray. There are connections here that I have not been able to make as yet, only that I arrived in the late hours of evening, and the housefold was asleep. I materialised in the garden, and was on my way out of the estate when one of the house staff saw me, and called the master. He wasn't surprised at all by my appearance, and I told him only that I was on a pilgrimage for an old friend to see Logray at Moriyu and that the teleport had gone astray.

Apparently he knows of Logray, and is happy to accommodate me for the night, which brings me to this strange hearth.

As I sit here in the dark, alone reading your precious letter, I remember all that has happened. This, my first venture from the academy, I cannot
help but feel this little bird may have spread her wings too soon, and only pride forces me to stay. Pride not only for myself, but also for you
and my other teachers at the academy. Pride in all that I am now, and that I have been. And I will admit something here, but when we meet again, speak not of it, for I could not bear to imagine accusation in your eyes.

I am scared. Of what is to come and of what it heralds.�

But enough of that. I know the teachings; it is wise to have fear. But I need not fear now, I need comfort, I need to know that in the end, all
will be set right. But I will not delude myself with such imaginings. If you were here you would scold me as I scold myself.

But as I read your words back countless times I remember my time at the Academy, my life there. I smile as you speak of Aleron, yes, he wanted it all in a second, but he is pure of conscience, I think, and a showman at heart. He was always better at the pretty suites than I. I needed to see through the aesthetics, to know how things work, and what makes them tick.

And ultimately to understand.

Do you remember our chess games, and how I used to struggle to win, and would become furious if I thought you gave me the game? Aye, but those nights playing chess taught me something that lessons could not. You must have nothing before you have something, Tendlar. And here I am once again, struggling with a concept I cannot fit my mind around. I know there are things which you cannot explain to me, and things which I will learn, and doubtlessly feel hurt and betrayed that you could not speak of them to me, but know this: I will understand. I have the tube, though I mention it only in passing. A light weight that is heavy on my heart and something that I will learn to bear. I know why I have been chosen, though there were times when I wished with all my being that I could be as Myrana is even now, and content to be a hedgewitch. There is a certain satisfaction in simple things that I have never been able to achieve. I wish her well; will you tell her that for me?

I have another confession to make, Master. I once took a knife from the kitchen and tried to remove the mark on my arm. I didn t want the stigma, didn't ask for the stigma. It is a confession that has weighed heavily on me for years, but as you taught me, to deny oneself is to deny perfection and the makers, so I tried to accept it and saved tears and regrets for private moments alone in my bed at the academy. The day I was able to accept it without question was the day I made the fire in my hand. And the day you kissed me. That is the only time I have ever seen something approximating fear in your eyes. I thought you feared me for a time, that is why I made myself scarce until I could bear it no longer.

Your story of the soulless creature worries me not for myself, but for you. Please don t fret for me, that I will run into trouble. I know there
will be some on the way, but I knew that before our goodbyes were made, before even discussions of this journey arose. Yes, master, I will learn to fight another day. I have much to want to live for. I will exercise caution with every strand of my being. I promise you this.

Sleep is finally enveloping me as I sit here before this strangely familiar fire. I can imagine that I am back at the Academy, as I will
every time I need comfort, but I will stay and finish this for it is as close to home as I will be for a long while. Tell me, is there another
like I begun study there yet? No, don t tell me, for it is not my business to know, and I will not succumb to petty jealousy.

I wish I had have been there when Raglon arrived. Creatures such as he possess more than we mere humans ever will. They are more human than we are, if that is possible, not deigning to demean themselves with petty matters and irresponsibility. Ah, but I feel old now, as if I was never a child, an adolescent? Was I Dear Master, can you remember? Those years blur into one history indivisible apart from a few important moments, but they were, are the essence of my being, myself. There are times when I thought you knew me better than I knew myself. What was I talking about? Ah yes the noble dragon. How I do aspire to be like them.�

I find it disturbing that you can already envision your elixir being used in warfare, when it s original intention was to help the peasant folk. How
is it that we, mankind can invent such perfect and wonderful things only to have others desecrate our intentions with such foulness. It is the
foolishness of men. And also when I read of your research, I realise how far apart we are now. If I had have been at the Academy you would not have hesitated to share with me all of the ingredients, perhaps, and I flatter myself, even to ask my advise. I am smiling now, imagining your fixed expression as you read this.

Well Tendlar, the fire has burned low, and my eyes sting with unwanted tears and emotions. I will remain rational, I will exercise caution, and I
will return. I promise.�

Take care, and find these ink-splattered pages as testimony that I am safe and well.

Believe in me, Tendlar.

Your humble student

Brigitte Ariene



To: Journeywoman Brigitte

From: Master Tendlar Tantallon
Arcana Academy of Invocation
Pendle Province, Chiron

Dearest Brigitte:
�
An estate some days travel from Moriyu you say. That leaves me to wonder, did you weave the spell so badly? Tis not like you to miss such a
simple spell by that much, especially since you know of the import of your trek. I also find it surprising that your host was not surprised by your
arrival, unless of course he has some knowledge of the arts, yet the name kindles no memories on my part. Rather strange. It may simply be a case of your inexperience at play, and my old mind being to wary these days.

�I must say though you do know how to make an old soul dream don't you Brigitte? The thought of sitting there in the firelight with you,
rather than among these piles of scrolls and tomes alone, as the candles flicker, allowing the shadows to do their macabre dance. We share through these words, but not as much as we might allow ourselves with a glance, or smile, were you here. It would be warming to see your smile in more than memory right now, so that it might lighten the darkness not so much of the night, but of the times on which we embark.

�You speak of our times together during the dark phase, playing chess and just being together, you know those memories are like an elixir
to me. They calm my mind, yet fire my very being. They allow me to know that within I am still a man that can be driven by the most base of our
instincts, those to seek a mate and to hold and have her in ways that are animal in their nature.

�I took a walk in the ante room following the reading your words.�

Not the one out front where students meet their parents in the beauty of the trees and flowers, but the one in the back where the gargoyles roost
in the shadows and the trees are as twisted as the the arthritic hands of the chicken salesman in the courtyard. There I stood looking at the light
of the moons and I cursed the elven blood that courses through my veins. Too long has it mixed with my human side. Too long has it allowed me to draw breaths. Too often have I allowed my heart to find comfort in the sweetness of a lady's heart only to one day fight back tears to maintain
my stoic persona as they lowered her body back to the earth from which she came, as her soul took flight to the hands of the gods.

�Oh Brigitte how I wish my arms could find you in the darkness this night but never mind, tis a night when my mind wanders to places it
should not go, especially when there are so many things afoot in the world right now � like the goblins attacking the dwarves.

�The goblins have not had quarrel with the Dwarves in your lifetime not since Dulok, leader of the Dwarves hammered out a truce with Targ of
the Goblins. But that was part of the news Reglon brought. Targ is dead, and Reglon says it is unlikely it was natural causes. I suppose that isn't
highly unusual. Among the Goblins, Orcs and their ilk taking leadership at the point of a spear is not unusual, but Targ was respected and his inner guard loyal, for him to die at the hands of his own, suggests a shift in power.

�Even with that said, no sane leader would attack the Dwarves dug into their mountain side, least not the goblins, unless they were merely
fodder for a grander scheme. Could the goblin-kind be coming under a single war banner ? That has not happened in more than 300 years ? But
Reglon has heard rumblings, that it might even be Draknar that is behind it.

�I suspect that name sends a shiver up your spine. It still does me. The black dragon has great powers on his own and while the Goblins are
never likely to learn the power of the Gem of Princess Shandella, Draknar could, if the Goblins indeed have it and were to share their prize with
the black beast.�

�Reglon could be wrong, he has been in slumber for 20 years himself, but when the Ranger Ashlynn woke him to tell of the battle, that
was his initial thought. It even says something that Ashlynn would wake Reglon, he may be a dragon of lawful blood, but he has a temper much akin to my own. I would well imagine the threat of a fiery death was broached to Ashlynn a few times as the webs of sleep were pulled from the dragon's eyes.

�But alas, these days there is not the time for such mundane folly.�

Too many things to do. Can not you feel it? Yes, of course you can, but I doubt you have paused to truly feel it. You always have tended to ignore the tremors that flow through the energy lines like the tiny waves created by the pebble tossed into the pond.

�Swimming in the pool you are never overwhelmed by the tiny ripples, but if you float free with body and mind they can hint at the
disturbance that has invaded the tranquillity which has existed there.�

�Oh Brigitte I am sorry, I am sounding to much the teacher again. Even with quill in hand I sometimes wish to impart lessons, even though I
know you have heard them all before. Of course, how many students have heard the lessons, but never really learned them ? Enough sadly to fill
too many urns in the hall beneath the temple.�

�Just so you know sweet Brigitte, I am impressed you have resisted the urge to look inside the tube, although in all truth, it is spell
protected� not so much from your eyes, but from those that might acquire the tube by some fashion.

�Tomorrow eve, when the two moons are full I expect to be in ceremony, for such a night when the full rays of the dual lunar spheres
cascades upon us all, is a perfect night to weave spells where one can learn many things, if the fabric of the mind is well made.

�It seems the best thing to do at this point is to cast a portal of space and time and send little Tarkion back in time to see what happened
amongst the Goblins. It will take much from me, and if anyone is watching the energy strands they'll know I am playing them for more than a simple spell, which means they may come looking for me, but one has to take their chances.

�I will tell you how successful I am in my weave after the sun rises again. And I trust your protection will be strong and will steel you
to the challenges ahead.

�I am looking forward to reading more of exactly where the hearth of which you speak is. You always did drag out stories, knowing my
patience is oft as thin as the spider's web. I hope you are at least close to the city of Moriyu. That is where you will no doubt find Logray, who
awaits the tube, or at least its contents.

�As for the school, Shala is all bluster and work as usual. She would of course feign disinterest in you as she does all that have come
and gone from these classrooms, yet she cries the loudest when alone should one of the lights of life fade into the next cycle, and she always
hides her smile upon graduation day behind the piles of pots in the galley. She is more the heart of this place than any save a few know.

�Who do you think made you the dress you wore to the prince's ball that first year you were at the academy ? It was not like you came here
with a princess' possessions was it ? You speak of your young life seeming to flow into a blur. One might imagine your youth was not so much lost, as it has been safely tucked away in your mind, well hid from daily thoughts. The days on the streets of Eldersley, the great city that is the gateway to the barrens of the north were harsh ones indeed. If it were not for the seer Synndalar noting the mark you tried so hard to remove with the knife, you might well have starved or died on the streets, or found yourself the galley wench of some fat baron. The mark opened the doors of this academy, showing that within you was the ember of the craft, that as a teacher I could stoke into a fire.

�It might interest you to know that the walls indeed have eyes and ears in a place such as this, and I am glad you have finally revealed to
yourself, through the words to me, the anguish and fear you felt, that you picked up the knife that night. I sense that you now recognize the mark is more fully n your heart than upon your forearm.

�In the case of Aleron, I wish I knew if you were right in your assessment of his skills. Since he turned and walked from my office three
season cycles ago I have heard only rumors on the tongues of travelling merchants', none of which are exactly the most trustworthy sources of
information. I just hope he has found himself back to the side of protecting Gaia. You are right that he had a flare, but behind the panache
and the smile, there was a darkness in his eyes which I fear may have grown only darker.

�As you say, candles do melt away into the night don't they. Dream well sweet Brigitte and the morning will soon rise. May it bring you to
Logray. Remember he is a rascal. His eye patch and moustache have wooed more than one lady, so be careful, for your smile will no doubt make you a prize he will pursue as much as what is in the tube.

Write soon, at least your words provide a touch of you, although it is not
the touch of you that I miss the most.

Master Tendlar Tantallon

To: Master Tendlar Tantallon
From: Brigitte Ariene
Tridalte Mountains

Dear Tendlar

It is morning here, and I sit before a window that looks out onto a pond and silver tree that is shedding. As I watch, slivers of silver unfurl and
detach themselves from lazy branches to drift on the wind. I resist the urge to go and dance in the early morning sun in such a silver hail. But
that is childish, and this journey is about putting such endeavours behind me.

I have learnt more about the mysterious benefactor that has provided me lodgings here. One Lord Ah Mil, supposed patron of the arts and lover of the Pah, but there is something about him, Master, that I feel I cannot completely trust. He is a man of sly glances and even now, as he walked the hall past this room, I felt his study upon my back. He pauses and continues to walk slowly. He is a large man with soft round hands and a spot on the back of his head that is balding. I heard him with a serving maid last night as I tried to sleep in this large draughty room. This
house is full of very many beautiful things, Master, but they are all dead. It is as if he has taken what catches his eye, and upon entering
this mausoleum, it too dies. The colours seem not as vibrant as they should be, the air dead, even the sunbeams upon penetrating the glass of
the windows pale compared to their counterparts outside, and the dust motes trapped within are not fast moving but sluggish. But we will be
moving on soon. Calen, who is also staying here until we depart, a funny little fellow with mannerisms and aspect not unlike a bird has indicated
it may be dangerous to wait any longer. Another guide is supposed to be accompanying us. Apparently Calen is a close associate of Logray's and therefore must hold some kind of power, but it comes not through. Instead, he appears to possess some kind of honesty, if that is possible for a thief.

Maea was meant to be here at least four mornings ago, but there is no sign of him. Calen has said that we need to move by tomorrow at the latest. The weather up here is threatening to turn, and as you know, to shelter for the winter would spell certain defeat, so on we go tomorrow. So we will not be waiting any longer for the mysterious Maea. I would assume that Logray is impatient for the contents of the tube.

The tube. I have still resisted the temptation to attempt to open it, though I have been tempted to cast it into the depths one of the nearby
fjords never to be found again. I am laughing to myself at the thought of your expression as you read that line, like so many times you carefully
set your expression to impassiveness as I make known my opinions, your mouth set, the line in between your eyebrows. You would look so stern. I find my self continually asking if this endeavour is really worth all that many of us have committed to undertake? Forgive me Master, I know it must be or you would never have sent me.

And there are rumours of unrest up here as well, I have heard speak of Draknar, and Targ. The fact that it has reached a little outpost like this
indicates that the situation is indeed graver than I ever would have guessed. With Targ dead, there is a definite threat from the goblins, so
easily are they influenced. I suppose all we can hope is that there will be at least civil unrest within their individual societies, and that
coordination, if indeed there is to be one united goblin force, will take at least a couple of weeks. Targ was perhaps the most proactive leader
they ever had, and while he didn t go so far as to extend the proverbial olive branch to the rest of the land, he was very canny at keeping his
charges in hand. I am sure that Draknar is going to pounce swiftly while they are still in such a state of confusion.

But enough of that. You know that the tribes that live on these mountains are more benevolent, if that word could every be applied to one of their ilk, and before they realise exactly what we are taking to Logray, we will be long gone. Perhaps even having seen Logray. I will be glad to be gone, it would be a long hard winter here.

Master, do not ever think that I am losing my roots, my sense of upbringing, of who I am and of what has happened to make me so, I meant no
offence when I was talking about my childhood, nor was I playing for sympathy. I have had much time to think upon all that I have done in this
small lifetime. And you spoke of how you sometimes lament the fact that you have seen so many you cared for born and buried, but Master, to take comfort in the sweetness of others is what living is all about. At the end of it all, if you can look back and say, I loved! and mean it with all
of your gentle dear heart, then yours has been a life well spent. And a goal I am endeavouring to achieve. What is the use of achieving these���
great feats if you have an empty heart? And, Tendlar, I know you do not.�

By the time you receive this, you will be in ceremony weaving your spells. Be careful, Master, you know as well as I the inherent danger in losing
your mind to the gentle seductions of the moon. Who will be there to pull you from their forces if anything goes wrong? You must engage Shala, or a trusted student to look out for you at dawn when you the danger of declining into insanity is at it s greatest, when you have the most access
to your Pah, and are split between the dawning of the new day and the waning of the night. Tell Tarkion to be careful for me, will you? And
you, you must promise me, be careful.

Well master, the sun has begun it s proud ascension into the sky, and I must away on the business of the day. I will write you from the road. I
don t know how long it is going to take to get to Logray, Calen has said at the best two days, at the worst a week. It depends much upon the
weather. But we leave tomorrow regardless.

Please master, think fondly of me.

Your humble student

Brigitte Ariene