One might think that she ought to feel well-rested, relaxed, and renewed after such a long nap. Of course, none of those were even close to a part of the swirling storm of emotions she actually felt.
In the hours since she'd woken up from her mysterious unwitting week-long magical sleep, many questions had swirled through Jaina's mind—what had she missed, why didn't she remember what had caused her magical coma, what had happened exactly that had made her memory so hazy, how many people were worried about her—though it had taken a little bit for full-on panic mode to set in.
Now she was walking frantically around her kitchen table, trying to think over all those questions—and consider what she should do first—at once. Jaina was at least sure that no memory-altering magic had been involved, otherwise she would remember something else instead of the hazy blanks she was drawing—and she did remember seeing Zanik at the resort beforehand. Should she go back there and look around?
No, there wasn't time for that yet! She had a secret wedding to prepare for, and only half the time left to do so. She'd need something to wear—and she would either need to make it herself or randomly pull something out of her closet; certainly one of her nicest dresses would be suitable—a means of discreet travel, and maybe a cake—should she make that herself, too? She would be content with a simple chocolate cake instead of some expensive dreamily frosted creation… then again, her brother's infamous appetite might compensate for the relative lack of guests that would need to eat.
Her brother! She hadn't yet gotten to ask him to come, and she still wasn't sure how she was either going to explain Dr. Nabanik's little secret to him or convince him to keep his mouth shut about it. The sooner she got that over with, the better… but wouldn't he be worried about her, if he knew about her long sleep?
He surely wouldn't be the only one to worry, either! So would her neighbors, and Zanik, and her fellow adventurers at the Legends' Guild… and Azzanadra…
Of course—he must be terribly worried about her, and he would likely have found out the reason for her absence already, which would worry him further… She had to see him; there was no time to waste!
As she looked for her bag, Jaina heard a knock at the door. Well, she could hardly ignore whoever was there, though she really hoped the guest wouldn't keep her long.
She hurried to get the door, and couldn't help but feel a bit surprised at the sight. There, on her doorstep, stood a small child, wearing a pink apron and a green polka-dot bow in her curly light brown hair, a cream-covered pie in her small hands.
"Miss Katarn?" the small girl asked, looking up at Jaina with large, round green eyes. "Are you okay? The grown-ups all said you weren't feeling so good…"
She held up the pie. "I baked you something to help you feel better! It's lemon-rang pie!"
"Oh—this is quite a pleasant surprise! Thank you—please, come on in!" Jaina smiled as she motioned the small girl in. She seemed familiar, but which of her neighbors was she—wait, she remembered…
"Ah, you're little Julia—Frenita's granddaughter, yes? You've certainly grown since I saw you last!"
"I'm five!" Julia replied, eagerly following Jaina into the kitchen. "I've heard lots of stuff about you, but I haven't met you before…"
"You wouldn't remember me, I'm afraid," said Jaina, shaking her head. "You were just learning to walk when I saw you last! I still remember when you were born…"
Climbing up on a chair, Julia set the pie on the table and sat down, motioning to it expectantly. "Have some of my lemon-rang pie, Miss Katarn! It's really good, promise!"
Taking a seat herself, Jaina carefully cut a slice of the pie, noticing its bright yellow filling. Curiously she sampled a bit, and found herself smiling contentedly. It was smooth, creamy, and tasted sweet and tart at the same time.
"This is quite good indeed… and please, you can call me Jaina!"
"Okay, Miss Jaina!" Julia said cheerfully, giving her a toothy smile. "So you like it? I made it all by myself!"
Jaina smiled and nodded. "You certainly have a great talent for cooking already…"
"Yep! Nana's been teaching me to cook!" Julia's face lit up. "Mommy says I need to go to school at the guild and learn some magic soon, but I wanna practice cooking with Nana more—I wanna be a master chef when I grow up!"
"I'm sure you can," Jaina said, cutting a slice of pie for the child. "You need to practice as often as you can, and read lots of different cookbooks and recipes—if you get good enough, your recipes might become big in Ardougne! And when you're older, you should apply for the Cooks' Guild in Varrock—the most talented cooks in the world are members."
"Wow, there's a Cooks' Guild?" Julia seemed too excited at the prospect to notice the slice of pie that Jaina had passed to her just yet. "Someday I'm gonna go there!"
"It would still be worth it to study magic as well, though," Jaina pointed out, pausing to savor the next bit of pie. "Magic works quite similarly to cooking—runes are the ingredients, and spells are the recipe. You can even use magic in cooking too!"
Julia looked up from her slice of pie and blinked. "How do you do that?"
"A simple Fire Strike is good for warming a dish or a drink, or even for roasting meat, and I know a spell that bakes pies without an oven."
"Wow, really?" The small girl seemed to be bouncing with excitement in her seat. "Do the wizards at the guild do all their cooking with magic, then? Am I gonna learn the pie spell if I go to school?"
Jaina laughed. "I'm afraid the wizards who work in the kitchen mess up more often than not when they try to cook with magic! You should have seen the apprentices who would come out of there covered in flour and soot!"
As Julia immediately burst into a giggle-fit, Jaina couldn't help but laugh a little louder herself. The sight had been even funnier when she'd seen it, and it never had stopped being hilarious.
It took her a moment to regain her composure. "As for the pie spell, I learned that from the Moonclan, up in the far northwest. I'm well-versed in three different spellbooks—the one most widely used worldwide, the one the Moonclan created, and the third… well, it's very old, only a few people besides me know it, and that's partly because most mages are too superstitious to use it." She frowned deeply, gazing down at the pie. "I think some wizards might actually be afraid of me, and think I'm a witch."
And they would surely think worse than that, she knew, if word got out that she was seeing Azzanadra. She had bargained with an evil sorcerer and traded herself to him in exchange for dark magical secrets, they would say. The kinder people might say she had acted out of ignorance, and had not realized she was promising herself to him or had not understood the nature of the magic, or that he had tricked or blackmailed her into it—but even if they did give her the benefit of the doubt, it would still be difficult to show her face in public anymore…
"Awww, Miss Jaina, you can't be a witch," Julia declared, snapping Jaina out of her thoughts. "Witches are old and ugly and smell funny!"
"You shouldn't be too quick to believe any sort of person is either always good or always bad," said Jaina, her voice quiet and even. "I've met a few perfectly nice witches, and one of my best friends is a goblin. There are good and bad individuals in every race, every town, every trade…"
"You made friends with a goblin?" Julia asked, wide-eyed, but before Jaina could reply, there came another knock on the door, this one louder and a bit more insistent. Might this be another worried neighbor?
Slowly Jaina rose from her chair. "Ah, sorry, but I should go get that…"
She went to the door, and sure enough it was one of her neighbors, looking rather flustered. Her gaze fell immediately upon Julia, who had curiously followed behind.
"Julia! What are you doing? Haven't I told you not to run off alone?" Beckoning to the small child, she looked up at Jaina and smiled awkwardly. "Good afternoon! I see you're back on your feet, Jaina—the guild wizards must have assisted you already! The whole town has been worried about you, even moreso when Distentor found there was magic involved…"
Jaina nodded in greeting. "Good afternoon, Amalie. Don't worry, I'm quite alright—I woke up on my own early this morning."
"Ah, praise Saradomin for such good fortune! Well, I do hope that my daughter did not bother you too much," Amalie said, taking Julia by the hand. "I did tell her that the wizards could help you just fine, but she doesn't always listen…"
"Oh no," said Jaina, "I did very much appreciate her company! She was truly a joy to be around."
She smiled brightly and leaned down to pat Julia on the head. "You're welcome to visit me any time you like! You might even get to play with some of my pets if you want."
"Thanks, Miss Jaina!" Julia smiled broadly up at her. "I'll make you something special again the next time I visit!"
"Really, Julia, you should have higher aspirations than simple cookery," Amalie said, shaking her head. "It may be useful, yes, but if you get a good education and learn politics and history, you could one day impress a nobleman in Ardougne, and become an esteemed lady in King Thoros' court!"
"But I don't wanna be a princess," Julia complained, wrinkling her nose. "Princesses are fancy and lazy and make servants do stuff for them instead of doing anything by themselves! I think Nana's right—food tastes better if you make it yourself."
"Your grandmother spent years doing nothing but feeding soldiers day in and day out. Don't you think you deserve a better life than that?" Sighing, Amalie turned her attention back to Jaina. "Are you sure you're alright? You should go to the guild, have the wizards check you for any sign of residual dangerous magic or some kind of curse…"
"I'm sure, and I do believe I have it under control," Jaina replied, nodding. She already knew where she was going to go next, and she wouldn't need the guild wizards to examine her after that.
"You at least should go and tell everyone the good news," Amalie insisted. "We have all been so worried, praying for your safety and your recovery…"
"There are others who are just as worried for me," Jaina pointed out. "Word of my recovery should spread through town rather quickly now, but for someone like my brother, who still lives in Misthalin—well, it's better that I go there personally."
"You're from Misthalin?" Julia asked. "Or did your brother move there when he grew up?"
"I am indeed… if I hadn't fixed up and bought this house, I might live with my brother now." Jaina sighed, looking down at her hands. "Lumbridge will always be home to me, but I'm not sure there's enough space for my pets there, or that my brother could help take care of them…"
"What's your brother like?" Julia asked, but Amalie shook her head. "Leave her in peace—we shouldn't keep her waiting! Come now, we'd best tell the wizards the good news!" She nodded to Jaina. "Travel safely, and remember to visit the guild when you come back!"
"Bye, Miss Jaina!" Julia waved as her mother began to lead her away. "See you soon!"
When they had gone, Jaina resumed looking for her bag, finally finding it hung over the stair-rail. She had no idea why it was there or how it had gotten there, but at least now she could pack.
As she returned to her room, however, she found herself being suddenly snatched from where she stood and pulled into a tight, warm hug. She gave a startled yelp, and it took her a moment to fully register what had happened.
"I don't know whether I should be surprised or relieved, Azzanadra," she finally said, looking up at the familiar red-haired man holding her. His hair and beard looked messier than usual, and his hat was askew.
"Jaina, are you alright?" Azzanadra frowned, eyeing her as he straightened his hat. "Your disappearance worried me greatly, moreso when one of my contacts reported that you were in a magical sleep…"
"I was going to visit you to explain exactly that," she said. "It seems you were a step ahead of me there…"
"My contact's message only came in this morning, so I hurried here as soon as I could. I feared the worst when I saw you were not in your bed as was reported, but…" He pulled her into a slightly tighter hug, his hand catching in her hair. "So you were here the whole time? I assume you woke shortly before I arrived."
"Yes, sometime this morning." She blinked, biting her lip. "I don't know who put me to sleep or why, but my butler said it lasted at least a week…"
"You fool!" Tiny Lucien suddenly shouted from the dresser. "You dare enter a god's throne room?"
Turning to Jaina, the little doll strode to the edge of the dresser and shook his tiny staff. "Human, why have you not yet cleaned your disgusting hair off my throne? Stop staring at that overzealous fanatic and get to work!"
"Anyway," said Jaina, raising her voice slightly, "I think the spell was intended to wear off on its own, and I'm sure there was no memory-altering magic at work here because I know firsthand how that works… but it's worrisome regardless, and that's not counting all the other things I have to worry about!"
"Shhh, relax… be patient…" Guiding her to sit on the bed, Azzanadra quietly ran his hands over her shoulders, looking her over. "I do not sense any traces of the spell that was cast on you, so you are likely right in that it has worn off. As for who and why, I suspect someone may have needed you to be out of the way so that they could go through with some unsavory deed unhindered." He raised an eyebrow. "Could the traitors have been plotting something? But this seems too subtle for them… perhaps a lesser servant of Zamorak's, then?"
"I removed the spell!" Tiny Lucien insisted, banging his tiny staff on the dresser. "I woke up the human easily, so that she could finally clean my throne! The sleep magic was no match for my tiny power!"
Jaina looked thoughtful. "I'm not saying we should rule them out, but… they don't exactly strike me as the type to relax and bathe at a spa resort owned by ogresses, even for secret plotting. That's the last place I remember being before I woke up, but everything after I parted ways with my friend is a haze…"
"It is indeed highly unlikely they would go there," Azzanadra said, looking slightly off-put. "I have only heard of the place from Soran. It sounds to me like a much less clean imitation of the baths in Senntisten, and I can't say I understand the appeal of sitting in mud."
"It's supposed to be good for your skin, but I wouldn't want to go in the mud either. Or the Bandos pool, for that matter." Jaina winced, shuddering at the thought. "I prefer the salt-water spring. Less sticky and slimy, and doesn't smell bad either."
She looked over at him curiously. "What were the baths like?"
"The baths in Senntisten were not solely for cleaning up," he explained. "They were places to meet, have various discussions, and occasionally even make important decisions—I sometimes conducted church business with my fellow priests at the baths. The temples had many communal baths, and there were several other public baths around the city. There were separate ones for males and females, as well as for children and adults. In the later years of the empire, humans were generally expected to wear towels at all times; not so much in the earlier years—I'm not sure quite how that came about."
Seeing her reddening cheeks, he raised an eyebrow once more. "You seem discomforted by the idea."
She nodded emphatically. "Aside from the Oo'glog spa pools, no one bathes together after the age of three—and if you do share a bath with someone, casual conversation is going to be the last thing on your mind…" Her cheeks flared an even brighter red. "Not that I could reasonably do that; my bathtub is very small and only has room for me…"
Grinning awkwardly, she quickly decided to change the subject. "A-anyway, I-I'm not really sure I should look into the cause right away… there are others who will be worried about me, and we do have plans I need to catch up on..." Her voice was growing frantic. "But if there really is something drastic going on, and it's connected to my being put to sleep, and I don't find out about it right away… and then something terrible happens because I put it off… I…"
Suddenly she turned away from him and flung herself facedown on the bed, letting out a pained shriek. "I don't know what to do!" she wailed, burying her face in a pillow.
The sharp scream so startled Tiny Lucien that he stumbled and fell into the washing bowl, and now the little doll was splashing about indignantly, struggling to get out. "You can start by getting me out of here!"
Jaina stayed there unmoving for a long moment, quietly crying into the pillow. Something in her had just snapped at that moment; all she wanted to do was cry until the waterworks had dried up. Perhaps then she could think clearly again. But it wouldn't do for Azzanadra to see her like this, not again… she had already made a fool of herself trying to explain what Sliske had done after the ritual, but at least then she'd had more of a reason for it.
The pillow felt damp and cold against her face as she continued to cry, but then she felt a warm, strong hand on her shoulder. Slowly she looked up, her eyes red and puffy and her cheeks tear-stained.
Guiding Jaina back into a sitting position, Azzanadra pulled her closer and cradled her cheek. He had resumed his true form, and she couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight.
"You shouldn't let yourself become so frightened or upset," he whispered, brushing a tear from her eye. "It will do you more harm than good. For the moment I am only glad that you are well and in one piece—a short period of respite may be more worth it than you realize."
"Are you saying I should rest?" Jaina blinked, shaking her head. "I think I've rested quite long enough…"
"I simply mean that you should set aside your worries for a short time," Azzanadra said, stroking her hair. "Shall I stay with you for the evening as long as I can? I have greatly missed your company."
She slowly nodded and slid over to hug him. "Y-yes… I would like that very much…" Resting her head on his shoulder, she gave a contented sigh. "I missed you too…"
A little reluctant to let him go, she stood up and smoothed her skirt. "You wouldn't mind if I show you around again, would you? I mean, we'll be seeing quite a bit more of each other soon enough, I hope… And we should go over our plans again…"
"Indeed, there are still some rooms you haven't shown me yet," Azzanadra said, slowly rising as well. "For instance, I noticed a stairway leading underground…"
"The basement?" Jaina smiled awkwardly and laughed. "I haven't really put anything in there—I never knew what to do with it exactly!"
She offered him an arm, which he accepted as he followed her to the door. "Well, I suppose you might perhaps want me to put a shrine to Zaros there, but that will have to wait…"
"Human, where are you going—I told you to get me out of here!" Tiny Lucien shouted, splashing around in the washing bowl. "I demand you assist me at once! You dare ignore a god?"
The answer came in the form of the door shutting as the two made their way downstairs, paying the unfortunate doll no heed.
"You certainly have quite the collection of books here, my dear," Azzanadra said, looking over one of the bookcases that lined the parlor walls. "I hadn't stopped to notice your little library before."
"I do collect a lot of them," said Jaina, sitting up straighter in her chair. "I've always liked books—I was the sort who learned to read before I learned to talk. That was actually mostly how I studied magic—I read up on the spells in my free time and then practiced them whenever I could, while the others just seemed to wait for Tutor Mikasi's lessons at school."
"You were fortunate to have such books available to you," he remarked. "On Freneskae, we often had to learn magic through trial and error—no writing of any kind, and there was only so much time for lessons. When we first saw writing, most of the tribe was greatly puzzled as to what the strange markings on the scrolls were for, and just as confused when the Menaphite scribes asked how to spell our names—Oh! What's this?" Pulling out a small, thin volume labeled "Zemouregal's notes," he looked it over curiously. "Where did you find these?"
Jaina had to lean forward to see the book in question. "Oh, those? They were in Zemouregal's basement. Funny you should speak of your name being hard to spell—I have to admit, I couldn't spell it either until I found those…" She smiled awkwardly, thinking of the times she'd struggled to spell it in her journal.
"You could have asked one of the desert faithful if you wished, silly," Azzanadra pointed out, and turned his attention to the notes once more. "This is quite a find. Do you mind if I read them, and some of these other books as well?"
"Oh, not at all!" She smiled brightly his way. "Books were made to be read, after all."
Stretching her legs a bit, she picked up the book she'd been reading on her time off in the evenings, The Serpent's Coils. It was just one of several books that had come out not long after her acceptance to the Legends' Guild, with a heroine that was an obvious stand-in for her—that sort of thing was always interesting to read, if usually rather pulpy.
Where she had left off, the book's heroine, Janni Pravada, "a sorceress of some repute and wielder of three different spellbooks," had stumbled across the village of Zul-Andra, where a group of gnomes (and a few elves and captured Tyras guards) had formed a creepy cult that worshipped the titular serpent—Zulrah—as a god. Apparently it demanded sacrifices frequently, and the next one in line was a little boy, so Janni had pleaded to go in his place.
Last time Jaina had put the book down before she could finish the chapter, as a scene describing how the cult's high priestess had deliberately fed her young son to the serpent had positively unsettled her. Perhaps it was foolish to feel like that about a work of fiction, when she'd seen her fair share of terrible things for real… but still, even to read something like that, to imagine a mother could do such a thing to a child, her own child… it made her skin crawl and a chill go down her spine. A mother was meant to protect and care for her children, not coldly and calculatingly bring harm to them.
Still, she was curious enough to read on, see how the confrontation with Zulrah would go and how it might be defeated—although Janni Pravada's outfit on the cover looked utterly embarrassing and made it hard to take the story seriously. Not that she could take it seriously anyway; why would anything live in the Poison Waste, and there was no way Zul-Andra could come to be either because why would presumably Arposandran gnomes live on the outskirts of Isafdar instead of in Arposandra? Well, she couldn't blame the author of a pulp adventure novel for not knowing some things she did.
Jaina let herself get lost in the book once more—she had to admit, the description of the Poison Waste was vivid and accurate enough to bring to mind having crossed it for real, although jumping from island to island was of course far different from riding in a boat. The chapter ended with Janni Pravada arriving at a shrine in the middle of the swamp and watching the boat leave as she was left to face Zulrah alone… but then the sound of Azzanadra's voice suddenly snapped Jaina back to reality before she could read on.
"This book! It seems to contain a memory of one of the most troubled times in my life…" He was pulling a few more books off the shelf to examine them more closely. "And these seem to be memories of my kin, even of some who have since faced the void… How? Who could have…"
His gaze fell squarely on her. "Jaina, how did you come across these?"
Jaina's heart sank like a stone, and her throat immediately felt dry. Even without all the panic and worries that had been clouding her mind, she'd forgotten about that…
What could she do? What should she say? As much as she wanted to tell him the truth, she feared what might happen if she tried to breach that contract—and she had given her word to Kharshai when she agreed to it anyway; contract or no contract, it would be going back on her word…
"Jaina, is something the matter?" Setting the books down, Azzanadra crossed to her side, his expression unreadable and unsettling. "Are you hesitant to answer?"
She slowly rose, shivering and wringing her hands, the sound of her heart pounding a deafening roar in her ears. "A-ah… I—I can't…"
"Jaina, please." Azzanadra put one hand on her shoulder and tilted her chin up with the other so that she met his gaze. His touch was gentle, but his tone was calm yet severe. "That was a memory of one of the darkest periods I have ever had in my life, one I did not wish to relive, and somehow you have it in a book. You must tell me where and how you found it!"
Seeing the look in his eyes, Jaina knew he was right—bad as it would be to go back on her word, it would be worse to lie to her beloved about something like this, to make it look like she'd been up to something underhanded. She didn't know if it would work, but she had to try.
"I—I wasn't… I didn't mean… I—Aaaaah!"
She let out an agonized scream as a painful shockwave tore through her, and immediately collapsed face forward into his chest. For the moment she could only stand there shivering, unable to move or speak.
"Jaina!" Quickly he lifted her up, looking her over worriedly. "What happened? Are you badly hurt? Who did this to you?"
She looked up weakly, her eyes watery from the pain, her breathing accompanied by little whimpers in between each breath. It took her a moment before she managed to gasp out "Con… tract…" only to scream again as another jolt of pain shocked her.
"I see… Shhh, you mustn't hurt yourself any further… I swear, when I find whoever did this to you…"
A pale green glow surrounded his hand as he cradled her forehead, and she felt the pain slowly start to fade. She gazed quietly up at him, trying to blink away the tears, until it gradually all subsided.
"Perhaps whoever got you to sign this contract was also responsible for putting you to sleep…" Azzanadra shook his head, his face resolutely serious. "This is a grave matter indeed! We must bring you before Zaros immediately."
Before Jaina even had a chance to nod in agreement, she heard a sudden crash from the front door and the loud clanking of plate armor as a young man dashed into the parlor, brandishing a large heavy sword.
"Hey! You're not gonna sacrifice my sister to your dark god, you… you…" The blond-haired youth blinked and paused a moment to stare. "What even are you?"
He took a step closer, his gray eyes sharply narrowed as he readied his sword for an attack. "Doesn't matter—whatever you are, unhand my sister!"
Jaina sat bolt upright, her eyes wide in alarm. "Ape Face! Put your sword away now!"
"What do you mean, put my sword away?" he exclaimed, looking at her in disbelief. "Can't you see I'm trying to rescue you here?"
"I'm not currently in need of rescuing, Ape Face, and I can assure you that my god doesn't demand human sacrifices. I haven't even heard of any god who—"
"But there's an evil wizard thing right there, and he's got you in his clutches!" Her brother pointed to Azzanadra, his hand shaking a bit as he did. "Someone has to rescue you before he does something terrible to you! I'm sure he's the one who put that sleep curse on you!"
Azzanadra sighed and shook his head, his brow furrowed slightly. "I can hear everything you're saying, young man."
"My name's Henry Kyle Katarn and I'm the best warrior in Lumbridge!" The youth waved his sword, trying to do his best menacing glare. "Unhand my sister now, or you're going to taste my blade!"
"Ape Face, you dunderhead! You shouldn't casually threaten a Mahjarrat like that!" Jaina stared at her brother as though he'd suddenly sprouted watermelons from his ears. "Besides, if he were going to harm me, he would have done so long before now."
"Okay, seriously, Jaina, are you crazy? You say he's a Mahja-thing, and you don't even sound a little bit worried about it!" Henry was staring at her blankly, his mouth agape. "Is there any reason you're not scared of this guy, or trying to fight back, or anything? Aren't the Mahja-things supposed to be these dangerous evil shapeshifters with ugly skull heads?"
"It's Mahjarrat, and they're not always all skeletal," Jaina snapped, scowling in the direction of the sword. "Put your sword away, and I'll explain everything to you, if you promise to keep quiet about it!"
"Why do I have to keep quiet?" Henry demanded. "What if it's a trap, and he does some weird dark magic when I let my—"
"I said put your sword away!" Her tone was sharp and insistent, and he made a small squeak as he reluctantly sheathed his sword behind his back.
She was feeling a bit calmer now that her brother had finally listened to her, and she turned her gaze back to Azzanadra. "I think I can stand again; you can put me down now…"
He nodded quietly and placed her down onto her feet, though he kept one arm protectively around her. Shaking a bit, she swallowed nervously and regained her composure before she spoke. "Now, you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about what I'm about to explain—this is a secret and it stays strictly between you and me, understand?"
"But why do I have to keep it secret?" Henry asked again. "Your strange god you don't want me to talk about is one thing, but a Mahja-thing is a whole other matter! Can't you just tell me what's going on?"
"Only if you promise," Jaina replied firmly. "It's important that I can trust you with my secrets before I go telling them!"
Henry sighed and hung his head, looking exasperated. "Okay, okay, I promise! Now can you please tell me what's going on here?"
Jaina hesitated, feeling a lump rise in her throat. No, she couldn't be nervous now; he had given his word, and her best option was to be honest. "This isn't going to be easy to say… and it would likely be much harder to explain if Mother and Father still lived… But I do owe it to you to tell the truth…"
She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, meeting her brother's gaze. "Azzanadra is no mere Mahjarrat, but the first and foremost of my lord Zaros' faithful. He is also my beloved—I have been seeing him since Saradomin and Zamorak were in our hometown making a mess of it. Yes, I'm still angry about that, though that's another matter."
"You fell in love with a Mahja-thing?" Henry's tone was the same sort that someone might use when asking if someone had made a pact with a demon or bought a mansion in the Wilderness. "But how could you even—don't you know how fearsome and dangerous they're supposed to be? Don't you know what kind of weird dark magics they're supposed to be capable of? What about Brand? What happened to your love for him?"
Instantly Jaina's face contorted in shock, and she stared at him with wide eyes that were quickly filling with tears. "Just because Brand is gone doesn't mean I no longer love him!" she shot back, her voice pained. "I promised myself—promised Father Vargas—that I would never forget him! And even though my lord teaches that revenge is pointless, I still seek to wipe out every last dagannoth left alive!"
She did her best to dry her tears. "Oh, and before you say something rude again, Azzanadra also happens to be the most powerful of his kind, and once ruled an entire empire. You will speak to him with the respect he is due!"
"Most… powerful…" Henry's face went white, and he gulped nervously and took a step back. "I-I'm sorry, sir, please don't hurt me, sir…"
"I can understand your fear," Azzanadra said, "but I have no wish or reason to harm you, or your sister." He placed his hand on Jaina's shoulder. "She does exaggerate slightly; I was merely my lord's right hand, performing the duties of leadership in his name… but I digress. Go on, Jaina."
"Why did you fall in love with him?" Henry asked. "Did he teach you about your strange dark god?"
"More than just that," Jaina answered, a small smile flickering across her face. "He was kind enough to grant me knowledge of ancient magic as a thank you for freeing him. You didn't think I devised my ice spells by myself, did you?"
"Well, no, actually… doesn't it take years to make new spells?" Henry frowned and chewed his lip. "But I thought you found a dusty old spellbook or scroll somewhere and shared it with people…" When she shook her head, he blinked and shrugged his shoulders before he spoke up again. "Anyway, what do you mean you rescued him? If he's so powerful, why would he need to be rescued? Weren't you afraid when you first saw him? …Don't take that the wrong way, sir; you just happen to look intimidating…"
"All I knew when I rescued him was that he was a hero in distress and he needed my help," said Jaina, "and he certainly looked like it when I first saw him… as for why he was trapped, I believe the Zamorakians used trickery to do that, but that's a story for another time. Anyway, I went on to help him with a few more things, and he told me about Zaros, about what things were like before the God Wars, even a little about the Mahjarrat… it was fascinating! It wasn't long before we were friends, but I didn't think he would consider me more than a friend… What I noticed most was how much he believed in me, trusted in me, admired my skill, even though I was only a common-born human mage from Lumbridge…"
Henry looked skeptical, but this time he paused to reconsider before he said anything. "But… what happened to Dr. Naba-Ginger?"
"You look upon him now," Azzanadra chimed in. "You did say you find my true appearance intimidating—naturally, I had to take a form that would not frighten humans, and would allow me to blend in while I carried on my lord's work."
"Yes, I did know he was a Mahjarrat the whole time," Jaina added. "Though I have always found his human form quite handsome too…"
Henry just stared, dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. He seemed to be at a loss for words.
Jaina finally broke the silence. "I know you promised already, but I feel like I should ask again—you're not going to tell anyone about any of this, yes?"
"I—I won't," he said shakily, "but I'm still worried about you—are you sure this is a good idea? You're the only family I have left; if something bad happened…"
"Danger has a habit of finding me, I'm afraid," she remarked, "but I'm still in one piece. There are many individuals you and I should be worried about, but Azzanadra isn't one of them, and I know he isn't responsible for the sleep thing either. That was actually why he suggested we consult Zaros—to help find out who might've actually done it…"
She frowned, shifting her leg a bit. "Though you're right; we don't see all that much of each other… We should try to become closer; whatever Father and Mother would have thought of me now, they would not have wanted us to be like strangers to one another…"
She straightened up suddenly as a thought crossed her mind. "Oh, by the way, I was going to ask you this anyway… the Mahjarrat do not marry, but he has decided to make an exception for me… and, well, I'd really like for you to come… Would you be willing to please hand me off in Father's absence?"
"B-bluh?" This time, rather than merely staring in disbelief, Henry fainted dead away.
It took Jaina shaking his shoulders—which was easier said than done, given his bulky chestplate—to get him to snap out of it, and when he did, he could only splutter for a little bit before managing to get any words out. "Married? Butbutbut… he's so old! And a Mahja-thing! And… oh good Guthix I don't wanna imagine that!" He cringed, looking a bit green in the face.
"I would very much appreciate it if you didn't," said Jaina, helping him up. "Please, Ape Face? It would mean a lot to me to have you there, even if you're not happy with us…"
Henry seemed to consider this, and was quiet for a minute before nodding reluctantly. "Oh, alright—I'll be there, and I'll hand you off in place of Father! It's the least I can do for you…" He straightened up a bit. "Wait, where and when is it even going to be?"
"In a week's time, I believe? Wait…" Jaina closed her eyes, mentally calculating the days she'd missed. "I think it's in—E-eh? Three days? Oh my Zaros… I didn't realize…"
It was her turn to faint, although Azzanadra was thankfully there to catch her.
When she got back from the morning meeting at the Legends' Guild the following afternoon, Jaina squeezed through her bedroom window to see that she had guests—very unexpected guests. Two desert bandit women, their hoods off for a change, smiled at her from where they stood beside a familiar dancer, who looked considerably less happy.
"At last, you're here," Char said flatly, her eyes fixed on Jaina. "Took you long enough."
"Eh?" Jaina stared at her in confusion. "What brings you to my home?"
The bandit women squirmed and squealed excitedly, and Char motioned to a sewing kit and some rolls of fine fabric on the bed. "We are going to make you a dress!"
Jaina felt her face grow hot as she looked at the rolls of fabric—Kharidian silk by the looks of it, pink, red, and four different shades of purple—and she wrung her hands, her awkward grin hurting her cheeks a bit. "R-really, you don't have to… I know how to make clothes…"
"You need a suitable dress," said Char pointedly, shaking her head as she gestured to Jaina's silvery-blue overcoat and magician's dress. "Look at you—you can't get married dressed like that!"
Jaina tensed up, her face growing even hotter as she remembered her wedding day. "Um, I kind of did…"
"Just come over here!" Char beckoned impatiently, her eyes slightly narrowed. "The sooner you have a proper dress, the better."
Jaina nodded nervously and came closer, reluctantly slipping off her bag and overcoat. The two bandit women proceeded to help her undress, and then one of them started to measure her while the other quickly scribbled the measurements on a worn-looking papyrus.
"Let's make one thing clear," Char said severely, her voice rather cold for someone with a talent for fire. "This is the first opportunity to dance for my lord I have had in a long time. As you will be in his presence, it is important that everything be proper—as close to the way it was done in the empire as possible. I don't want you bumbling or spoiling anything, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am—I mean, Char," Jaina stammered, feeling a cold sweat on her brow. The dancer wasn't nearly as terrifying as Nex, but she was quite fearsome in her own right.
As the bandit women took her measurements, Jaina looked in the mirror and then down at herself, her eyes falling on the thin, red scar on her lower stomach. She had only noticed it last night, before she went to bed—and if she hadn't burned herself out from worrying about everything else, she might have lost a lot of sleep wondering about it. Where had she gotten it? She didn't remember getting it from being injured… so did it have anything to do with her long sleep? Why would whoever had cast the sleep spell want to slice her stomach open? The intent certainly hadn't been to kill her… Oh, how she hoped none of her insides had been torn out while she wasn't looking!
She didn't have long to dwell on it, though, as the bandit women had finished the measurements and were now each holding up two different bolts of purple cloth. "Which shade would you prefer?" the first asked quietly.
Jaina took a moment to look over all four, and then decided on one that was deep violet, very similar in color to that exquisite top Azzanadra had given her. The pair wasted no time in setting to work, Char mostly overseeing them, though she did do her fair share of checking fabric measurements and sticking pins here and there.
Watching the pieces of the dress slowly take form, Jaina wanted to do some of the work herself, though she didn't want to bump into the women, and Char likely wouldn't let her. Of course she wanted to point out that she'd be the one to wear the dress and thus naturally wanted to have a part in making it, but Char seemed to think that she couldn't be trusted with even that.
She couldn't go back to thinking about the scar or the sleep spell, as the two women decided to make small talk with her—twittering excitedly about what a wonderful day she had to look forward to, how they would have loved to be in her place, how it was such a joy to help make her look amazing for Azzanadra. They were talking so fast she could barely get a word in edgewise.
"Will either of you be attending?" she finally managed to ask.
"Oh, I hope we'll be allowed to," one of them said. "We wanted to tell our families the good news, but Eblis says that Lord Azzanadra asked that the ceremony be small and secret…"
"If I were to come, I would have to bring my baby girl along," the second murmured. "She can be rather fussy at times, though… I'm not sure the Great Lord himself would appreciate her crying…"
"My lord has more important things to be worried about than a baby crying," Char pointed out. "Let's see, the skirt looks long enough, but…"
It wasn't long before there was a plain, unfinished dress loosely stitched together, and Jaina was motioned over to have it pulled over her head. The two women ushered her over to the mirror so she could see it as they looked it over.
"Not bad, but it looks too plain," the first remarked. "It will need some sort of adornments…"
"You've been rather quiet," said the other. "How do you want the sleeves to be? What about the neckline? What else should be on it—a belt, trim, beads, embroidery?"
"Um… the neckline should be reasonably high but not too high, and detached sleeves are kind of cute…" Jaina frowned, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. "I'd like it to be fairly simple, not too overloaded…"
"But it can't be this plain," the first woman insisted. "You need to look elegant! Eye-catching! Stunning enough to turn every head in the temple as you walk in!"
"I know," Jaina said, nodding to the second woman, who was measuring where the neckline would be. "I just don't want to overdo it, you know?"
The pair set to work once more, one working on the neckline and the other on a sleeve, and Char nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, it's starting to look suitable… Now for the veil…"
"Do I really need one?" Jaina asked. "I'd rather not—ow!" She winced a little from having been poked inadvertently with a pin. "I'd rather not hide my hair…"
Char shook her head disapprovingly. "I told you, this is going to be a proper Zarosian wedding, so you need to look like a proper bride! Red veil, red shoes!"
One of the women stopped suddenly to go look through Jaina's closet, hurrying back over with a pair of red silken slippers that had yet to be worn in hand. "I found some! These look very suitable!"
Char looked a bit surprised, but she nodded in approval. "I hadn't expected you to have those, given what your usual wardrobe looks like."
Jaina had almost forgotten that pair of shoes, given that she'd never found a chance or a reason to wear them. She'd received them as a gift for her sixteenth birthday, shortly before she'd left Yanille to go to adventuring school, from her Aunt Shada, who had been hopeful that she might one day dance in them. Of course, she'd gotten her magic bag that very same birthday, so the lovely red shoes had always been a little underappreciated.
How long had it been since she'd heard from Aunt Shada anyway? Although the neighbors had mentioned her moving to Ardougne to get away from the ogres, Jaina had neither heard from her nor seen her since leaving. She wasn't sure if she should be surprised; Father and Aunt Shada hadn't been that close—and both her cousins already lived in Ardougne anyway, so Aunt Shada had probably wanted to be near them again. She'd never met her cousins; all she knew was that they were a few years older than she was and had different fathers.
Well, it seemed Aunt Shada's wish would come true… although Jaina wasn't sure the way it would come true would please her aunt very much. Then again, the shoes did rather fit the occasion—she'd feared damaging them, not unlike Azzanadra's shirt, but like the shirt, they were made to be worn.
She intended to try the slippers on, but the two women were still hard at work putting the finishing touches on the neckline and sleeves, and Char was bringing over a roll of partially transparent red fabric that matched the shoes. Draping some of it neatly over Jaina's head, she adjusted it a few times before quietly cutting a sizable part, with the resulting veil coming down to just below the shoulders.
"Now we have a veil, and this is exactly how you'll wear it," she said, motioning to Jaina's reflection in the mirror. "If it slips too much, a few pins should hold it in place."
Jaina frowned uncertainly at her mirror image. The veil didn't hide her hair completely, and the way it seemed to shimmer was surprisingly lovely, but she still wasn't sure she wanted to wear it.
"I-it is actually kind of pretty… but it still hides my hair, and it feels strange to wear it… I was going to just wear a wreath of flowers…"
"I danced at many weddings back in the day," Char pointed out. "It was not as much a joy as dancing for my lord, but I certainly know what I'm doing."
Jaina still wished the dancer were a little less overbearing, but she had to admit that she did know better. Besides, she was an ally and a friend—well, a friend in the most merciful sense of the word, anyway—and she at least ought to trust her, even if that trust wasn't returned.
The lively chatter of the bandit women made the rest of the dressmaking go by more quickly, and when the last finishing touches were added, the pair excitedly urged Jaina to put the red shoes on and look in the mirror. She did so, relieved that the slippers fit and felt soft and comfortable—and her eyes widened in surprise when she looked in the mirror.
The dress was accented with shades of pink and small strands of silver on the sleeves, neckline, and hem, and a silver-and-gold-trimmed lavender strip of fabric, bearing four diamond shapes—red, pale blue, gray, and black—hung prominently in the middle of the skirt. A small symbol of Zaros adorned each of the ends of the sleeves, the neckline, and the waistline, and the four-diamond pattern featured prominently on the bodice alongside pretty swirl accents.
"Oh…" Jaina found herself at a loss for words. She definitely couldn't have made something like this on her own… and she couldn't have asked for something more fitting to wear.
"I-it's… I… why…" She spluttered a bit, trying to express something about how impressive it looked. "I… thank you so much… I-I couldn't have imagined…"
"I shall be holding onto it for you until the wedding day comes," said Char, looking slightly less displeased than usual. "Can't have Azzanadra seeing it, after all."
"Y-yes…" Jaina nodded, a little reluctantly. "I really do owe you one—" she nodded nervously to Char and swallowed before she continued— "Oh, and I-I look forward to seeing your dancing too…"
"I pray that my lord does as well." Char's voice seemed a bit sad and longing, but her expression quickly grew more serious. "Just take care not to bumble anything, understand? Oh, and I was told to tell you to keep an eye out for a surprise in your basement…"
"Yes, I know; I don't even want to mess anything up…" Jaina straightened up suddenly. "A surprise? In my basement? But…"
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, yes?" Char raised an eyebrow. "You will have time to see for yourself soon enough."
Jaina was already wondering about what might be in her basement, and how Char might know about it. She could only hope that the surprise wouldn't be an unpleasant one.