One of a Kind

Disclaimer: Nothing recognisable from the SotL quartet is mine.

Chapter Twenty-two: Lady Shang

The clear, glass-like water rippled, the random light that played across it's surface coalescing into the image of a petite red-headed woman, her delicate features determined as she swung a slim silver blade around her in a complex pattern of spin and thrust.

"You can't interfere this time, you know." The god murmured over its surface. "She has to prove herself to them on her own, without any assistance – of any sort."

The Goddess straightened, her emerald eyes icy. "I know that, Brother. The girl is one of my Chosen – she needs no help to pass this test."

"Yet you have a habit of interfering where you should not."

"I intervene where it is appropriate, as is my right."

Mithros nodded slowly, the movement sending a scattering of golden light over the pool's surface. "Remember that there is a time when we all must step back and allow our Chosen to make their own decisions and actions, without our assistance – even in the case of one so young as this one."

The Goddess glared at her brother-god. "I know it as well as you do."

"Then remember it." He replied shortly, and left.

***

"Alanna."

The voice was soft, but carried with it unimaginable power, even in a whisper.

"Alanna."

She was already reaching for her sword and rolling to her feet by the time this second whisper was uttered. Seeing the identity of her midnight visitor, she dropped to her knees.

"My mother."

The Goddess smiled, laying a gentle hand on Alanna's head.

"You are troubled, my daughter."

Alanna looked up, feeling, as she had on the Goddess's previous visit, the truth rising unbidden to her tongue. "Sleep eludes me – I am worried about my ordeal."

"And more than that, I sense."

Alanna shrugged. "It's nothing really. Well – a – a sense of foreboding, although I don't know of what."

The Goddess nodded. "It is natural for you to be apprehensive. This next year will decide the course of your life, and though I fear it may not be the one I had hoped for at your birth, whatever you decide shall have impact upon the lives of those around you – even decide the fate of kingdoms, and it is a fate only you can decide."

Alanna swallowed. "I – surely I cannot have such a path before me, my mother –"

"Ah," The Goddess said gently. "But you do. You are one of my Chosen, Alanna – gifted and strong, for I would entrust the tasks I give to you to no other. Chose you must, and will, child."

"But –"

The Goddess smiled, taking Alanna's chin in her hand so that she could see her face. "Whatever you choose will be right, in the span foreseeable to your kind. My hand has been guiding you since your birth, shaping you to do this – I am seldom wrong."

She leaned down, kissing Alanna lightly on the forehead gently. "I suggest you get this sleep you crave, child, for you will need your strength on the morrow."

Alanna nodded, suddenly feeling immensely tired. "Yes, my mother."

Yawning, she dropped her sheathed sword beside the narrow bed, falling back onto the pillow. The air around the Goddess shimmered briefly, and then she was gone.

***

Liam handed her the mask. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, slipping it onto her head. "As I'll ever be."

He nodded, and stood back. "Very well then. Enter the court."

Alanna took at deep breath, walking forward on shaky legs. Gritting her teeth, she willed her knees to be steady and walked through the high doorway, wincing as it clanged shut behind her. Grimly, she pulled down the mask, simple and unadorned; it's expressionless features giving away none of her own fears.

Another door banged shut behind her and she spun, bringing her hands into a guard as she spied her opponent – plainly dressed and masked, like herself, giving no clue to their identity or even sex – that was known only to the panel of Shang who sat concealed above them. Bowing their head, her opponent attacked, a whirling series of kicks and punches which Alanna blocked easily, her mock-fights with Liam, who was faster and more experienced, allowing her an advantage, not to mention her own natural speed.

In a few moments, she had thrown her opponent to the floor, seating herself over their chest and arms so that they were unable to rise, flipping up their's – and her own – mask, to reveal their respective identities. The young man was unknown to her, perhaps a year or two older than herself.

"I yield." He panted, and she stood up, helping him to his feet as he made his way to the smaller door of the court.

She nodded to him. "Well fought."

He nodded courteously in return. "And you also."

The doors opened for him, and a servant placed a bowl of water and a towel just inside it. Taking a mouthful of the water, she drank and splashed her face and arms, then dried both with the towel.

Pulling her mask down again, she knocked at the door to signify she was ready, and towel and bowl were removed as her next opponent entered.

They bowed, and the ordeal began over again, with Alanna again triumphing. The cycle continued on and on, and she began to weary as it went on, trying to recall how many opponents she must face before it was over – she had had seven year mates among the Shang apprentices she had known when she had last come to a gathering of the Shang, and from what Liam had told her, she must face all of them so that it might be decided who among them were not only worthy to be Shang, but the best among them.

The doors opened yet again, but Alanna had lost count of how many opponents she had faced since she had entered that morning.

Determinedly she got to her feet, not allowing herself to show the weariness she had begun to feel, and bowed to her opponent, much taller and more powerfully built than she.

The fight was a long one, calling on deep reserves of energy Alanna had had to use but seldom in her life. The man struck at her to quickly to block, a kick to the stomach that sent her flying backwards into the wall. Crumpling against the wall, she closed her eyes, breathing unsteadily. "I yield."

He walked forward, raising her mask, his own already resting on a shock of sun-blond hair, watching her intently with gold-flecked brown eyes as he held out a hand to pull her up. Looking into his eyes, she felt a shock of recognition. "Jacob?"

It had been a number of years, and they had both changed in that time, he growing even stronger and larger than when he was fourteen, but Alanna was sure it was him.

He blinked. "Alanna? Is that you?"

She nodded. "Yes. Well fought." She added, grimacing slightly as she rubbed her stomach. "You've got quite a kick there."

He nodded. "Sorry about that – You'd best get out and see if it needs seeing too."

She shook her head. "I'll be alright – just winded me. Good luck."

He nodded gravely. "Thank you."

She smiled slightly, slipping her mask off fully as she exited.

***

Alanna drew her knees up to her stomach, rubbing Faithful's belly absently. She had beaten all but one off her opponents – surely that was good enough for the council – but the tense ball in the pit of her stomach defied all logic, stubbornly refusing to leave until she heard the words from the lips of the council itself.

A Shang exited the billowing pavilion where the council sat, hitting the brass gong that hung outside the flap, the signal for all to enter the pavilion. Alanna bit her lip, and rose.

Go, Faithful yowled, half asleep in the warm summer sunlight. You'll do fine.

***

"You have all been judged worthy of becoming Shang." The Unicorn announced, striding across the platform to stand at the centre of it, before the cluster of new Shang – seven in all, for one had been injured fighting carelessly, and had chosen to leave in the early of hours that morning rather than submit to being an apprentice once again – possible, although it was rare to continue training after failing the ordeal in such a shameful manner, and rarer still to pass it the second time. "As is customary, you will now spend a year in the world, learning it's ways and customs, until we meet again, one year from now, at Rachia, capital of Sarain, where you shall be given the right to take a Shang name. Alanna." She called, and the girl stepped forward, bowing. "Unicorn?"

Ice-blue eyes regarded her steadily. "In light of your – unusual – case, the council has set upon you the restriction that in this time you may not return to Tortall, under any circumstances."

Alanna blinked. Liam had warned her, but she couldn't help the feeling that it was terribly unfair. The Unicorn continued. "This is a procedure applied to all nobly-born Shang – that in their year of life alone they may not return to the country of their birth, since the custom encourages the leaning of customs and histories of the world, as well as leaning to survive on one's own – living at court does not count as such." She continued, now addressing all of them. "Likewise, it is suggested that all of you live elsewhere than the country in which you were born, until you receive your Shang title."

"Are you alright?" It was Jake, frowning slightly at her. She looked up at him, squinting at the sun behind him turning his waving blond hair into a halo now that they were outside.

She sighed. "I suppose so – Liam warned me this would happen, but I'll miss my brother and friends."

He grimaced. "You know," he said carefully. "It's not having your old friends with you, but it's permitted – even encouraged sometimes, for newly-made Shang to spend part of their year travelling together, to ease of the loneliness, and to get to know other Shang, especially if they spent a lot of time travelling with only their master."

She looked at him. "You'd like to travel together for a while?"

He shrugged. "If you like."

She grinned. "Thank you, I would like it – it'll be nice to have a friend around."

Jacob nodded, his eyes fixed on some distant point ahead of them. "Where shall we go then?"

She smiled wearily. "I'd like a map to do some more detailed plotting, but we're already in Tyra – why not just roam here for a while, and then go on to one of the countries surrounding here – Maren or Tusaine maybe, since I'm not allowed to go to Tortall."

Jake grinned at her. "Maybe even Carthak, sometime. My mother came from there, and she told me quite a bit about it."

Alanna shrugged. "Why not – although I have to warn you, I get seasick."

"We'll manage."

***

Alanna stopped abruptly as they reached the crest of the hill, tugging on Luna's reins. "What's that?"

Jake laughed at her expression. "Marshland. The Drell Delta causes it. It's not good for much, but the Tyran peasants use the better parts of it for growing rice – that's one of the staples of most Tyran's diets."

"I know what rice is." She snapped. "Just because we don't eat it in Tortall doesn't mean I'm completely ignorant of Tyran produce. What I want to know is; do we have to pass through that?"

"If you want to get to the capital." He replied, starting down the hill on his horse – a big boned chestnut he called Wanderer.

She made a face, following him. "Fine – but at least tell me there's a path through."

"Do you want me to tell the truth or do you want a pleasant lie?" He called, and Alanna groaned loudly enough for him to hear, though by then they were no longer close. He laughed. "Don't worry – there's a path."

"And the reason you didn't just tell me that is –"

She got no reply, so she merely continued down the slope, grumbling.

***

"Well, we're here."

"Thank the Goddess for that." Alanna muttered, searching through her saddlebags for the supply of healing herbs and salves she carried with her, scratching at one of the numerous bites on her neck uncomfortably. "So – " She began. "Now we're here – "

Jake shrugged. "I guess the first order of business is to find somewhere to stay. Unless you'd like to use your noble prerogative on our behalf and pay a visit to the king –"

Alanna shook her head firmly. "From what I was told, that's strictly not allowed. Besides, proving myself to everyone won't come about by lying about in some apartment with servants hovering. Let's find an inn. Know any good ones?"
He blinked. "What made you think I'd know the inns around here?"

She shrugged. "You seemed to know the countryside well enough, so I thought you'd been here before."

Jake nodded. "I have – but that was quite a while ago, and I can't recall the names of any of the inns here."

Alanna nodded. "Let's go find one, then."

***

Half an hour later they came to a stop outside small waterside inn, it's nameplate swinging from a sign in the shape of an odd-looking fish pronouncing it to be The Clownfish.

"What's a clownfish?" Alanna murmured.

It's a fish. Replied Faithful.

Alanna scowled. I guessed that. What sort of fish?

Looks like the one on the sign – you wouldn't have seen them, they live further south than Tortall – around Carthak and such.

The inn was smoky inside, and a little too filled with drunken sailors – even for that time of day – for Alanna's tastes, but the room she was shown to was clean.

Returning to the common room, she found Jacob sitting at the bar, sipping at a tankard of ale. "What do we do now?" He asked.

Alanna shrugged. "The council told us to learn about the customs of the countries we visited, so I suppose the best way to do that would be to go and well – just see what it's like, I suppose."

Jake nodded. "We spent two weeks getting here, what with stopping a fair bit to have a look around the villages and such, so what if we stay here – another week, perhaps, then go to Carthak? The empire as well, I mean."

Alanna nodded. "Alright – let's do that."

Rising, she walked out the door that led to a small courtyard behind the inn and stables, to check on Luna. The horse looked sufficiently recovered to do some small exploring around the city, so Alanna re-tacked her and mounted, riding out the gate and heading in the direction of the market they'd seen on their way there.

***

The innkeeper approached them early the next morning as they ate, puffing and red-faced from exertions the port little man clearly wasn't used to.

"M – My lady, there's a royal messenger waitin' outside who wants to know if ye're Alanna of Trebond."

Alanna blinked in surprise. "Yes – I am. What does he want with me?"

He leaned on his knees. "I don't know, my lady – ye'd better go and see."

She looked at Jake, who shrugged.

Sighing, she rose and walked out into the courtyard, to be greeted by a young man in the purple and gold uniform of a Tyran royal messenger.

"Yes?" She asked.

"Are you lady Alanna of Trebond?" He asked, somewhat nervously.

She nodded. "I am."

He straightened self-importantly. "I carry a message from his Majesty Daniel, King of Tyra."

She nodded. "And?"

"His Majesty requests that you visit his court today at the evening bells – he also requests that you bring your – companion."

Alanna nodded. "Very well."

Walking away, she muttered, "Just when I thought I was free of having to attend court functions."

***

"I can't go."

"Why not?" Alanna demanded.

Jake blushed. "I don't know anything about courtly manners – and besides I – I can't dance."

"I'll be there – I won't let you make any mistakes. And I'll even teach you how to dance. You are coming, Jake. If I have to go through this so do you. You can't refuse a royal request."

"Watch me."

"Jake – " Alanna said, half pleadingly, half warningly.

He sighed. "Isn't there any way to get out of it?"

"No." Was the firm reply.

"Fine – but you better not make me do anything horrifyingly embarrassing."

Alanna sighed. "Jake, trust me, wearing most court gowns is embarrassing."

"That's reassuring."

"Isn't it just? Now come on, I'm sure we can manage at least one dance before tonight – although we will have to get you some new clothes." She added, looking at his travel worn breeches and shirt.

"Alanna –"

***

"Shang journeyman Jacob, and the lady Shang Alanna of fief Trebond, Tortall!" Alanna groaned inwardly at the title, wishing it had been left at Shang journeywoman as the Herald's voice boomed throughout the hall.

Determined to show she came as a Shang and not as a visiting noble, she had spent the better part of the day arguing with the seamstress over her outfit – the designs presented had all been of the frilly, feminine sort Alanna was none to fond of, and she had argued for a tunic and breeches. A compromise had eventually been reached over the appropriate length of her attire when one of the seamstress's younger apprentices had suggested an ankle-length surcoat over breeches and a loose shirt,  a brilliant but surprisingly tasteful combination of shades of purple, gold and red.

Jake had shown little interest, allowing himself to be measured with a sort of grim resignation, and then choosing the first design presented to him.

"Lady Alanna," the King said in a deep, rumbling voice. "We were surprised that you did not come to our court when you arrived in our capital." His words held an unspoken question.

Alanna dipped slightly again. "I meant no insult to your hospitality, your Majesty, but with all due respect, I come as a journeying Shang, not a visiting noble."

He leaned forward. "You have passed the training and ordeal of the Shang? Did your family not gainsay this?"

She gave a sort of half shrug, a gesture that, while seemingly inelegant, was surprisingly graceful and appropriate on her. "My brother is the only family I have left, Majesty. He was never opposed my training."

He nodded, leaning back, his posture showing that they were dismissed. Tugging almost imperceptibly on Jacob's arm, Alanna made her way off the carpet.

***

King Daniel of Tyra sat back into the ornately brocaded cushions of his throne, eying the newcomer to his court speculatively. She was pretty, no doubt about that, even beautiful – though certainly not the classic beauty of a court maiden – what with her unusual, warrior-like clothes she wore, her face devoid of paint and her hair pulled back severely and unornamented into an intricate bun.  But what was more interesting, even more so than her strange occupation for a lady of her class, even more so than her unconventional beauty, was that – although it was certainly not widely known outside the Tortallan court, for he had only heard it from his spies there – Jonathan of Conte, heir to the throne of Tortall, was reputedly in love with the girl. From what he had heard, the prince preferred his mistresses buxom, tall and classically beautiful – and none of them had ever previously had a reputation of a brain of their own, apart, perhaps – though it was debatable – from the notorious Delia of Eldorne, or indeed a reputation of any sort other than having their name's linked with his Highness's.

No, there must be something about her that made her worth pursuing despite her unconventional nature – and if it was worth it for Jonathan of Conte, then, well, perhaps it was worth it for him.

***

The ball, while proving excruciating in all having to face a whole new set of nobles, was otherwise uneventful, Jake's obvious discomfort at the crowds of fluttering girls surrounding him causing Alanna to bite back a fit of giggles more the once.

He stormed into her room early the next morning, still only half awake, demanding to know what all the handkerchiefs he had found stuffed into his clothing that morning were doing there, and, more importantly, where they had come from, as Alanna explained laughingly the technique of flirting with one's handkerchiefs, a technique that, although she had never used it, she had picked up at the convent. When Jake, blushing, had demanded to know what he did with all of them, Alanna had shrugged helplessly.

"They never taught us that," she said. "It's supposed to be like giving a girl flowers – you could use them as part of your healing kit, I suppose."

He groaned, looking down at the mound of lace he held crushed between his enormous hands. "Please tell me we don't have to go through that again."

She shrugged. "That depends on how soon we leave. If we go earlier than we planned, hopefully we won't have time to attend another. Back home, functions are held around every three or four days in the social season, although there's almost always dancing and such after dinner."

Jake nodded fervently. "Let's leave tomorrow, then."

***

Jake's actions expressed his desire to leave as fervently as his words, it seemed, when he announced that night that he had managed to find a ship that would take them to Carthak two days hence. Alanna had nodded enthusiastically over her dinner at this news, as happy to be leaving as he.  Jake had disappeared after their morning exercises and combat, leaving her to her own devices about the city. Around mid-morning the King had appeared, complete with entourage, and insisted she join him, declaring that there could be no-one better than he to escort her about his capital, although she had protested a Shang journeywoman needed no escort.

She had spent an uncomfortable day with him, worrying about how she would explain this to the council if word got back to them, and, more immediately, about the glances she saw the King taking at her out of the corner of her eye when he thought she didn't see, though she shuddered inwardly at them.

Courteously riding back with her to the inn, the king had suggested again that she stay at his court instead – or, in his words, 'grace his halls with her presence,' – although he was not ill-mannered enough to wrinkle his nose, as some of his entourage did at the sight and smell of the place.

Again, Alanna had courteously refused, all too eager to get away from the man's crawling eyes, and silently cursing when he had told her he would be sure to 'drop in' the next morning, to spend some more time in her pleasant company, and she had no convenient lie to refuse him with. Gratefully she had excused herself, hurrying inside the inn and, for the first time in all her almost-eighteen years, deliberately ordered a tankard of beer with the intent of getting well and truly drunk.

Jake had arrived before she reached her goal, but the beer had made her memories of the pleasantly fuzzy by that point, so she didn't mind overmuch when he pointedly took her drink away.

***

She had been cold, polite, but cold. Perhaps that was what attracted Jonathan to her – he had finally met a woman who wasn't interested in him, perhaps. Or perhaps she truly was in love with him, and he with her – but Daniel seriously doubted it. Love – the true love heard about in the bard's tales – was rare enough among courtiers as it was, and rarer still for a royal – they were taught from the day of their birth the love for anyone, be it a mistress or even just a close friend – a princess could not be permitted to have a lover, after all – just made things more difficult when the time came for an inevitably arranged marriage – politics had little time to spare for love. His own interest in her was certainly political – a country whose King boasted the loyalty of one of the legendary Shang was not to be trifled with, and she was from an old an respected – if eccentric – family to boot.

But such a thing would have to be done delicately – he couldn't afford the enmity of his larger neighbour over something that would be perceived as stealing another royal's lover – it would have to seem as if she was the one who precipitated events – and everyone knew noble women could change their preferences at the drop of a hat.

***

Much to Alanna's disgust, when King Daniel had learnt of her impending departure he had organised a little 'social gathering' to be held in honour of her leaving, something rather ludicrous in Alanna's opinion, considering she'd only been there three days.

But, she thought, turning her face to the wind, that was over now. They had only just left the harbour, and she was enjoying the brief few moments of calm, knowing she was bound to be sick in a moment.  Looking back, Alanna caught a glimpse of the coast of Tyra, and distantly, Tortall, as the prow turned westward, towards Cathak.

End

A/N:  Well, there you have it, the last chapter. *sniff* My baby's all grown up! Due to popular demand, I will be writing a sequel (The Phoenix Queen). If you want me to email you when I post that, and when chapters go up, tell me and put your email in your review (hint hint).

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