Meeting The Mage

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all the property of Tamora Pierce.


Chapter Two

"I am pleased to say that nothing unpleasant came of your sudden departure from Carthak," Jon announced, seated comfortably behind a large desk. Alanna and George began to relax, though only slightly. Even in their admittedly-brief experience, they knew that Emperor Ozorne wasn't one to let things like escaping dignitaries happen without reacting in some way.

When they had arrived back in Tortall, Jon had been understandably panicked. Tortall's army - while passable and easily prepared for war - would take a negligible amount time before they were ready to stand against the massive forces of Carthak. Unfortunately, the unannounced departure of foreign dignitaries was considered a serious breach of etiquette, especially when said dignitaries were being hosted by the Emperor Himself. In short, Ozorne had the very pronounced upper hand, and they all knew it.

Unexpectedly, it was the glowingly-pregnant Thayet who came up with the solution: "Just write to the Emperor and tell him that there was an emergency. You had no choice but to send for your two most trusted advisors and they were forced to leave immediately. In the panic of solidifying the details, they forgot to leave a message for their gracious host and remembered only when they returned to Tortall."

"We forgot?" George had asked skeptically. "Doesn't that sound a little far-fetched?"

"Your only other option is to claim that you left a note to be delivered by a servant, but that option - especially with a man like Ozorne - is more likely to get an innocent servant killed." Thayet's tone was so matter-of-fact that everyone remembered she had been raised to handle situations like this.

"But won't it seem suspicious? I mean, if this emergency was bad enough that he needed us for it, why would he risk sending us to Carthak in the first place?" It wasn't that Alanna didn't trust Thayet. She just wanted to be sure all details were considered.

"By needing the only two sent away on a diplomatic mission, Jon is giving the impression that he has only a few advisors. For a ruler, especially of a nation which considers itself to be the equal of Carthak, this would be an embarrassing detail. As Tortall wouldn't want to look needlessly weak, it will convince Ozorne that this is a shamefully-admitted secret, and he won't doubt the story, no matter how many other gaps he may discover. He'll be far too focused on the humiliation of Tortall's leader."

"'Humiliation' might be a rather strong term…" Jon trailed, looking uncomfortable, but Thayet laughed.

"Oh, if half of the stories about the Emperor Mage are true, Ozorne will make this extremely unpleasant for all involved. He'll gloat, and he'll scoff, and it will be painful, but not so painful as a war would be."

Reluctantly following her advice, King Jonathan wrote to the Emperor immediately and - judging by the ornate envelope he currently held - had received a reply. As Alanna and George sat in his office like nervous schoolchildren, he read the missive aloud:

Jonathan IV of Conté, King of Tortall,

We were much disturbed to hear your tale of troubles which required the immediate departure of Ambassadors George and Alanna from Our royal accommodations. Carthak has been blessed to enjoy a peace of nearly one-hundred years, and disputes such as you have described are so far removed from us so as to be nearly beyond memory.

We wish you a rapid recovery from such trials and hope that you may soon experience the same peace currently bestowed upon Carthak.

Many Blessings,

Ozorne Muhassin Tasikhe, Emperor of Carthak

"You can say a lot about Thayet, but when she said that Ozorne was going to make it painful, she wasn't exaggerating." Alanna's comment fell into a room filled with thick silence, broken only by the slight rustling noises given off as Jon tucked the letter back into its envelope.

When he had finally finished, Jon steepled his fingers and gave a slight sigh. "Ozorne may have been pompous, but the overall tone was sympathetic and he made no mention of our breach of the rules. Hopefully, we will not have hostilities." He smiled wanly at the couple. "Crisis averted. Well, this particular crisis, at least."

"What is our next move, Jon?" George asked.

The king rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Now, we lay low, build our armies, and pray that Ozorne doesn't decide that his pride was hurt after all." He fixed the two with a firm stare. "Didn't you two tell me that one of the Carthaki students was responsible for helping you escape the country?"

"Yes, his name was Arram Draper." There was a tightness in Alanna's voice, noticeable even when she spoke so quietly.

"Have you heard anything from him?" Jon asked gently.

George shook his head, relaxed demeanor betrayed by the tension in his hands. "No, but I don't expect we will either. He was clear about wantin' to finish up his school in Carthak and when he's done, he's smarter than to try to contact us. Carthak will be watchin' Alanna and I for years to come, if I know the dealin's of political power." He added a polite nod to Jon as he said this.

Trying very hard not to look offended, the king said, "Very well. Let's hope he's as intelligent as you describe. He'll likely need his wits about him. In any case, I have no further need for the two of you, at least for the night. Feel free to return to your quarters whenever you choose."

Alanna and George stood at the clear dismissal, George giving a deep incline of the head while Alanna tried very hard not to sound sarcastic as she said, "Majesty."

The walk to their chambers in the palace was a quiet one. Both George and Alanna would have preferred to stay somewhere a bit further away, but George still had far too many enemies at large for that to be considered safe. Faced with a lack of alternatives, Jon had offered to give them a space in the palace, one which could be used whenever the couple was called to Corus for a meeting with the king.

When the couple walked through the door leading to their rooms, George cleared his throat, taking Alanna's hands into his own when she turned around. "Alanna, I know your mind in workin' away at somethin'. You're never quiet for this long unless you're churnin' on somethin' or another."

The Lioness, the strong, fearless warrior of Tortallan legend, ducked her head to hide from George's studying gaze. "I can't- I can't help wondering about Arram. Do you think he's okay?" She laughed mirthlessly. "Do you think he's even alive?"

George stared at her, utterly taken aback. "'Course I think he's alive, darlin'. Why would you even think anythin' else?"

"Maybe because Ozorne is a monster? I just really hate this! I've never had to wonder if someone is alive or not, and it's likely we'll never know. We can't ask about him without putting him into danger if he isn't suspected. If he was caught and we ask, we endanger all of Tortall. I hate it, George. I hate it!"

"I know, I know," he soothed, pulling her against his chest. "But think about the boy- really think. Maybe it's just me, but I'm of the opinion that one could outsmart anyone who tried anythin' against him." Inch by inch, he felt Alanna begin to relax against him, and they stood in their rooms for a long time, embracing in silence.


A barred window.

A rush of wings.

A flurry of ecstatic movement.

A burst of freedom

A heart-pounding meeting with the only loyal friend he still had.

A sack of coins pressed into a man's hand in exchange for passage on a boat.

Arram sat upright, nearly hitting his forehead against the low ceiling just above where he lay. Careful not to move the swinging hammock too much, he slid carefully down, past the two exhausted sailors sleeping just inches beneath him.

Feeling slightly more at-ease resting on the floor of the crew's quarters, Arram sucked in as much air as he could hold. It was hardly pleasant air, hot and stagnant, scented with salt and the stink of multiple unwashed men in an enclosed space. Even with all of this, Arram would prefer this moment and all of its facets over a single moment in the dungeons of Emperor Ozorne. That air, light and cool, pleasantly scented with a manufactured smoke that kept the prisoners from struggling. Shuddering slightly at the memory, Arram took another breath in the stuffy room, savoring it.

Now that he had calmed, Arram could turn his mind to more current matters: Lindhall was a wonderful friend, and Arram owed him everything, but even the easy-to-trust scientist had only been able to smuggle out a small amount of Arram's savings before the escaped prisoner had to make his next move, and what an expensive move it had been. With an active hunt going on for him, Arram had found that any ship willing to take him across the Inland Sea to Tortall was going to cost nearly all of his precious savings. Keeping back only enough for a handful of meals, Arram had surrendered the rest of the bag to the ship's captain and now found himself without nearly as much money as it would take to travel to Corus.

He would have to improvise.


With a heavy, only-slightly irritated sigh, Alanna dropped down into a chair in the king's office. It had been nearly a year since Alanna and George had rushed back from Carthak and yet not a thing had changed, in this office at least. The desk was the same heavy, dark-stained oak monstrosity that had been sitting in this office since the days of Jon's father, perhaps even longer. It was too large for the room, really, but it was tradition by now. Ornate and stately, despite being scarred by marks of the king's frustrations or habits, the desk had marked every interaction Alanna had ever had with the reigning king.

She was staring at it now, watching Jon's fingers drumming on the scuffed up surface as he obviously mused over a problem. Alanna waited impatiently for her friend to think of a way to begin. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Jon, what's this all about? You know the ride from Pirate's Swoop takes a full two days. If you brought us here for nothing-"

"Emperor Ozorne is making moves against the Yamani Pearls. Wherever your Carthaki friend got his intelligence, it must have been a credible source."

George puffed out a breath. "Well, what does that mean for Tortall? Are you goin' to mobilize the troops against Carthak or whatever?"

Jon pulled a hand down his stubble-covered cheeks. "That is the problem. Ozorne isn't going about it straightforwardly. Technically, the Pearls have received a threat of takeover from Rhaemin, a country to the north of the Yamani Islands. During their recent civil war, it's highly-suspected that Ozorne manipulated himself into a place of power in their government, so in reality, it's likely that Rhaemin is only moving against Yamani because Ozorne ordered them to. And since Rhaemin is such a large distance away, it would be highly difficult - or even impossible - for Tortall to wage a war. We can't exactly camp out on the Pearls since our armies require such a large amount of supplies and we have no projection of when Rhaemin would make their first move."

Alanna groaned. "So, basically, political red tape all over the place. Why are you talking to us and not your group of political advisors?"

"They would urge that we make peace with Carthak and ally ourselves with Rhaemin. In fact, they would probably suggest that we make a gift of the Yamani Pearls to either country," he complained with an eye roll. He leaned forward, gaze sharp. "I need two people who are ruthless enough to advise me on what needs to be done for our country and not to cement their own political careers."

George raked a hand through his shaggy hair. "Jon, no disrespect, but we both know you need to ask someone else. If Tortall goes to war, it needs to be on better advice than me and Alanna's."

"So you think we should go to war?" Jon asked, ignoring the rest of his statement.

"Jon," Alanna said sharply, "You know that isn't what he's saying! You always hear just what you want without stopping to-" Thankfully, before she could begin lecturing him in earnest, a knock sounded on the door.

Eager to dispel some of the tension, George leapt up and pulled the door open. One of the guards stood at the doorway, carefully not making eye contact with anyone in the office. "Your Majesty, I have been asked to inform you that there is a street performer at the gates."

Jon looked intrigued. "And he requests to speak with me or he just wants money?"

"Neither, sire," the guard said, looking steadily more nervous. "The man wishes to speak with the Baron and the Lady Knight."

Alanna stood, frowning fiercely. "How did he know that we were here?"

"We weren't exactly hidin' when we rode up," George reasoned, but she waved him off.

"Yes, but we still shouldn't have attracted much notice, not enough that street performers should be requesting us by name, anyway. Did he say anything else?" she asked the guard.

The man shook his head. "No, Lady Alanna. He would only say that he was told to come to the palace if he ever had to leave his city. The man also said that would be enough if he was in the right place."

"Alanna," George said severely.

She turned to stare at him. "What, George? I heard the man just as well as-" She cut herself off as the guard's words sank in. "Arram. It has to be Arram, doesn't it?"

"It has to be Arram," he confirmed.

In tandem, the couple turned back to Jon where he still stood behind the desk. "You have to let him in."

With a warning look on his face at their overly-familiar attitude in front of his staff, Jon sat down once more and waved an imperious hand toward the guard. "Allow the performer to come inside. Bring him directly here, to me. You are dismissed."

The guard nodded once and left, stepping quickly to fulfill his king's request. Alanna glowered at her old friend. "You know I hate when you pull the 'lordly king' act."

Jon glared right back. "You know I hate when you speak impetuously enough to make me. I'm still trying to teach these people that I am king, and that I am not going to be the pushover that my father was."

"Everyone loved your father! More importantly, I happen to know for a fact that Thayet hates the king act even more than I do," she made a face at Jon, but her heart wasn't in it. Right now, she was just trying to stave off the anxiety and anticipation of being about to know whether her friend was safe.

When the door opened once more, she and George both tensed, but Alanna couldn't recognize the man being escorted inside. While Jon dismissed the guard back to his post, she studied the stranger. Black hair tumbled down from his head to mingle with his generously-bushy black beard, concealing a full half of his swarthy face, though a rather large nose still managed to make its presence known. In a moment, however, his eyes met hers and Alanna's apprehension disappeared. She would recognize those dark, sharply-intelligent eyes anywhere.

"Arram!" she cried, pulling him into a rare hug. George was right there beside her, clapping him soundly on the back as they both repeated their relief that he was all right. When things had finally calmed down, Jon cordially invited them all to take a seat so that they could have a much-needed discussion.

"Arram Draper," he started off in his most serious tones. "Before anything else is said, I would like to thank you. These two are not only valued members of my court, but also my close personal friends. Their loss would have been detrimental to me as a person, so for saving their lives, not to mention mine and the fate of our country, I give you my sincerest thanks."

Even beneath the beard, the tan, and the layer of dirt on Arram's face, Alanna could see that the man was blushing. He still managed to keep his dignity however, responding with a gracious, "The honor was mine, Majesty. To hear of these two doing such terrible things as Ozorne had planned would have been a travesty of the gravest nature. I merely did what any concerned citizen should have done."

"Nevertheless, it was an act of extreme bravery and selflessness, and I commend you for it. Now, on to less pleasant matters." The king leaned back in his chair, fixing the man with a stare that reminded even Alanna that he was a ruler, the Voice, and a force to be reckoned with. "We were of the understanding that, in the event of you needing to make a quick exit from Carthak, that Emperor Ozorne would hardly be of the inclination to let you leave easily. Would you care to explain to us how you were able to depart from your Emperor's side so smoothly?"

Arram gave a dry laugh. "'Smoothly'?" he echoed somewhat scornfully. "I don't believe that is the correct term, Majesty."

"And what would the correct term be, Master Draper?"

"Painfully? Strenuously? Problematically? The list may go on, Majesty, but 'smoothly' would hardly be present."

"You dare to speak to me in such a way? With jests and derision?" Arram's gaze dropped to where he was nervously plucking at his already-tattered clothing, and he didn't see one side of the king's mouth twitch. "You may call me Jon."

Arram's head whipped back toward the ruler. "Majesty?"

"No, Jon. You see from the two sitting on either side of you that I have a certain weakness for those who dare speak their minds around me, without the filter of constant remembrance that I am the king. I respect such people, and value their opinions. In the spirit of that understanding, I ask that you call me by my given name."

"Yes, sir. Jon, that is," Arram rapidly corrected himself. Alanna was the only one who could see the fine trembling in his hands.

Alanna frowned as she sat forward, studying Arram more intensely than she had since figuring out his identity. Sure enough, her close gaze was enough to ascertain that he was losing color, and at a rate that surely boded ill for the man. "Jon," she called, interrupting whatever the king and Arram were talking about at the moment. Wanting to spare the man's feelings, she met Jon's inquisitive gaze and said hintingly, "I think we could do with some refreshments, don't you?"

Jon's eyes casually drifted back to Arram as he nodded thoughtfully. "I know I could. Please send for some items of appropriate nature to be delivered here as soon as possible."

Alanna went to the door and quietly ordered that tea be brought, along with cakes, cold water, and a bowl of the heartiest chicken soup that the kitchens had on hand. By the time she returned, Arram was speaking freely with the king.

"-we had a plan in place, but there was no warning whatsoever. I was leaving the university's library one evening and I was detained by several guards. They refused to even disclose the charges that were being brought against me, but the next thing I knew, I was put into Ozorne's dungeons."

"Yes, that is the part I would like to discuss with you," Jon said, studying the man with a mixture of sympathy and pleading. "If there is anything you could tell us about the Emperor's dungeons, the information would be greatly appreciated."

Arram winced. "I'll tell you everything I can, but to be honest, I don't remember much. Ozorne uses a type of drugged smoke in his dungeons to keep his prisoners from fighting back too much, and it also prevents prisoners from noticing very much."

There was a brief pause while the food came in. Alanna, George, and Jon all pretended not to notice how desperately Arram seized the bowl of soup, or how quickly he devoured it, drinking three glasses of water besides. When he had finished, Jon continued as though there had never been an interruption.

"Even just the detail about the smoke is more than we knew before. Is there anything else you can remember?"

"Unfortunately, I only remember the smoke and how large the windows in the cells were. I do think I would be able to draw you a rough layout of the dungeons and their location in relation to the palace. Do you have some paper nearby?"

Jon eagerly slid a small stack of paper over to Arram, who began to mark the paper even as he nibbled at one of the cakes. Alanna, curious about what Arram had said about the windows, asked, "Why would you particularly remember what size the windows were? Surely they weren't big enough for you to escape through."

"Of course not," he answered, not looking up from the shape taking form on the paper. "There's no way a man of my size could fit through a dungeon window."

"I feel like I'm missin' somethin'," George said. "How exactly did you manage to escape, Arram?"

"I had a few tricks up my sleeve," the man hummed absently. "I am a fully-trained mage, you know."

"So you did finish school!" Alanna was inexplicably pleased by this. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Arram responded politely. "It would mean a lot more if I hadn't been violently expelled from the country which awarded me the magehood, but it is an achievement regardless."

"Did you use some kind of dark magic to escape Ozorne's dungeons?" George asked, voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone.

Arram sighed. "No. If you must know, I learned through academic study that humans could take on the shape of an animal if one's mind is advanced and disciplined enough. After the first time one of my friends was arrested under suspicion of treason, I decided that a quick getaway method might not be the worst idea, and put my focus toward learning this particular skill. After much practice and dedication, I learned to transform into a slightly oversized hawk. Luckily for me, the windows are large enough so that I could fly through one, though it was a bit of a close call for a moment or two."

With a flourish, he turned the paper around and slid it across the desk to Jon. "Your map, King Jon." He returned his attention to the obviously still curious George and Alanna. "From there, I used all of my available funds to secure passage to Tortall, and I've since been working in street markets and circuses to get the money needed to move me closer to Corus."

"This is wonderful!" Jon exclaimed, setting a protective hand against the drawing. "I'm going to take this to the proper people and make sure that it's well-recorded and taken to the right places." He stood and was halfway to the door before any of his guests could blink. He paused to glance back at them. "I have some rather urgent matters to take care of after this, so George, Alanna, feel free to return to Pirate's Swoop if you'd rather. I won't have time to meet with you for at least a month. Master Draper, you may do as you'd please."

Before he could leave, Arram's soft voice cut through his excited chatter. "I was offered protection. When Alanna and George left Carthak, they offered me your protection, but I would be satisfied if you would simply agree not to turn me over to Ozorne."

Jon stopped immediately, closing the door and turning around so that he could speak to the Carthaki mage face-to-face. "Arram," he started in what Thayet and Alanna called his 'gentle' voice. "You will most definitely have my protection. More than that, in fact, if it is what you wish. As someone with an intimate knowledge of the Carthaki courts and political system, you are an invaluable ally and I would gladly offer you a place in my board of advisors." Arram was speechless and the king hastened to add, "You would be compensated handsomely, of course. You would have a space to live, the opportunity for further study, access to my own personal libraries and all that they contain. I will not force you, however. In either case, you have the protection of Tortall."

Arram stood and stuck out a hand to the king. "King Jonathan of Tortall, nothing would please me more than to be on your board of advisors. I might not know much about the internal affairs of Ozorne's court, but what I do know, I will gladly share."

King Jon firmly shook Arram's outstretched hand. "I am beyond pleased to hear it, Arram Draper. One final question before I go deliver your sketch: do you have any idea what made Ozorne decide that you were worthy of suspicion?"

Abruptly, Arram's face went from pleased to saddened. "I told only one person about my involvement in the departure of the Tortallans - other than Lindhall, of course. My… friend, Varice Kingsford asked what had happened and if I knew everything. We were close, and she caught me in a moment of weakness." He shook his head slowly back and forth. "Ozorne must have done something terrible to make her reveal that information."

Privately, Alanna thought Varice would give up Arram's secrets without much convincing. She seemed willing to do much in order to be in the Emperor's good graces. Shaking herself from this line of thought, Alanna said, "Jon, you should give Arram the tower, the one near Pirate's Swoop."

"My tower?" he repeated questioningly.

"Yeah, you know the one," George said. "You're never gonna get around to fixin' it up, so it may as well go to someone who would put the work into makin' it livable. It's not doin' any good sittin' there crumblin'."

"I was going to fix it up… As soon as things were settled with…" Jon sighed, giving in. "Very well. Master Draper, I would be most pleased to offer you the tower just east of George and Alanna's home in Pirate's Swoop. If you should need any help with repairs, please let me know and I will gladly give you any assistance you require."

Arram graciously accepted and Jon left to deliver the sketch of the dungeons to the proper departments. As he told Arram, it was the greatest breakthrough in Carthaki intelligence that Tortall had ever experienced.

After Jon had left, Alanna rose from her chair and stretched. "Arram, if you would like, you could come with George and I back to Pirate's Swoop. You can see your new property and stay with us for as long as it takes to fix it up. It's a couple of days' ride from here, but it's all over easy terrain with fantastic views."

Arram gave a wry smile and gestured down at himself. "I believe I would do nothing more than slow you both down."

Alanna waved this off. "Nonsense. We have to travel a bit more slowly than usual anyway. On the ride here, George hurt his… hip. Makes riding a little difficult."

"Yes," George agreed slowly, raising an eyebrow at Alanna when Arram wasn't watching. "I hurt my hip. On the easy ride down here. I am gettin' old, you know. Very old, not to mention delicate. I have to be gentle on myself afore I get too damaged."

"Ah," Arram said uncomfortably. "In that case, I will be ready to depart when you are." The mage excused himself and retreated to the hall.

When he had left, George turned to Alanna, eyebrows in danger of getting lost in his hairline. "My hip? I hurt my hip?" he asked, voice full of disbelieving laughter.

Alanna shrugged. "I needed a good reason we would be riding slowly. It was the first thing that popped into my head."

"Is that so?" he asked, easing closer to loom over her with a dark look in his eyes. Alanna's heart sped up and her mouth went dry in a way that had nothing to do with fear. "Well maybe, my Lioness, I need to prove that I'm remarkably fit for my advanced age."

"Or," she said, pressing a hand against his chest to keep him from getting closer, "We could start back to the Swoop before the rest of the afternoon passes. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be back."

George sighed and rested his forehead against Alanna's, effectively dispelling the tension. "It seems like we've been runnin' from crisis to crisis long as we've known each other, and sometimes, I feel like you're grateful for that." His eyes opened, staring into hers as the earlier heat returned. "But darlin', someday and someday soon, it'll be just the two of us and we'll start workin' on these walls of yours."

Alanna couldn't think of a good response as he kissed her on the forehead and went to tell the servants to ready the horses.


Four days later, the three arrived at Pirate's Swoop. They had stopped for a few hours to see the tower Jon had given to Arram, but there had been no need to stay longer. Arram had glanced around the place and decided that he needed to build up his stores of magic before attempting to do anything with it.

Their arrival back home was anticlimactic. With a few words about plans to meet again later that night, all went in separate directions. Arram moved toward the section of the castle they had set aside as his rooms. George spoke with the right people about getting each of them water for a bath and someone to cut Arram's hair. Alanna, on the other hand, started making preparations for dinner.

She and George had noticed that Arram had trouble with the rich meal Jon had served them before they left, so they had stuck to the basics on the ride. For dinner that night, she ordered roasted chicken, lightly-seasoned rice, and steamed vegetables, to be served alongside the lightest, crispest wine that could be found in the Swoop's cellar.

After everyone - bathed and changed - had eaten their fill, they moved to George's cozy study. Alanna saw with some satisfaction that Arram had begun recovering from his long months on the road, looking far more like the healthy young man they knew in Carthak.

When they were all seated in large leather armchairs - stereotypical, but George loved them - George started with, "Now, let's talk protection strategies. First thing is your name."

"My name?" Arram repeated.

Alanna flashed her husband a look. "Yes, unfortunately. It's a very uncommon name, especially in Tortall, and we're worried it might attract unwanted attention. Do you have any particular attachment to it?"

"No… not really, anyway. It's just my mother and I with it, and she would rather I change my name than be caught and thrown back in the Carthaki dungeons. But what would fit in more?"

Turning to look pointedly at her husband, Alanna said, "I wouldn't know. George, you're the one with the experience in underground dealings. What would be a more under-the-radar name?"

George sat back in his chair and began theatrically tapping his fingers against the buttery leather. "How about... Florian Feathersworthy?"

Alanna snorted. Arram, looking relieved that he wasn't seriously suggesting the name, just shook his head. Undeterred, George threw out another, "Eustace Bucketman."

"No," Alanna and Arram rejected in unison.

George looked disappointed. "Really? I put some thought into that one."

"I'm sorry, George," Arram apologized, looking contrite, "but I don't feel that would fit well into Tortallan culture either."

"He's just messing with you. It's the Player in him. He can't help it," Alanna excused.

The Player in question began firing off names faster than any of them could keep up. "Gaylord Nillychild. Ulysses Hartparker. Eugene Rotmarket." Abruptly, he leapt to his feet, knocking the heavy armchair back nearly a foot in his excitement. He swept an elaborate bow and said flourishingly, "Master Numair Salmalín, powerful mage of King Jonathan's court."

Alanna raised an eyebrow while Arram stroked his freshly-shaved face. "That's actually not bad."

"Your surprise wounds me, but you're welcome to it, long as you don't mind bearin' a name thought up by the world's only ex-Rogue."

Alanna rolled her eyes while Arram looked confused. "How can you be the only ex-Rogue?"

"It's a job most can't walk away from, innit? At least, without a blade twixt their ribs," George said with a conspiratorial wink.

"So, Numair Salmalín…" Alanna drew out. "Fairly good."

"Yes, but it doesn't fit in here any better than Arram Draper did."

"No, but maybe that's a good thing," Alanna mused. "Most of the mages I know think they're far better than everyone else, especially the ones who know a lot. By giving yourself this name, people will be more apt to think you're covering up for a plain name rather than completely changing identities."

Arram smiled wryly. "I wish I could argue that point, but I've known too many mages who are full of themselves."

"And think, you didn't even get to know King Jon's cousin!" George crowed. "Now, that was a mage who thought he was the greatest gift on earth."

"Dark pasts aside," Alanna interrupted, "We need to talk about the basics. You'll begin using your new name right away. I'll let the king know to introduce you using it." As she spoke, the Lioness began to pace. "Going from the Accords set by the emperor before Ozorne, a prisoner may only be lawfully pursued for five years. From what you say, it's been nearly one since you escaped the dungeons."

Arram stared at her disbelievingly while George started laughing outright. "Darlin', there's never a time limit on catchin' an escaped criminal."

"But the Accords say-"

"I know what you think they say, but let me tell you what they actually say: Ozorne can use his armies and contacts as much as he wants in the next four years to openly pursue Numair here," he patted the younger man on the shoulder and winked. "But when that time is up, he can still chase him down, he just has to use stealthier means."

Alanna was outraged. "But why even make that a law if you're not going to follow it?! Surely if the emperor is half so important as he believes himself to be, he could rewrite it or strike it from the books altogether!"

"No, he would never," the newly-named Numair said quietly. "Ozorne sees himself as a merciful king, always gracious in his dealings with his countrymen. To change that particular law would mean he had to acknowledge his true nature, and he isn't prepared to do that."

There was an uncomfortable silence at that while everyone tried to think of something tactful to say. Alanna was the first to give up. "Well, thank the Goddess, Jon is the only one who should have to deal with him from now on. None of us are politicians. There's no reason any of us should need to see the Emperor again."

Numair seemed comforted by this and soon admitted that he was more than ready to retire to his rooms for the evening. Before he left, however, he stopped to gaze seriously at Alanna and George. "I cannot begin to express the depth of gratitude I have toward you both. You saved me when no one else would have and now have extended me the offer of a home. If there is any way I could begin to repay-"

"We're square," George interrupted. "You saved our lives too, or don't you remember Carthak?" With a crooked grin, he added, "Though, if you have any leftover gratitude, you could stop usin' such big words."

"It's a deal," Numair agreed with a shy smile before he left the study and started toward his own rooms.

When he had gone, Alanna let out a contented sigh and settled back against the chair she was curled in, closing her eyes in bliss. "I'm so glad we were able to keep our promise to help him out."

George gave a deep, rumbling laugh and Alanna felt him looming over her. "Don't get too comfortable, my Lioness," he warned, leaning down to grab the armrests of her chair. "I have some promises of my own I'd like to keep."


Author's Note - Apologies! I just love George and Alanna as a couple and had to include a bit of light fluff in this story. Also, I know I'm posting this a bit later than intended, but the third and final chapter will still be going up tomorrow. Life got in the way, blah, blah, blah, you don't know me enough to care about any of this. In any case, thanks for reading and drop a review if you feel like it. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you soon!