Disclaimer: The country of Tortall, it's inhabitants, and all surrounding countries, gods, and characters (with the exception of a few originals) are the property of Tamora Pierce, not me. The unnamed Empire and all it's citizens belong to fanfiction.net writer lady Berenice. No profit is being made, or will be made, from this fanfic.
Chapter Two: The Empire
Jake groaned. "It's too hot."
Alanna merely smiled, tilting her head back to catch the hot sunlight on her face. "I like it." She said. "It's better than that freezing pass, in any case."
Her fellow Shang scowled. "I think I preferred the pass."
"Well, you're a fool, then. How could you not appreciate being warm?"
"It's not the being warm I object to," Jake grumbled. "It's the bloody unseasonable heat!"
She tilted an eyebrow in his direction. "Oh? And how do you know it's unseasonable, my friend? It could be perfectly normal for this country."
"Alanna, it's midwinter, for Mithros' sake."
She shrugged. "Look forward to summer, then."
Jake muttered something unintelligible. "What was that?" Alanna asked innocently, a somewhat dangerous glint in her eye.
He sighed. "Nothing."
She gave a delighted looking (not entirely feigned) smile. "Let's go then."
₪
Sir Gareth (the Elder) of Naxen sighed. "I just don't understand it. She's a Carthakan princess – surely she must have picked up some etiquette while she was growing up."
Sir Myles looked up from the papers he was reading. "No, she's not, and that's the problem. She was a Carthakan princess – now she's Tortall's queen, and she's either doing a very bad job of being diplomatic, or a very good job of undoing all the ties between Tortall and our neighbours. The problem is, we don't know which."
The was a knock at the door, and Thom entered. Sir Myles sighed. "How much did you hear, lad?"
Thom blinked, a surprised look flitting over his face. "Hear, Sir Myles?"
Sir Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Of our conversation, boy. I highly doubt you've broken that terrible habit of eavesdropping behind doors."
Thom straightened up to his full (and not particularly impressive) height. "Sir Myles, your Grace, I would never listen behind doors – that's what my Gift is for."
The duke snorted. "I did set wards, you know. You might dignify an old man's pride by making it sound a little more difficult."
Thom shrugged. "Sorry, your Grace." He seated himself. "I haven't been able to find out any more about the Queen's Gift so far, but I'm hoping I'll be able to tonight."
Sir Myles nodded. "Ah, yes, the Winter Solstice – helpful in matters of the Gift, I believe?"
Thom and Duke Gareth nodded in union. "It can, provided you know the appropriate spells, increase one's Gift quite dramatically."
Sir Gareth frowned. "Thom, your Ordeal –"
"Is tomorrow night, not tonight. I can sleep tomorrow – and I never sleep through this sort of night in any case. This is more important, your Grace."
Myles nodded, staring absently out the window to where bonfires could be seen being built up on the hills surrounding Corus. "He's right, Gareth. See what you can do, Thom."
The squire rose, bowed, and left.
₪
The wind howled around the Palace, screaming in a way the made the superstitious lock their doors, muttering nervously. Inside, a fire crackled with inappropriate merriment.
Thom stared absently into the flames, wondering if tonight, one of the most powerful nights of the year, he could reach his sister, then banished the thought quickly. Alanna had been out of contact on the other side of the roof for weeks now – and in any case, there was simply no time for it.
He shuddered, adding another log to the already roaring fire. While his dislike of the cold wasn't quite as severe as Alanna's, he was by no means, fond of it, and tonight, of all nights, he would need the warmth.
He shuddered again, and closed his eyes, willing the vision not to come. Not tonight, he thought, desperately, not tonight.
~ The ground shook, alarmingly. Around him, several courtiers screamed, some diving for the floor, a few foolish ones rising, running about frantically. The ground shook again, this time bringing down a haze of dust from the ceiling. Through it, Thom glimpsed enough to recognise the Great Hall of Trebond Castle.
The tremors continued, and high above, a beam slipped loose, bringing down chunks of rock. Thom heard the sickening thud of rock hitting flesh, and then screaming. Desperately, he threw his Gift – his self – into the walls around them, holding them together through sheer will. Raoul struggled up beside him. "I must –"
He looked up, dimly seeing Alanna kneeling by Tatiana, half-crushed by a fallen stone. Tears streamed down his sister face as she ripped off the veil covering it, bursting the rock to pieces with her Gift; her once-white dress now mottled grey with stone and dust…
Somewhere, a child screamed for his mother …~
Thom started up, realising he was on the floor. I didn't realise it was that strong. He thought, and staggered as the floor pitched violently beneath him. Reaching for his Gift, he searched frantically for the source.
~Queen Aliyah grinned insanely, her eyes aflame with the reflected light of her Gift, swirling greens and yellows that brought to mind sickness and death. Before her knelt a young man, glowing silver as he scrabbled frantically at the chains of fire surrounding him. Reaching into the robe covering her flowing gown, the Queen brought out a circlet of some kind of metal, glowing with her Gift, and something else more indefinable. The man moaned at the sight of it, struggling with renewed ferocity as the Queen brought it about his neck, the latch clicking shut with a resounding clang of metal on metal. Reaching out her hands, the woman flung her head back as the silver fire of a god's Gift flowed into her. She spun, flinging a hand out, and a deadly silver dart flew from it, streaking through thick walls and doors of stone to bury itself deep in the chest of the sleeping King. King Roald stirred, muttering something, and turned on his side, the silver glow surrounding his chest dimming. ~
Thom was on his feet and headed for the door almost before the vision relinquished its clutches on him, heedless of the still pitching palace. The floor slipped under his feet, refusing to stay in one place, and Thom fell, the world dimming to utter blackness as his head crashed on the stone flags.
₪
Jake studied his bleary-eyed companion speculatively. "Just curious, what was all that screaming about?"
Alanna looked up, startled out of her reverie. "Hmm?"
Jake leaned forward, placing a mug of tea in her hands. "Last night – I didn't think your dislike of cold stretched so far you actually wake up screaming on midwinter's."
Alanna shrugged. "Oh, that. I – I had a nightmare."
Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Must've been bad."
Another shrug. "It – involved Thom. Which probably means he was trying to perform some stupid spell and tried to borrow some of my Gift. Idiot. If he's not dead when I get back I think I may just have to kill him, for stupidity if nothing else – his Ordeal is tonight, you know. So," She said, abruptly changing the subject. "Where're we headed now?"
Jake shaded his eyes, pointing in a vaguely southeast direction. "That way – capital of this Empire, Bersone, is in that direction."
Alanna squinted; trying to ignore the newly risen sun they were staring almost straight into. "How long will that take?"
Jake shrugged. "My estimate, what with the way we travel it should take around two months. That'll leave a month for poking round the city and whatever surrounds it, two months to get back over the roof – well, we're hardly likely to go sightseeing on the way back." He added defensively as Alanna raised an eyebrow. "And that'll leave us with a month to get to Rachia for the Shang council."
The girl shrugged, her copper curls glinting with the movement. "Sounds good to me."
₪
"You know," Rhia commented, looking up from her needlework to where Tat sat nursing her son by the window. "The Queen's pregnant, apparently. Two months."
Tat looked up, a wry grin twisting her mouth. "Oh? That was quick. She and his Majesty have been married for, what, all of two and half months?"
Rhiannon shrugged, turning back to her needlework. "Perhaps she used her Gift to manipulate her cycle – you know it can be done. And," she added, flicking golden-brown balls of fire around the room, "giving King Roald another heir is the quickest way to worm her way even deeper into his favour, and oust Jonathan."
Tat started at these words, and the baby began to cry. She looked down at him, rocking him gently. "Hush, William." Raoul hadn't wanted either of them to come, despite the new queen's order that his lady should travel as soon as she was able to Corus, to join the ranks of Aliyah's ladies-in-waiting, declaring loudly enough for half of Goldenlake to hear the he didn't want his wife and son anywhere near 'that deceptive witch,' as he had called her. And, after two weeks in the queen's company, Tat was inclined to agree with her husband.
The young woman's lips curled in what was almost a snarl as she wrenched her minds back to what Rhia had said. "That's treason, Rhia. Both what you suggested and that you said it."
The girl sighed. "I know. But Thom said –"
Tat raised an eyebrow. "Secrets of the marriage bed, Rhia?"
The younger girl blushed. "Perhaps if he was ever there, rather than looking up spells til dawn. But in any case," she said, shaking her hair back. "Thom thinks she may have somehow managed to ensnare some sort of immortal – a demi-god, maybe even a minor true god, on midwinter."
Tat's eyebrows shot up. "How did he come by that conclusion?"
Rhia stood, crossing the rooms to where a tapestry of one of Trebond's illustrious forebears hung, swinging it aside to reveal a small door set into a niche in the war, hidden by the tapestry. Taking a key from around her neck, the girl opened it, pulling out a thick grimoire. "Here," she said, hefting the heavy manuscript over to where Tat sat by the window. "It's Thom's personal spell book. Goes right back to when he and Alanna were children here." Flipping through the thick leaves of parchment, she finally came to a illuminated page, the swirling paints showing a man – or woman, it was hard to tell which – bowed before someone, the silver of the immortals and the many coloured gifts of the mortals binding the two together. "Here," she said, stabbing a finger at the text, written in Thom's clear hand, gracing the opposite page. "A mortal man or woman may, in certain circumstances and provided with the correct knowledge, power, and tools, capture any form of immortal up to the level of a minor god, thus draining their captive's power and increasing there own thousandfold, depending on the skill of the sorcerer. The power such a captive wields can be considered equal only to the fabled dominion jewel, and surpassed only through the strength of a major god or gods, such as Mithros, the Goddess and their brethren. On more than one occasion, such power has been said to have released the dark goddess Usoae, or Chaos, although in recent times such things as said to be only myth or legend…"
She trailed off, staring down at the page.
Tat went pale. "Such power – surely it would be beyond the grasp of any mortal."
Rhia shook her head. "It seems not. Look," she said, turning the page. "Thom found a few old scrolls in the library containing spells on how such things may be done, and copied it here for reference."
Tat felt sick. "But surely – she's malicious, yes, but is she capable of this? Of all the people in Tortall, there are perhaps three – Alanna, your husband, and the Prince, who would be capable of such things?"
"Roger was, before he died, and look how many people trusted him – and they knew of his power, Tat, they knew."
Tat swallowed, cradling her now-sleeping son closer. "We need Alanna here – she seems to have a talent for sniffing out plots of this sort." She murmured, and Rhiannon laughed, shakily.
"She does, at that."
Rhia rose, putting the book back into the safe, carefully drawing the tapestry across it again, then recalled her Gift from the guards she had set around the room.
Tat rose, looking down at the sleeping baby, Alanna's godson, as she had agreed to delightedly by letter shortly before his birth, and sighed. "I'd best get this one back to bed, then." She murmured, throwing a parting smile at Rhiannon as she closed the door behind Tat.
₪
Queen Aliyah of Tortall smirked as she re-read the message, one hand resting lightly on her still-flat belly. The lady Shang, as she was known, was moving further and further away from Tortall, away from the prince she was reputedly in love with. All was going well, and soon, if her stroke of good luck continued, more than just Tortall would be within her grasp.
A/N: Sorry it's short – and that it's taken this long to get up, but hey, something's better than nothing, no? I've been really busy, had bouts of severe writers block, and I've been sick quite a bit lately – all in all life has not been too wonderful. I'll try and get another chapter written up over the weekend, but I'm not making any promises. Reviews would be wonderful inspiration (hint hint).
Aranel