Is It Enough? -Chapter Seven
In a dank, dimly lit room, in a tiny, out of the way Inn, a shaking, bumbling man approached the cloaked figure by the fireplace. His hands were trembling so badly he nearly dropped the paper he clutched.
"Excuse m-m-me," he whispered, "but I have a message for ye. 'S about the woman-the one wit the purpley eyes," the man finished, stammering.
"Give me that!" the cloaked person-it was impossible to tell whether it was a male or female, snapped.
"Are you without ANY brains at all?? The way you were talking any one in the room could have heard!"
The Innkeeper was careful to immediately avert his eyes as the hapless messenger was viciously backhanded.
"Now get out of my sight!"
The man was only too eager to obey, racing from the room, only stopping to snatch the coin that was his payment from his employer's thin fingers.
He never asked any questions when he was hired. He didn't care who his master's had a grudge against as long as he brought home enough money to feed him and his family. Nothing else mattered. He knew he would have a lot to stand for when his time came to meet the Black God, and for the first time, since he was a young lad, he allowed himself a moment of pity for the violet-eyed woman in Tortall whom his newest employer clearly hated.
She would have no idea what had hit her until it was too late.
Ah, well. In this crazy world, we're all just tryin' to get by. 'Tis nothin' personal, just tryin' to get by. Nobles, peasants, common folk- we're all the same like that. Sooner people realize that, the better off we'll all be, he thought darkly.
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Now that the bumbling fool of a messenger had left, the person threw back their cloak, letting their long ebony hair flow down their back unobscured (sp?) and moved closer to the flickering flames to read the wrinkled letter that had been thrust into her hands.
Unfolding it carefully, her brows knitted in disgust as she finished reading it, before she tossed it into the fire, and sat back to watch the dying embers burn, brooding.
So her young mage had failed. This, she hadn't anticipated. Well, she had learned a lesson. From now on, she could only count on herself. She would leave for Tortall in the morning. Alanna of Trebond and Olau would be dead before Midsummer-that was assured. And by the time she was done with her, she'd be regretting the day that she had ever crossed Lady Rianna of Thornebrook!!!
Throwing a handful of silver nobles on the scratched oak table, she stormed out of the room, her emerald green cloak trailing behind her, and her hair tucked inside her hood once more. The inhabitants of the room shuddered, making the sign against Evil as they saw her eyes-completely black-not a shred of white in them at all.
"She's a bad one to cross, mark my words," a man muttered under his breath.
Suddenly he gasped as the Lady looked at him, penetrating threw him with those cold, heartless eyes. He felt a tightening in his throat, until he could hardly breathe. Finally, he collapsed onto the stone floor, eyes rolled back in his head, strangled.
Rianna glanced around the room, daring someone to comment. No one did. Without a backward glance, she swept out of the room, leaving the customers at the Inn to deal with the dead man. She had bigger things to worry about.
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"Not like that-raise your sword more Bryan!"
"Feet should be less spread apart Andrew! Otherwise an attacker could plant a well placed kick like this," Alanna continued, demonstrating, and you'd be sitting in the dirt, wondering what happened!"
"Understand?" she asked the bemused boy, offering a hand to pull him back up.
"Yes, sir! I mean, mistress, Lady, uh." the boy-Andrew of Nond, looked up at her nervously.
Alanna could only laugh at the look on his face. "You can call me Sir Alanna if you'd like. I am a full knight, remember. Even Alanna is fine."
"Yes, Alanna, sir." Alanna shook her head, wiping the sweat off her face with a lace cloth she dug out of her breeches pocket, before moving on to the next boy in need of assistance, Kylin of Meron. Alanna knew from the minute she laid eyes on the page, he would not be so easy.
She stood back and watched him spar with his partner, the rather small Tyler of Queenscove, Duke Baird's nephew. Alanna watched the older page carefully, not saying anything until he punched the smaller boy in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Meron moved in closer, leering at the boy, before bringing back his leg to kick him. He never got the chance.
Alanna stepped between the two pages, bodily forcing Kylin to step aside.
"Meron! What in the name of the Goddess do you think you're doing?! Try anything like that again, and I'll see to it that you don't leave the palace until you're a squire!!!"
Releasing the boy, she stormed off to her next charge, breathing deeply to calm herself.
"She never should have been made a knight. It's unnatural, that's what it is! The only reason she got her shield was because she was sleeping with His Majesty," the Kylin mumbled under his breath.
That did it. Alanna stormed back to him.
"Kylin of Meron. I knew your father. You are nothing like him. What a pity such a good man got stuck with an insolent little brat like you. No, don't step back, I'm not going to hurt you. I only hope your attitude improves before your Ordeal. Otherwise, you won't be able to handle it. You'd be surprised how the Chamber treats common bullies. You've been warned," Alanna snapped, her violet eyes now fiery with fury.
When she turned back to the class, she saw them watching her with a mixture of fear and awe.
Mithros I need a drink, Alanna thought.
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Later that day, Gary caught up to her on her way to see Myles.
"So how did your first day of teaching go?" he asked, his blue eyes, lighter than Jon's, were twinkling in merriment.
"You've heard, I presume," Alanna said, looking at her friend with a sour expression.
"You could say that. I do believe young Meron ran up to his room in tears, muttering something about a crazy Lioness, and the Chamber devouring him. Alanna, I said to teach them-not frighten them half out of their wits!" Gary said, shaking his head, a bemused smile creasing his face.
"Crying did you say? Hmm.didn't think the boy could cry. It probably did him some good. Now he'll think twice the next time he decides to pound on pages. Or question what rights people have earned" Alanna replied, biting back laughter.
"Does this mean you won't be teaching any future classes?" Gary asked. Alanna looked at him in shock. "Whatever ever gave you that idea? Of course I'm still teaching that class! What else will I do for amusement? And I am probably one of the best teachers you're going to find. Aside from you of course. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to take a bath. I forgot how taxing teaching could be."
Gary stared bewildered as Alanna entered the rooms she and George were sharing, not quite sure of what had just happened. Laughing, he headed off to his twice daily meeting with Jon. Whenever the Lioness was in residence, things always got lively.
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When Gary entered the Council Room, he was surprised to find that Jon was not alone. There was a tall, muscular man, with dark hair and a full beard, standing by the window.
"Jon?" Gary asked in inquiry.
"Gary this is Lord Bronwyn Nulseth, the Scanran ambassador of Foreign Affairs. Lord Nulseth, this is Sir Lord Gareth of Naxen, the Younger. He's our Prime Minister. Gentlemen, why don't you have a seat."
Gary pulled out a chair, and sat, still not understanding why this Scanran was here, even if he was a Lord.
"My country is being ripped apart-by famine, petty feuds, uprisings, and now.treason. Scanra can't take much more. And this constant bickering with Tortall every year doesn't help," Lord Nulseth stated.
"Constant bickering??" Gary said, eyes widening in shock. "That's what you call your people raiding our shores every summer, spring, and fall?? Bickering?! Do you realize how many good, loyal, fighters we have lost 'squabbling' with you and your raiders?"
Nulseth held up a hand.
"Lord Gareth, I believe what I propose will be beneficial to both our lands. If only you'll hear me out."
Jonathan shot Gary a look, ordering him to keep his mouth shut.
Sighing, Gary leaned back in his chair. "Go on."
"It's quite simple, really. A treaty between Scanra and Tortall-at least for the moment."
"For the moment? Of course." Gary commented sarcastically.
"Hold your tongue, cousin," the King warned, his sapphire eyes flashing a warning.
"You know as well as I, Tortall can't afford to fight them as much as they can't afford to fight us. Our late cousin's little exploits assured that, didn't they?"
"Ah, yes," the Scanran Lord commented. "The powerful sorcerer-duke who committed treason and was slayed not yet a year ago by.that woman," the Lord muttered, distaste in his unreadable eyes.
"Yes," Jon continued, as Gary watched the Lord Nulseth carefully. "Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau did kill Duke Roger. And in doing so, she did us all a favor we won't soon forget!"
"Of course," Nulseth said, diplomatically, his eyes blank once more.
Gary rose from his chair. "I think this meeting is over for now. Nulseth, Sire."
Gary strode from the room, Jon running after him, leaving Bronwyn Nulseth alone in the chamber, pondering all that had happened during those few awkward moments.
Later that evening, Jon and Gary related all that had happened to Myles, Baird, Raoul, George, and the Lord Provost.
"I don't like that," Myles murmured, as he sipped from a glass of wine. "A treaty with Scanra? How many people would be willing to trust them? There's too much tension, hatred. Not to mention, it would be like giving them a license to raid us whenever they pleased."
"I don't like the look he got in his eyes when Alanna and Duke Roger came up. There was something off about it. I suggest we keep an eye on our noble visitor," Gary suggested, his thoughts clearly elsewhere as he stared off into space.
"The man can't be crazy enough to try somethin', not here in the Palace, what with the Kings Own and Palace Guard patrollin' all the time, and the lass can handle her own, and others, in a fight, Mithros knows. What does he think he's playin' at?" George wondered aloud, trailing a finger along his knife that he kept tucked into his belt at all times.
"We up our awareness, stay vigilant. No outsiders are going to be able to enter the Palace without us knowing about it. If there's a plot, we'll uncover it. Just watch Alanna, George," Raoul said. "I don't like the way her name keeps getting brought up. I don't like it at all."
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Author's Note: I hope you guys liked this chapter! Not much action I know, but I had to introduce the new characters somehow right? Thank you so much to everyone that's reviewed so far! I'm so happy that you guys like my fic! This, sadly, will be the last chapter until after August 11, when I get back from vacation. I'm leaving tomorrow for Cape Cod with my mom and my brother. Oh, so fun-8 hours in a car with him. But anyway, I'll update as soon as I can when I get back, I promise! R/R please!!!
In a dank, dimly lit room, in a tiny, out of the way Inn, a shaking, bumbling man approached the cloaked figure by the fireplace. His hands were trembling so badly he nearly dropped the paper he clutched.
"Excuse m-m-me," he whispered, "but I have a message for ye. 'S about the woman-the one wit the purpley eyes," the man finished, stammering.
"Give me that!" the cloaked person-it was impossible to tell whether it was a male or female, snapped.
"Are you without ANY brains at all?? The way you were talking any one in the room could have heard!"
The Innkeeper was careful to immediately avert his eyes as the hapless messenger was viciously backhanded.
"Now get out of my sight!"
The man was only too eager to obey, racing from the room, only stopping to snatch the coin that was his payment from his employer's thin fingers.
He never asked any questions when he was hired. He didn't care who his master's had a grudge against as long as he brought home enough money to feed him and his family. Nothing else mattered. He knew he would have a lot to stand for when his time came to meet the Black God, and for the first time, since he was a young lad, he allowed himself a moment of pity for the violet-eyed woman in Tortall whom his newest employer clearly hated.
She would have no idea what had hit her until it was too late.
Ah, well. In this crazy world, we're all just tryin' to get by. 'Tis nothin' personal, just tryin' to get by. Nobles, peasants, common folk- we're all the same like that. Sooner people realize that, the better off we'll all be, he thought darkly.
************************************************************************
Now that the bumbling fool of a messenger had left, the person threw back their cloak, letting their long ebony hair flow down their back unobscured (sp?) and moved closer to the flickering flames to read the wrinkled letter that had been thrust into her hands.
Unfolding it carefully, her brows knitted in disgust as she finished reading it, before she tossed it into the fire, and sat back to watch the dying embers burn, brooding.
So her young mage had failed. This, she hadn't anticipated. Well, she had learned a lesson. From now on, she could only count on herself. She would leave for Tortall in the morning. Alanna of Trebond and Olau would be dead before Midsummer-that was assured. And by the time she was done with her, she'd be regretting the day that she had ever crossed Lady Rianna of Thornebrook!!!
Throwing a handful of silver nobles on the scratched oak table, she stormed out of the room, her emerald green cloak trailing behind her, and her hair tucked inside her hood once more. The inhabitants of the room shuddered, making the sign against Evil as they saw her eyes-completely black-not a shred of white in them at all.
"She's a bad one to cross, mark my words," a man muttered under his breath.
Suddenly he gasped as the Lady looked at him, penetrating threw him with those cold, heartless eyes. He felt a tightening in his throat, until he could hardly breathe. Finally, he collapsed onto the stone floor, eyes rolled back in his head, strangled.
Rianna glanced around the room, daring someone to comment. No one did. Without a backward glance, she swept out of the room, leaving the customers at the Inn to deal with the dead man. She had bigger things to worry about.
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"Not like that-raise your sword more Bryan!"
"Feet should be less spread apart Andrew! Otherwise an attacker could plant a well placed kick like this," Alanna continued, demonstrating, and you'd be sitting in the dirt, wondering what happened!"
"Understand?" she asked the bemused boy, offering a hand to pull him back up.
"Yes, sir! I mean, mistress, Lady, uh." the boy-Andrew of Nond, looked up at her nervously.
Alanna could only laugh at the look on his face. "You can call me Sir Alanna if you'd like. I am a full knight, remember. Even Alanna is fine."
"Yes, Alanna, sir." Alanna shook her head, wiping the sweat off her face with a lace cloth she dug out of her breeches pocket, before moving on to the next boy in need of assistance, Kylin of Meron. Alanna knew from the minute she laid eyes on the page, he would not be so easy.
She stood back and watched him spar with his partner, the rather small Tyler of Queenscove, Duke Baird's nephew. Alanna watched the older page carefully, not saying anything until he punched the smaller boy in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Meron moved in closer, leering at the boy, before bringing back his leg to kick him. He never got the chance.
Alanna stepped between the two pages, bodily forcing Kylin to step aside.
"Meron! What in the name of the Goddess do you think you're doing?! Try anything like that again, and I'll see to it that you don't leave the palace until you're a squire!!!"
Releasing the boy, she stormed off to her next charge, breathing deeply to calm herself.
"She never should have been made a knight. It's unnatural, that's what it is! The only reason she got her shield was because she was sleeping with His Majesty," the Kylin mumbled under his breath.
That did it. Alanna stormed back to him.
"Kylin of Meron. I knew your father. You are nothing like him. What a pity such a good man got stuck with an insolent little brat like you. No, don't step back, I'm not going to hurt you. I only hope your attitude improves before your Ordeal. Otherwise, you won't be able to handle it. You'd be surprised how the Chamber treats common bullies. You've been warned," Alanna snapped, her violet eyes now fiery with fury.
When she turned back to the class, she saw them watching her with a mixture of fear and awe.
Mithros I need a drink, Alanna thought.
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Later that day, Gary caught up to her on her way to see Myles.
"So how did your first day of teaching go?" he asked, his blue eyes, lighter than Jon's, were twinkling in merriment.
"You've heard, I presume," Alanna said, looking at her friend with a sour expression.
"You could say that. I do believe young Meron ran up to his room in tears, muttering something about a crazy Lioness, and the Chamber devouring him. Alanna, I said to teach them-not frighten them half out of their wits!" Gary said, shaking his head, a bemused smile creasing his face.
"Crying did you say? Hmm.didn't think the boy could cry. It probably did him some good. Now he'll think twice the next time he decides to pound on pages. Or question what rights people have earned" Alanna replied, biting back laughter.
"Does this mean you won't be teaching any future classes?" Gary asked. Alanna looked at him in shock. "Whatever ever gave you that idea? Of course I'm still teaching that class! What else will I do for amusement? And I am probably one of the best teachers you're going to find. Aside from you of course. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to take a bath. I forgot how taxing teaching could be."
Gary stared bewildered as Alanna entered the rooms she and George were sharing, not quite sure of what had just happened. Laughing, he headed off to his twice daily meeting with Jon. Whenever the Lioness was in residence, things always got lively.
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When Gary entered the Council Room, he was surprised to find that Jon was not alone. There was a tall, muscular man, with dark hair and a full beard, standing by the window.
"Jon?" Gary asked in inquiry.
"Gary this is Lord Bronwyn Nulseth, the Scanran ambassador of Foreign Affairs. Lord Nulseth, this is Sir Lord Gareth of Naxen, the Younger. He's our Prime Minister. Gentlemen, why don't you have a seat."
Gary pulled out a chair, and sat, still not understanding why this Scanran was here, even if he was a Lord.
"My country is being ripped apart-by famine, petty feuds, uprisings, and now.treason. Scanra can't take much more. And this constant bickering with Tortall every year doesn't help," Lord Nulseth stated.
"Constant bickering??" Gary said, eyes widening in shock. "That's what you call your people raiding our shores every summer, spring, and fall?? Bickering?! Do you realize how many good, loyal, fighters we have lost 'squabbling' with you and your raiders?"
Nulseth held up a hand.
"Lord Gareth, I believe what I propose will be beneficial to both our lands. If only you'll hear me out."
Jonathan shot Gary a look, ordering him to keep his mouth shut.
Sighing, Gary leaned back in his chair. "Go on."
"It's quite simple, really. A treaty between Scanra and Tortall-at least for the moment."
"For the moment? Of course." Gary commented sarcastically.
"Hold your tongue, cousin," the King warned, his sapphire eyes flashing a warning.
"You know as well as I, Tortall can't afford to fight them as much as they can't afford to fight us. Our late cousin's little exploits assured that, didn't they?"
"Ah, yes," the Scanran Lord commented. "The powerful sorcerer-duke who committed treason and was slayed not yet a year ago by.that woman," the Lord muttered, distaste in his unreadable eyes.
"Yes," Jon continued, as Gary watched the Lord Nulseth carefully. "Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau did kill Duke Roger. And in doing so, she did us all a favor we won't soon forget!"
"Of course," Nulseth said, diplomatically, his eyes blank once more.
Gary rose from his chair. "I think this meeting is over for now. Nulseth, Sire."
Gary strode from the room, Jon running after him, leaving Bronwyn Nulseth alone in the chamber, pondering all that had happened during those few awkward moments.
Later that evening, Jon and Gary related all that had happened to Myles, Baird, Raoul, George, and the Lord Provost.
"I don't like that," Myles murmured, as he sipped from a glass of wine. "A treaty with Scanra? How many people would be willing to trust them? There's too much tension, hatred. Not to mention, it would be like giving them a license to raid us whenever they pleased."
"I don't like the look he got in his eyes when Alanna and Duke Roger came up. There was something off about it. I suggest we keep an eye on our noble visitor," Gary suggested, his thoughts clearly elsewhere as he stared off into space.
"The man can't be crazy enough to try somethin', not here in the Palace, what with the Kings Own and Palace Guard patrollin' all the time, and the lass can handle her own, and others, in a fight, Mithros knows. What does he think he's playin' at?" George wondered aloud, trailing a finger along his knife that he kept tucked into his belt at all times.
"We up our awareness, stay vigilant. No outsiders are going to be able to enter the Palace without us knowing about it. If there's a plot, we'll uncover it. Just watch Alanna, George," Raoul said. "I don't like the way her name keeps getting brought up. I don't like it at all."
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Author's Note: I hope you guys liked this chapter! Not much action I know, but I had to introduce the new characters somehow right? Thank you so much to everyone that's reviewed so far! I'm so happy that you guys like my fic! This, sadly, will be the last chapter until after August 11, when I get back from vacation. I'm leaving tomorrow for Cape Cod with my mom and my brother. Oh, so fun-8 hours in a car with him. But anyway, I'll update as soon as I can when I get back, I promise! R/R please!!!