Description: Numair wreaks havoc in the streets of Carthak before he is able to connect with his simulacrum and get it captured by the emperor.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. Everything belongs to Tamora Pierce.

Author's Note: PLEASE BE WARNED this chapter contains scenes of torture (not too explicit).

Chapter 11

Calling on his Gift, Numair sent out his magic to the boat that had taken Lindhall to shore and pulled it back towards the Tortallan vessel, watching as the ferryman dove over the side in fright. There were far more dramatic ways to make an entrance such as floating himself to shore or walking on water, but sometimes simple magic worked best.

The mage turned to Gareth the Younger who had approached him looking confused. "Hold on to something. I'm going to give you a push."

The man frowned in confusion as the mage climbed down the ladder into the small boat. Calling on his Gift, he sent a gust of wind into the sails of the Tortallan vessel propelling it through the harbour and out into open waters. Black sparkling magic surrounded the small boat as it started floating towards the shore. The guards on the docks raised their spears and started shouting as the mage approached and disembarked intimidatingly.

For a few moments they stood silently watching each other until Numair spoke. "Leave now and you won't be harmed."

Two of the guards yelled a Carhtaki battle cry and thrust their spears at the mage. The spears exploded in their hands with black sparkling fire as Numair gathered his magic in his hands. He sent out a shockwave at the remaining guards who moved in with their spears. The blast knocked the men flying through the air to land on the ground or crash through fish carts. With the way temporarily clear, Numair dashed into the crowd and began to run for his life.

The mage dodged down several streets before he ran straight into a patrol of guards. His appearance was too well known in Carthak and immediately the guards gave chase. Numair used his Gift to conjure a small sandstorm to blind the guards and slow their progress. It was meant to be a small sandstorm but, as ever with his magic, it grew into a towering whirlwind pulling guards and people off their feet until the mage ended the spell and dashed down another alley. Horns sounded in the distance and he knew he was about to bring a lot of trouble his way.

The first red robed mage he encountered was alone and too startled by his sudden appearance to defend himself. Numair blasted him with fire and ran without checking to see if he was dead or alive. The horn calls were closer, and the mage could almost feel the guards closing in from all sides. He made it as far as the capital city when he felt the presence of mages with the guards. The streets of Carthak were narrow and filled with people which made disappearing difficult as there were too many witnesses pointing him out.

Numair always had a flare for the dramatic and he knew he would have to call on some big magics to make this escape seem real. He reached the fountain in the main square and stopped, drawing on his Gift the mage began muttering in Old Thak and pointed north back the way he'd come. A large crack split the ground running from where he stood towards the docks. People started screaming and fleeing as he turned and pointed west. Another crack split the ground causing shops to start crumbling as he turned and pointed south repeating the process. He left the path to the west unharmed as if a sheltered scholar like him was leaving an obvious path for the guards and mages to follow. In the chaos and screaming, he slipped into an alleyway and put an invisibility spell over himself. Creating a quick simulacrum of himself he sent it running to the east towards the university. The illusion wouldn't have fooled another mage, but un-gifted people would inform the guards which way they had seen him flee.

Taking off his robe he discarded it in a nearby barrel and released his hair from its tie. His fine clothes would need to go and that meant stealing which was something he hadn't had to lower himself to in a long time. Numair quietly slipped into the back of a clothing stall and grabbed a rough-spun pair of breeches, shirt and tan cloak. He changed as quickly as he could leaving his silk shirt and breeches in payment. The breeches finished just past his knees and the shirt was short in the sleeves. He briefly considered leaving his boots, but when living on the streets, a good pair of boots was something you didn't give up easily. Back outside he knelt and rubbed street dust into his hair and onto his arms, face and boots.

Checking to make sure he wasn't being watched, the mage released the invisibility spell and crouched behind a box waiting for the guards to appear. He couldn't use his Gift if mages showed up as they would be able to sense his magic. He didn't have to wait long for the patrols to arrive along with three red robed mages. Numair sent a silent prayer to the Graveyard Hag that his disguise was good enough to fool the mages and hoped she was listening.

The guards began to pull people out from their hiding places in shops and alleyways including the mage. He allowed himself to be dragged into the square and fell to his knees cowering, letting his hair fall over his eyes. He was thankful he didn't recognise any of the red robes.

"We're looking for the renegade, Numair Salmalín, formerly known as Arram Draper. Anyone seen him?" The guard said holding up one of his old wanted posters.

The mage glanced at it nervously but mostly kept his head down. It was not hard to show the fear he felt as his heart pounded in his chest. It was quite a gamble he was taking hiding in plain sight. The guard with the poster walked up and down shoving it in people's faces forcing them to look.

"Hey, you," one of the guards pointed at Numair and he froze in terror. "Those boots are too rich for the likes of you."

The mage curled into himself and tried to hide the boots with his cloak whimpering, only half-acting. The guard who had noticed him marched over and grabbed his hair slamming Numair's head into the dirt.

"I said, those boots are too rich for the likes of you," the guard snarled.

"They're m-m-mine," the mage stammered

"Thieving wretch!"

"I seen him," a boy spoke up. "The renegade. He was standing on the fountain making cracks in the ground."

The guard with the poster approached the boy. "Which way did he go?"

Numair held his breath as the boy pointed in the direction his illusion had run. The guard captain shouted orders to move out as the red robes dashed off ahead of the guards in search of their prey.

"Leave him," the captain shouted at the guard who still held Numair's head in the dirt.

The guard stood and gave him a swift kick in the ribs for good measure before following the rest of the patrol. The people started to disperse, and the mage forced himself to move to a side street to hide and catch his breath. That kick was going to leave a nasty bruise but nothing more serious. He scampered off down the alleyway before anyone could recognise him and headed towards some quieter streets. For once, luck was with him as the mage found a deserted alleyway. Using the heel of his boot Numair drew a protection circle in the ground and muttered the spells to ward against sight and sound, as well as adding an illusion of stacked crates to stop anyone coming this way. It took several precious minutes to ward himself completely, but he needed to take the time, because his attention would be on his simulacrum and not on his own body for what he would do next.

Sitting down in lotus position, Numair took several deep breaths to calm himself before reaching out with his magic and connecting with his simulacrum. Most illusions only required a few simple commands to activate them, but for this to be believable the mage would need to stay connected via his Gift. Connecting with the simulacrum, he opened his eyes and sat up seeing Lindhall stood in the corner of a dimly lit room.

"The guards are on their way. I need to get out of here before I implicate you in this."

"Incredible!" Lindhall exclaimed. "It even sounds like you! I look forward to hearing in detail how you created this working but for now, you are correct, we need to get it – you – out of here."

Numair stood and tested his balance within the simulacrum. It was just like controlling a puppet, but he found the illusion walked better when he didn't try to think about it too hard. The mage followed his old teacher out of the store cupboard and to the door leading to the gardens.

"Be careful." Lindhall placed a hand on his shoulder.

If his old teacher squeezed his shoulder the mage was unaware the gesture. It was an odd sensation as Numair could see the action but not feel it. He would have to put his player skills to the test when confronted by anyone who wished him harm.

"I'll place a sight illusion around myself and hide in the university," the mage said. "Stay in your rooms for now. I don't want you to get caught up in – whatever is about to take place."

Lindhall took a step back as Numair drew on the magic in the simulacrum and cloaked himself.

"Good luck, my boy," the older mage said softly, voice full of concern, as he opened the door to the gardens.

The younger mage crept outside into the garden and slunk carefully around the buildings. He wanted to put as much distance as he could between himself and Lindhall before he was discovered. Even with his power, there were enough mages in the university who would be able to detect an illusion spell and break it. The biggest question was where to hide the simulacrum of himself. Numair had to think like a sheltered academic and try to ignore what his instincts told him from his life on the streets and the training George Cooper had given him as a spy. A closet or a cupboard was too confining and wouldn't allow him to defend himself properly, but there were guest rooms in the university that might serve his purpose.

The mage had almost reached the guest quarters when he was discovered. A trio of red robes led by Master Chioké rounded the corner and with one word broke his illusion. He cried out in alarm and threw a fire blast at Chioké which broke through his shield. Numair had no problems in throwing everything he had at Ozorne's Chief Mage to make his attempt to flee seem believable. He turned, intending to run back down the corridor, but another three red robes appeared and readied their Gifts. The mage threw lightning at these new mages which exploded against their combined shield. He had to put a bit more strength into the attack to break their shield. Numair charged at them using a blast of air to blow the trio down the length of the corridor and slam into the far wall.

Racing down a side corridor, the mage called on his Gift to lock and seal all the doors as he passed. Another trio of mages rounded a corner and threw a magical net over him. Numair glared at them and muttered the spell to disintegrate the net before calling on magical vines to bind them. Continuing his mad dash, he ran down several more corridors before he burst out into the courtyard to be met by the terrifying sight of twenty masters standing waiting for him with their Gift's at the ready. The mage backed up a few paces intending to run back the way he'd come, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chioké followed by six of the nine mages he'd already attacked.

Numair realised that this would be his last stand before he was captured and ran through a list of possible spells to incapacitate the group. He knew he couldn't stand alone against so many masters, and normally he wouldn't have even tried. The mage held up his hand and began to draw the rune to create a cloud of paralyzing fog, but halfway through, a lash of magic caught his hand and yanked it back. Numair knew from experience that this particular spell stung and hissed in pain. He held up his left hand and attempted to write the rune again, but another lash caught him and restrained his other hand. He watched as more red robes threw magical lashes at him to hold him down. The mage howled in pain as he gathered as much of his Gift as he dared, even calling upon the power in his black opal, and sent a shockwave of power out of himself. The simulacrum only held a certain amount of Numair's Gift, and unlike the mage himself, it could not replenish the magic. He might have been able to cause a more powerful shockwave, but as it was, the blast of raw power knocked several mages flying and killed five of them instantly. Some of the smarter red robes formed a braided shield to protect themselves from the worst of the blast, but it still tore down their wards.

The magic in the simulacrum was almost tapped out and Numair swayed on his feet feigning a stagger as he tried to flee. A lash wrapped itself around his ankle and pulled him down crashing to the floor. Several more magical lashes wrapped around him as the mage thrashed and howled in an attempt to escape.

Master Chioké approached cautiously with a viscous smile on his face. "Not so powerful now are you, Draper? You'll pay dearly for the lives taken today."

Numair didn't answer, only glared hatefully at the Chief Mage. Chioké signalled towards one of the masters behind him who approached with runed cuffs. The mage recognised those cuffs from his previous capture. They had the ability to block the Gift in much the same way the rooms below the palace could, only the cuffs specifically stopped the mage from using the Gift, it didn't stop magic being used on him. He began to thrash harder and yelled several denials about not wanting to be taken alive as he heard the familiar click as they fastened around his wrists.

The mage was glad he had accounted for this possibility, as the cuffs could have blocked his connection to the simulacrum. It was a risk in connecting himself in any way to his illusion, but the addition of his black opal allowed Numair to continue the link as it had been in his possession for long enough to work similarly as a focus.

The red robes used the lashes on his arms to pull him to his feet and suspend him an inch off the floor. The mage hung his head in defeat and allowed himself to be dragged away through the university. He offered up little resistance as he was towed onto a ship to cross the river towards the palace and an audience with the emperor.

Numair was surprised at how nauseous he felt being taken before his once best friend when he was only inside an illusion. The entire experience brought back far too many memories and would fuel his nightmares for months to come once he got Daine and himself away from here. The mage sent a prayer to the Great Gods that his illusion was good enough to fool Ozorne. It was the true test of his working, if it tricked the emperor into believing he had finally captured his prey. As boys, Ozorne had always been more skilled at illusions, and Numair had only mastered the art after moving to Tortall and working for the king.

Chioké confidentially marched at the head of the procession of mages used to contain the traitor as they entered the palace grounds. Even cuffed, none of the red robes wanted to take the risk of him escaping again. The mage imagined it would be the death penalty for anyone who allowed him to escape.

The audience chamber was completely empty when the procession entered, save for the emperor on his dais and a few of his closest ministers. Ozorne was dressed simply with far fewer jewels and a plain green Carthaki tunic. His eyes glittered dangerously as Numair was dragged into the centre of the room and forced into submission on the floor.

"Your Imperial Highness, I bring the traitor, Arram Draper, before you to face justice for his crimes against the empire." Chioké's voice couldn't conceal his glee at bringing the emperor his prize. Numair wondered idly what reward his capture would bring to the Chief Mage.

"You are mine at last!" The emperor grinned triumphantly as the mage raised his head to glare at him.

"Where's Daine? What have you done with her?" he spat angrily.

"The girl should be the least of your concerns, Draper." Ozorne responded dispassionately.

"Let her go!" Numair struggled against his restraints trying to stand. "Wherever you have hidden her, release Daine now. You have me. I am the one you want."

"You do not give the orders here. The girl is a traitor just like her teacher and will stay precisely where she is. Perhaps we will even let her say goodbye – if she wakes in time."

The mage shuddered at the thought of his young friend having to say goodbye to him. Had he told her about the simulacrum?

"Escort the prisoner to the dungeons and remain with him to make sure his stay with us is permanent this time" the emperor ordered.

The red robes dragged Numair down through the palace towards the dungeons. He didn't offer any resistance until they reached the cells, and then he began to fight against his restraints. This was only a distraction so that the mage got a good look into each of the cells to make sure Daine wasn't in any of them. The red robes shot bolts of lightning down the magical leashes which Numair reacted to appropriately by crying out in pain.

He was dragged into one of the lower cells which contained no windows and only one door. The cuffs on his wrists were linked to a chain that hung from the centre of the room as his feet were chained to the floor. Numair gritted his teeth at the memory of the pain as the chain holding his hands was slowly raised until it pulled him off the floor. The chain holding his ankles down kept him anchored as he was slowly stretched until his joints began to pop as they dislocated from their sockets. The mage screamed and cried out until the chains stopped tightening and he hung from his wrists, body completely taut.

One of the red robes took a step forward and called the fire of his Gift to his hands. Flames engulfed the illusion as the clothes were burned off his body while the mage screamed in agony. Numair breathed heavily as he looked at the burned flesh of his simulacrum. He felt extremely relieved he'd had the presence of mind to make no physical connection to the body. The red robe stepped back into his place at the door as another two mages dressed in red robes with black bands stepped forward. These were interrogation mages who were trained in the art of pain and information extraction.

The two mages took up position either side of Numair as they held out a hand and began to form a long whip using their Gift. The whip split into multiple strands until it resembled a cat-o-nine-tails made of fiery red magic. The mage's breath came in fast as he guessed what was coming next as the tortures began. Numair stayed with his simulacrum for several hours, enduring the torment the mages inflicted on his illusion, until he decided it was time enough that he pass out from the pain.

The mage disconnected from his simulacrum to find himself sat alone in the alleyway within his protection circle. Hot tears began to run down his cheeks as he curled into a ball and released all the pent-up emotion from the past week. Numair hated to cry but he couldn't act or think straight until he'd dealt with his feelings.

It took a long time before he felt his trembling ease and was able to think clearly again. His Gift was severely depleted from his escape at the docks and holding the connection with his simulacrum. Numair was drenched in sweat and his clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin. Standing on shaky legs, the mage made his way to the entrance of the alleyway. First things first, he needed to acquire food and water which meant more stealing.

It was late afternoon when the mage entered the marketplace and used sleight of hand to procure some fruit and nuts from the stalls he passed. The drink was harder to obtain as you couldn't drink water from the dried-up fountains, and any pumps or wells cost more coin than the mage could easily come by without raising too much suspicion. The signs of the drought hadn't been as obvious in the palace, but it was apparent everywhere as Numair walked the streets. Even some of the street vendors had paid a high price to acquire anti-theft charms for the wine they sold on their stalls. The mage got lucky as a rich merchant left his horse unattended while he browsed a selection of silk scarfs. Numair stole the waterskin hanging from the saddle and walked away casually.

Hiding his meagre feast and waterskin inside his cloak, the mage wove his way through the streets and found and empty roof to sit on with a good view of the palace. As boys, Ozorne and Numair used to sit on rooftops to talk or sneak sips of wine. He ate his fruit quickly and drank half the waterskin remembering it was not wise to keep things on the streets otherwise it was taken from you. Hunger and thirst quenched, Numair sat back and watched the guards as they patrolled the palace.

Ozorne had revealed several pieces of useful information: one, he had Daine in custody somewhere nearby, two, she was unconscious wherever she was. Having seen the dungeons himself and confirmed she wasn't being held there, Numair felt almost certain she would be held in the cells under the palace that blocked the Gift. The mage cursed, wishing he had created a focus which would lead him directly to his friend. He was sure he'd considered making one previously, so why hadn't he asked Daine's permission before now when it was so imperative that he find her?