AN: I'M BAAAAAAACK!! Thanks to all reviewers- Heiress of Lohaust, Eternityfalls, dares to dream, Shang Leopard, Cinnamint Kitty, xxTunstall Chickxx, EvilStrawberry, BACswimma, XxlEMmOnDrOpxX, and beta (when I send those chappies) KyrieofAccender. I figure that this has been a very long wait- for you guys and me, so I'll be starting the next chappie tonight...

Chapter Twenty Four

Never Bodes Well

"If I can't even walk, how am I supposed to fight?" she snapped at Duskwing, hurling a pillow at the wall. The kestrel glared at her reproachfully, but there was no answer from the Chamber. "It figures. You bail out at the worst times." A small voice down inside reasoned she was being unreasonable and petty; the Chamber had saved Leo's life, by sending her down to the infirmary…. A soft groan escaped her lips as a wave of fatigue washed through her, seeping down into her very bones.

Even that small rant- after a day of wandering around the palace- was too exhausting; she sat down, intending to finish an etiquette essay, but her mind kept going back to her father, and how he had held out a cane for her yet again this morning.

"I'll rest if I have to," she had said, eyeing the crutch with a grimace. "But I won't lean on anything." Now she wondered if she was wrong to keep refusing it…. Maybe Kel was right, and she wasn't meant to be a knight- She put her hand down and closed her eyes. She needed to write the essay and finish the mathematics work the masters had assigned. They would not excuse her late work for much longer….

And then she woke. Groggy, she lifted her head up.

The candle on her desk was nearly gone; the wax had melted onto its holder. Deryne scowled; she hated waste. Moving her head to one side to get of the crick in her neck, she glanced around, flinching as bright sunlight poured through the window; she must have fallen asleep.

Alarmed, she leapt up, fighting the aches in her muscles from sleeping at her desk all night long.

She had class.

Her legs grew stronger quickly; it was only a couple of weeks before she was running with ease, albeit not very far. Her father had forbidden riding or sparring still, but he had never mentioned archery. Even though her arms ached and sometimes gave way without the slightest warning, Deryne snuck down to the courts practiced her archery as much as she could.

"At this rate, I'll be better at that than everything else," she told Leo ruefully. He grinned.

"Not jousting; you got tips from a master. Or mistress," he added thoughtfully. "Is a woman a master of something, or a mistress of it?" Deryne suppressed a grin, thinking of another definition for the latter word.

"You should ask Lady Alanna," she suggested innocently. "Or maybe not," she added hastily. Knowing Leo, he probably would.

"Did you know that Rikash is going off to the university?" he asked, changing subjects. Deryne frowned slightly; she had heard.

"I don't see why he has to, when he has the best teacher any apprentice can get." She took an arrow from Leo and notched it. "Of course, he must want a break from his father. I guess that would be a little too much for anyone." Then again, Rikash had never complained much before… when she actually saw him- when she was still of speaking terms with him. She released the arrow; it flew into the red center of the target. Satisfied, she put down the bow. She had exhausted her quiver. "Race you," she challenged, taking off before Leo could reply. A small "hey" escaped him, but Deryne could hear him gamely following. Grinning, she let him catch up and looked over at him. His face was red as he charged forwards.

Deryne's strides lengthened; her pace quickened. She let her arms fly out around her, savoring the rush as they ran towards the target. Her feet seemed lighter than dove feathers; she felt as though the air was helping her, picking up each foot and setting it down for her, ushering her along-

She's sick, and she can do this-! Hastily, Deryne blocked the gudruna from her head; the last thing she wanted to do was invade Leo's mind. Still, she could not help but laugh at his consternation as she smacked the target and slowed down. Tiredness- which had been held at bay in her run- weighed down on her again, more than earlier.

"I'll pay for that tomorrow," she muttered, then turned to Leo, who shook his head, gasping for breath behind her.

"When they say you're the best-" he started, then tugged out an arrow. "Why is Lord haMinch thinking about holding you back?" Deryne looked down at her arms ruefully.

"I tire easily," she answered. "I can't spar or joust yet… if I got hit once, I could be out for awhile." Leo's eyes were serious.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Deryne shrugged.

"Me, too," she replied, then grinned. "But not because I saved you, if that's preying on your mind." She clapped his shoulder. "I'm not too concerned. The worse that'll happen, I'll be in your class, next year. It's a win-win, either way."

"Careful," Numair cautioned as Deryne rose in the air. Her palms sweated, but she did not dare wipe them off on her breeches. If she lost her focus, it was a long fall to the hard floor below. Numair had an air cushion beneath her in case she could not control the spell, but Deryne was not reassured. If her power did get out of hand, it would probably send any air manipulative spells up in a gust….

Since Neal was adamantly against his daughter sparring, Numair could not test Deryne's Awareness, as he insisted on calling it. The mage had decided that in a year, Deryne could filter out her gudruna so that she could sense an attacker's motions and strike before they did. He would not be able to test her until the Chief Healer decided his precious child was well enough. Instead, he came up with another idea that Deryne loved: flying.

"I don't think I can go any higher," she called, trying to summon up more strength. Her Gift shuddered; she dropped a few inches. "I like doing this outside more." In order to levitate, Deryne needed her Gift to push her body upwards and continue moving the stale, stationary air in the room to keep her up. Outside, she could cheat. Breezes were much simpler to summon than to create. Deryne only had to pour a little Gift into them for the working in the fresh air. Her thoughts kept straying to the Swoop, and how she could have soared with the ocean gusts, up and down the coast…. Here, it was a struggle just to stay up.

"Which is why you have to do it here," Numair replied calmly. His dark eyes swept over her trembling body, gauging her strength. "Another few moments. Then lower yourself. Slowly. Very slowly. You'd be surprised how little is holding you up there."

"It feels like a lot," she muttered as she eased her Gift away. As her feet touched the air cushion Numair created, relief rushed through her. She ended the spell with a sigh, yelping as her misplaced foot sent her crashing into the cushion.

"Air legs?" Numair queried as he turned away. Pushing a stack of books to the side, he sat down at his desk. Deryne felt her way to the edge of the air cushion and sat on it. It bounced underneath her.

"Come again?"

"Do you have air legs? Like sea legs?"

"I didn't move or walk or anything," she answered, bouncing on the cushion. "Should I be walking? Or do I float around?" Numair leaned back, face absorbed.

"It would depend on how you think of it, I would think," he said in his thoughtful scholar voice. "Do you see the air in your mind as a platform that rises as you go up, or as a force that hoists you up and shifts as you do?"

"The second one," Deryne replied without thinking. "It's-" She tried to think of a word. "Just air, if you know what I mean. I move, it moves." Numair nodded.

"Then I believe you would float, and shift your weight and the air accordingly. For instance, if you sat in midair, or lay down, your Gift and the breezes holding you up would relax and condense to fit your new position." He frowned, looking up at the ceiling. "Of course, I don't know whether that would be easy, because either the spell around you is like a protective coating- a cocoon, if you will- that will change to hold you up in that space, or if it must be orchestrated precisely to your position, in which case-" Rolling her eyes once she knew he had retreated into his own little world, Deryne flopped back on the air cushion, flying back up into the air as she bounced across it. As Numair continued muttering, she stood up and flipped over onto her hands, using her Gift to brace her legs in midair as she took a few unsteady hand-steps. Then she rolled into a somersault, landing back on the edge of the air cushion. She grinned; her teacher was still talking to himself.

Then she felt the cushion dissolve underneath her; with a small shriek, she plunged downwards. An inch before the floor, the air solidified again and caught her. Heart pounding, she looked up at Numair, who was looking down at her, attempting to look severe but clearly amused.

"If you would desist? I am trying to help you," the man pointed out mildly. Deryne felt the cushion melt beneath her until she was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled.

"Sorry. It was a terrible distraction," she answered mournfully as she looked around. Finally, her eyes traveled back to Numair, and a mischievous smile spread across her face. "Fun, though." The mage broke out into a grin.

"Believe me, I know…," he said softly, pulling an enormous book off of a large stack and opening it to a marked page. The cover hit the desk with a loud thud. "You should get some rest, though, otherwise your father will come in here howling." Deryne grinned and stood as his gaze turned to the book.

"Yessir." Then she approached the desk. He did not look up. After a few minutes, she gave up on his powers of observation. "Anything new about that mage?"

"Hmm?" Numair looked up, bemused.

"Forgotten me already?" He blinked once, then seemed to remember who Deryne was and what she had asked.

"No," he answered, leaning back. "But I am working on that rune you gave us." He pointed to the book he had begun to peruse. When Deryne leaned over, she saw a page with at least ten different signs and illegible text scrawled beneath each. "This is the first edition," he sighed, then pointed to the rest of the stack. Each tome was the width of Deryne's palm. The girl counted eight of them and shuddered. "And… three more over there, somewhere," he said, waving a hand towards one of the shelves. "And it might not even be in them. There are older volumes I would have to translate to understand the meaning of the symbol… possibly the Gaelli texts. Their civilization was very well learned, and they were famous for compiling histories that were ancient in their times… without them, the beginnings of the world would have been lost to mankind's eyes." Deryne's brow furrowed.

"Beginnings of the world?" she asked, curious. Numair smiled.

"It sounds a great deal more interesting when you aren't translating dry, wordy language into another lost language, which can then be put into old Carthaki, into the Carthaki they use now, and then into Common. Not that I need that last step," he added. "And so much meaning gets lost in the translations. Even the pure Gaelli had been taken from even older writings, writings that no longer exist." He sighed wistfully. "To have a beginning… seers have had glimpses- perhaps if Irnai ever directed her powers… she might be the most powerful seer in centuries, perhaps longer." Then he looked back up at Deryne. "I am boring you, aren't I?"

"Only a little," Deryne laughed. She had known Numair more than long enough to be pert. "Remember to sleep."

"I won't, but Daine will make certain I do," he answered. "Rest your Gift. I'll see you next week." Deryne hesitated.

The goddess who had saved her was preying on her mind. The dark eyes as they faded to amber, blazing like a wildfire. Was she the god the Chamber had mentioned? No… but Deryne felt that the woman was important all the same.

"I… saw a goddess," she said slowly. "She healed me. When I was sick." Numair froze in the middle of turning a page. He looked up with a frown on his face.

"A crone?" he asked softly. Deryne shook her head.

"No. Why?" The mage sat back, running a hand through his hair.

"Rikash dreamt about one, according to my wife. Last Yama's Festival." Deryne was about to ask more, but Numair shook his head. "Who was she? Anything special?" The girl shrugged, wracking her mind for details.

"She healed me with white flame." Numair grimaced; clearly, that fact would not help him. "Black hair and dark eyes. I think-" At the last moment, Deryne kept her mouth shut about the Chamber inside of her kestrel. "She said something… something odd, about death, or something…." She shook her head. "I can't remember. But the first time I saw another man, with her." Numair's dark eyes narrowed.

"First time?" Quickly, Deryne outlined both dreams to her teacher. "A man and a woman. Anything at all that you recall?" The page bit her lip.

"She said that her power peaked in a few days. That they couldn't do anything until then-"

"And then they came back?" Numair's gaze was intent.

"She did."

"On Yama's Festival." It was not a question. After a moment of silence, he sighed. "Go on to bed, page. That's an order." Deryne bowed and left without a word.

The mage sat still in his chair for a very long time, his furrowed brow giving away his furious train of thought. Finally, he leaned back over the tome he had been reading.

"More than one god showing up in one time, one place," he muttered to himself, stroking his chin. "That never bodes well for anyone."

"I am surprised to see you here, Novice Salmalin," Master Hayward said as he strode quickly down the halls of the University. Rikash wondered how the man could see with his small, reading spectacles. "Terms do not begin until the fall."

"I thought it would be a good idea to explore and know where everything is before classes began," Rikash answered coolly. They passed the last of the classrooms before the dorms began; two novices were sending small propellants around the room at each other and deflecting them. A teacher watched with pursed lips.

"They are finishing the last of the exams," Hayward explained. "With your advanced lessons from your father, you obviously do not belong with those your own age."

Clearly, the boy thought, but managed to keep quiet.

"There are six official levels in the university. I believe you can skip to an assistants' rank, except that all students are required to be an apprentice for at least two years." He frowned thoughtfully. "The apprentice levels should be simple for you, but at least those students are only a few years older than you, and if your master agrees, you can be ranked as an assistant only a year later. For the talented son of Numair Salmalin, I think we can let you slide on the two-year rule." Rikash smiled, because he guessed that Hayward needed reassurance that he was still listening. Inside, he grimaced. Did the man even know his first name? Salmalin, Numair's son, the black robe's protégée- "Apprentices serve an appointed master, and usually assistants will continue on with that man or woman until you pass the final exams for a certified mage. As an apprentice, you will run errands and maybe help with whatever experiments your master is working on. When you become an assistant to that mage, you will do all the tedious work and notes for those same experiments and even help with the beginner classes."

"Assuming I want to quit?" Rikash asked. Hayward frowned.

"I doubt you will- the work will not be difficult for you, I would think." Rikash's patience cracked; he locked eyes with the master.

"In case I find it cannot help me in any way," he answered, voice as polite as he could make it. It was the voice he used to mock snobs in court. "In case I find it… inadequate." Hayward blinked; for a short moment, Rikash felt sorry.

"I- yes, your father mentioned your unusual Gift. We have many expert masters, some of whom are theorists, who are exactly who you need, I believe." I believe. It might be. I should think so. How many times had the man used them? Rikash had only arrived an hour ago, and he already despised the head of the University!

"This can't bode well," he muttered under his breath.

"Sorry?" He shook his head. Hayward went on. "Well, it may be that you are right, and it would be best for you to study with your father-" They stopped in front of a double door with the inscription Novices above it. "There are already too many in the apprentice dorm; this will suit you fine, I think." Rikash smiled a razor-sharp smile. "You will have to fetch your bags, I fear." He gestured down the hall. "I can help you find your way back-"

"No!" Rikash said quickly, hand on the door handle. "I- I'd like to see the dorm first, and maybe exploring on my own would be good. I can remember the way pretty well-" Actually, he had been more interested in the classes than the maze of passageways. Still, the University was not too old; most of the hallways were simply laid out. Hayward's face fell.

Doesn't he have better things to do than follow a student around all day? Rikash thought irritably. Then again, the sons of the black robe mage of Tortall weren't always coming to the University….

"I suppose that makes sense," he said, handing Rikash a key. "Your room is to the right, I believe." He cleared his throat as the boy turned to make his escape. "If you do need anything, anything at all, you should know that I will gladly assist you. Anything at all-"

"Good to know," Rikash said through gritted teeth, smiling as he ducked into the dorms. "Why didn't I agree to an alias again?" he grumbled as he tugged the door shut behind him and looked down the passageway with curiosity. Several doors were open; Rikash could see bare rooms with three or four beds in them. Names were scrawled in chalk on the boards next to each doorway. Everyone had gone home for the summer, then. The youth wandered down until he found his own name. He unlocked the door and wandered in.

One bed had a trunk next to it; apparently someone else was there for the summer, too…. Rikash glanced over at the neatly packed belongings in the open trunk; a shirt and a pair of pants were on top. Seeing the neat, tiny pattern weaved into the hem of the shirt, he could guess his roommate was wealthy. A noble or rich merchant's son. He could not decide which would be a worse friend, all dandified and perfumed-

"This seems to be the room for the misfits then, eh?" Rikash's scowl deepened as he heard the voice. When he turned, there was a young man leaning up against the door. "Rikash Salmalin? The servants have been chattering away about the black robe's son for hours." Rikash quirked an eyebrow at the casually dressed man. "I'll be your roommate for the next few years, so we might as well get acquainted. The name's Malvyn. Hadrian Malvyn." Rikash stared hard at his companion, trying to guess his age.

Either an Assistant or someone higher… and they put him in here? That would explain the misfit quote, at least. He was taller than Rikash, and wider, too. His face showed no hint of youthful, un-proportionate features- which meant he had grown into his looks already. He had to be in his earlier twenties, at least.

"Well, then we'll have all the time in the world to 'get acquainted' later," Rikash muttered. He had not expected to be forced to deal with another student yet, and the prospect of being social irritated him.

"Ah… but then there would be less time for more interesting things," Malvyn retorted. Deciding to humor the other student for a little while, Rikash crossed his arms and sat on his blanket-less bed.

"Such as?" Malvyn shrugged.

"You want to explore the city? I've been here for a year or so, even though I was not accepted into the University until a few weeks ago." Malvyn's blue eyes sized up Rikash. "It's a good time. Makes you tough. Experience is sommat you want on your side."

"Me in particular?" Rikash muttered, annoyed. The young man's gaze did not waver.

"If what I've heard is right, you could be the next King's Mage. In which case, the more people and places you know, the better." In spite of himself, Rikash felt a warm burst of pride. He glared at Malvyn.

"Says who?" He shrugged.

"Everybody knows you've got what it takes." Rikash smirked.

"Out of whack fires exploding all over the place? That's what you want?" Malvyn's eyes narrowed.

"So it's true?" He stood up straight, making the other student even more aware of his height. "It must take some bit of power to do that."

"It does," Rikash replied sullenly. "I need to retrieve my belongings now." The boy headed for the door.

"Stronger than your father?" he asked as Rikash passed him. He stopped.

"What?" Malvyn's brow was knit, his mouth curled into a thoughtful frown. The man was staring down at the floor, as though trying to glare an answer out of it.

"Are you stronger than your father?" Rikash blinked; stronger, than his father? Stronger than Numair Salmalin, the great mage of the century? Stronger than the black robe?

"I… don't know." His head whirled with memories of snapped bindings and fires that his father could not contain….

Could that be why his father couldn't bind his Gift? Could he be stronger? Did his father suspect it? Could that be why Numair Salmalin refused to test his son's Gift?

Yama's Festival… his Gift… it was all a puzzle, one his father could not unravel…. Did that mean Rikash could not rely on Numair Salmalin to save him? Not to rely on his father to find the answers to every threat lurking over him?

Mind muddled, Rikash locked gazes with as the young man looked up. There was a crooked smile on his companion's face as he clapped the younger boy on the shoulder. His blue eyes gleamed with an excitement that Rikash felt in his own bones.

"I think you are," he whispered.

Dun-dun-dah! Review, please? I'm sorry for the wait... you'll forgive me... right? ;D