Disclaimer: All characters, settings, names, and other copyrighted material belongs to Tamora Pierce or its original author. I'm just a student who likes to borrow fictional worlds and torment the characters.
Author's Note: This story is an alternative to Trickster's Choice, created by one small change at the beginning. It begins just after Aly has been captured by the pirates and put into the slave pens in Rajmuat.
Three weeks after Aly's capture.
Rajmuat, on the island of Kypriang, capital of the Copper Isles
Aly's dreams that night were both confusing and terrifying. Though she was definitely asleep, Aly could still feel the rusted metal bars of her slave pen digging into the tender bruises on her back. As she slept, the dull throbbing pain rapidly turned into strong ache that urged her to wake up and move, but she could not pull herself free from the haze of sleep. At first she thought Ganiel, the dream god, was playing tricks on her. Then her vision cleared and sounds began to filter through her ears.
She's of no use to us now, even you can see that.
The person who spoke had a deep voice. It was pleasant enough to listen to, but it did not contain the familiar Tortallan lilt that Aly had been missing dearly since her capture. Suddenly, a screech that reminded Aly of a bird's shriek ripped through her dream.
Mithros and the Goddess grow suspicious. I can't allow them to interfere any further with my plans; the Raka must succeed at all costs. I'll find a new vessel. Perhaps one that's a little more inconspicuous.
Aly struggled to turn towards the speaker, but her body refused to move. One of the first things Aly's Da had ever taught her was to be aware of her surroundings. No matter how boring or how ordinary they appeared to be at the time. So, if she could not see who was speaking, she could at least look at what was around her.
Glancing around as far as her body would allow her, she could see a gently sloped hill rising from the grass covered ground before her. One old tree sat atop the hill, it's trunk and branches twisting up towards the golden sun that sat high in the cloudy sky. The sight of the open sky made her heart ache fiercely for freedom.
Aly's musings were interrupted by another fierce shriek, this one even angrier than the last. Aly ducked instinctively as a black cloud descended around her from behind.
The gentle voice distorted, matching the shrieking cloud's anger notch for notch. Who are you to tell me what to do? I'm a god - your god in fact - or have you forgotten your allegiances.
The black cloud swirled around Aly in a fit of rage, ruffling her hair and clothes. She dropped to the ground, curling her body around her knees and shielding her head with her arms. She had been in several market brawls before, the first breaking out on her seventh birthday, and she likened the cloud to her experience. The explosion of fragmented noise and violence, blows meant for one person landing on others, people screaming and yelling as they dove into the mess after their friends. But this brawl felt different to the others. Even as the storm of noise and movement seethed above her, the most Aly felt was the wind and an occasional brush of a feather, or wing.
Enough! The god who she could not see suddenly cried. I don't need your help – your opinions mean nothing to me. You shall decide now: Agree to our new arrangement, or leave our wager. I'm sure the ravens and the magpies will be more than happy to take your place.
The black cloud surged up and away from Aly, heading towards the knotted branches of the old tree at the top of the hill. As the cloud began to settle, it also started to form many dark shadows that writhed and hopped across the branches. Crows, Aly realised, they're just crows.
Choose.
An elderly crow, feathers greying around his beak and eyes, dove down to the earth, flicking his wing feathers up at the last moment to glide to a gentle stop in the grass beside Aly. He waited for a moment, considering Aly with one clouded eye. She shuddered as he studied her. Whatever the god and these crows were arguing about must have been important, and it seemed to involve her.
All too soon, the old crow reached his decision, pushing his folded wings upwards in a crow's shrug.
Good. Our wager is still on.
Another crow screeched, swooping down to land between his elder and Aly. This crow was much younger than the first, with a distinctive splash of white feathers across his back. The feathers glowed in Aly's Sight, this crow must have vexed the wrong mage.
What is it now, troublemaker?
The marked crow hopped over to Aly who still knelt, curled up on the floor. He tapped her shoulder with his beak then cawed at the god behind Aly.
She will be left here to make her own way back. I can't afford to waste the amount of power that it would take to help her, nor can I lift the magical barrier that I placed around her to prevent scrying and other such magicks. If The Lioness or the Black Robe Mage were able to find her, it would spell an end to all of my plans. By the time dear Aly makes it back to Tortall on her own, the rebellion should be well underway, and nothing the Goddess or Mithros can do will be able to stop me. It's unfortunate, but unavoidable.
The young crow glared over Aly's shoulder, flicking his wing tips in agitation. The elderly crow, sensing trouble, hobbled over on stiff legs, and pecked fiercely at the flicking wings. The young crow turned on his elder, beak snapping, before launching himself into the air and swiftly rising up into the cover of a low cloud bank.
Touchy. The person behind her shifted, causing some sort of metal, possibly necklaces, to clink against each other. And as for the rest of you, be gone!
The crows noisily reformed their black cloud and took off, following the marked one up into the clouds. Aly watched them go, wondering if her dream could get any stranger.
A pair of sandal clad feet appeared in her line of vision as the rest of the person's body followed close behind. It was the image of a man, two inches taller than Aly, lean and wiry like a dancer, shoulders proud, chin up. He had salt-and-pepper hair that was more salt than pepper. It extended all the way down to frame his mouth and face in a trimmed beard. His nose was short and broad, his eyebrows shaped in pointed arches, leagues of mischief gleaming in his large brown eyes. He wore a Kyprin-style wraparound coat of green cloth. It was hung all over with charms, pins, broaches, and bits of jewellery that clinked together as he moved. Aly stared at him for a moment, transfixed.
Now sleep, Alianne.
"But," Aly started, pushing herself up off the ground and to her feet, "what am I meant to do? And who are you? And those crows?"
Mortals. I'm a god. Kyprioth, the Trickster, and I do what I like. The crows are merely some acquaintances who have agreed to do my dirty work, for a fee. And you, Aly dearest, are going to sleep.
"But how do I get out of here? I'm stuck, and it seems to me that it's your fault I'm here."
My fault? I'll admit that it was in my interests to get you here, but now it's not. You're a smart girl, tough little Alianne Cooper – even your name betrays your nature – I have every confidence that you'll be fine on your own.
"And if I'm not?"
The humour left Kyprioth's brown eyes as his face became stony. What happens to you is no fault of my own. Pray to the mother goddess if it makes you feel better.
"So you're just going to leave me here and-"
Yes. Now you're giving me a headache, sleep! They don't call me the Trickster for nothing.
Aly struggled to keep her eyes open with all her will. If Kyprioth had brought her here in the first place and would not take her back, he should suffer her wrath instead of ordering her around like a common scut. But her eyelids were drooping, and her mind was becoming so sluggish that she almost missed Kyprioth slip a small ornamental dagger into her hand. Almost.
End Note: Like it? Hate it? Thoroughly confused? Let me know in a review (I have enabled anonymous reviews, so don't worry if you don't have an account!) Also, because this story is an AU (Alternate Universe), some things may be different, but I'm going to try my best to keep everything as close to canon as I can - just not the plot! This story is also my first attempt at improving on my previous ones, hopefully I can do it. Thanks ever so much for reading!
The next update will be on Saturday (I do mean next Saturday though, not tomorrow) - but , I'm very forgetful so someone may have to remind me...
Important (Before I forget): Does anyone know the proper name for the language that is spoken in Carthak during Aly's time?