Chapter V

And these are your rooms, Master Salmalín. The servants will be bringing extra blankets and your belongings shortly.
Isabella Harper pulled a chain from around her neck and handed it to Numair. A heavy brass key hung from it; with an expression of distaste, Numair put it around his neck and tucked it under his shirt, then walked around the large suite of rooms he had been given. The theme for fief Iskold Fæstning was thick carpets, thick tapestries, and several fireplaces in each room.
The mistress of the fiefdom looked as if she had been carved of ice. Although she was blonde, she wasn't the golden blonde of the nearby Scanrans - her long, smooth curtain of hair was more silver than gold, and her eyes were the palest blue imaginable. Her skin was like ice - cold, colorless, and suave. Isabella wasn't the finest example of female beauty...but she could hold her own against Queen Thayet if need be.
It took Isabella several tries to get Numair's wandering attention. When she succeeded, he gave her a puzzled look.
What? I'm sorry, I wasn't listening.
Isabella gave him a smile, revealing brilliant white teeth. I said, are these rooms all right? I mean, fief Iskold Fæstning can't hold a candle against the finery of court, but -
You forget, m'lady, I am in exile, Numair cut in, flashing her a bitter grin. But since you asked, yes, the rooms are fine. Finer than I could have hoped for.
That's good. Now...what's left? I've given you the tour of the castle and the unfrozen' grounds...ah, yes, I have to introduce you to your students.
She led him out of the rooms and through several passages, stopping finally at a pair of huge glass doors. Noticing Numair's puzzled look at the chosen materials, she said,
Lord Zachary's daughters were raised in a climate much like Carthak's - except they lived in a jungle country, not desert. Some mages and I worked for weeks on this wing of the castle; it's like a huge greenhouse, only without the plants in the living areas. You might want to leave your cloak, gloves, and scarf here. I certainly will.
And to prove her point, she slipped out of her thick over-robe and quickly slid into the room. After a moment's hesitation, Numair copied her, and found himself in a world of humid heat.
He also found himself in the midst of ten-odd looms. Curious - and mischievous - eyes peered at him from behind half-finished silk tapestries.
Isabella was saying, meet your new teacher, Master Numair Salmalín.
There was a brief silence. Then, nine young ladies of similar build lined up in front of the looms, all smiling a familiar smile, and eying him in a way he knew very well. Instead of blushing or enjoying the glances, he forced himself to think of something else, and to smile dimly.
Master Salmalín, these are Lord Zachary's nine daughters, out of his first wife, Chelsea of Mynaar. The eldest is twenty-three, the youngest, eighteen. From the eldest to youngest, they are: Yasmine, Jennifer, Jocelyn, Alexis, Anna, Renata, Victoria, Valerie, Barbara. As she listed them, she pointed them out; Numair noticed that he could remember their age by the number of bells in each girl's hair.
Now, girls, your father sent Master Salmalín to teach you about magic and whatever else you need to know. Don't play any stupid pranks and don't badger him with foolishness, understood?
One of the girls - Renata - murmured something, and they all nodded. With a raise of a pale eyebrow, Isabella swept out of the room, back into the cold, leaving the mage alone with his students.
For a moment, they all stared at each other. Then Renata tilted her head to the side and said, I've heard of you. The ladies from Corus say you're a real stud.
Numair raised a brow, much like Isabella. Oh? I'm sorry to say I've dropped that habit. You're Renata?
She nodded, the twenty bells in her hair ringing softly. Yes. Barbara is eighteen; Valerie and Victoria are twins and they're nineteen; I'm twenty; Alexis and Anna are also twins, and they're twenty-one; Jocelyn and Jennifer, too, are twins, and they're twenty-two; and, finally, Yasmine's twenty-three.
Thank you for the introduction. It sounds like your father was desperate for kids, having one or two every year for nine years.
That's why Mother died. She was over worked. Oh well. Renata licked some sweat off her lips. I'm the talkative one. When do classes start?
Tomorrow. I have to get settled in. Good bye. And with that, Numair returned to his room, thinking.
Those copper-skinned, golden-haired, black-eyed girls could become a problem.


...and they're in the Copper Isles; the nobility there should be having great fun with the lady, as she did kill one of their insane bitches. And
Daine leaned closer to the door, desperate to hear more. She was starved for news of home. Well, being shut up in a gloomy castle for a month and a half did tend to drain people out, but because of her need for the natural world, she was now pale and gaunt, with dark circles under her eyes.
I knew it since Aeld forbade me to send any letters. I'm a prisoner here - why didn't I just wake up immediately when no new from home came? She shook her head, brushed away the thoughts, and pressed her ear closer to the door.
And the Contés? That was Duke Aeld; the other voice - male - replied,
They're just fine. My master-at-arms tells me that Jonathan is having a grand time discovering his heritage. And Thayet's working on a plan to overthrow me and get the throne back; I wish her luck.
Daine swallowed a gasp. What was that supposed to mean? Greedy for more, she shifted her ears into a cat's - even that was becoming hard for her.
...and where do you have your daughters?
They're staying at fief Iskold Fæstning, in the Grimhold Mountains. It belongs to Isabella Harper; an ice beauty if I'm to judge.
They have the Gift, am I right?
Yes. Even now, they are being taught by the most qualified of men - in more ways than one. The stranger laughed, then added, I'm thinking of shipping all the girls and the mage here to Corus; I have to get started on the breeding program.
Breeding program? Oh, yes, I remember; you want to breed super-humans.
Precisely. And you remember what I intend for those super-humans?

Good. Then you know that you shall be rewarded immensely if you find more with her talent.
Yes, Majesty. Will the Contés have any part of the program?
Maybe. Don't forget, my blood isn't Jonathan's. My great-great-great-great-grandfather was bastard-born. But I have their children; it is no concern to me if the ex-monarchs themselves die or not -
The rest was lost to Daine, who stumbled back from the door and sprinted back to her room, her prison.
Ex-monarchs? Who did Thayet want to overthrow - Majesty? And what man was the most qualified...
Something very strange was going on.
That's it, Daine said out loud, startled at how raspy and weak her voice was. I'm leaving. I have to go home; I have to find out what's going on.

That's all for now, people. *ducks as someone throws a rotten egg and wrinkles nose when it cracks* I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't accept eggs. At this moment, only REVIEWS are allowed - and no flames, plz. My room is warm enough already...
Ok, seriously. I've sorta run out of ideas for this fic (though I've worked out what Daine's gonna do) so if you wanna help be, go right on ahead. My email's bigego_13@hotmail.com if you wanna contact me like that.
Beijinhos
~ Giovanna