Trickster's Dancer: Chapter One
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Summary: Libby's a dancer/waitress in the Captial of Tortall: Corus City. She discovers her passion for dancing is more than just a passion; It's magic. Her occupation brings her to become an acquantence of one George Cooper and his 'castle visitors'. Find out how she becomes the dancer of a... God.
Disclaimer: Characters, places, all of it, call belongs to Tamora Pierce, no I.
-=-=-=-
Chapter One: Meeting Messengers.
-=-=-=-
Step, step, twist. Step, step, dip. Libby glidded across the stage, her slim form twisting and twirling through a routine only perfected with long practice.
Clapping made her suddenly pause in her routine, which would liike quite painful if you hadn't been doing from a young age. Her head snapped in the direction of the clapping. She found a tall young man, who looked to be twenty-one or twenty-two; She had a good instincts, she was usually spot on the age of a person.
The man had a broad, almost ugly nose, which seemed to put his entire face off, yet his eyes were the deepest brown, with a magical glint to them, that she had ever seen.
She stood from her position and folded her arms over her chest, she was wearing no more than a skin-fitting, short dress, a practicing version of her actual costume.
"May I help you?" She asked, she hated to be disturbed in the middle of a practice, especially when she had a gig that night.
The man smiled, she had to admit, the smile had a charming edge to it.
"My name is..." He began.
"George Cooper," She interrupted before he could continue.
"I see my name is quite popular," He mused, thinking from the look on his face.
"What do you expect, your majesty?" She asked, curtsying, bringing her hands around herself to give off the effect of wide sweeping skirts.
George made no comment on the 'majesty' comment, but took a step forward, bowing as he was a few feet from her.
"You are a spell-binding dancer," He complimented.
"Thank you," She told him, flicking her deep black curls from her sky-blue eyes.
"I don't believe I caught your name," George said, digging his hands into his pockets, giving off a rather relaxed aura.
"I didn't give it," she told him. "It's Libby. Libby Tanner."
George took her hand and kissed it, "Pleased to meet you, Mistress Tanner."
Libby took her hand back. "Let's get to the point, what is it you want?"
"You."
Libby raised an eyebrow.
George chuckled. "Not in that way, Libby. I mean you, as a dancer, as an employee."
"For you? Now why would I want to get into that kind of business?"
George laughed heartily. "I do not believe you understand me. I have been sent, as a messenger. For you. You must trust me."
Libby kept her eyebrow raised. "I have to practice, I don't have time for this," She told him, turning.
George caught her arm. "Libby, please, he'll visit you tonight, think about it."
Libby pulled her arm free, dispite his strong hold, which surprised him. "I'll think about it, just let me practice."
George held his hands up in defeat. "Until tomorrow," He said, and bowed.
Libby turned to ask him what he had meant by "until tomorrow," and found he had gone.
She shook her head and started her routine over.
-=-=-=-
Step, step, twirl. Step, step, dip, dip, hitch, slide...
Libby was going through her routine that night, the crowd was enourmous.
She'd just finished waiting of tables and had to rush to prepare for her dances.
She was about to slip into a leaping split when a misty light seemed to pass over the pub she was performing at. The crowd seemed to freeze, she turned to find a man with short-cut light brown hair, a comfy pair of black breeches and a white flowing shirt.
he smiled at her. "Hello Libby," He said kindly.
"Who are you?" Libby scowled.
The man laughed, his voice seemed to roll through her, like a melody.
"You know who I am, Libby."
Libby did know, somehow she just knew.
"You're a god, aren't you?"
Libby could tell by the aura of light around him.
The man nodded.
"You're... you're the Trickster," she told him, not even knowing how she knew that.
The Trickster nodded.
"You sent George to me today, didn't you?"
Trickster nodded again. "You didn't believe, did you?"
Libby smiled, but nodded. "Alot of people claim to be messengers of a god."
Trickster shrugged, "I suppose they do."
"What is it you want? I'm in the middle of a gig," She waved a hand over the crowd around her stage, all froze in place.
"Do you remember your mother?" Trickster asked.
Libby knew he knew she didn't, but she still answered. "You know I don't."
"Did you remember anything about her?"
"No," Libby said impatiently. She hated when people danced around things, she liked everything to be out in the open.
"Do you know why?" Libby huffed angrily. "Just tell me what you know, and what you want."
"This is why you'll be perfect, my girl."
Libby scowled at him. "Perfect for what?"
"For your mother's position."
"My mother's what?" Her heart sank, her mother had died on her birth, or as
she'd been told.
"Position. Your mother was my... protector," He said, finding the right words.
"Protector? You're a god."
"Not for me, for future chosen. I need you to help protect one."
"Why me?"
"Because you can. You can handle knifes, spy tactics, everything. Plus, you're female. You're unnoticed as a chosen."
"Now that isn't sexist," Libby scolded sarcastically.
Trickster shrugged. "What're you doing to do?"
Libby scowled. She wouldn't do anything, he was a god, and much for powerful than her.
"Do you need me now?" She asked, her eyes darting to her crowd and back to Trickster.
He nodded, "That's why i sent George first. You'll be working along side him."
"George?! The Theif King?!"
Trickster nodded.
"I'm a dancer."
"That's why you'll be working 'for' him, as his dancer."
"His? You can't be serious."
"I most certainly am, my girl."
"I'm not your girl," Libby hissed, thinking.
Would she except? Did she have a choice? He was a god, she had to. And her mother, she was a chosen protector. She had always dreamt to be something like her mother, she'd been told of the greatness of her mtoher among commoners. Sure she had no standing with the nobles, but she was great.
"So do you excpect?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Trickster shrugged, "I suppose."
Libby shrugged. "You know I'm going to except, don't you?"
Trickster grinned and nodded.
Libby sighed. "Well there's your answer."
"Excellent," Trickster said, walking over and taking her hand in his. He wink at her, lifted a hand and clicked his fingers.
Suddenly Libby felt herself being thrown through the air, suddenly she felt dirt under her bare feet. she looked down, then up. Trickster still held her hand, it was warm, yet had a chill to it, which made her want to shake at the touch, it was the feeling of... power, running under her skin.
She took her hand back, Trickster raised an eyebrow but seemed to get over it quickly.
Upon inspection Libby found they were in some back alley, behind a pub by the sounds of things.
"Inside you go, ask to see George, you know what to do."
before Libby could say anything she found herself, alone, in front of a pub called: The Dancing Dove.
she took a deep breath and entered the pub. She relax slightly when she realsied she would fit right in, wearing what she was, although it gave her more of a... slag kind of look.
This thought was proven the moment a burly man slipped an arm around her slim waist.
Libby's elbow hitched up towards the man's chin and was stopped by a large hand. Libby looked up into enticing brown eyes.
"She's not one to be handled," George told the man as he took her arm and led her away from the man.
"I could handle myself," Libby told her. Even though she was only a slim fifteen year old, she knew quite a wide range of fighting techniques; having grown up with a fighting master in residence.
"I'm aware of that, but it wouldn't do for you to draw attention to yourself, or to disable any of my subjects."
Libby scowled and took her arm from his as they reached a long table, which he indicated her to sit at. He took a seat at the head of the table, the seat next to her own.
A woman with deep red curls made her way over to them.
"Ah, Rispah, meet Libby Tanner, she's... my chosen."
Rispah's eyes widened and she curtsied to Libby.
Libby nodded, not ebing able to curtsy, as she was sitting.
"Libby, this is Rispah, my cousin."
"Nice to meet you," Libby said politely.
"Rispah is one you can trust, her and I, you'll meet a few more you can trust, but for now..."
Libby nodded to say she understood.
"Who is my... charge?" She asked, it had been something racking in her brain for a while.
George grinned and pointed across the large room to a table which four young men and two men sat at.
"Tall one, black curls."
"What's his name?" Libby asked as she eyed the guy. She ahd to admit, he was... intriguing, in a godd way.
"Raoul."
Libby turned back to George. "Raoul what?"
"Of Goldenlake."
Libby gapped. "He's noble?" She whispered.
George nodded. "Not that anyone but you and I are aware of that."
"Is he a..."
"Squire," George answered for her. "Aged seventeen, he'll do great for Tortall in his knight years."
"He's older than me and he's going to be a knight, why am I protecting him."
George shrugged. "Beats me, ask the Trickster, he's giving you assignment."
Libby put her head in her hands. "I don't believe this," She muttered.
George put a hand on her shoulder. "You'll get used to it."
Libby looked up at him. "Says you."
George laughed, his eyes lit up, mischeviously.
"Ready to meet him?"
Libby's eyes widened and she turned to look at Raoul. "Meet him? Now?"
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Just a start, I like keeping you all in suspense.
Anyway, review, if ya wanna, I don't mind if you don't. But cookies for those who do.
Until next chapter,
-Thai.
-=-=-=-
Summary: Libby's a dancer/waitress in the Captial of Tortall: Corus City. She discovers her passion for dancing is more than just a passion; It's magic. Her occupation brings her to become an acquantence of one George Cooper and his 'castle visitors'. Find out how she becomes the dancer of a... God.
Disclaimer: Characters, places, all of it, call belongs to Tamora Pierce, no I.
-=-=-=-
Chapter One: Meeting Messengers.
-=-=-=-
Step, step, twist. Step, step, dip. Libby glidded across the stage, her slim form twisting and twirling through a routine only perfected with long practice.
Clapping made her suddenly pause in her routine, which would liike quite painful if you hadn't been doing from a young age. Her head snapped in the direction of the clapping. She found a tall young man, who looked to be twenty-one or twenty-two; She had a good instincts, she was usually spot on the age of a person.
The man had a broad, almost ugly nose, which seemed to put his entire face off, yet his eyes were the deepest brown, with a magical glint to them, that she had ever seen.
She stood from her position and folded her arms over her chest, she was wearing no more than a skin-fitting, short dress, a practicing version of her actual costume.
"May I help you?" She asked, she hated to be disturbed in the middle of a practice, especially when she had a gig that night.
The man smiled, she had to admit, the smile had a charming edge to it.
"My name is..." He began.
"George Cooper," She interrupted before he could continue.
"I see my name is quite popular," He mused, thinking from the look on his face.
"What do you expect, your majesty?" She asked, curtsying, bringing her hands around herself to give off the effect of wide sweeping skirts.
George made no comment on the 'majesty' comment, but took a step forward, bowing as he was a few feet from her.
"You are a spell-binding dancer," He complimented.
"Thank you," She told him, flicking her deep black curls from her sky-blue eyes.
"I don't believe I caught your name," George said, digging his hands into his pockets, giving off a rather relaxed aura.
"I didn't give it," she told him. "It's Libby. Libby Tanner."
George took her hand and kissed it, "Pleased to meet you, Mistress Tanner."
Libby took her hand back. "Let's get to the point, what is it you want?"
"You."
Libby raised an eyebrow.
George chuckled. "Not in that way, Libby. I mean you, as a dancer, as an employee."
"For you? Now why would I want to get into that kind of business?"
George laughed heartily. "I do not believe you understand me. I have been sent, as a messenger. For you. You must trust me."
Libby kept her eyebrow raised. "I have to practice, I don't have time for this," She told him, turning.
George caught her arm. "Libby, please, he'll visit you tonight, think about it."
Libby pulled her arm free, dispite his strong hold, which surprised him. "I'll think about it, just let me practice."
George held his hands up in defeat. "Until tomorrow," He said, and bowed.
Libby turned to ask him what he had meant by "until tomorrow," and found he had gone.
She shook her head and started her routine over.
-=-=-=-
Step, step, twirl. Step, step, dip, dip, hitch, slide...
Libby was going through her routine that night, the crowd was enourmous.
She'd just finished waiting of tables and had to rush to prepare for her dances.
She was about to slip into a leaping split when a misty light seemed to pass over the pub she was performing at. The crowd seemed to freeze, she turned to find a man with short-cut light brown hair, a comfy pair of black breeches and a white flowing shirt.
he smiled at her. "Hello Libby," He said kindly.
"Who are you?" Libby scowled.
The man laughed, his voice seemed to roll through her, like a melody.
"You know who I am, Libby."
Libby did know, somehow she just knew.
"You're a god, aren't you?"
Libby could tell by the aura of light around him.
The man nodded.
"You're... you're the Trickster," she told him, not even knowing how she knew that.
The Trickster nodded.
"You sent George to me today, didn't you?"
Trickster nodded again. "You didn't believe, did you?"
Libby smiled, but nodded. "Alot of people claim to be messengers of a god."
Trickster shrugged, "I suppose they do."
"What is it you want? I'm in the middle of a gig," She waved a hand over the crowd around her stage, all froze in place.
"Do you remember your mother?" Trickster asked.
Libby knew he knew she didn't, but she still answered. "You know I don't."
"Did you remember anything about her?"
"No," Libby said impatiently. She hated when people danced around things, she liked everything to be out in the open.
"Do you know why?" Libby huffed angrily. "Just tell me what you know, and what you want."
"This is why you'll be perfect, my girl."
Libby scowled at him. "Perfect for what?"
"For your mother's position."
"My mother's what?" Her heart sank, her mother had died on her birth, or as
she'd been told.
"Position. Your mother was my... protector," He said, finding the right words.
"Protector? You're a god."
"Not for me, for future chosen. I need you to help protect one."
"Why me?"
"Because you can. You can handle knifes, spy tactics, everything. Plus, you're female. You're unnoticed as a chosen."
"Now that isn't sexist," Libby scolded sarcastically.
Trickster shrugged. "What're you doing to do?"
Libby scowled. She wouldn't do anything, he was a god, and much for powerful than her.
"Do you need me now?" She asked, her eyes darting to her crowd and back to Trickster.
He nodded, "That's why i sent George first. You'll be working along side him."
"George?! The Theif King?!"
Trickster nodded.
"I'm a dancer."
"That's why you'll be working 'for' him, as his dancer."
"His? You can't be serious."
"I most certainly am, my girl."
"I'm not your girl," Libby hissed, thinking.
Would she except? Did she have a choice? He was a god, she had to. And her mother, she was a chosen protector. She had always dreamt to be something like her mother, she'd been told of the greatness of her mtoher among commoners. Sure she had no standing with the nobles, but she was great.
"So do you excpect?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Trickster shrugged, "I suppose."
Libby shrugged. "You know I'm going to except, don't you?"
Trickster grinned and nodded.
Libby sighed. "Well there's your answer."
"Excellent," Trickster said, walking over and taking her hand in his. He wink at her, lifted a hand and clicked his fingers.
Suddenly Libby felt herself being thrown through the air, suddenly she felt dirt under her bare feet. she looked down, then up. Trickster still held her hand, it was warm, yet had a chill to it, which made her want to shake at the touch, it was the feeling of... power, running under her skin.
She took her hand back, Trickster raised an eyebrow but seemed to get over it quickly.
Upon inspection Libby found they were in some back alley, behind a pub by the sounds of things.
"Inside you go, ask to see George, you know what to do."
before Libby could say anything she found herself, alone, in front of a pub called: The Dancing Dove.
she took a deep breath and entered the pub. She relax slightly when she realsied she would fit right in, wearing what she was, although it gave her more of a... slag kind of look.
This thought was proven the moment a burly man slipped an arm around her slim waist.
Libby's elbow hitched up towards the man's chin and was stopped by a large hand. Libby looked up into enticing brown eyes.
"She's not one to be handled," George told the man as he took her arm and led her away from the man.
"I could handle myself," Libby told her. Even though she was only a slim fifteen year old, she knew quite a wide range of fighting techniques; having grown up with a fighting master in residence.
"I'm aware of that, but it wouldn't do for you to draw attention to yourself, or to disable any of my subjects."
Libby scowled and took her arm from his as they reached a long table, which he indicated her to sit at. He took a seat at the head of the table, the seat next to her own.
A woman with deep red curls made her way over to them.
"Ah, Rispah, meet Libby Tanner, she's... my chosen."
Rispah's eyes widened and she curtsied to Libby.
Libby nodded, not ebing able to curtsy, as she was sitting.
"Libby, this is Rispah, my cousin."
"Nice to meet you," Libby said politely.
"Rispah is one you can trust, her and I, you'll meet a few more you can trust, but for now..."
Libby nodded to say she understood.
"Who is my... charge?" She asked, it had been something racking in her brain for a while.
George grinned and pointed across the large room to a table which four young men and two men sat at.
"Tall one, black curls."
"What's his name?" Libby asked as she eyed the guy. She ahd to admit, he was... intriguing, in a godd way.
"Raoul."
Libby turned back to George. "Raoul what?"
"Of Goldenlake."
Libby gapped. "He's noble?" She whispered.
George nodded. "Not that anyone but you and I are aware of that."
"Is he a..."
"Squire," George answered for her. "Aged seventeen, he'll do great for Tortall in his knight years."
"He's older than me and he's going to be a knight, why am I protecting him."
George shrugged. "Beats me, ask the Trickster, he's giving you assignment."
Libby put her head in her hands. "I don't believe this," She muttered.
George put a hand on her shoulder. "You'll get used to it."
Libby looked up at him. "Says you."
George laughed, his eyes lit up, mischeviously.
"Ready to meet him?"
Libby's eyes widened and she turned to look at Raoul. "Meet him? Now?"
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Just a start, I like keeping you all in suspense.
Anyway, review, if ya wanna, I don't mind if you don't. But cookies for those who do.
Until next chapter,
-Thai.