AN: About ten years after Trickster's Queen.

Zaimid Hetnim and Saraiyu Balitang have had three children: Mequen, Cyne, and Neoma. They now live on the countryside, in Tayt, Carthak, except for Zaimid, who must work in the capital.

Includes Sarai, Dove, Aly, Nawat, Taybur Sibigat, Victorcine, and others, including their kids. (Kyprioth is back!) Takes place in Carthak and the Copper Isles.


Excerpt:

Inwardly, she knew that he would be killed, by Aly or Nawat or one of the guards- Their fury would be nothing to the man's Gift….

… but they were too far away to stop him before the knife fell into her breast, to stab her heart-

Her eyes locked with the killer's wild ones. She could almost believe that he could not see her, that he was in a blinding rage, except that his blade was headed towards her with deadly certainty. She wanted to close her eyes, only to find that she could not-

Chapter One- A Visit

Tayt, Carthak

April 20th 477 H.E.

"Ha!" Cyne laughed shortly as she tapped Mequen, her older brother, on the shoulder with her practice sword. Gasping for breath, she sat down, sweating profusely.

"No one decent falls over after defeating an opponent!" Mequen countered teasingly. Then he swept down on her and began tickling her.

Cyne squealed indignantly and edged away from his playful fingers. Ignoring her laughing protests, Mequen grabbed her and picked her up before spinning around in a wide circle. He was big and strong for a twelve-year-old; picking up his small sister of ten years was easier than beating a rug.

"Oh! Oh! Mequen! Mequen!" both laughing siblings heard a voice call sweetly. As he put Cyne down, Mequen saw Neoma, their four-year-old sister, her dark eyes staring pleadingly into his own nearly identical ones "Do that to me!" she begged. "Please- please- please-" Her voice dissolved into giggles and shrieks of delight as he complied. Smiling, Cyne backed away to watch the pair at a distance she gauged was safe. She knew from experience that it was all too easy to get knocked over by the twirling duo.

"Cyne!" The girl turned to see her harried mother, Saraiyu Hetnim of Tayt, glide towards her.

Golden-skinned and raven-haired, the noblewoman had been a spectacular beauty in her day. Now, her beauty and motherhood had transformed her into a regal, formidable figure in Emperor Kaddar's Court when she was forced to appear. She was a sharp, intelligent woman who despised court with all of her heart and soul. She preferred Tayt and the parties and balls in the surrounding fiefs, though occasionally even those went wrong when she shocked the older women with sharp opinions against the traditionally accepted restrictions forced upon Carthaki noblewomen.

In this, Cyne both agreed and disagreed. Tayt was a lush, pleasant oasis of life, while the city of Jiekai, where Emperor Kaddar's court was, was hard and hot all around. But Jiekai was a world made of many people and items from Tortall, the Copper Isles, the Yamani Islands, and even some from Scanra. Cyne loved the bazaars, open at all hours, the palace, the people... She found it a marvel that in only about twenty years or so, Jiekai had been brought from its humble status as a wealthy port to the capital of Carthak. She curtsied neatly to her mother, who laughed.

"How was your ride?" she asked softly.

"Oh," her mother replied. "Just fine, fine enough." She waved a hand dismissively. "Your father was busy, though." She sighed. "I suppose you have just finished your lessons with Mequen?" Cyne muttered an assent. "Good." Her mother seemed distracted; her eyes roved around the courtyard, almost as quickly as Mequen spun Neoma.

"Mother?" Cyne asked quietly. Her father, Zaimid Hethim, personal healer to the king, had often teased both Sarai and Cyne, declaring that they were complete opposites. It was true; though their coloring was similar, Lady Sarai was tall, with dark eyes as deep as her other two children's. Cyne did not even know where she had gotten her eyes from. Hers were a deep blue-green, the color of the sea. In a world of eyes that were black and brown, she stood out. Perhaps that was why she liked Jiekai; no one paid her even the attention they gave to a passing donkey cart.

"Hmm?"

"Is something the matter?" The girl had not expected her mother's reaction; the woman snorted.

"You are far too much like Dove," she said, lips twisted wryly.

Cyne perked up; she liked hearing about her aunt, the young queen of the Copper Isles. She did not know the entire story, but she knew that the raka, the native people conquered by the white-skinned luarin, had wanted to overthrow their cruel rulers and set her mother up as queen.

There had been a prophecy that a half-blooded raka with royal luarin blood would become queen. Lord Mequen, the father of Sarai and Dove, had been a distant member of the luarin royal family and had taken a raka bride who, incidentally, belonged to the old raka royal line. But Sarai had run away with Zaimid, who had been visiting the Copper Isles, and Dove had become the queen of the Isles when the raka finally won their war. Cyne had always loved the idea that her mother had passed up on a chance to become queen because she loved Zaimid. She wondered if she could ever love anyone that much. She doubted it; even at her young age, she could tell her mother was hot-headed and impulsive, more like Cyne's brother than Cyne herself.

Cyne was more like her father in more than one respect; not only was she more patient than the rest of her family, but she had inherited a strong healing Gift. When her father came home from the palace, he would teach her small magics. Cyne took in the exercises as eagerly as a cat would lap up cream, and would always beg for more, even when her magical ability had been exhausted for the day.

"Am I really like Aunt Dove? That much?" she asked her mother eagerly. The lady sighed, smoothing her elaborate gown.

"Yes." She looked somewhere off in the distance. Cyne followed her gaze to the sky above them; she doubted her mother was seeing the beautiful clouds lazily drifting across the azure above them. More likely her was thinking of her sister; she had not seen Dove since she left with Zaimid. She had meant to; it just had not worked out as they had expected. "She could always tell when something was wrong." The girl frowned.

"What-"

"Your father wants you in Jiekai," Lady Sarai said, still not looking at her daughter. A delighted smile crossed Cyne's face. What could possibly be bothering her mother about that? "He wants- to talk." The last two words left her mouth reluctantly. Those darkly mentioned words dampened Cyne's excitement.

"About what?" she asked warily.

"Ah… Kiathi will go with you," her mother replied, walking away to Mequen and Neoma; the two had finally stopped whipping around like a pesky dust storm. "I have already ordered them to pack your belongings. I will see you- possibly- soon. You are to leave immediately."

She left her daughter staring after her as she went to pick up Neoma, a wide smile on her face. Feeling put-out, Cyne watched for a long moment. Her mother should not have simply wandered off after telling her to go several leagues to her father in the capital!

Then Cyne turned her back on the happy trio and disappeared inside, swearing she would not have children until she deemed herself to be a worthy enough mother for them.

Two months earlier

Sarai pounded her fist on the table as she glared at her calm husband, who ran a hand through his hair wearily. He had known that his wife was not going to take this calmly. He knew he had to argue with conviction, which was hard for him; he was just as reluctant as she was.

"You know as well as I do; she must go to court," he answered with renewed vigor. And if you will not-"

"I will never stay in such a vile place, and neither will I allow my daughter to be subject to their scorn and lies!" the woman snapped. A wandering servant stuck his head in the door curiously, but made a hasty retreat. It was not a good idea to be anywhere near an angry Lady Sarai Hetnim; she had been known to propel flying missiles across the room when provoked.

"Sarai," Zaimid said gently, crossing the space between them and putting a hand on her shoulder. She shook it off, but when he persistently pulled her into an embrace, she did not move away. "You know as well as I do that we cannot provide for a young lady. We cannot raise her to be a proper Carthaki lady."

"A governess-"

"But we cannot give her any sort of advancement…." He hesitated; he already knew the answer to the question he was about to propose. "Unless you want her to be just another noblewoman, married-"

"What would you suggest?" she asked, voice raw. She was tired, tired of having to deal with such troubles. She would rather just mount up on her horse and ride.

But she and Zaimid could not run now.

"She needs to be taught. At a mage school. In the capital-"

"Oh, damn the capital!" Sarai cried. "I loathe it! And she would surely be trapped in the midst of-"

"We can protect her."

"Not from all of the-" Zaimid sighed tiredly; both of them loved Cyne, and he knew that the scenario he was about to propose would be harder on them all, even if it was the best option for their daughter. But if Sarai hated Jiekai and the emperor's court so much- He cleared his throat. "I have been thinking, dearest. I have a plan, and I think you would prefer it to this…."

Jiekai, Carthak.

May 16, 477 H.E.

Cyne scowled; she certainly preferred the breeches she sparred with her brother with, not these cumbersome skirts. They were itchy, and hot, even if they were made of light silk.

She looked pretty, though. Glancing in the mirror, the girl saw that the periwinkle fabric, which fashionably flared out in ruffles at the shortened sleeves and bottom hem, made her eyes appear a fascinating color; a mix of blue, green, and even a tinge of a pale violet….

"Admiring yourself?" Taken by surprise, the reddening Cyne jerked herself away from her reflection to meet her father's kind, twinkling eyes.

Zaimid Hetnim was a tall, handsome man, who dressed more plainly than most Carthaki nobles. Gossips spitefully whispered that he simply did not have the money, or thought himself above adornment. In truth, the latter speculation was quite near to the truth; he despised spending so much time and effort on his attire. He scarcely had enough hours in the day in the first place, without using precious minutes putting on elaborate robes and jewelry that would only hinder him. The only adornment he insisted he wear was a chain supporting a large black opal- a magical stone- embedded into a simple, copper medallion. But Cyne did not notice this. She was delighted to see him, and gave him a brilliant smile.

"Papa!" she cried, throwing herself into his outstretched arms. Zaimid Hetnim pulled his daughter to his chest tightly. He was very glad to see her; he had not seen any of his family in two months and, even then, it had not been on the best of terms. His parting with Sarai had been colder than the air in the warm, southern Carthaki February.

"You just wait until you're a young lady," he chuckled, standing back a little to admire her growing beauty. "You'll thank Mequen for those lessons; you'll have to beat hordes of eager young men off with a stick." Cyne joined in his jovial laughter, smiling as widely as she could. She had missed him; she had missed his smiles, his jokes, his easygoing manner... and she had missed the lessons for her Gift.

Cyne had arrived a few days before, but urgent business at the University had kept Lord Hetnim busy. One of the teachers had decided that the dry season would be an excellent time to begin instructing novices on intricate fire spells. Needless to say, no one was very happy with the man, and no one less so than Zaimid. Still, in a way, he had been grateful. Now that his beautiful girl was in front of him, eager blue eyes gleaming, he was beset with uncertainty as to the wisdom of his plan.

But there was nothing that he could do about it.

"What did you have to tell me?" Cyne asked. Crone's teeth, it was as if she could read his mind!

"Um," he paused. "Why don't we have dinner first? We'll talk later. In my study." Then, to distract her, he launched into an amusing anecdote about a prank played on one of the professors involving some of the dinosaur bones in the university. Quite a few years ago now, a young woman had come to Carthak, before the destruction of the old palace and capital. In fact, she had been the wreaker of the destruction; somehow, she managed to wake the dead creatures and convince them to find the corrupt emperor Ozorne. Anyway, this one particular professor had been there as a novice when she had come through with her herd of extinct animals.

And when the novices spelled the bones to move in front of the man….

Well, even the most mischievous youths felt guilty later.

Cyne laughed and commented at appropriate moments, but she was acutely aware of what her father had done: the timeless tactic of changing the topic. It made her nervous. What in Chaos could her father have to say that made him almost skittish? The thought was not a welcome one.

Maybe it's nothing…. But even as Cyne managed to convince herself that everything was alright, an image of her mother popped up in her mind, jaw set, eyes looking determinedly in the other direction.

Dinner was nothing but the finest. In the street bazaars of Jiekai, they could afford the absolute best. Steaming fruits, syrups, flat bread, roasted meat-

Having had nothing but dry meat and tasteless bread for the majority of her trip, Cyne dug in ravenously. At one point, she noticed that she had eaten nearly twice as much as her father. She smiled.

Zaimid spoke for most of the evening, not leaving her bored for a moment. He told her everything, about everyone. Even the minute details that might bore another child. He knew she loved them. Her wide eyes stared up at him, eagerly drinking in everything he said.

Her attention was even greater- if that was even possible- when he spoke of the Gift. But most of all, Cyne loved to simply know. It could be something as simple as the disappearance of a barrel, or a problem at the university. And she asked so many questions.

She was shy, modest in the face of others. But when the two of them were alone, she could talk his ears off, the little magpie. He was proud of her; with her curiosity, she would do splendidly in whatever she tackled, if she trusted her teachers enough.

Except perhaps being a proper noblewoman. Zaimid winced at the thought of it, her bright eyes watching a tutor telling her young ladies were seen, not heard. He had never understood that rule himself.

He knew she would be better off in Tortall, or another land without slavery, or unfair laws against women. Sarai could barely handle it, and she spent most of her time in the country. Zaimid had a feeling Cyne would always prefer the city, with all sorts of things going on at once. So much to see and to learn.

But not this city. There would be talk within hours, of the Emperor's Healer's daughter, running about like a tramp. He could already hear the disapproving voices of the court matrons.

What had her mother been thinking? …poor lass, such a shame, such beauty, and wasted on a wild urchin…. Well, her mother was of the Copper Isles, hot-blooded and just the most disagreeable- He ground his teeth.

"Can you tell me now? Here?" Her voice startled him out of his reverie; he had not even noticed that he had stopped talking.

"Um… certainly," he replied, fiddling with a single ring on his finger. He usually wore as little jewelry as he could get away with in his position as cousin to the Emperor; tonight he had one ring on his hand and a ruby eardrop in his left ear. Then, bracing himself, he looked into her beautiful eyes.

He knew that whatever Sarai had told Cyne, it had not been comforting. His wife was tactless. He loved Sarai deeply for her spirit and goodness, but he was not sure that she and Cyne could understand each other. Yet. Cyne needed a father, a parent who could look her in the eye and make her know that she was loved and precious.

"Cyne," he said softly. Then he stood and, not taking his gaze away from hers, skirted the edge of the table and knelt down seriously beside the girl's chair. "I wanted you to work at the university." He saw her eyes shine with excitement for a moment, then regretted starting this way. Now she'll certainly be disappointed…. "Well, for a year, perhaps. My plan was to have you go back and forth between here and the Court." He sighed heavily. "But your mother refused to subject you to the gossip and insults of that place alone. I would not be there, nor could I help you all the time, even if I was present. So-" He took her small, fragile hands and held them tenderly in his own large palms. "-you will work for me. For six months. In the university." He saw the eagerness in the way she straightened up in her chair. Then she paused.

"And then what?" He caught himself glancing away from her as he exhaled slowly; he made himself look deliberately into her eyes.

"Then you will go to the Court of the Copper Isles," he said quietly. He saw the shock enter her; both of them stiffened as she stared incredulously at him. "Your Aunt Dove will be your protector, her chief mage Ysul your teacher. She has- people- around her that Sarai- and I- trust immensely to keep you completely safe. Then you will be able to return- when it is deemed suitable." A small frown crossed her face, and Zaimid fought fiercely the impulse to turn away.

"Deemed… suitable?"

"When you want to come back," he amended hastily, searching her face for an acceptance. Or refusal. She would also be a great player of chance games when she grew older, if she remained able to keep her face this emotionless.…

Suddenly, a bright smile crossed her face, and she laughed.

"Really?" Relief coursed through him; she did not think they were pushing her away.

"Yes," he laughed. "I will miss you like the Goddess misses her Cat when he leaves her, but I believe that this if something you should do. I believe it is the best plan that we could take." Then he lifted his eyebrows at her. "We start your work tomorrow?" Giggling, Cyne threw her arms around his neck. Unbalanced, he tipped over, falling to the ground. The look of surprise on his face was enough to send Cyne in another fit of laughter. Then a tumult of chuckles spilled from his own lips, and they lay on the floor, Cyne sitting regally on top of her father and staring down at him severely until he ordered her to get up. She obeyed, but leapt back on his stomach as he began to rise. Groaning, Zaimid made a face at her that caused her to laugh even harder. He couldn't be angry with her; she was too happy.

One of the serving maids passed by and saw them sprawled on the floor. Smiling, she shrugged to herself as she wandered on.

"I always knew nobles had t' be mad," she confided to the tapestries lining the hallway that led back towards the kitchens. "I don't think they can be noble if they ain't."

AN: Well? How was it? This is my first fanfic, and I hope it's going to turn out well. Reviews, please? I would appreciate them a lot, and it gets more exciting (which is what I am hoping my prologue showed you). I just need to lay groundwork first.