Um, little bit later than promised, but better late than never, right?

Citty, it's fine. It gave me a good giggle though, which was exactly what I needed then, because otherwise I think I was about to tear my hair out! Thank you! And thank you to all my other reviewers as well. I'm feeling so guilty for not updating faster, lol!

Usual Disclaimers, as always. If you recognise something, it's Tamora Pierce's creation. If you don't, then it's most likely mine!

Chapter 9

Daine wiped a hand roughly over her eyes and tightened her arms around the dragonet. "I'll miss you Kit," she whispered in the immortal's ear.

Her words were greeted by a mournful whistle from the dragon. So far, Kitten had done everything she possibly could in order to avoid having to leave the house, from hiding to digging her claws into the floorboards, walls and furniture. Numair was standing by the door, his walking stick leaning on the wall beside him, arms crossed as he surveyed the scene. Kitten had also managed to shred one of his shoes in the process, but the mage hadn't even found it in himself to be angry with her. Daine knew that he too would miss the small dragon, probably almost as much as her. She had caught him talking to Kitten more as he would to a human than an animal more than once, and especially in the past few days. It was one of the things that made Daine wonder about her teacher; she never knew exactly what he was thinking, especially since their return from Carthak. There always seemed to be something that was just out of her reach.

Now she stood up, crossing the room to hand Kitten to the mage. His face seemed pale to her, and she was almost certain that when she looked into his eyes, they were far brighter than they normally were. He dropped her gaze quickly, taking the small dragon easily into his arms and resting her against his chest, her head leaning on his shoulder. She sniffed lethargically at his eardrop, before cheeping morosely.

"I know, Kitten, I know," Numair murmured soothingly in her ear. "It won't be for long, though. We'll be back in the Palace before you know it, and then you'll see so much of us you'll be sick of us." Kitten whistled a question and Numair murmured his assurances to her. "Soon, very soon," he promised. "And Alanna said she'd take you to the Swoop to see the children, and I'm sure they'll be more than happy to see you in the nursery at the Palace. Remember too that you'll be staying with Tkaa, and I'm sure he'll keep you far more entertained than Daine or I ever could."

He hugged the dragonet tightly, before saying a few final words to her. "Remember and behave, all right? No exploding things unless called for, no biting people, and no unlocking doors that are intended to remain closed." He tapped her nose gently with the last words, and then kissed her muzzle. Kitten whistled indignantly at him, and his face broke into a smile.

"Drum and Raoul are here," Daine said, tilting her head to one side. Numair handed her Kitten again, and then, with the aid of his walking stick, crossed the room to the model of the shield that guarded the house. Daine and the dragonet watched with interest as Numair sketched a small rune over the entrance to the courtyard and then swirled his finger in the magical dome to create a hole.

"Tell them to come inside please," he told her.

Daine relayed the request, and went to wait in the kitchen as Numair reformed the shield. As usual, Abigail was bustling around the kitchen in preparation for their guests, and as soon as Numair entered the room, began to make a fuss of him. Through the open door beyond, Daine could see the arrival of the large knight and the small squad of men that had joined him on this trip; those that would replace the men who had been stationed in Golden Wood for the last fortnight. She smiled when she recognised Graham's length of brown hair scraped back into a rough horsetail, but let the expression drop when the redhead who was chatting animatedly with Lord Raoul turned around. Lachann was back.

Kitten's worried whistling obviously succeeding in bringing Numair's attention away from the maid and back to Daine. "Are you all right, Daine?"

"What?" she said, turning round, her angry glare dragged away from the man outside. Numair repeated the question. "Yes," she murmured. "I'm fine." She tightened her arms around Kitten as she said, "I'll just miss her, is all," she lied, although truthfully. "I've only just gotten her back, and now she's being made to leave again."

Numair raised an eyebrow, but nodded all the same. He couldn't fault her on that statement, but knowing him as she did, she could almost see his mind working. He flicked his eyes away from her as Sir Raoul entered the kitchen.

"Numair, Daine," he greeted them. "How are you both?" As they replied with the standard returns, Daine let her mind wonder, ignoring most of the news of the outside world that Raoul brought with him. Much of it seemed to be Court gossip anyway; the more important details would be shared behind locked and sealed doors later.

She realised, of course, that if she had been so upset by Lachann's behaviour the last time he had been here then she should have complained. Otherwise, she wouldn't be in this situation now. Spending a fortnight in close quarters with a man who had insulted not only her, but Numair's integrity, did not seem appealing to her, but there was little she could do now the man was here. Daine would just have to make sure that she stayed out of his way, and hopefully he would stay out of hers as well, but there seemed little chance of that in a house a small as Golden Wood was.

She made a face as the man in question entered the building, nodding a greeting to them all. He offered her a small smile, which she met with a scowl until she caught sight of Numair's frown.

"Your horse has picked up a stone," she told him before turning her attention back to stroking Kitten, carefully avoiding Numair's stare which she felt burning into her.

Lachann stopped in front of the table. "Are you sure, Lady Daine? I've only just finished grooming Sweetbrier."

"Sweetbrier?" Numair asked with a grin.

"I've heard her grumbling about it since Market Street," Daine interrupted.

"She's a lovely horse, but she has a prickly temperament," Lachann responded with a grin.

"Especially with a stone firmly embedded in her hoof," she put in.

"You heard the Horsemistress," Raoul cut off Lachann's reply. "You had better attend to your mount, and quickly, or I'll send her out there to harry you along."

"And we wouldn't want that," the soldier grinned, before giving a lazy salute and leaving.

She was very aware of Raoul and Numair exchanging glances over her head, but she ignored them as Numair, leaning on Raoul, led the way through to the study. Taking his normal seat, his leg stretched out and resting on a pile of books, Numair waited until Abigail had finished serving them and left before letting his magic fill the room and turning to Raoul. "What news have you brought us?"

Raoul sighed. "Not much that is good, if I'm honest. The borders aren't officially closed for war yet, but I don't think they'll reopen with the spring melts."

"So war in the spring then," Numair murmured.

"Almost certainly," Raoul nodded. "We've tried communication with Ozorne, but all of our envoys and treats have been rejected or ignored. Even if we can convince him to come to some sort of peace covenant with us, I'm not so sure he won't push Jon for everything he can get out of this country because he knows just how much we need this. We're struggling to persuade our more traditional allies to side with us when the war comes as well. Partly it's fear that Ozorne will come down as hard on them as we think he will on us, and partly it's a reluctance to commit men and resources to a war that isn't theirs."

Kitten voiced an angry whistle. "It isn't theirs yet," Numair agreed. "If they think Ozorne will stop at our borders, they're sorely mistaken."

Raoul nodded. "Trying to convince them of that is where the problem lies. We know that if he manages to take us, it won't take him long to turn his eyes to the rich farms of Galla and Maren, or the trading links of Tyra. Carthak needs fertile farms, and that's exactly what they have."

"And what of the Stormwings?" Numair enquired. "Will they ally with us?"

"From what Queen Barzha has said, it sounds as if they will. Ozorne seems to have managed to make true enemies of them at least." The knight sighed. "We'll need all the help we can get, of course, but we just don't know how much we can trust them."

"Rikash, Barzha and Hebakh helped us escape Ozorne," Daine reminded him. "They were betrayed by him too, and by other Stormwings. There's a chance they could bring other immortals around to our side as well."

"There is," Raoul agreed slowly. "But remember, Daine, this time last year you were fighting against Rikash in Dunlath."

"He was in your bow sight more than once," Numair added.

"And he carried you from the Imperial Palace halfway into the Inland Sea without even being asked!" she defended.

"I know," Numair said soothingly, "but you told me it was because I inadvertently freed Barzha and Hebakh."

Daine dismissed that with an angry shake of the head. "Remember what he thinks of Maura. He won't let anything happen to her, or her home. Rikash in the least will come to our side, if not the rest of Stone Tree as well. The only reason he was with Tristan and Yolane in Dunlath was because Ozorne had Barzha and Hebakh in his cursed menagerie, and Jokhun had told Stone Tree Nation they were dead."

Raoul sighed. "Until we can be assured of their loyalty, it's not something the lowly people like us have to worry about. We have the plenty with the more normal matters to deal with."

"And how is the quest to find our mysterious shadows?" Numair asked genially. If Daine hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was asking after the health of a favourite aunt.

"So you do remember that you're in hiding, then?" His mocking tone changed when he paused, then sighed heavily. "We've caught four. George is – requesting – further information from them, but until we're sure you're safe, you aren't leaving."

"He'll just keep sending more until it all spills into the open or the matter's dealt with," Numair told him.

"And all the same, his majesty has requested that you stay as you are until he instructs otherwise, because you're here to prevent that 'matter' from being 'dealt with' at all. In other words, you're stuck here until Jon decides differently. Isn't it fun to be at the whim of a monarch? Two, if you count Ozorne."

"Positively delightful," Numair muttered with a dark scowl.

Raoul grinned. "Speaking of your incarceration, I have to remind you of a few rules." He refilled his mug from the pitcher of juice. "I heard about your method of creating shields. That little venture of yours is not to be repeated, I don't care what for. On no account are you to leave the house unaccompanied. Unless under direct attack, you will remain within the shield, and preferably indoors." At this last, Raoul glanced at Daine. "No matter what shape you are in, and" here his glare transferred to Numair, "no matter how strong the protecting shield is. Understand?" They nodded meekly. "Good. Allowances can be made; Daine, if you want to practice your archery, we can take the horses out of the stable for an hour or so at a time and set up some targets for you in there. Numair, Alanna tells me you should be walking more by now, and at times without your crutch, and that you're to be allowed an hour around the garden everyday, accompanied by a guard or Abigail, not by Daine." At this, Daine sighed heavily and glared at the mage.

He raised an eyebrow at her and gestured at his leg. "I'd swap gladly with you magelet, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

Raoul continued as if uninterrupted. "All notes are to be passed through Abigail, unless it is an emergency, and then we can risk messenger birds. Too many coming to the one location would be notable of course, which is why we're relying on human communication for the moment. And you remember why I'm here."

Daine's arms tightened involuntarily around Kitten, who turned her face away from the table and buried her head under Daine's arm.

"We remember," Numair said softly. "We were hardly likely to forget."

"No," Raoul agreed.

"Do you have to leave right now?"

"As soon as Ùisdean has given me his report as the departing Captain," Raoul answered Daine's soft question. "Another quarter of a bell, a half maybe." The big man could not keep the sympathy from his dark eyes. "I'll leave you to say your goodbyes until then."

As the horse carrying the pack that Kitten was safely concealed inside disappeared from the view of the doorway, Daine roughly wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the handkerchief Numair had supplied.

"It won't be for long, Daine," he reminded her, his hand coming to rest gently on her shoulders.

"You keep saying that," she retorted miserably. "You say it won't be long, and I hope it won't be, but we're still here."

She felt his arm slip around her and give her a tight squeeze. "And we'll be back with her before you know it. Come on, magelet. I need to seal the shield, and I want a word with you as well."

"Did he do anything in particular to annoy you, or was it just a matter of not caring for his horse correctly?"

"What?" Daine's head jumped up at Numair's amused question. They had taken up residence in the library, and Daine was attempting to eat her supper, although feeling less and less hungry by the minute, whilst Numair was reading. Or so she had thought, anyway.

"The member of the Own out there that you seem to have taken an aversion to for no apparent reason. Lachann, I think?" Apparently he was paying more attention to her than she had realised.

"Just the horse."

Numair chuckled, much to her frustration. "I know you better than that, magelet. You stopped randomly directing your fury at people a long time ago. What did he to deserve your wrath?"

She glared at him, before telling him exactly what Lachann had done to anger her. To her annoyance, Numair only laughed. "Daine, how many times have people thought that about us? It's only through their own ignorance that they can't appreciate the actual dynamic of our relationship."

Daine gaped at him. "You've changed your tune! Not two months ago, you tried to hit the Emperor of Carthak for suggesting exactly the same thing Lachann did. You would've done but for his Gift!"

Numair grimaced. "It's a very different matter when your enemy believes and insinuates something like that to when a member of the Own does it."

"You mean that when Ozorne insults you, you have to react, but when it's anyone else, it doesn't matter."

"Something like that, yes." He rubbed a hand over his face. "If you were so unhappy with the situation, you should have said."

"I've realised that," she told him. "And there's not much we can do now, either. I know."

"It sounds as if he's learned his lesson now, anyway. The best thing you can probably do is forget about it," he advised her. "He even sounded as if he was sorry about it." He shook his head at her, before giving her a knowing smile. "I think you've probably made him suffer enough now."

"He wasn't the one with the stone in his hoof."

"No, but reprimanding him in front of his commanding officer is embarrassment enough for anyone, not to mention the awkwardness of coming back here after the mistake he made, and especially knowing that you'd probably have told or would tell me about it."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not out to save him the embarrassment of telling him what he missed in front of Raoul. If you ask me, he deserved it for not checking his horse's hooves when he groomed her; it's hardly a sign of good horsemanship. Any member of the Own that cares for their mounts like that deserves to be told off. He'd get in serious trouble for that in the Riders! I wasn't going to wait until after Raoul had left to do it either. It wouldn't have been fair on Sweetbrier."

"Of course it wouldn't," Numair murmured before smiling again, infuriatingly, and shaking his head. "He's made an impression on you though, and you've certainly made one on him."

"What's that meant to mean?" she spluttered.

Numair just shrugged knowingly and sighed exasperatingly. "We'll see magelet. We'll see."

Three days later, Daine rifled through the final drawer in the dresser, looking for the particular vial Numair had requested. Amongst the collection of small bottles, she came across a heavy leather pouch. Knowing Numair's ability to put very different things in with one another and call it order, she loosened the strings around its neck. Pulling out several vials, she found the one she was searching for with a small noise of triumph, and was about to replace those she didn't need when something at the bottom of the pouch caught her eye. Placing the vials down on the dresser in front of her, she studied its contents more closely. The small amber drop which had caught her eye was sitting in the bottom, cradled in a curl of brown hair. Her brown hair she realised on further examination.

What in the name of Shakith was Numair doing with a lock of her hair?

Deciding to ask him exactly that, she placed the miscellaneous vials back in the pouch and carried them through to the study, where Numair was sitting happily in his chair, his leg stretched out to one side, propped on a stool and resting on a cushion. He lifted his head from the book he was skimming through.

"Did you find the Frankincense oil? There's an interesting reference here for mixing it with myrrh for its healing qualities. I thought perhaps using a combination of that with the aloe –"

Daine decided to stop him before he got into his stride. "It's in here," she said, placing the pouch on the table.

"Good, thanks." He pulled the bottle out of the bag, then, with a sudden double-take, glanced back into the bag and up at Daine. "Ah," he said.

"Why do you have bits of my hair in there? And when on earth did you get it?"

Numair straightened in his seat, not at all phased by her questions, as if they were perfectly ordinary. "You remember I told you I made some simple mistakes in Carthak?" Daine nodded curtly. "Well, out of my many contingency plans, there was a simple solution that I might have – overlooked. You remember our lessons on focus magic?"

"A charm on an object belonging to the subject of the spell in possession of the caster, or belonging to the caster and in possession of the subject, placed through simple binding magic" she recited. "It's dangerous magic. It can be used to control the subject's mind and body."

Numair nodded. "But it also has another use, Daine. It can be used to locate the subject as well, and if necessary, one could use it to transport themselves magically to their location." He sighed heavily. "If I'd had a focus in Carthak, I could have found you much faster, instead of roaming the Palace grounds, and things could have been very different now. Unfortunately I didn't take that into account – I had no intentions of getting separated from you, magelet. This," he pulled the lock of hair carefully from the pouch and placed it on the open book before him, "is an attempt to rectify that. You don't mind, do you?"

Daine dropped into the seat beside him. "I suppose not. It's not like you'll do anything with it, is it." She knew it was more of a statement than a question, and she didn't really expect an answer.

"We live in dangerous times, my magelet. One more way to keep track of you is perfectly reasonable. It's only for emergencies."

She felt rather mollified. "I understand. Just – when did you get it?"

Numair grinned. "When you were unconscious after your little Divine visit. I must've put it away and forgotten to tell you once you woke, with all that work on Weiryn we did. I would've waited until you'd woken, but -" he paused, clearly searching for the words. "You've developed such a tendency to disappear when I least expect it that I thought it best to do it whilst I remembered."

She wasn't sure there was a smart reply to that statement. "You could've taken a handkerchief, Numair. Or a piece of one of my shirts, or something like that." Not my hair, she said silently, running her hand through her wild crop of hair, as if trying to work out where it had been cut.

"I could have," he agreed, clearly understanding her unspoken statement, "but your essence will fade on both those things, Daine. It's not likely to lessen when the object in question is your hair. It's a practical choice more than anything."

Daine muttered under her breath that Numair had never done a practical thing in his life as he placed the curl back in its pouch and attached it to his belt, choosing to ignore her comments. "Now, about the frankincense."