This part's quite long - enjoy!
PS: I know I should be working on Death Mark'd Love - but I'm outta ideas...thus...Lady of the Silver Temple!
Part II
All the eligible ladies are very worked up today, Alanna commented, peeling an orange. I wonder why.
From the opposite end of the table, King Jonathan grinned. Could it be that a certain mage has finally arrived?
I don't know, Alanna replied, playing the game she had started.
I personally don't understand what he has that I don't.
It's what he doesn't have, Alanna said seriously, glancing at her king. He looked shocked.
Excuse me? They love him more than I, even though he is less than I?
Alanna gave Jon a feral smile, showing all her white teeth. Beards are rather out of date, she said. Hint hint hint.
Jon stroked his. Then, saying a curt word, he brought his hand down rapidly. There was a spark of blue, then he was cleanshaven.
Alanna opened her mouth to reply, but a different voice beat her to it.
Yes, but not by much.
The two friends turned to the door, which was being shut by a tall, powerfully built man in his late-twenties. Ebony hair fought its tie, and brushed his shoulders.
Jon cried, falsely contrite. We were just talking about you!
The man nodded. I picked that up. I know when people talk about me - it's a knack I have.
Alanna raised her eyebrows. Right. So is playing the magnet with all the nobleladies, right?
Of course. Numair's dark eyes were laughing. So, how are my two least favorite nobles?
Very funny, Numair, Alanna said dryly, coming up to him and hugging him tightly. It's been a while.
He nodded. A while too long. You know Jonathan has a diabolical delight in sending me to go work abroad. He turned serious. So why did you call me now?
Jon gestured for the mage to sit. A servant brought Numair some fresh pasteries and orange juice, which he accepted gratefully.
We've received a message from King Trystam -
King Who? interrupted Numair with a puzzled look.
King Trystam of Galla, Jon said. Anyway, he contacted us. Apparently, there's a magical outbreak in Galla.
What? You mean people are suddenly coming down with Gift-fluenzia and spell-itis?
The king glared at Numair. No. What I mean is that people are showing strange signs of magic. The daughter of one of the Gallan lesser-lords can walk through walls. A stableboy in a brothel can seep the Gift out of a person just by touching and temporarily have that person's magic. It's strange. He has asked me to send you to investigate.
Numair had his scholar-face on. Strange. He soaks a person's Gift? Odd. Walking through walls? Mages can do that - but only with the help of many spells. The girl can just...walk through, just like that?
From what the messenger said, Alanna said with a nod.
Will you go? Jon asked. Will you go to Criá and see what's happening? If this is some sort of..of mutation or sickness - or a new breed of magic....it could hurt or help Tortall.
His incredibly handsome face excited, Numair nodded. (A/N: sorry, couldn't resist. I love Numair - and Neal. My dream-guy would be a mix of both! Hahah!) Course I'll go! he cried. Do I ever let a chance at the arcane go?
Alanna and Jon said together.
But I need help, Numair said quietly. I can't go through all of Criá alone.
I'll go! Alanna volunteered. Please, Jon? I'm bored here! Please, please, please?
The king regarded his Champion with an amused expression. Very well. Go and have fun with Numair. (A/N I do not mean it like that! Numair is mine, all mine - HAHAHAH!!!!)
A few weeks later...
Are you sure we're not still in Corus? Alanna demanded, looking around with an offended air.
Numair said. Corus doesn't have an inn called the Squealing Harlot, does it? He pointed the inn, which showed a very...er...inappropriate picture. He made a face. Who'd want to stay there?
Does it matter? Alanna asked, wincing as her Darkmoon walked through a puddle of mud. We're staying at Trystam's palace.
Is Criá so much like Corus that the palace will be in the middle of the city? Numair guided his gelding around a hole in the cobblestone street.
Yes. Jon showed me a map. We're heading to the very heart of Criá, bucko. Come on.
The two mages urged their horses into a brisk trot. They didn't have to worry about trampling anyone, as the street was empty. Apparently, Gallans didn't like rain and snow.
Numair said as much to Alanna, and she chuckled. Neither do I. I'd rather be in the Southern Desert. But that's me.
They rode for another twenty minutes, and finally reached a huge gate, which was guarded by several tough-looking soldiers.
Who're you? one asked bluntly, hand on sword hilt.
I am Numair Salmalín, and my companion is Lady Alanna of Pirates Swoop and Olau. We are here by the King's invitation. See? Numair produced Trystam's plee for help, dripping with signatures and seals.
The guard looked at it closely, then shouted for the gates to be opened. They swung wide, groaning, and the two Tortallans rode into the grounds of the royal palace.
Trystam's family, House Nivue, is ancient, Alanna commented quietly, as their horses clattered down the stone road. Way older than the Conté line. I wouldn't be surprised if he's a conservative.
Don't judge him before you meet him, Numair told her sternly.
They reached the central courtyard. Several hostlers ran up to them and took their horses, with promises that their belongings would find their way to their rooms. An old man - a lord, no doubt - met them at the palace doors and led them inside.
I am Duke Christer, he said quietly, ducking his head in reply to their bows. King Trystam's uncle. I must thank you for coming so quickly. There have been more outbreaks of strange magic, and this time among the palace servants. Trystam is worried.
We will do our best to help His Majesty, Your Grace, Numair promised, his voice silky.
Then that is already more than we can hope for, Duke Christer said. Come. I've kept my nephew waiting long enough.
The old Duke led them through the palace, and stopped in front of a pair of huge oak doors. A servant opened them, and they entered the room - which, like the doors, was huge. At the end opposite of the doors was a platform, with the throne upon it. The King's coat-of-arms was hung on the wall behind.
Majesty, may I present Lady Alanna the Lioness, of Pirates Swoop and Olau, King's Champion, and Master Numair Salmalín of Corus, black robed mage. They come -
In answer to my invitation, yes, I know, Your Grace, King Trystam interrupted, his voice weary. He was sitting on the steps that led to his throne. To help us with our problem. He stood up, and approached his guests, his movements like a dancer's.
Numair and Alanna bowed.
Welcome to Galla, Master Numair, Lady Alanna, he told them in unaccented Common. You will forgive me, of course, if I speak this language poorly. It is not my mother-tongue - but I must improvise, as you probably don't speak Gallan.
Of course, Alanna replied, smiling gently. It's a great honor, Majesty, to meet you. You have...a good reputation.
Trystam raised a delicate eyebrow. Aye? That's always good to hear. But it's wonderful to meet you, my lady, and you, Master Numair. You are famous here in Galla. He smiled at his uncle. Have you sent a servant to prepare their rooms, Your Grace? I think they're both dying for a bath, what with this weather...
Duke Christer nodded. And the hostlers have taken their belongings up already.
Good! I'd really love to get right to buisness, Trystam told the Tortallans, but I think you'd rather hear what my problem is after you've been cleaned, rested, and fed.
Numair nodded. A bath sounds nice.
Alanna added.
Go on, then. Trystam grinned at them, flashing white teeth, and left the room. Duke Christer then led them to their eagerly awaited quarters.
Each one was granted a small suite of rooms. A small common room joined them together - that is where they were at the moment.
Alanna's hair was still wet, and her skin pink from a harsh scrubbing. She had changed into soft leather breeches and boots, an indigo, full-sleeved shirt, and a leather surcoat, studded with rings. When Numair saw her, he muttered something about being too aggressive', and she replied with a savage,
Numair himself had washed and changed clothes. Now he wore, like Alanna, leather breeches and boots, but his white linen shirt was concealed in the floor-length black robe he had put on - his black Master's robe.
Are you trying to impress? Alanna asked politely, fingering the black silk. Or are you trying to frighten?
Maybe I'm trying to do both, retorted Numair. He was standing in front of a mirror, trying to tame his wet hair. Gods bless it, he muttered under his breath.
Alanna watched the whole affair with amusement, but was rather relieved when the mage's preenings were done. It was too weird to watch a man fuss about his looks...
My lord, my lady, said a new voice. A servant had entered. His Majesty asks for your presence in his private dining room.
Ah, good. Food, Numair said, and he followed the servant, Alanna behind them.
King Trystam was relaxing in a high-backed chair, behind dark brown table laden with food. He was absentmindedly tapping the table with a finger; his eyes were distant with deep thought.
Alanna asked, coming towards the table.
Trystam snapped out of his reverie and smiled at Alanna. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. Please- he gestured - sit down and eat, before the food gets cold.
Alanna and Numair were only too happy to obey. They fell upon the food like starved dogs, listening attentively as Trystam answered their questions about Galla and the like, murmuring things like ahuh and yes, of course and no, not at all...
Finally, Numair pushed away a half-eaten blue-berry p ie and fixed the king with a curious gaze.
So, what is this magical problem you are having, Your Majesty?
With a sigh, Trystam pushed himself to his feet and moved to the window. He watched the movement outside for a few minutes before starting.
Baron Leif of Snoet Dal has a twelve year old daughter, he began quietly. Baron Leif is one of the new-nobility, one step above a well-too-do commoner - a merchant, perhaps. Anyway, his fief is one of the many which are located on the border near Scanra. This spring, while Baron Leif was out hunting with his men, the castle was attacked. His wife, the Baroness Lena, was killed, and his daughter was hard-pressed for escape. Her bodyguard was with her when they ran into a dead end - the door in the corrider was locked and bolted from the other side. Under vow, he told me that the child went straight through the door without hesitation - and she opened the door to let him in, and locked it after him. He turned to the silent Alanna and Numair, a small smile playing across his white face. The girl - and her name is Josie - visited me a few months after the spring-attack. She demonstrated. Went straight through the wall - hell, she walked through the table!
He returned to the table, picked an orange from a bowl of fruits, and began to peel it. One of the kitchen-workers was caught sculpting water! A lady-in-waiting to one of the court noblewomen made a candle go on just by looking at it.
Majesty, forgive my interruption, Alanna started, but maybe these are signs of the Gift in those people.
It was Numair who answered. The Gift is purely academic - not supernatural. It can be used to communicate, to create illusion, to destroy, to heal, to study with, to attack with, to defend with, to create fire and light, and sometimes, to weather work and shapeshift. To make itself known to its unknowing bearer, it does something that relates to what it can do. Looking at a candle to light it is not the Gift - not if the person is unexperienced and doesn't know if they have it. Or if they have very little power.
Lady Gemma has never shown signs of having the Gift, Trystam said. Never. She was, her mistress tells me, agitated about something when she lighted the candle. There was no spark of Gift - no green or blue flames or anything. She does not have the Gift.
Numair was nodding. So that's a new type of magic - mind magic. I've heard of it. Mind magic is supposed to be non-existant to all but the people of the Land-Across-the-Sea, but most people doubt the existance of such a place.
Alanna looked puzzled. So the girl? What about Josie?
I don't know, Numair admitted. She too was under stress, like Lady Gemma, so maybe that triggered the power. Majesty, did you make her nervous or something like that, before she demonstrated?
Trystam blushed. My uncle scared her into demonstrating. When she was calm, she just banged her nose into my walls.
So stress triggers the power. And maybe they can only use the power when stressed? Numair shook his head. Er...a kitchen servant was sculpting water?
Trystam nodded. According to the head cook, who saw him, he was staring at the small fountain. There was a small sculpture of a winged-horse floating over him. When the cook attracted his attention, the sculpture dissolved; the boy got soaked.
He was under stress?
Trystam nodded again. He had just been told that his mother died delivering her fifth child.
Alanna muttered something under her breath, but nobody noticed. Anything else? she asked loudly.
Suddenly, Trystam looked very embarrassed. One more. It...er...I don't know...
If you're afraid to offend us, don't be, Alanna said bluntly. We have to know what happened, no matter what. So, do tell.
Looking at the floor as if very interested in it, Trystam mumbled, In a brothel, here in Criá, one of the...er...stableboys...er...touched a certain Gifted individual. He was...not exactly under stress - well, not bad stress, more...er...
His dark face amused, Numair offered, Lusty stress?
Well, not exactly, but something close to it. Anyway, he touched the person and suddenly she keeled over. He was glowing. Surprised, he waved his hands - dunno why - and suddenly the haystack was burning. Feeling so awkward, Trystam's Common became very rough.
Yes, King Jonathan told us. The boy absorbed the person's Gift for a moment - but it returned to her. Alanna shook her head, puzzled. Dangerous talent, in my opinion. She glanced at Numair; he nodded at her. His expression wasn't very enthusiastic.
Imagine if he absorbs the power of a highly Gifted person, he said with a shudder. He turned to Trystam. He's in Criá, you say?
replied the king.
Where, do you know? Alanna and I really should investigate.
The king bit his lip; he was obviously uncomfortable. The Silver Temple, he said rapidly.
Alanna made a face; Numair grinned. The most famous brothel in the Eastern Lands? he asked slowly, as if he didn't believe it.
Trystam sighed. You can only find him during entertainment hours - nighttime. I have no idea where he is during the day. You could ask Damara Janasri (here he turned absolutely red) but I doubt she'll tell you.
With a crooked smile on his face, Numair said, Well, that's that.
They went the next morning. Alanna had warned Numair several times to not get started' and to not act like a man'.
But my dear Lioness! he protested, brown eyes twinkling. I am a man! Or haven't you noticed? He turned serious. Alanna, I have absolutely no interest in the services of a whore. That said, I think you can live in peace. And he mounted his horse - making Alanna wince in sympathy for the animal - and led the way to the Silver Temple.
I need info here, he said after a few minutes of riding in silence. The place's history.
Alanna quickly recalled all that she knew about the Silver Temple. It was started decades ago, but then it wasn't anything special. Just a normal place where guys went to have fun. But then Damara Janasri, who, I am curious to note, was King Trystam's concubine -
exclaimed Numair, swallowing a howl of laughter. No wonder he was so embarrassed yesterday!
continued the knight, as if she hadn't been cut off, her aunt was the owner of the Silver Temple then. Damara took over - and made it into the most renown, expensive, exotic, original brothel ever made. It's not just a brothel, Numair; it's a nightclub, a gambler's haven. I hope George never gets it in his head to go there - he'd never leave!
Still chortling, Numair could only nod his agreement.
Damara was writing a letter to a friend in the north when Pichi the Kisser burst into her room, her eyes wide.
she gasped. You have two visitors - and one looks like me!
She raised her eyebrows. Really? Their names?
They refused to give them; one's a woman, and the other's an incredibly handsome man... Pichi trailed off, her breath coming quick.
Damara tucked the half-finished letter away and moved towards the door. Don't have vapors, child, she said sternly. Now's not the time; control yourself and take me to them.
Pichi pulled herself back together and led her superior to the Silver Temple's common room. She left her there and raced back upstairs.
Shaking her head over fickle girls, Damara approached the two strangers. They were sitting with their backs turned to them, having a quiet arguement. She cleared her throat politely.
The redheaded one turned around first. Immediately, Damara saw what spooked Pichi - this woman was short and stocky, with (duh) red hair and brilliant violet eyes. She poked her tall friend; he turned too, and again, Damara understood Pichi's reactions.
Wow she thought, impressed. Talk about a hottie! She had to count to ten before she could think clearly. Hello. I am Damara Janasri; you wanted to see me? she asked, extending her hand.
The woman took it in a steel grip. I'm Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, and yes, we need to speak to you.
I am at your disposal, m'lady, Damara assured her. You and your tall friend.
The man grinned, white teeth flashing against tawny skin. I'm rude. Please forgive me; my name is Numair Salmalín.
Not Naughty Stud'? Damara thought wickedly. Oh well... Please, sit. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?
They sat. Ale would be great, Alanna said. And if Numair doesn't want his, I'll have it.
Smiling, Damara hurried to fulfill the lady's request. Unfortunately, the keg behind the counter was empty; she excused herself and rushed to the kitchen, where she startled Daine.
she asked, dusting off her hands. Flour flew everywhere.
Quick, pour two tumblers of beer! she hissed. Then bring it to the common room. Hurry!
Daine nodded, her stormy eyes puzzled. Damara returned to the common room.
Daine'll bring it in a moment, she explained to her guests. We're running low on ale, and only she knows where the brew-master hid the kegs.
That's fine, Alanna said patiently. Anyway, we're here to ask you about a boy?
I see hundreds of boys' everyday, Damara said comfortably. You need to be more specific.
His grin gone from his face, Numair said, He's a stableboy. We heard that one night, he drained the Gift of a person for a while.
Comprehension dawned on her. Damara said. Graham. Him. Well, I don't know where he spends the daylight hours - but he's here everynight, to help with the horses - and other stuff, if the ocassion calls for it. But...not tonight. He's gone to visit a cousin, or something like that.
muttered Numair.
He's here tomorrow night, Damara added quickly.
Brown eyes regarded her sharply. They flicked to the side and met violet ones. Then I guess we'll be here tomorrow night. Alanna?
Sounds good to me, the woman replied comfortably.
Tomorrow? That's Daine's premier! That's fine, Damara said instead. And - oh, Daine, there you are!
This was directed at her young foster-daughter, who had entered the room carrying two large tumblers of ale. Her blue dress was covered with flour - as were her hands and face - and her blue-gray eyes twinkled merrily.
She walked over to the table closest to Numair and Alanna, placed the tumblers in front of the guests; never looking up. When she did, she blanched, opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something - but bit her lip to contain the words.
Thank you, Alanna said, slightly dubious. She took a sip of the ale. This is good! she said in surprise.
Daine backed away, her eyes troubled; Damara laughed. Mistress Alanna, you think that brothels serve only filth? So stereotypical!
Alanna opened her mouth to reply jokingly, but a small mewing interrupted her. She glanced at Daine, who was fumbling with the large pocket on her apron. After a moment, she drew out a tiny black kitten with bright amber eyes.
Oh, how cute! Alanna said, grinning. Daine cocked her head slightly to the right, as if thinking hard, then whispered something to the kitten. Then she handed it to Alanna carefully.
Her name's Annicka, she said, her Common soft and accented. I found her two days ago. Her leg was broken, mum.
Doesn't look very broken now, Alanna said, feeling all four legs. Numair just gazed at the kitten, a dreamlike expression pasted on his face. Bones don't heal that fast, not without magic. Did you ask an animal healer with the Gift to heal the babe? Or maybe you just made a mistake.
No, mum, Daine said, rapidly snatching Annicka back. It was broken into two, sure as I'm standing here. But I dunno how it healed so fast, mum. I fainted a moment after I found her a-lying in the ditch. She cooed something uncomprehensible to the kitten, curtsied and left, shaking her head.
Numair still looked as if he was day-dreaming.
Alanna stammered, not wanting to offend Damara.
Don't be worrying about offence, Mistress! chuckled Damara. Daine's my foster-child. She's a knack with animals, that's all, no big deal. And yes, she's a wench - well, she'll be one soon enough.
Numair suddenly stood up, his face focused once more. It's been nice meeting you, Mistress Damara, but we really must go now. Alanna and I will be here tomorrow evening, to see if we can find Graham. Good day. He left. Alanna thanked Damara and followed the mage.¤