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Forest

Chapter 17: Confrontations

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Ilane glanced across the room and smiled rigidly, whispering something to her husband. The two ambassadors had mingled with the crowd, introducing Numair to various members of state while they waited for Daine to speak to the Wolf. Since the warrior had spoken to their group first, Ilane had told him that the strange northern girl wished to speak to him, but not what about. The Wolf had raised an eyebrow playfully at her and slipped away, bowing politely.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Numair asked. The woman raised her own eyebrow.

"He already knows. But the rituals must be observed." She sighed and rubbed her arms absently, letting Piers explain better than she could.

"Daine has to challenge him herself, to prove that we're not forcing her to fight. But more than that…" Piers paused, choosing his words with care. "What is the honour in fighting someone who you have never met?

"The Shang Warriors do not challenge the vain, the greedy, the corrupt, because they are not worthy of their attention. Someone who wishes to fight to gain money, or power, or just to show off their skills… well, they have nothing to prove, I suppose. They have no real cause to fight."

"I don't really understand that, myself." Ilane shrugged. "Ged- the Wolf- is nice enough when he wants to be, but he has no patience with people who are wasting his time. So he talks to them first. Simple as that."

"I like my explanation better." Piers muttered. Ilane supremely ignored him, turning to bow to another Noble who had approached their small group.

Numair let his attention wander as more and more Yamani courtiers flowed into the room, all chattering with nervous excitement as they anticipated the arrival of the Emperor. Most of the nobles who greeted the Tortallans spoke in Yamani, the flowing poetic language that was completely unknown to him. When Ilane began speaking in Common again he was startled out of his reverie.

"…surprised to see you at court. Have you been ill?"

"Do not concern yourself, Lady Ilane. With the help of the gods I am recovered enough to attend, and that is all that matters." A tall, anorexic looking man had come out from the surrounding crowd, surrounded by a small crowd of nervous-looking slaves.

Numair studied the man as he exchanged further pleasantries with the ambassadors. Privately, he thought the man looked half dead. Compared to the overfed, over polished appearance of most of the court, he looked like a starved servant. His rich robes only enhanced the greasy pallor of his skin.

The mage concentrated his magical vision, seeing the glint of the Gift around the stranger. The magical light seemed to twist under the man's skin, becoming almost grotesque and violent.

"I am pleased that you find me so interesting, Master Draper." The sick man drawled, bowing shallowly in his direction. Numair blinked and bowed in reply, hardly registering Piers' and Ilane's confusion at the name. The stranger smiled coldly. "I have been looking forward to speaking with you."

"I don't know who you are." The mage replied bluntly. Piers coughed politely and bowed again to the stranger.

"Master Salmalin, may I present Lord Gemmel, the Rancune of Carthak."

"'Rancune' is merely a title. I'm known to my friends as 'Kavan'." The Rancune smirked. "And, perhaps, to my enemies? Whatever you wish to call me, I imagine that you remember me now. Perhaps the Lord Piers and his fair lady would give us some privacy, to become reacquainted." He phrased the question as a blunt statement, not taking his eyes off the mage's face as the other Tortallans drifted away, glancing back with worried expressions. The slaves followed them, looking eager to get away as quickly as possible.

Numair's words were clipped with cold rage. "I ought to kill you where you stand."

Kavan smiled again and shook his head, dropping into one of the over-ornate chairs that were scattered around the hall. "I came to talk to you. You could at least pretend to be civilised for five minutes. You can't attack me in the middle of the court, any more than I could attack you. Call it a truce."

"A truce." Numair said flatly. Kavan nodded, the smirk never fading from his face. The taller mage gritted his teeth and sat opposite the Rancune. "What did you want to tell me?"

"I came to ask for your help." The smooth statement cut into Numair's rage like a knife. He blinked at the other man, astonished. Kavan's smile had vanished, his expression was almost insanely intent. "You're not a stupid man, much as I hate to admit it. You should think very carefully before replying."

"Why on earth should I do anything for you?"

"It's nothing difficult, I just need some information. Even you should be able to cope with that." Kavan continued blandly, his eyes burning eerily. "I'll give you a trade. You tell me what I need to know, and I'll…" He thought for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his face once again. His voice was amused as he finished the sentence. "I'll take that collar off Daine."

Numair kept his expression carefully blank. "What information?"

"Two questions: Ten days ago I sent some of my… soldiers to Tortall. They captured Daine. A few hours later you came to help her- knowing exactly where she was, and exactly what was wrong. During those hours she didn't move, didn't cast any magic, didn't mind-speak… so how did she speak to you?"

Numair watched the Yamani nobles milling around them, totally oblivious to what they assumed was a pleasant conversation in the barbarian northern language. His mind raced as he tried to decide what to say, what to do. His fingers itched to cast magic, to destroy this man. Kavan watched him carefully and started the second question.

"The other thing I want to know, is: after the Spidren incident, Lord Scul couldn't possess Daine's dreams for over a week. I don't know why, but Scul knows now. He said you cast some kind of protection on her, but he won't tell me what it is."

"They're your questions?" Numair felt bemused. "I thought you meant… fort defences, troops, thing like that. Important information."

"This is important!" Kavan hissed, leaning forward in his chair. "Two months ago I sold my soul to Scul. I am an agent of Chaos- my whole life is now centred around Scul, and on making people's lives as chaotic as possible. Day after day I spy on you and Daine. Night after night I report to Scul. It's driving me insane. It's killing me. I want to know what the protection spell is, so I can live again."

There was a short silence. The Yamani courtiers were gradually moving further away from the northerners, shocked at the rude display of emotions.

"I don't pity you." Numair's dark eyes were full of hate. "You deserve to die."

"For what?" Kavan's voice rose angrily, sick emotion bubbling in every phrase. "For being a spy? For being in league with Chaos? For being a murderer? Because…"

"Kavan." Daine said quietly, breaking the man's tirade. The Rancune looked up and smiled, the rapid mood-changes dancing in his eyes.

"Daine, my dear! I was just talking about you!" He declared enigmatically. "How long have you been hiding in the crowd?"

"Not long." She shot an apologetic look at Numair, uneasy at how furious he looked. Kavan's grin became syrupy sweet as she looked back at him. It faded slightly when he saw the determined set of her jaw. Her voice became calmer and more steady as she walked towards the Rancune.

"Kavan, if you say one more word to him…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "…you will be breaking our agreement. Scul will not be pleased with me, but he will blame you."

Kavan gaped at her, and then began to laugh. He leaned closer to her and whispered confidingly, "Are you going to tell Numair the truth then, sweetheart? At least if I told him you could have pretended I was lying."

Daine ignored him, trying to force herself not to be scared of him. Her hands felt unnaturally cold when she twisted them together uneasily. "I will answer your questions, and then you will leave. Are you listening? Numair doesn't know what the protection spell is. I severed my spirit to warn him when you sent the Spidren. There's nothing else you need to talk to us about. Go away."

The Rancune sneered elegantly and stood up, swaying slightly before he caught his balance. "No-one can cast a spell without knowing what it is! And how could you sever your spirit? I don't believe it!"

"Believe what you like." The girl replied, relief in her voice now it looked like the man was leaving. Kavan grinned at her.

"I will find out what the spell is." He hissed through his smile. "I think I might just make things a little more chaotic for you, until you decide to tell me."

Daine blinked at him, confused. Still smiling, Kavan reached out and gripped the edge of the slave-collar, his broken nails digging into her skin. For a second the metal became unbearably cold. The icy magic spread through her throat, mixing with the fear-cold until it was almost painful.

Then, with a dull clang, the collar fell to the floor in two halves. One of Kavan's slaves ran forward and picked it up as, laughing, he walked away.

Daine gasped, her hands flying to her throat. The neckline of this dress was just high enough to hide the necklace, but supposing it had been moved… supposing Numair was to see it… she felt for the chain, tucking it inside her dress until she was sure it was hidden.

Her neck felt ridiculously smooth without the band of metal around it. She didn't realise she was standing there, perfectly still with her hands wrapped around her throat, until Numair walked up to her.

"What did you say to him, to make him leave?" He asked. Daine shrugged.

"He didn't want to hear anything. He just wanted to talk to you." She said quietly, feeling slightly lost without the heavy ring of metal. Numair caught one of her frozen hands and kissed it.

"I wouldn't have believed anything he told me." He said.

"Maybe you should." She whispered forlornly.

Numair's reply remained unspoken when Ilane pushed her way through the crowd, smiling when she saw them.

"I saw Lord Gemmel leaving, and thought I'd come and find you." She blustered. "I know he can be such an insulting man, I don't know why the Carthaki chose him to be an ambassador, to be honest."

"Is that what 'Rancune' means?" Numair asked, surprised. Ilane nodded, but Daine shook her head.

"The Rancune is like… the ambassador you send when you are angry with the country." She said, trying to remember one of the rare diplomacy lectures she'd heard in Carthak. "Someone who… someone who can take decisive action without having to check with the emperor. But also, someone who can be intimidating when they're being diplomatic. They're like the warning before you get sent the army."

"That's strange. He doesn't look very threatening." Ilane replied conversationally. Daine smiled suddenly and shook her head.

"Why would Ozorne send a Rancune here?" Numair mused.

"He was never sent. He disappeared about five months ago." The girl replied. "We all really hoped he'd died."

"He's halfway there, I'd say." He returned. Ilane tutted absently at the comment and began to lead the way to a table of drinks. As soon as she had disappeared into the crowd, Numair stopped and looked intently at Daine.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit… surprised to see him here." She raised a hand absently to her neck again, not meeting the mage's serious eyes. Numair sighed and tugged his nose, a habit when he was thinking.

"He'll come back." He said eventually. "He's a very strong mage, Daine. He won't just keel over and die."

"I know. But he isn't thinking clearly. He's possessed."

"And that's an advantage?"

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