Fandom: Tamora Pierce

Genre: Drama; General

Character: Arram Draper / Numair Salmalin

Published: 8/11/10

Edited: 8/19/10

Disclaimer: I make no money from the publishing of this story. Everything belongs to the fabulous Tamora Pierce. I'm just playing in her sandbox. :)

A Simple Juggler

Arram ran blindly onward.

The wind stung his face and dirt plumed around his feet in shapeless clouds while the baying of hounds propelled him even faster through the miserable Carthaki night. He couldn't stop running now.

Don't stop, don't think, he managed to choke out in his mind. Black hair hung limply in his face, but he didn't bother to push it out of his eyes. Nothing was more important than putting one foot in front of the other and simply running. Alleys and faces whipped by him. Pieces of cobble-stone tore into the tender flesh of his feet, adding even more blood to the trail left behind.

"Halt, in the name of Ozorne!" The throaty cry of his pursuer made the ragged man stumble on the rough streets. He called to his Gift, but the black fire of his magic was gone; not a trace remained at his disposal.

"Mithros, help me," Arram prayed softly, his deep voice a raspy whisper from disuse.

The baying of the hounds drew closer, the vicious beasts spurred on by the scent of their prey.

The gods have forsaken me, the mage thought bitterly when no bolt of lightening struck his dogged followers.

Run. Just keep running; they can't hurt me if I just keep running.

Thunder boomed around the procession as rain began to pelt down, each drop a sweet agony to the tortured man. It cleansed his deep cuts and bruises, wetting his parched lips as it beat down on his head. The rain rejuvenated him, and with a burst of glorious realization the man's hand glimmered with the fire that would save him.

Hardly daring to believe this might be happening, the figure threw himself into the nearest alleyway, and used every bit of Gift the gods had just restored to him to throw up a barrier, hiding him from sight.

The yelling cadre of guards ran past. He was sure that he would be given away by the sound of his frantically beating heart.

A moment passed. Then two.

Arram staggered against the dirty wall, an almost hysterical smile beginning to appear on the smooth mouth set in a pale, lined face.

He had actually done it.

No one had ever escaped the Emperor once he wanted them dead- especially when he took such a personal interest in them.

The smile turned into a grin that turned into a small sound of triumph. Losing the battle with his rapidly developing hysteria, the man threw back his head and laughed, long and hard until tears streamed down his eyes.

For the first time in almost two months, Arram smiled as he pulled a cloak around himself and slept without dreading the morning.

Finis

Author's Note: This story is marked as complete, but depending on the response I may write a few more one-shots detailing Arram's transformation to Numair and his journey to Tortall. I would really appreciate any suggestions on scenes that people would like to see if I continue to write. :)