Sighing, Jon contemplated the problem. Yes, he loved his godsdaughter, and would do anything for her, including get her out of prison, but George had brought up a fair point. He could easily and somewhat quietly get her charges dropped, but the treason was another thing. He knew, of course, that it was only technically treason and that she wasn't targeting his family, but others wouldn't see it that way.
There was a knock on his door, jerking him out of his reverie.
"Enter."
"Don't get formal with me, Jon," said Alanna, who already had the door open and was standing in front of his desk by that time.
Jon rolled his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be more civil to you liege lord, Champion?"
"Aren't you supposed to have more decorum? Rolling your eyes isn't exactly kingly, you know," she shot back, though without her usual fire.
"It'll be all right, Alanna."
"I know," she moaned. "But she's my daughter, Jon, and I have to worry about her."
~:~
Aly leaned against Rand, sputtering. They had just given her The Drink, which meant that they placed her on a board so her feet were above her head and poured water across her face to simulate drowning.
"Obviously," she whispered, her throat sore. "The Drink isn't barbaric enough to not be allowed. They were pretty easy on me, but I'd rather not drown on dry land. It's unnatural."
He kissed the side of her head. "Don't you worry, lass. I'll keep you alive if it's the last thing I do."
She raised her brows at him. "Aren't I the bodyguard, though?"
He didn't respond to her jest, only arranged her more comfortably on his lap and said, "Sleep."
She woke at the loud thump half and hour later. "What in the name of the sweet mother of mares?!" she gasped out. Rand held her arm.
"Just our daily gruel, darlin'. Don't worry." He got up, sliding her off his lap and picked the tray up off the floor. Bringing back over to the slat-bed, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Watery soup-at least it's warm, brown bread-stale, and water-fresh. I've definitely had much better meals in my lifetime. I'm royalty! Shouldn't I get treated with more respect?"
"I just want food. Don't care how bad it is, either. I mean, it could be bugs or rats or some such thing."
"Rat is pretty good, actually. As long as it's cooked."
"I agree. You definitely have to get the rats near houses, though-particularly noble ones. Sewer rats tend to be a bit stringy and taste…odd."
He snorted and she grabbed her portion, eating it slowly so that it would fill her better. The food, though inadequate, made her comfortable and she was asleep within minutes.
~:~
Yet again, George was thinking. It was hard not to, with a problem this serious. Jon came up to him and leaned against the balcony rail with a sigh.
"Mithros, I feel old."
"I think I know what I'm going to do. It'll have to wait a few months till the dry season though and it isn't planned to well, but…"
Jon looked at him sharply. "Tell me."
George heaved a sigh. "In the dry season, there are fires all the time. Since the prison is made mostly out of stone, they don't bother putting fire protection magic on the place. But the thing is, there isn't much stone in the high security cells and if they caught fire they'd burn easily. So, hypothetically speaking, if a mage could protect people other than themselves from fire, that mage could protect Aly and her people –they're the only ones in the high security section- and they could leave through a prearranged exit and sneak into the back of Olau townhouse without being seen, which is possible. There they could stay for a night or so and then, under cover of darkness, we could sail them down to the Swoop, give them the supplies they'd need for wherever we'd send them, horses, and they could leave."
"That sounds good, but what about Aly? She's well-known in Court and if she died, people would remember it. Even if the news of her death died down, people would remember if she returned."
"People don't need to know that she died, Jon. Remember when she ran off when she was sixteen? We can just say she ran off again and nobody will be all that surprised."
Jon contemplated that for a second and sighed. "There's a reason I could never be a spymaster, George. I think too politically."
"You do, and that brings up another topic. You're not immortal, Jon, and neither am I. We're going have to retire eventually."
"Are you calling me old?"
"Be quiet. Now, we talked about Aly coming back and she'll need a way to keep herself. I was thinking, maybe she should come back when I retire as spymaster and take up my position. She could serve as spymaster to you and to Roald after you."
"That would work. She is quite brilliant at mind games, interrogation, codes, and what not."
George looked proud. "I taught my girl well."
Jon nodded, his brow furrowed. "I'll have to make her nobility. Unless she marries, she won't have any lands or dowry, which she will definitely need if she's to serve as my or Roald's spymaster easily."
"I'll leave the technicalities to you. Right now, my Lioness needs to be tamed."
A/N- Short, I know. This just felt like the right place to end things. I'll hopefully update more frequently. And there is something else. In this story, Aly isn't 16, she's 19, and Rand is 21. I realized that I got the ages wrong and thought that I'd tell you. Thanks!