Alanna walked quickly down the hall. She felt almost like she was being watched, as though someone has trained their eyes on her from a concealed window. Brushing back her coppery hair, she halted. She thought she heard faint footsteps for a few moments, before they, too, ceased.
Turning, Alanna placed her hand upon the jewel that was a token from the Goddess, which she always kept around her throat. The shape of a man was outlined in brilliant, gold fire. Alanna frowned. She knew that man. Calling upon her magical Gift, she canceled the spell and looked, this time at a real person.
Sir Myles of Barony Olau stood revealed in the low light, looking rather embarrassed. His hair was beginning to turn gray, but he still stood as tall and steady as he was when Alanna was his student, and not his adopted daughter. Alanna looked at him uncertainly, trying to figure out why he was here.
Myles cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I followed you," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wouldn't have used the spell, but Jon was after me to inform you of the latest news of war along the Scanran borders. It doesn't look good. Our king knows you don't like to be disturbed…"
Alanna snapped, "No, I don't. The news can wait." She began striding down the corner, and felt a tug on her sleeve. She turned around to look up at Myles. One of the troubles about being so short, she thought ruefully, was that one was forever craning their neck. "Now what?" she asked, exasperated.
"The news can't wait," Myles explained patiently. "The word is out – there's a plan to assassinate you."
* * *
Veralidaine Sarrasri, better known as Daine or the Wildmage, had been listening to the reports for the past hour and a half. A field mouse named Pounce had merely been the first of a steady trickle of definite information: there was a plan to assassinate someone close to the king. Furthermore, at least an eighth of the animals had been positive that Alanna was mentioned. She pieced two and two together, and reported to Myles. Alanna might not be assassinated, but it was best to be safe. She knew Myles would help.
In the light of such important, pressing news, she had not mentioned one other thing; the reports were too scarce for Myles to make sense of them. It seemed that the Scanran metal-giants were appearing in large numbers around the camps, now permanent, where the various tribes had settled for the war. This made sense; the huge beasts would ensure that little or no rebellion could ever escape. The interesting part of the report was that, at least in some of the camps, there were a few less of these beasts every day. This not only wasn't definite, as not all the animals covered the territory in one day, but it wasn't useful.
After all, saying 'the beasts are leaving the camps' would be fair foolish. If anything, it would be a reason to hope, because fewer beasts meant more chance of a successful rebellion against their leader – Daine leaned back, trying to remember his name, and failed. Oh, well. Some important, jumped-up general or another. She grinned as she imagined him without his precious metallic giants to guard him. He'd have a hard time escaping Tortall's wrath. As she settled down to help heal some of the animals that'd been wounded while spying, she failed to note the report of a lone dragonfly: the metal-things were heading toward Tortall.
***
Sir Keladry of Mindelan stopped to wipe the sweat off her forehead, then once again lifted her lance. "Charge," she whispered softly to Peachblossom, her horse. Peachblossom snorted – he didn't seem to be in the mood for whispers – and stampeded down the field, turning yards into inches in mere seconds. Her opponent's lance shattered on contact with her shield. She hit solidly, and watched as he flew out of the saddle and onto the ground.
Her dog, Jump, began to frantically lick the fallen. Kel laughed and picked him up, letting her friend stand. He pulled back his helmet, and began to smile. His unruly hair stood out in all directions, but he was a great raider hunter. His knight-master, Lord Wyldon, had reluctantly come back to the palace for the summer, however. "Kel, that was jolly!" Owen of Jesslaw gasped, out of breath. "Even you weren't fighting like that last time I saw you! Did Lord Raoul teach you? Wyldon doesn't talk much about jousting, so -"
"Enough," Kel informed her friend firmly. "You said you wanted jousting experience, particularly since you'll be a knight in a year anyway." Kel, herself, had just become the second lady knight in almost a century. The first, Alanna the lioness, had been knighted male; Kel still wondered whether it had been easier pretending to be a boy or openly admitting her femininity. As she slowly walked, laughing and talking to Owen, to the entrance to the palace, Alanna and Myles walked out of the back door onto the training grounds, conversing quietly.
Kel jumped. Although she'd known Alanna for the last two or three years of her squirehood, it still made her nervous to be around the hero. This was especially true after she learned that Alanna was, in fact, her secret benefactor. Someone had been secretly giving her gifts on the holidays ever since she was a page on probation. Finding it out had been a relief. Her sword, Griffin, the last gift Alanna gave her, hung loosely at her belt. She still couldn't thank Alanna enough for this gift alone, let alone the variety she received over a period of eight years. She looked trouble, a fact that troubled Kel. She didn't want to know what could trouble her hero.
"-sure it was me?" she was asking now, tight-lipped. "You're absolutely certain that I was the only one mentioned?"
"Quite sure," Myles replied sadly. "But even if I were not, it would be necessary to protect you from harm. You cannot, I repeat, cannot, put yourself in such danger. Imagine the loss to Tortall, to the world, to the army! And the loss," he concluded softly, "to those who care about you. Me. Jonathon. George. Each of us would gladly help protect you from harm, my lady. We will extend every precaution to prevent your -" the voices faded. Kel, debating on whether or not to follow and eavesdrop, decided against it. It sounded like they were having a personal conversation. She continued with Owen through the door, and they began wandering through the long, twisty passage that led to the dining hall.