Disclaimer: I'm still not Tamora Pierce. * Sob * Disclaimer: I am STILL not Tamora Pierce. Thaz ok. . . . I have this strong suspicion that her stories would really suck if I wrote them. I have very little imagination. But I try. Trust me: I try.
Part Five
Insanity
I woke up the next day early and moaned, pulling the woolen blankets tighter around me. It was before dawn, and I was exhausted, but I couldn't go back to sleep. I lay reclined against my pillow and began to ponder the meaning of life. Failing at that - I clearly have NO future as a philosopher, quite sadly, unlike Neal -
Oh. Neal. Long time, no think. I'd almost forgotten that he existed. Such a nice friend, aren't I? I wonder what he's up to, back in Tortall. Probably he's fallen for yet another ditzy court lady. Maybe he's going out with one of my sisters. They're ladies, they're pretty, they're ditzy. I mean, perfect match! Which one said he was cute? Adalia? Oranie? I can't remember. I wonder.
But that's not interesting, either. I can't pretend to care about Neal, not at the moment, anyway. I guess you could call him one of my best friends, but I'm not sure if we're even friends at all. It's kind of a gray area. He doesn't know anything about me. I don't think that anyone does.
Goddess. Why am I in this whole self-pitying mood? It's so annoying. I annoy myself, even. I really hate myself when I'm like this. I sound so . . . pathetic.
Blah.
I threw the covers off my body and stepped out of the bed, walking to the window. I was freezing. It was raining outside, and the middle of winter, and I was dressed in only a thin cotton nightdress. I gazed out of the window, watching Scanra wake up, and lost myself in thought.
Why did they really send us here? I wondered. Yes, Maggur Rathhausak is a threat to Tortall, but why send two inexperienced teenagers and a hired assassin to finish him off? Especially, why us? The trio of male evilness said Joren and I needed to learn responsibility, and all that other crap, but we ARE responsible. Most of the time. We just hate each other. Why do they care?
It's not as if we were causing problems, or anything. Well, big ones, that is. The two of us just argued. What would they rather have, people arguing, or people insane? Honestly.
I heard a knock at the door.
"Come in," I said, lightly.
Ryer Melka stepped in. She was already dressed, in a pair of deer hide trousers and a linen shirt.
"Good, you're here, I was looking for you. Did Stone Mountain brief you yet?" she inquired briskly.
I looked at her questioningly. "Huh?" I asked, intelligently.
"I . . . take that as a no?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I have no clue. Whatsoever. Brief me 'bout what?"
She smiled at me. "Okay," she said, and she almost sounded excited. "You see, that information you two got last night-"
"Last night?" I asked, stupidly. "You two talked?"
She made this exasperated sigh noise. "Yes," she replied. "He reported to me when I came in. You were asleep, I believe. Anyway, the info you two got basically means no more spying."
"Oh?"
Ryer Melka nodded. "Yep. All you and Stone Mountain have to do now is help me plan and lie low. The no more spying part is an order. I don't think either of you two want to have Rathhausak almost kill you, again. So basically, during the day you two work, at night, you help me set up how we're going to knock him off. Okay?"
"Deal! More than happy to cooperate, let me assure you."
We looked at each other for a moment. I was seven inches taller than she was, and probably thirty-five pounds heavier, she was twenty years older. I didn't trust her very much, she didn't like me.
"We're going to have to work together, you know," she said, simply.
"Yeah," I replied, after a moment.
"And you're going to have to work with Stone Mountain."
I said nothing, looking at my feet.
"I know you two don't like each other," she told me, finally. "Personality clash, majorly. I think it's rather cute, but every time I attempt to voice that thought one of you starts glaring at me. You two are very funny, you know. But, just, TRY. All right? When this is all over and you're back in Tortall, you don't even have to acknowledge each other's existence. Just, while we're here, TRY. All right?"
I nodded, semi-apathetic. "Sure. Whatever."
Ryer Melka smiled knowingly. "I just had the same conversation with him. He said the same thing, you know. You two are a lot alike. It'd be so cute if you to stopped hating each other. Make a cute couple."
I had an odd expression on my face. Ryer Melka is insane. And she has just proved it.
"Oh Goddess, I hope not," I replied, dryly. "I don't think that the world could take any more of us. I intend to stay far away from Joren of Stone Mountain. Any children we had would be the spawn of the earth."
Blind Origami Master
I woke up a few days later with an intense headache from a bit of vodka- spikked tea the night before and the feeling that my body was going to seed. As I moaned, searching for some form of relief from the crushing pain inside my skull, I glanced down, and confirmed it. These weeks-months, now, months I realized, we had left in late fall, and it was the end of winter, which in Scanra meant that it was April-had not been good for my physical condition. The most intense exercise I had had recently involved scrubbing pots, and my muscles were disappearing at an alarming rate.
I need to talk Joren into fighting with me.
I flung myself back onto my bed, rubbing my face. Oh, GODDESS do I need to go back to sleep. I'm delirious. Hallucinating. I really need to convince Melka and Stone Mountain that we need to change inns. I'm breathing in too much opium. I think I'm high. My brain is being damaged, has been damaged, actually, as was proven by that thoroughly moronic thought. . . . . . ..
I don't think I've actually fought him since second year. Funny. Not physical fighting, anyway. Honestly though, third year he became a squire, and we haven't done any form of boot-to-the-head-arm since then. I want to see how good I've gotten. And besides, it would give me an excuse to wrestle with him. . .
Where did THAT thought come from?
Gah, I HAVE gotten high off of opium fumes. I'm going to try and sleep them off.
~ * ~
Five hours later, someone had just thrown a bucket of ice water on my head.
"What the hell?" I shrieked, suddenly awaken. "What the fuck was that for? DAMMIT!"
Joren of Stone Mountain stood there, matter-of-factly, by my bed. His arms were crossed, a large metal bucket was on the floor. Looking at me calmly, almost amused, he raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. Goddess, I SWEAR that boy plucks them.
"Annoyed, Mindelan?" he inquired, coolly.
I responded with a low growl, and whacked him in the arm. "Jerk," I grumbled.
He sniffed, sounding hurt. Yes, Joren is clearly himself again: annoying as ever. Yay. He had been getting a little odd recently, since about the day I'd had that discussion with Ryer. Wonder why. "Why, darling, sweetheart, love of my life and light of my heart, whatever could possess you to refer to me, your one and only true love, as a jerk? I am hurt, dearest, truly I am, for even in this hardened heart I feel pained by your callous dismissal. But alas! Such is life! I go, and am never to return aga- "
"Oh, shut up, Joren," I told him. "You're laying it on a little thick, you know. Don't go into the whole 'love of my life' crap. You sound like Cleon. It's a terrifying concept."
Joren gasped, dramatically. I really need to direct this guy to the nearest theater. He'd get a job in ten seconds flat. "You-you-you. . . . . THINK. . . . . . that I sound. . . . . like. . . . . .. CLEON? Oh!" he whispered, shocked. "Oh! I-I-I. . . . need to lie down." He flopped onto my bed, I grinned, I think I might want to keep this guy, y'know, makes me laugh, hard thing to do, and screeched when he realized he had landed on the wet part. I laughed, squeezing the water out of my hair. "Why you little-"
He grabbed my arm and pulled me down to the bed. I shrieked, arching my back to get away from the wet blankets. He smiled oddly at me, again, and laughing, proceeded to place pieces of ice down my neck. "You FREAK!" I screamed, grasping his wrists and dragging him along with me to the floor. "You *$^&#^!-"
Joren rolled us over, under the bed, and was kneeling on top, hands on my shoulders, pinning me down. He winked. "I win?" he suggested, whispering, a half suggestive expression on his face.
I glowered at him. I swear, if I ever stop hating him I am going to murder him.
"Unfair," I pronounced, enunciating clearly.
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And your reason is?"
I looked at him innocently. " You cannot win unless we are dueling. And that was not dueling, just. . . . I don't know, WRESTLING. In order to win, one of us has to challenge the other to a duel."
"And?"
I would have drawn myself up indignantly except that, remember, we're under a bed at the moment. I sank down for a moment, rolling my eyes. "I don't suppose you happen to have any gloves?"
Joren shook his head, and gazed into my eyes, quizzically.
"That sucks," I said bluntly, "I need them to slap you with."
He shrugged. "You want to duel?"
"Yeah."
"Whatever," he said, nonchalantly. "This evening?"
"Yes," I replied, "the practice courts. The palace. Midnight."
"And how are we to get back? Properly?" he inquired, sardonically.
I was confused. "Walking?. . . . . . . . "
He groaned. "That wasn't QUITE what I meant, Mindelan." And rolling off me, he got up calmly and walked to the door, opened it. "By the way, you MIGHT want to do something with your hair. You look like a street rat." With that parting shot he left, boot heels clicking on the stone floor outside.
Huh? What was up with that?
Why would HE care?….
~*~
My hands were cracked and bleeding, my back hurt from all the dishes, but I was dressed and armed and psyched up as I walked to the practice courts at the Scanran palace. I had braided my hair back in a tight, green ribbon that looked marvelous with my dark hair, and was wearing my favorite loose black trousers, and was carrying my sword. We had agreed-not staffs, not Shang, not whips or brass knuckles, not spears or glaives. Just two naked swords. No rules. That was all.
My sword is possibly my most precious possession on this earth. I know that this sounds more than a little odd, and a bit crazy, too, but I swear that I can her the old fashioned silver-steel sing when I fight. It's beautiful, the most beautiful sound in the world.
It was given to me when I was six years old. Before we lived at the Emperor's Court, we lived in a more distant part of the capital city, in a small but comfortable house. Next door, in a small cottage, there lived an old man. He was blind. He was blind, and he was a master at origami. I never saw anything like the creations he folded, and I'll never see any again. They were beautiful, and looking back, it's heartbreaking, his gift.
He was from a rich family, the last of his line. He'd given away most of his money, for he hadn't seen the need. Never needing anything but food and paper, never seeing the need of any of the things most aristocratic families took for granted, he took a leave of his land, giving it to his most trusted samurai to care for, and retired, far away from the land where he was expected to be a warlord, while he was not.
He hadn't taken very much with him to the cottage, just a few family relics he couldn't bear to part with. I used to visit him as a small child, all of the time, delighting in the magic he created by folds and creases. It was wonderful, in my opinion, one of the few true magics in the world.
He died of a stroke the summer when I was six years old. It was horrible, and I missed him, with all of my heart. Almost everything he had was sent back to his family's estate, and his house was empty. I cried everytime I woke up, amnesially planning to go and visit him, and then remembering a few minutes later that he was dead. I cried.
In his will, he left me my sword. It's beautiful.
It's a Masamune.
There were two great makers of swords, years and years and years ago, one named Masamune, one named Muremasa.
Muremasa created swords for war, for death, for carnage. His swords are breath taking, all sharp and hard and beautiful. They quite literally take my breath away, and make me shiver. They are made to kill, for the sole purpose of killing, not evil by themselves, but evil when wielded by humanity.
Masamune crafted swords for peace, for safety, for defense. My sword is a katana, and mine is one of his best, and final creations. It's made of silver-steel, the old Yamani compound, still perfectly sharp, years after it was created. The most beautiful thing that I have ever seen.
I had reached the practice courts. Whispering a prayer to the soul of Masamune for guidance and strength, I drew my sword, his sword.
"En garde."
Note to everyone: I was making a lot up about the origami master, but there were a few things that I didn't make up. The origami master does exist, or he did, and he is or was blind. When I was in preschool, about four years old, he came to our classroom. He spoke Japanese, so only a few kids could understand him, but we all could see him, and follow him. I thought it was perfectly natural when I was little, but looking back, it's amazing. I mean, being blind, and being able to do something like that? It's just. . . .. . . . astonishing.
Zenin: Ryer Melka's going down? . . . . . . ( I must reprint that, for the sake of other people who actually read this stuff. Please? Thanks!
Inserted Piece, by Zenin, in her review, copyright Zenin, whenever she reviewed.
Joren pulls out a Uzi and fingers the trigger lovingly while Kel finishes polishing her newly sharpened glaive. Ryer Melka's smile falters.
"Er, guys...why're you here?"
Joren smiles slightly and cocks the gun, aiming it calmly at her head. Ryer takes a step back, still nervously smiling.
"Heh...what that?"
"It's a gun."
"A what?"
"A gun," Keladry snaps impaiently.
Ryer Melka nods and silence reigns for the space of fifteen seconds. Then: "What's a gun?"
Joren shrugs, now getting even more annoyed. "How the hell am I supposed to know? It...gods...it'll hurt, 'kay?"
"Um...right. So then, do you know how to use it?"
Joren manages to calm himself down and begins to demonstrate how the Uzi is operated. "Sure, you just press this little thingy here...damn!"
Bullets tinkle cheerfully to the floor. Ryer Melka raises an eyebrow, beginning to grin. "So..."
Kel rolls her eyes. "Pure genious, Stone Mountain. Any other tricks you'd like to show us?"
"Shut up, Mindelan."
"Oh, and by the way, maybe you should have a chat with the guy who sold you that thing. It's a piece of cra--"
"I said, SHUT UP."
BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! BRILLIANCE!!!!!!!!!!!! PURE BRILLIANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Anonymous: I'M SORRY!!!!!!!!!! Thank you SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much!!!!!!!!!!! Trust me, the revelation will be. . . . .interesting. . . . . and will be in probably the next chapter. This chapter I got the inspiration from cytosine. And yes, SO sorry no Jor-Jor. I like him too. I think ill keep him in this story. ;-)
Keita: yes! It's like, from my bio class, punnett squares! Likelihood kids would be female! 1 in 2! Likelihood kids would be male! One in two! Likely hood kids would be total brats! 2 in 1!!!!!!!!! I don't think I'm going to write a sequel, though I might, cuz I have this plotline bouncing about in my brain, and joren and kel with attitudes would so fit in! imagine this: Joren and Kel are together, but they kinda sorta havent told anyone, and are spending their time trying to sneak around, away from one another. Like?
Lady Sandrilene: I'm not that evil, I'm just manipulative. C? Thank ya! Stole it from 10 Things I Hate About You, which I've never seen, but read the script of twenty million times. I embrace the title psycho. So much better than sociopath!
Ma'mselle Evilstrawberry: thanx ya! I am so sorry about the lack of Joren. . . . . . he didn't really fit in with a discussion about whether kel and him would work or not. Kel is MAJORLY in denial. Thank you for reviewing!
Valencia: I didn't mean the whole 'I won't write until July' thing, I just wanted reviews. I have an ego problem. *smiles apologetically* Thank you!!!!!!!!! And yeah, I totally agree. I'm in love with this one D/H story, and the author took TWO months to update! And another one took EIGHT. What's up with that?
Blade Griffin: THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!! This is one of your favoratust stories? Ca-ching! * grins from ear to ear * I get totally hyper too, usually during math class. 'Death to Farmer Bob.' Thanks for saying that it wasn't too bad, I know it wasn't terrible, but I don't think it was the best chapter I could have written. THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Angel Of The Storms: Joren in this chappie, I promise. Thanx ya!
Cami of Queenscove: You know, if it wasn't for the fact that I somehow know you live in NY, and that your name is Stacey, I would be convinced that you're the Binxinator. Seriously. Both of you do the evil evil evil evil evil thing. It's odd. Don't worry, I've decided that this one will probably have a happy ending, but that the next one will be sad. ( All of the stories have happy endings, and I want this one to have one to, but my next one I'm going to try and make everyone who reads it sob at the end. . . . . . . Yeah, and I need to read 6 of your story. I'll remind myself later.
Yu: Oh. That sorta was my diss in that chapter. I think I was asleep at the time. Yes, Kel is hving these major mood swings. I think she needs to cut back on her romance novel reading, though. Thanks!
Keita: THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Bob? Gah!!!!!! Everyone is in love with the words Bob and Fred, including a friend of mine who's in love with Bob the pole! Thank you, though! I can't believe you think this is well written! (does some major preening) but being evil is fun. . . . . evil people unite! Thanx!
The Dark Goddess: I use Microsoft Word, but thanx anyway. If I used html, then I would have to be kinda a moron. I read bios too!!!!! I'm weird. I kinda am interested in who everyone else is. Odd. But thaz ok. Yeah, my life used to be kinda cool, but we've been living in Houston since fourth grade (I'm in seventh) and my parents are iffy on whether we'll move again. They want to, I want to (I'll miss my friends, but I don't really like Houston too much.). the flamethrower!!!!!!!!!!! Ur probably going to think that I am really scary, and probably that I'm a pyro, too, but I want a flamethrower. That would be SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO COOL!!!!!!!!!
Lady Me: hey!!!! Majorly sry haven't been able 2 update the other one, must do that soon. Thank you!!!!!!!!!! And the lady me thing is cool. It seems that everyone is named lady fictional-character-they-have-a-crush-on. Cool.
Cytosine: I'm using ur idea. I'm a thief. What can I say? Kel's going to feel out of shape and force joren to duel with her. Im taking some inspiration from 10 things I hate about you, too. . . . . . heh heh heh heh heh. Thank you! And u just reminded me of my exams. Bad cytosine. It pairs with guanine. Hah! I WILL pass the science midterm! I WILL!!!!!!!!!!!!
Majestic Elf, Lady Elrond: fab name. It rocks. Yeah, I've read 'Fallen Idols.,' and every other (literally) j/k fic on this site. I typed in 'joren' one time on the find button, and voila! J/k fics as far as the eye can see. . . . . . . . more romance soon (not that I could POSSIBLY be hinting at anything). . . . . . .
Cami of Queenscove: that is actually SUCH a good idea! It's like: I review you, you review me. Oh yeah, that gives me an idea: IF ANYONE WANTS ME TO REVIEW ANY OF THEIR STORIES, JUST YELL! I HAVE PLENTY OF FREE TIME! AND IT ONLY SEEMS FAIR, AS WELL AS MAKING ME SEEM SLIGHTLY LESS MISERLY! I'VE ONLY DONE LIKE 16 REVIEWS. Ok, I'll shut up now. I want to murder all of my teachers at the moment. . . . . . . . bloody midterms. I just hatd my math one, it's SATURDAY. I mean HELLO. The police men are going to hand you over to the men in the white coats, you know. And they'll take you away to a wonderful place where you where comfortable white sweaters, eat jello ALL DAY LONG, and live in a room with padded walls. ( Lovely thought, isn't it. murders global teacher*
Siren Porter: yes, I'm evil. Joren and Kel would ROCK as a couple. It would be so cute, and SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO funny. Cya!
Blade Griffin: thank you SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!!!!!!!! You think kel is such a better character and that my 'worst enemy' fights rock? * smirk * my ego is getting too big, you people are feeding it way too much. . . . . you have a fab name.
Angel Of The Storms: thank you!!!! I was going to get this up sooner, but I have major problems with plots. I can never think of anything beyond a scene! It's annoying. Thank you very much!
Siren Porter: I'm not going to be evil in this fic, but I might in the next one. . . . hee hee hee. Thank you!
Valencia22?: thank you! I like Dom too, it's just in my story Kel has to diss everyone but Joren, so that their getting together could seem vaguely plausible. Valencia. Cool name.
Zenin: yeah, I think kel is having a major mood swing problem. Cuz see, he is REPULSIVE, he's the worst being in the entire world, and HELLO, there were SUPPOSED to be FIREWORKS? Hello? Problem with this picture? Yeah, I think that's a MAJOR compliment! I do that too, with my fav stories. Except, it's really annoying if they're really long, cuz I printed out this whole Lily/Snape one one time, and it had over 100 pages! It was HELL to print out! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The knives, the knives!!!!!!
DeadlyBlackRose: thanks!!!!! Wasn't serious, I only lie and cheat, I don't steal. (joke, every one, laugh. Ha? Ha ha? Ha? Ok, then)