A/N – Okey dokey, really only three things to talk about here.
Firstly, the obligatory jumping up and down, shouting 'woohoo', 'yay' and 'mucos gracias' for the various reviews which I love so dearly. I guess everyone loves reviews at that, except if they say 'you suck', but - thankfully - I have not received any like that yet (And no, this is not an incentive to do so. Please J) Thanks to everyone who reviewed, hope you like this chapter…!
…which is tentatively known as (to me, anyway) the 'sap chapter'. Nothing really happens in this in terms of story movement, or action for that matter – but there's a lot of sentimentality and romance-oriented things. Plus, for anyone who thought George was a rather snotty brute in the previous chapter, I think you'll be glad to note that he manages to get out of the grubby hovel, so he improves a lot! ^_^ (Speaking of George, I've taken to heart the criticism that his accent is annoying to read. Well, it's also annoying to write, so I won't be doing it anymore!)
Finally, I've got four words. One. More. To. Go. (I've had thoughts for a sequel, and in fact a lot of 'loose ends' from this story would be tied up in said sequel, but I'm not entirely sure that I'll end up with the time nor the energy to write such a story. In which case…would people like me to just pop up my 1½ page notes for the sequel at the end of my last chapter? Or – on the off chance that I write the darn thing, would you like me to keep them 'at hand'?
Anyway – ENJOY! (and review)
***
Yes, this night was a most productive venture so far. Besides meeting Roger in that extremely awkward fashion, and – perhaps – the rather intriguing meeting with the Goddess, things had gone fairly smoothly. Something which she hoped would continue into her next activity; telling George about what had happened, and hopefully lying to rest his suspicion of Jon. She knew that she probably couldn't exorcise him of his jealousy – in fact, if she told him the entire truth about what had happened this afternoon (which she may well yet do, she hadn't quite decided what the best course would be), she would more than likely set it off once more. But still, she hoped that he might be able to look beyond her for a moment; to reconnect with his old friend once he knew that Jon had not been a part of it.
She knew it would be difficult for George, but she was confident that he could do it. He was a good man, she knew that most of all. A good man who deserved better than what she had given to him, better than what her friendship had brought to him which, if she were to take a rather negative viewpoint, had brought George only trouble and heartache. 'To be Shang is to be death', an old Shang proverb said, one which had often been repeated to the young Initiates. She had believed she understood it – that she was death; she brought it, she dispensed it, she personified it. But now… now she wasn't so sure. It may well, from her experience, relate to her relationships and associations as well.
But that was, she realised, perhaps an overly pessimistic standpoint. Perhaps she should think more on another Shang proverb – 'Wisdom comes from Patience'. Wait and see, wait and feel how her heart and her mind reacted to a more intense relationship…that of her tie to Jon. Wait and see what developed from their newly-patched-up 'friendship'. He had, after all, said that they should begin as friends - well, to his credit he had not even said 'begin'. She knew this, she accepted this, in fact it was something which she was particularly pleased about. Being friends with Jon again was more than she could have ever hoped for when the sun rose this morning. But she knew what it meant, what its potential truly was. Was she happy with this? This potential…?
If she listened to her heart – the answer was a resounding 'yes'. Jon had found a place in her heart before she had even met him, thanks to the dreams; a place which had only grown more…beautiful when she finally laid eyes on him. The single day in which they had been 'together' had been one which set her heart racing and her blood afire. The potential to reach to that again was something which excited her in and of itself.
Her head, of course, was propagating many other thoughts. What kind of future could the two of them have as a Shang and a King? Could she remain friends with George if she was with Jon? Could she carry through with her desire to kill Roger if she had to take into account Jon's feelings as well? She just didn't know…
'Wisdom comes from Patience'. Wait and see…Wait and see…
Yes, yes that was really all that she could do. Wait and see, and stop mulling over every little detail of 'what if?' and 'what for?'. A small smile came over her face – of late she'd realised that while she was very good at making decisions on issues like this, her mind inevitably wouldn't follow through on it. Too often had she begun to muse over issues and problems which she'd previously 'decided' to ignore, or to let by. Well…this time was going to be different. Mainly, she felt, because she was happy…It was always easier to ignore negatives when one was generally happy.
The smile remained, and soon she found herself entering the lower city. The hovel she had shared with George was not far, and she began to think over what had transpired since she had last seen him. More importantly, how she was going to describe it to him. The obvious starting point was her meeting with Jon, and what he had told her about the warrant and its forgery. He would have to know that, and she would tell him this first in as much detail as would be necessary. The question arose, in her mind at least, about the other incidents of note – would it be best not to tell George what she and Jon had discussed with regards to their…personal lives? It might be easier on him, mightn't it?
No, George would want to know straight up. Too often had she made the mistake of keeping things from him; her justification being to 'protect' either herself or himself from potential 'harm' of some sort. Not this time, no – she would tell him. Tell him without prompting from his part. She would tell him of the warrant, and after he had digested that, then she would…then she would…
What? What could she say? 'Jon and I have agreed to be friends once more, but I think that this is a prelude to a relationship in the future'? She didn't particularly wish to go into that much detail, not in the slightest, but would George be able to get the hint if she said it a slight more subtly? Yes, he would – he was a smart man, particularly to this kind of doublespeak and subtly. She grinned a little at that; George would have made a very good politician, if he had been given the chance. He had a mind for that kind of thing.
Yes, she could count on him to be able to gather what her intentions were; she would tell him the plain truth, that she and Jon had rekindled their friendship. He knew that she didn't love him – not in that way, not any more – and he would know what she meant by that. Good, good. But what about the other thing? What about the Goddess, and her Gift? Was George going to still be angry with her for having concealed this facet of herself from him until now? She hoped not – going over all this information with him tonight would work so much better if he were to be somewhat receptive to her. It would be difficult, after all, for her attempt to wrap his head around reconciling with Jon while George was antagonistic towards her. Should she then tell him about just how she had gained access to the palace? Perhaps not – but she knew that she wouldn't, indeed couldn't lie to him again. But…if he asked, she'd tell him. Whether he believed her or not was another matter, of course. But she wouldn't offer up this information as she would with the news on Jon and herself; doing so could well create a needless hassle for her.
Satisfied with her decisions, she took a long look around, attempting to work out just how far it was now. The sun had been down for a while by now, though a thin red glow could still be seen on the tops of the tallest buildings, and she found it a little difficult to discern her precise location. The lower city was somewhat of a maze in many respects; the Thieves Road that she and George had traversed the other day being fairly indicative of how the streets around here were designed. Which was, on reflection, probably not a good term – as far as she could see, they had no design about them whatsoever. A rabbit warren would be easier to find one's way along.
Still, that didn't mean that it was impossible to find out one's location, something which thankfully Alanna had discovered. George had pointed out specific landmarks which would 'point a path' as it were from the centre of the warren-city to the palace walls, something which she was incredibly grateful for at the moment. Some of these landmarks she had managed to spot on her way along, and could now – she hoped – simply allow them to give her a rough indication of which direction to travel.
Sure enough, George's instructions had been well articulated, with Alanna finding it relatively easy to find her way back into familiar territory. The small street/alley that her and George's lovely hovel lay within was soon found, and from there she knew she could find her way. The by now almost non-existent light threatened to made things difficult, but she found it easily. This was, however, more to do with the fact that George was standing in the middle of the street with a lantern than any skills on her part.
"What are you doing?" she asked once she had trotted beside him. He looked haggard in many respects, though she could almost see his relief when his eyes first fell onto her. "You could be in such danger out here, especially with that light!" It was true – even though Jon would revoke the warrant (attempt to revoke, her pessimistic side shouted) she doubted that the order had yet trickled down to the average Guardsman, and it would be these who would prove to be the largest burr for George and her. They would still have to be wary of them, and particularly their potential usage of…overzealous attempts at arresting either of them.
George simply shrugged, and shot her a thin smile. He pointed towards the doorway to their little refuge, and began walking towards it. Frowning, Alanna followed, wondering what was going through George's mind at the moment. She wasn't sure that he was angry with her, or with anyone, but he wasn't acting like himself. Of course, he hadn't been acting like the George Cooper she had known (and loved to some degree) in her first few weeks for quite a while. Was this a bad omen, or was it good? Perhaps George had taken the time to think on matter, and had come to the conclusion that she was not worth the dissolution of his friendship with Jon. Alanna sighed softly; perhaps that would be true in a perfect world, but she doubted that this was why George was acting oddly.
She stepped in through the door George was holding open for her, entering into the dark, dank interior. It smelled – something which she must have become accustomed to over the past two or three days, but now – after a stint in the palace for a while and in the cleaner air of the other districts, it truly struck her. George placed the lantern down onto a small corner table which the two of them shared, blowing the light out as he did so. The room was even more dark now, but one or two candles allowed for just enough light for the two of them to see each other.
"Alright then," She began after a lengthy period of strained silence – something had changed between them of late, she knew this. She also knew that it was predominantly her fault for this having occurred, "I suppose you want to know what happened."
"Aye," George replied, "I'd like that. Maybe just…"
"What?"
He sighed heavily, "Nevermind. Just tell me what y' think is important."
Pursing her lips – she guessed that he had probably almost asked her to leave out what had happened between her and Jon, she nodded to him. "Alright then," she repeated, readying her thoughts for what she knew would prove to be a lengthy and a difficult conversation. "Where to begin then? Well, I have to tell you that it's good news in general."
"Good, good."
"Yes. Jon said- When I showed him the warrant and asked him about it, he told me that he most definitely did not order it, did not create it. He assured me that he'd revoke it as soon as he was possible. He didn't know precisely when that would be, but he was fairly sure that he'd be able to have had it done by sometime tomorrow. And…and he asked me to apologise on his behalf to you directly for what it may have done to you; the pain and worry which his oversight in not keeping a closer eye on the proclamations led to." Jon hadn't said that directly, actually. But he had apologised to her on these grounds – she could…extrapolate them to George, couldn't she? Besides, it was a good lie, something which would hopefully lead to a reduction in tensions between them. Jon had seemed to be genuinely apologetic for what had happened with George, so she knew (or at least hoped) that Jon wouldn't be too upset with her putting words in his mouth. "He is deeply sorry for what happened, George."
He nodded once more as he sank to the ground, leaning his back up against the wall. "Well, it is good news that t' warrant is being lifted." He said simply, "Very good."
Alanna frowned, she had hoped that he would comment on the apology Jon had given him. Well, potentially given him. Maybe he suspected what was to come – what had happened between Jon and herself, and so didn't really want to be liking him too much at the moment. She didn't know; George's emotions had always been difficult to read, especially when he was carrying off his impression of a bronzed statue as he was now. "He doesn't know exactly who forged it, the warrant I mean, but he agreed with me about it probably being Roger."
George snorted rather loudly, "Course he would." He stated softly.
What?! He still believed that Jon had done it? "You can't be serious," she all but gurgled, the sound being strangled in her throat – he couldn't be serious, could he? "You don't still think that Jon issued it, do you?"
"Well I…" sighing loudly, George pushed himself to his feet. "I don't know, alright? This is difficult for me, you know."
"I can accept that," she told him, "But continuing to believe…that…is just-" What was it? She felt that it was stupidity above all else, but she didn't want to say that. It was stubborn more than anything else, true, but it was also something more. "Well, at the very least it's just you being stubborn."
"Yeah, I know."
"So why do you still believe it? Why do you continue to believe that Jon could do something like that to you? I know you said that your friendship of late had been strained, but how can you continue to believe that he'd order your arrest? Your death?"
"I don't!" George shot back, voice raised slightly above its' normal pitch, "I don't believe that he'd do something like that to me! But it's just- It's hard for me to accept this…I don't know why that is." He swallowed hard, she could hear it from where she was standing, and shook his head. "But- Look, I don't blame him, or at least I know I shouldn't. Maybe I just…Maybe I want to blame him."
"Why?"
"I-…Nevermind. I don't know why I said that before-" he sighed heavily, shaking his head to dismiss the thought. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring this up; I don't blame Jon for it, I know that he'd never do something like this."
Alanna was certainly sure that George wasn't as convinced as he sounded, but there was little point in getting into it now. She should think over it and perhaps bring it up later – why did George want to blame Jon? "Alright then." She replied after a beat, "So that's that then – Jon told me that he'll be going down to the magistrates as soon as he possibly can to revoke the warrant. He told me that it was relatively easy to do, so I don't think we need to worry about it any longer. Well, not that much anyway."
"I suppose at some point then we'll be able to move back to the Dove," George said, "It'll be good to be out of here."
She couldn't agree more, this tiny space which had frayed tensions and cramped the two of them up for days – well, she would be glad to see the last of it. "Yeah, I think that we should be able to do that tomorrow, hopefully."
"Is Jon going to be getting in touch with you?" her friend asked, "Is he going to give us an all clear?"
"I'm not sure," she replied, thinking it over. "I don't think he mentioned anything like that, although he will be attempting to meet me at some later stage anyway – but I've got no idea of when that could be." She shrugged as she realised that it didn't really matter all that much, "If you think it's a good idea, I'll scout around the Dove in the morning tomorrow, see if there are any Guardsmen around or the like. They won't recognise me as readily as they will you, so I should be able to get around quickly and quietly."
George nodded, "Makes sense-" he mumbled under his breath, before looking up at her, "But you've got to be careful. Of any Guards, and perhaps any thief or whatever who might wish to take advantage of the warrant in an aim to get a reward."
"They'd turn you in?" she asked, genuinely shocked, "I thought that there was a law within the Thieves that one didn't turn on another?"
"Unspoken law," George stressed, "It's more a general belief than anything. Sure, if you're caught handing in a fellow thief or his whereabouts, then you'll be branded a traitor, but for some…the reward is worth more than that. Besides, I'm sure that there are some out there who'd be willing to turn a blind eye to see me gone."
"Like Pilkar was?" Alanna asked quietly. George had never really been forthcoming details about the behind the scenes politicking of the Court of the Rogue; such was it that she had been so astonished to find that one thief – Pilkar – had turned against the King of the Court.
From what she could tell, George growled at the mention of the other thief. "Yes," He eventually responded, fists clenched and held by his sides, "Just like that bastard."
She nodded, it didn't seem that he'd be supplying any more information on the topic – "Don't worry, I'll be very careful. Besides, I can certainly protect myself, can't I?" She grinned, happy to note that a slight smile crept onto George's face too. She hadn't decided yet, but she might also try to use her Gift to cloak herself somehow. She didn't know how to go about it, but she might give it a shot. Still, George didn't need to know that. "I'll check it out early in the morning, might even have a quick chat with Nelly and Riven – see what has been going on there, see if any Guards or whatever have been asking us, and then come back here."
"Alright, lass. I think that's a plan," George smiled at her – something which she had sorely missed as of late.
Unfortunately, it seemed that he probably wouldn't stay that way for a while. She'd really run out of things to say – leaving only one more thing to discuss. She could, of course, ignore it for now and not talk to George about it till they'd returned to the Dove, but…no. She'd promised herself that she'd tell him, and he did deserve to know what had happened. "There's one more thing I need to tell you, George," she began slowly, still wondering how best to word it, "Something else that me and Jon talked about that you deserve to know."
He grinned – or grimaced, she couldn't tell – and sank to the floor again, leaning up against the wall once more. "Aye," he said, "I was expecting something like this."
"Well… it would have been rude to go all that way and not talk to him about it." She replied, a small smile on the edge of her lips.
"I suppose it would at that," George replied, a soft chuckle rising out of him, "Still. Let's hear it then."
She nodded, "Alright. Basically we talked about how we ended up in this position; how things had progressed to the extent that they had. We decided that we wanted to be friends again, to lay that down first."
"But things will probably move past there won't they?" George queried, "I mean, is that the intention?"
Biting her lip, Alanna thought over it. "Speaking for myself? It is. I have deep feelings for him, and while I don't think either one of us is ready to move into something now, I do believe that after a while – once we've reestablished our friendship, then I do hope that things will…progress. And I know that this will be hard for you, I know that and with all my heart I'm sorry for it. I'm sorry for what I did to you, George – sorry for how much pain I've put you through."
"Now lass," George waved his arm dismissively, "We've been over this before. It's not your fault that any of this happened."
"But it is, George!" she responded vehemently, knowing that she was in the right here, "It is my fault! At the very least it's partially my fault, which is still meaning that it's my fault! Don't you see, George? If it weren't for my actions and my decisions, things would have been so much simpler all round. If I hadn't kept things from you, if I hadn't taken so long to look into my heart and work out my feelings – if I hadn't done these things, then the pain that you've gone through could have been entirely spared! Things could have been so much better!"
"That's a bit selfish, isn't it?" George interjected suddenly, a questioning tone on his lips. "I think you mean that things could have been simpler. But Life is not simple, Alanna, it's a mixture of complicated incidents all stacked up together – that is what Life is about. That is something which I learnt through my contact with you, especially. I mean - you haven't even asked me whether I wanted this pain that you apparently caused me to have never happened."
She blinked; asking softly "What?"
"What if I told you that I don't wish for anything to be different? What if I didn't want this 'pain' to have gone? What if I get more pain from you saying that you wish you could have changed the past?" He sighed, and stood up slowly, moving towards her and placing his hands on her shoulders in one motion. "Alanna, I love you, and you know that by now. I now know that you don't love me back, and while it hurts – it's alright that it hurts, because I know that I got close enough to you for me to be able to know this. I got close enough to you to know that you don't love me in return, and that's something which I will never regret having done. I may sometimes wish that I hadn't learnt that truth, but the fact of the matter is that I did, and I did by knowing you well enough. And that – that knowledge of you, of your beautiful soul and your sharp mind, your skills and your sense of humour – is something which I'll always treasure, regardless of whether I can call you mine." Alanna, while shocked to her core by what George was saying; feeling a warm glow spread through her at his words, felt a single tear slide down her cheek, "At the end of the day I hope above all else that we can still be friends, and I think that because of what we had before that we can be very close friends, something which I believe is worth the pain that we have gone through."
"George, I…"
"The simple truth is that I don't regret a single moment of these last few months, Alanna. It's been an experience which I wouldn't trade even for all the Gold in Carthak." He wiped the tear away with his thumb, before letting his lips turn into a wide smile, "Well, besides these last few days in this Gods-forsaken hovel. That I could have done without."
She couldn't help it – she laughed painfully, tears of both joy and sadness spilling from her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time that tears had fallen this freely from her eyes, but she knew that she'd always remember this moment. "George," she tried to begin, emotion choking her voice, "I don't know what to say…" Perhaps start with 'that was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me'? How could he – how could anyone say such things about her? It was…amazing.
"Just say that we'll always be friends, Alanna." He replied, "That's something which I would dearly love."
"Of course we'll be friends, George." Alanna stated simply. It was true, what he had said – while her time with George had been painful, she'd also come to know him more intimately than…well…anyone besides herself. George was her greatest friend, someone she knew that she desperately needed to keep in her life. "I don't think you'll be able to get me away from helping you with Rogue-ish duties, anyway."
"Oh, did you enjoy the little 'raid' on the Magistrates building, then?" He asked, a quirky smile on his lips. "Because I would seriously have to reconsider my friendship with you if that were the case."
She rolled her eyes at that, "Not so much that one – As you said, I could have done without these past few days. But I do want to help you, I do think that I'm an asset to you, and I think you could use me."
"Aye lass, that I could. Besides," he added with a wink, "I think I'm a little to frightened of you to be refusing your help, not to mention all the lads who would cut me open if I prevented you from joining them at the Dove some nights."
Alanna smiled at him, "Thank you George." She whispered, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for all that you've done for me."
"Don't mention it, lass." He replied, "All I ask is that you think about what I said, and you accept it as the truth, alright?"
Smirking – he obviously really did know her. Her mind had already made moves to dismiss some of the nicer things he had said about her – she patted his shoulder as she moved away from him, "Alright, George. I'll try."
George narrowed his eyes at her then, doubting her reply. The small smile on his lips certainly dimmed the somewhat hostile look, however. "Well, it's a good thing that I'll be around to make sure you do, then."
"That it is, George. That it is."
***
The rest of the night had been, well…the only word that she could think of to describe it was fun. George's words to her, and her first-steps towards accepting these as the truth, had seemingly lifted the tension between them away – they sat within the hovel simply talking and laughing, playing stupid children's word games and singing songs that Alanna had heard in the Dove's common room many a night. Things were carefree; even her knowledge that George was still in love with her didn't create friction as it had once done. Where once she would constantly worry whether or not a touch here or a smile there would lead him on – give him the wrong impression, she now simply accepted (or at least, tried to accept) what he had told her. That he was in love with her, but he knew that she didn't feel that way about him. She also knew, because she knew George, that he would never think of trying something with her if she were not willing.
Carefree…yes. Of course, it was only for one night, but it was enough for a great weight to be lifted from her shoulders. She did need George in her life, she knew that now; their strained relationship had been a great cause of worry and guilt, which was now gone – gone hopefully forever.
She'd even opened up to him and told him of how she gained entry to the Palace, something which she hadn't planned to do. Told him of the Goddess' appearance to her, and how the Goddess had even apologised to her for actions past. George had, at first, been somewhat disbelieving that she had met the Goddess, but after a while…after a while he began to look a lot like a fish, or so she thought. His mouth simply hung open, every now and again a soft "Wow." Coming from it.
When she had finally finished, and even created a small ball of light with her Gift – something which was surprisingly difficult. She'd assumed that it would be very easy, and had attempted to create a large floating ball of light with her first attempt. What she had actually got, however, was a tiny purple flame which had set fire to the dusky throw rug that lay on the hovels floor, which she and George had eventually stamped out and thrown out the door. But she finally managed to create the small ball, even though it exhausted her to do so – and George had been incredibly impressed with it. He himself couldn't muster that amount of power, and she suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be Gifted as well.
"Does it frighten you, sometimes?" she asked, "Your Gift, I mean."
He had frowned at that, probably not quite understanding where she was coming from. "Not really," he had answered after a moment to think about it, "I guess that I don't really think about it too much. My Gift uses me, I don't use it."
Alanna blinked, "That would scare me." She told him truthfully.
"Aye," George replied, smiling in the soft purple light, "I'd imagine it would. Not being in control of everything."
She nodded, "Yes. Which is why my Gift worries me at the moment." Frowning, she revised her words, "Well, not so much worries me but…unsettles me."
"Alanna, you've not used your Gift in over seven years, and the pers- being who re-awakens it within you is the Great Mother Goddess herself. I don't think it'd be considered unnatural to be unsettled by it." George replied, "In fact, I'd have been more worried if you simply accepted it straight away!"
"Well that's also one of the things that unsettles me."
He obviously didn't understand that at all, "What do you mean?"
Grimacing, she thought on what had happened to her recently. "Well you said it yourself. I haven't used my Gift in seven years, and yet…I don't know, using it lately – it sometimes feels difficult to not use it. It's something which I've done without for seven years, seven hard years of Shang training, and yet now I think about it a lot. I try and factor it into plans I make, you know. And that's something that I don't particularly want to do, if I'm honest with myself."
"Why, because of the Shang attitude to it?"
"In a way," she said, nodding to herself. That was the truth – Shang didn't accept Gifted students because they worried that their powers would be a crutch for the initiates to lean upon, something which she accepted. But…of late she had been using it as a crutch, or at least thinking of using it as one. That was something which most certainly unsettled her and, if she were honest with herself, frightened her. "It's just…I don't know whether I should be using it, because it's something that I'm born with, and it's something which can allow me to do things which I couldn't do beforehand. But on the other hand, I'm…alright I'm worried that I might end up relying on it far too much."
George mused over that for a while, quite literally stroking his chin as he did so. She laughed at that, but didn't explain why when he asked her. Eventually however, he got around to commenting on her thoughts, although perhaps in a slightly less 'answer filled' way than she might have wished for. "To be honest, I don't know what you should do. I'd suggest, however, that you should do whatever feels right at the time. That's how I've always lived my life and, in particular, used my Gift. I rely on instinct."
She had nodded to that, wondering whether or not such advice was applicable to her. Instinct was something which she relied upon heavily, but she also had a feeling that it would not be of use in this particular case. As far as she was concerned, instinct was all well and good when the matter was that of immediate concern, but this…? She wasn't sure that her instincts would guide her on the right course. Still, she had not raised the issue again that night, and the two of them had moved onto other topics – in particular, she had asked George to tell her about his apparent friendship with Thom. He'd told her a lot of it before, from when she had first arrived and the days that followed, but she wanted to hear it again.
So he had told her again, and soon afterwards she had drifted off to sleep.
***
The next morning was one of both relaxing and increasing tension; relaxing as the friendship she shared with George reasserted itself once more, and tension as they discussed how best for her to 'scout out' the Dove. George, funnily enough, was worried that she would be hurt, while she was becoming increasingly aggravated by his insistence that they go together.
"They've seen you, George." She said to him through gritted teeth, "They know what you look like. Moreover, if there's any of these opportunistic thieves around then they're going to recognise you straight away. On the other hand, I doubt that the Guards got a good look at me – and if they did then it's unlikely they talked about me a lot," she added, remembering what Jon had told her about the Palace Guards she had injured the night she had fled from the palace, "so it's therefore unlikely that they will recognise me. Plus no-one has any reason to think that I'm hiding out with you, so these thieves who might try and capitalize on the situation aren't going to suspect anything. And if they do, then I'm well prepared to fight them off."
"I'm not so sure about that-"
"George, I'm a Shang Warrior for Mithros' sake!" she shot back incredulously, "No offence – but I don't think a handful of thieves would pose any problems to me!"
"What about your legs?" George asked, "Have they healed yet? That's going to slow you down, isn't it – especially if you fight."
She growled inaudibly; why did he have to be right? She busied herself for a moment by stuffing various small items into a small belt pouch that she had found, "My legs are fine," she told him after composing herself, keeping her face blank of any expression, "I just bruised it on the night. It was fine yesterday, and it's getting better all the time. I'll be fine on it."
"You sure?"
"Of course." She wasn't, actually. Her leg felt fine, she was sure of that at least. But would it hold up to combat? That she wasn't so sure on – managing to get through kata's was one thing, actually contacting the enemy with an injured limb was another. Still, she had every confidence that she wouldn't need to find out. If she were recognised, and as far as she was concerned that was a very large 'if', then she could always try and talk her way out of a fight. Even if it came to fighting, she could always minimize the use of her legs; punches from a standing position worked well enough against those who didn't really know the intricacies of fighting. It would be difficult, but she could do it - she knew she could.
"Aye lass, alright. I won't cause a fuss – not too big a fuss, anyway. Like I said yesterday, I'll still be worrying about you, but I probably don't need to be." He grinned, "But I like worrying about you. Makes you seem less mighty or something."
"Gee, thanks." She replied, "Nice to know that I'm such a crowd pleaser."
"Nah, nah. It just gets a little bit incredible sometimes; thinking about what you've achieved in such a short amount of time. Shang Warrior, Noblewoman-" her mouth opened ready to oppose that particular 'achievement', George raised his hands to ward her off "-now, now. It is something which makes you You. Maybe you were born into it, and maybe you don't exactly…practice it, but it is a part of you. Then you've got this whole Goddess angle which really…I don't know. It's just amazing to think about it sometimes. Me worrying about you just reminds me that you're human, I guess."
"Of course I'm human," she replied, "Mithros knows' I make mistakes like everyone else."
He smiled at her and nodded, "That you do. Maybe that's why I worry about you; even with all your skills you could still make a mistake."
"I am always careful."
"Good," George turned back to what he had been doing before this conversation had started, clearing away the various bits and pieces which the two of them had used while hiding out here. It wasn't much, but it was enough to indicate to anyone who was looking that the hovel had been resided in recently, something which George didn't want. Apparently this place was a safe-house that only a few of the Rogue's inner circle knew about – and George most definitely wanted to keep it that way. "Good."
She nodded briskly, even if he couldn't see her, and attached the belt pouch to her waist. Some small bits of cheese and bread, the food that she and George had been living off for the past few days, were inside it along with a piece of flint. Basic survival items which it never hurt to be without. Actually, George insist she take it on the extreme off chance that she needed to survive on the streets alone for a day or so, something which she personally couldn't see happening in the slightest, but she had decided not to argue on this point. It was, after all, something which didn't really matter in the larger scheme of things. She could still fight with it on – she hoped she could at least, and it would placate George a little. After tightening the straps on it a little, she took a final look down at herself – plain breeches and shirt were about as inconspicuous as one could get…excepting the fact that she was female, but hopefully this wouldn't be too obvious from any distance. A knife in one boot was her only weapon at hand, again excepting the fact that her hands were weapons, as were her feet and legs – although she hoped she wouldn't have to use them just yet.
With another sharp nod, she knew she was ready. "Alright George," she told her friend as she made her way to the doorway, "I'll be back as soon as I'm able, though I hope it'll only be a few hours."
He nodded in return; they'd been over this before – she'd scout out the place, and if nothing obvious was apparent, then she'd make her way into the Dove to question Nelly and anyone else there George had noted as being trustworthy. If this then revealed that nothing untoward was apparently laying in wait for George or herself, then she'd return here. After that? Well, they hadn't worked that out yet, although it would be obvious that they'd still have to be careful. "Be careful." He told her again, and she grinned.
"But of course," he replied flippantly, "Am I ever anything else?"
"Do you want me to answer that question?"
Her grin widened, "Maybe once I get back."
"I'll hold you to that," George laughed as she opened the door, "Better yet, while you're gone I'll make a list!"
She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help it – as she stepped out into the early morning sunlight, she quickly swiveled on her feet to face George and poked her tongue out at him. She only caught a brief glimpse of a wide smile and wider eyes before she slammed the door closed. Laughing loudly so he could hear her, she trotted out into the street, heading for the Palace road.
***
The Palace Road was a large causeway which allowed for mercantile traffic to easily make it from the gates to the palace. That was its intention, anyway, or so George had told her when he had mentioned it to her this morning. She had initially thought about using the Thieves Road to make her way back to the Dove, but George had reminded her of just how maze-like the thin alleys were. Even more so than the slums that they were currently hiding in – dead ends, twists and turns; only someone with intimate knowledge of the Road…like a certain King of Thieves…could traverse the warren with any real confidence, and she most certainly was not willing to let George come along with her. So he had suggested that she make her way north, which would eventually allow her to stumble across the Palace Road.
As George had said to her, while the road itself had been designed to be wide enough that large carts could travel in from the one wall of the city to the palace itself. In reality, however, soon after it had been built people had realised the opportunity it presented, and the road had soon become one of the largest bazaar's in Tortall, second only to the wide avenues of Port Caynn. It still remained as a viable method of transport, but it was almost always crammed with people – large carts certainly couldn't pass along it anymore. More importantly, however, it had remained as an excellent way for people to travel from one corner of the city to the other, from the north west to the south east.
Which was, in a sense, just the way Alanna was traveling. She hoped to be able to find the Palace Road, travel along it in a south-easterly direction for a while, and then hop off it into the north east region of the city, where the Dove was located. The purpose being that on the incredibly slim chance that she were to be recognised, it would be almost impossible to track where she had come from. The Palace Road was, as all bazaars were, crowded with people at almost any time of day.
Sure enough, she'd hit it easy enough – in the end it was rather simple; just follow the noise. She'd been along the road once or twice in the past; not for any length of time however, just quick dashes out into the wider and straighter road until she'd found where she needed to cut across, so it wasn't particularly intimidating to be amidst so many different people and stalls. Still, it was most certainly uncomfortable, but that was only natural.
An hour later of walking – perhaps weaving would be a better way of phrasing it, she thought with a grunt - and she still hadn't spotted the landmarks that George said would tell her when to find a way off the street. It was becoming impossibly frustrating, having to push and contort one's way through the throng of people that seemed to completely fill the road ahead of her. For the first mile or so she'd been quite courteous about it, willing to wait till someone allowed her through, always making sure to say 'excuse me' when she needed to push her way through. But now? Oh no – the 'excuse me's were probably left on the ground after about the fifth time she had to pick herself up off of it. She'd been seriously entertaining the idea of using her Shang skills to knock a path for herself at some stage, and to be honest the idea was looking more and more appealing as time went by.
"Move it!" she grunted to a very wide man in front of her, "Get out of the way!" Pushing her way past him, she felt a hand at her belt pouch. Again. Her hand snaked down to the pickpocket's own in a flash, and she grasped the fingers with the same kind of viciousness that she had with the other four or five who had attempted it. Spinning on her heel, she put on her angriest expression (which at the moment wasn't all that hard to conjure up), and all but growled at the young thief. "There's nothing but bread and cheese in there," she whispered through clenched teeth, "If you're willing to have a finger or two broken for it, I'll share some with you." She squeezed the hand a little harder to emphasise the point.
The youth's large brown eyes widened in surprise, before he shook his head violently, managing to stutter out an answer. "N-no…t-that's alright."
"Good. Now go away, and next time try someone who looks a little bit more like they have coin on them." The youth nodded vigorously, and she let his hand go. She almost laughed as said appendage seemed to snap backwards like a bowstring, the boy himself disappearing from sight faster than she could notice. Clucking her tongue, she wished she could do that as well. "Damn crowds."
Glancing into a few stalls along the way – since she was moving so slowly anyway, Alanna finally caught sight of one of the landmarks George had pointed out to her. As she had been passing a fish vendor, something which was easier than most other stalls in the Road thanks to it's awful stench, she had glimpsed a tavern on her left with a large painted sign proudly denoting it as the 'Gilded Goblet'. George had told her that this was the second one she should keep an eye out for, so she'd obviously missed the first one. Embarrassing, yes, but thankfully no-one else had to know about it; besides, she'd found this one, hadn't she?
So, keeping George's instructions in mind, she kept walking down along the Palace Road, winding her way through the crowds as quickly and as smoothly as she could. Slapping away the hands of a number of pickpockets along the way. She didn't try to chastise them too much, after all – she liked thieves, she most certainly didn't have anything against them, but she did wonder why they kept trying to take something from her. "If I were a pickpocket," she grumbled to herself, "I'd look for a target who wasn't wearing plain clothes and only carrying a single pouch worthy of notice." In fact, she'd even been tempted to 'teach' the young pickpockets the proper way to choose one's target, until she realised that not only was she not particularly proficient at the task in question, but there was probably a slightly dubious ulterior motive behind the young pickpocket's actions. Something which was drilled home for her when a slightly older boy grinned devilishly when she caught him…caught him when his hand wasn't anywhere near her belt pouch. She'd glared at him, before twisting his wrist as she let him go. His little yelp of pain had been adequate payment for his – and his fellows – rather piggish behaviour.
Thankfully, however, soon after this last 'incident' she'd noticed the final landmark, a rather familiar looking fountain. She hadn't realised it at the time George had mentioned it to her, but standing in front of it now…yes, she knew that this was the same one. The very fountain which she had stopped beside on her first day in Corus, the fountain that Olly had leapt up and down upon to get her attention. She let a smile slip onto her face; how things had changed since that day.
After a moment's reminiscing, she trotted away in the direction of the Dove – she knew her way from here at least; Olly's directions must have stuck in her mind. So she made her way off the Palace Road, thankful in the extreme to have gotten away from the crush, and headed north.
***
And sure enough, a few minutes later she was once again in sight of the Dove. It was strange, but this had really been her home for the past few months – really the only place that had felt like a 'home' since she had left Trebond all those years ago. Shang training was far too hard for one to settle down at all, her quarters in the Shang village were more a 'refuge' than a home. So she'd missed the place, this rather drab inn which was actually the home to one of the most powerful groups in Corus.
With that in mind, she found it quite difficult not to simply run to its' wooden doors, throw them open and sit down at a table. She had to be patient, to be cautious and above all – be observant. So she began to…well…observe, looking around the area to see if she could see anything which looked in any way suspicious. Of course, suspicious was rather a relative term; especially since one of the things she was supposed to be wary of was any potential 'opportunistic thieves', which were a little difficult to spot out of a crowd, to be honest. But still, she looked, and did so for quite a long time – and didn't catch sight of a single Guardsman. Which was definitely good news.
After about fifteen minutes of watching, she decided that she'd probably done enough so far – there was patience and caution, but she felt that staying out here any longer would make her look suspicious more than anything else. With a final glance around the area, she headed towards the Dove's wooden doors, pushing them open once she got there.
So far so good.
The sight which greeted her, as well as the various sounds and smells, were so familiar to her it almost ached. She'd taken this place for granted when she had lived here, or so it seemed to her – she supposed that any place she had been living in before that tiny, dirty hovel would feel like a palace in comparison. But still – the Dove was something that she'd think more on once she returned here, the people who lived here alongside her especially. One of which was sitting in front of her as far as she could tell, his rather familiar back presenting itself in such a nice fashion. A number of wicked thoughts came to mind – how best to play a trick on dear old Riven? – but she decided that doing any of them might cause far too much attention to be drawn to her. The Dove wasn't filled to capacity as it was almost every night, but there were still a fair number of people milling around, any one of which could be one of these opportunistic thieves. No, it would be better to just keep things as quiet as she could.
Still, she wanted to have a little fun with the lad. He deserved it, anyway – she wasn't sure as to why at the moment, but she had faith in Riven's ability to be annoying. He'd tell her something at some stage which would justify her actions, she was sure of that. She quietly made her way to the table that he was sitting at, ensuring that he didn't get a glimpse of her before she wanted him to. Satisfied that she had succeeded in this, she stealthily slipped into a vacant chair beside the youth.
To her dismay, he didn't even notice her. So she poked him, hard, in the shoulder. That thankfully got his attention, and he turned towards her. "Hello." She said quietly, a wide grin stealing over her face – more from his immediate reaction than anything else. Riven's eyes seemed to increase tenfold in size, almost bulging out of his skull. His mouth initially dropped open, before it began to open and close like a fish.
"'Lanna?" he asked softly, rubbing his shoulder. "W-what are you…? Where?" He didn't seem to be able to finish a thought, which seemed incredibly funny to her at the time. Riven must have noticed this, and he finally composed himself, shooting her a glare as he eventually came up with a coherent sentence. "That hurt."
"Maybe," she replied, still grinning. "But from where I'm sitting it was very funny."
His glare dissipated with that, and he chuckled softly. "Crooked God bless me! It's good to see you again." He smiled at her, putting his hand on the table. She took it, and he leant over to embrace her, slapping her on the back. "What happened to you?" he asked while they were close together, "Where did you go?"
When he pulled away from her, she bit her lip. She needed to tell him, of course, him and Nelly – but they couldn't do it out here. "Kitchen?" she asked while tilting her head in the direction of said room. It wasn't the safest place to talk; after all, some of the serving girls or the cooks could be in someone else's pocket, but it was safer than out here, anyway. Riven nodded, and the two of them stood, before making their way over to the other side of the room, slipping into the kitchen as discreetly as they could.
"Get out!" came a roar from Nelly, who Alanna could see marshalling the various serving girls as was usual. "Get out!"
"Look who it is, Ma." Riven replied softly, completely ignoring the rather vicious sounds that had emanated from his mother. "It's 'Lanna."
"Eh?" his mother grunted in response, coming over herself to have a look, "Why so it is!"
"Nelly." Alanna stated simply in response, ducking her head in greeting.
The other woman smiled slightly, "You're lucky I didn't clear out your room, Girl. I almost did, you know." She turned on her heel, moving back into the heart of the kitchen to boss some of the cooks around, "Taking off like that without a word! I don't know, you young people these days have no respect for your elders…"
"Don't worry," Riven whispered to her, "She's happy to see you. She was very worried about you and George, you know."
"Did she almost clear out my room?" she asked him in a similar whisper, "I was worried about that, actually."
He shook his head, "Nah. She considers you part of the family now, I think. She wouldn't clear away your stuff any more than she would the stuff George keeps here or…" he frowned, "I would say mine, but I think she'd be all too willing to do away with my gear."
Grinning in response, and thankful for the news that her equipment hadn't almost been lost, she pulled Riven into a corner of the room. "Me and George were holed up in a safe place that he knew about for the last few days. We're fine, both of us, but there was a bit of a problem for a while."
"What?" Riven asked, glancing around to make sure no-one else was listening to them.
"Well, do you remember hearing anything about this incident that George and I went to 'clear up' about a week ago now? The one at the magistrates house?" Riven nodded, "It was a set up. Someone named Pilkar was waiting for George, and we had to fight our way out of the situation. The magistrate had been murdered already, and Pilkar somehow managed to get George framed for his death. A warrant was issued for his arrest, and so we had Guardsmen on our backs for a while."
Riven swore under his breath, shaking his head at the mention of both Pilkar and the Guardsmen. "They still after you?" he asked her softly.
She bit her lip again – how to phrase this? As far as she knew, Riven didn't know that 'Johnny' was in fact Prince Jonathon. How could she tell him that they'd got the warrant revoked so quickly without revealing this? Maybe she shouldn't even try to explain it – "We're not sure. The warrant is going to be revoked at some stage in the near future – the person who's doing it said that they'd try to do it today, but we don't know exactly when the orders will be passed down." Riven nodded in understanding, "But we want to return here, both of us do. The problem being-"
"The problem being you're still worried about Guardsmen about the place," Riven finished her thought, "Yeah, I see that."
"Not just that, though." She added, "George was worried about certain rivals of his among the Court trying to take advantage of the warrant to bring him down. He was worried that perhaps if he returned to the Dove that maybe some opportunistic individuals might try and hand him over."
He nodded at that; he probably understood the shifting political nature of the Rogue better than she did, actually – but then he frowned. "What do you think we should do?"
Grimacing, she leant back against the wall. "I don't know, really. Have you gotten any word of any such attempt against George?"
"No, but then if the person who was planning it was careful, I shouldn't expect to."
"What about Guardsmen?" she asked, trying to get a better understanding of the situation. "Seen any of those around?"
Riven shook his head, "Not at all. Not that they come around these parts much anyway, but no-one's been staking the place out as far as I can tell. But still, it's probably not best to come in through the front door at the moment."
"Maybe Nelly's got some ideas?" Riven nodded at that, and they tried to push their way through the clamour and energy of the kitchen to find the woman in question. Once they found her, Alanna related the same information that she had told Riven, finishing with a single question. "Any thoughts?"
The older woman scratched her chin, thinking it over, before she softly nodded in reply. "I've got one, though it's very simple. I can leave the window to your room open, and the two of you can try and climb into it."
Alanna frowned, it was rather simple – but simple plans tended to work better than very complicated ones. "Can we climb up that wall?" She asked, wondering about whether the idea was at all feasible; it's all very well and good having a simple plan, but if even this simple plan is infeasible, then it may well be better to think of something else.
Nelly nodded softly, "I think so. There's a lot of gaps between the wood on that side, water damage and the like. Have a look at it yourself, if you'd like."
"What about a rope hanging down from it?" Riven suggested, "Just something for this afternoon, or whatever. To make it a bit easier."
"Maybe," Nelly conceded, "But we'd only want it to be there for a few moments. Leaving it hanging off the side of the building all day is not something which is normal. It'll attract attention, not to mention random people climbing up into your room, Alanna."
It was Alanna's turn to nod, understanding the problems inherent within that idea. "I'll take a look at the wall." She said softly, "See if it's possible to climb up." Nelly smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. Alanna smiled in reply, and shot Riven a questioning glance. "You coming?"
"Oh. Yeah, sure." He followed her out, through the common room to the front door once more – Alanna making sure to keep her head down as she went on the off chance someone might recognise her. She opened the doors and, after a cursory glance around to ensure that no Guardsmen were laying in wait, headed around the side of the building with Riven in tow.
She eventually found the patch of wall that Nelly obviously had been referring to, just where she used to train in the mornings in the side alley. The wall was indeed rather water damaged, with bulging wooden beams standing out from the rest of the woodwork. She thought that it could be possible for her to clamber up the side of the wall, but George might be a shade too heavy to do so – the wood was very damaged from what she could tell, it seemed to almost be rotting from within. She wasn't sure it would hold up to his weight. "What do you think?" She asked Riven, wondering what the youth thought about it.
Riven shrugged. "I don't know. I think it'd be easier with a rope, anyway."
"You heard what your mother said. I think she's right on it, too."
"Yeah, maybe." He responded quietly. "But what if it didn't have to be up there all day?"
She turned to look at him, "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I could hang around in your room for the day, and when you and George come by I can lower a rope to you."
Alanna thought it over; it did make sense, and it was defiantely better than seeing whether or not this wood stood up to George clambering all over it. "Good idea," she eventually replied, "I think it'll work alright, as long as we don't have to wait down here too long."
"No, no. I'll be ready, don't worry about that. Just don't take too long to get here."
She grinned, "Are you saying that we're slow?"
"Maybe." Riven smirked at her, "If I come out and say it straight you'll probably hit me, though."
"I'll probably hit you anyway," she shot back, laughing as she did. A sudden thought struck her, "And if I find out that you've touched any of my stuff while you're in my room, then you will most certainly be in some pain. And I won't teach you anything."
"You don't anyway!" Riven cried, "So that's not a particularly good threat now, is it?"
"Hrumph. Well…" she couldn't really argue with that. She'd always believed that Riven would more likely hurt himself if she taught him anything. "Don't touch my weapons, anyway." She clarified, beginning to walk down back around to the front of the Dove. "And be ready when we get here, alright?"
Riven nodded, "As I said, don't worry about it. I'll be ready." She was satisfied with that, although she suddenly got the feeling that maybe it wasn't the best idea to be trusting Riven on this. A feeling which was only strengthened when she heard his laughter from behind her. "Can I at least try on your clothes?" He called out, still laughing.
Rolling her eyes, she chuckled under breath. "You're an idiot, Riven." She shouted, not stopping or turning around to do so. He was an idiot at times, but it was good to hear his annoying comments and jokes once more; he was a fun idiot at that. Something which she'd not had enough of lately, or so she thought, amongst all this tension and drama.
"Is that a yes?"
It's good to be home…***
She'd made her way back to the hovel after that, winding her way back along the Palace Road as she did so. It was a little bit harder to find her way this time, as she didn't have any landmarks to go off, instead having to rely on her memory of distance she had traveled this morning. In the end, she didn't even bother – walking the length of the Road until she hit the Palace. From there she had a basic recollection of where to go, and was able to finally make her way back to the lower city and the safe-hovel-thing.
It was still as disgusting as it ever was, but in comparison to where she had just been, it felt even more disgusting in some ways. George had, by the time she reached it, effectively removed any trace that they had been there at all; in fact going as far to actually meet her outside of it rather than allowing her to go back inside it once more.
"What if I didn't have good news?" She asked him once they'd begun moving off once more, "What if we couldn't go back to the Dove today?"
George had grinned, "I don't know. I just know that I wasn't going to stay in that place another moment longer."
She'd tried to be stern with him, to tell him that at least he was safe there, but she couldn't help the fact that she agreed with him entirely. If the danger had subsided – however slightly this may actually be – she would have been out of there in a flash. Unlike her, George had been stuck in that place for the past five days without leaving it once. No, she couldn't blame him at all. So she'd told him the 'plan'; that they'd make their way to the Dove, where Riven would be waiting for them with a rope into Alanna's room. After that? Well, that was another matter, but at least they'd be in the Dove without drawing a lot of attention to themselves… Hopefully.
"You're more trusting then I would have been," George had grumbled to her once they made it onto the Palace Road, "Leaving Riven to take care of things like that."
"Yes, well. I thought that he could handle staying still for a few hours and then handing a rope down to us." She replied, smiling. She had, of course, thought exactly the same thing an hour or so beforehand, but she found the whole thing rather amusing. "Or at least, I hope he can deal with that much responsibility."
He had simply snorted, repeating his earlier comment. "Like I said, you're more trusting then I am."
***
It turned out that they didn't need to worry, as Riven had been ready for them when they arrived at the Dove. George and she had repeated her earlier actions in ensuring that no-one was about who might threaten them before they made their way over to the Dove, where the two of them slipped quickly into the side alley and out of sight of the main road. She had George try and climb a section of the wall, just to test her earlier thoughts, and sure enough the wood splintered under his weight. Thankfully this splintering wasn't enough to cause any real damage to the building; otherwise Nelly would have had her head on a platter. Still, at least they knew now that they needed Riven and his rope, and they set about trying to attract his attention, finally settling on throwing small rocks at the window.
Riven eventually noticed them, and within a few moments the two of them were clambering up the side of the wall and into the room
"Ah, its' good to be back." George exclaimed, lying down on the floor as he almost rolled into the room. "Thanks Riven."
The youth had nodded in return, before turning on Alanna with a smile. "See? Worked well, didn't it."
"Yes Riven," she conceded, "it worked very well. Good work." Riven's smile widened, and she decided to deflate him somewhat; "You didn't touch my stuff, did you?"
"'Course not!"
"Then why is my sword in a different place than when I left here?" She asked. It wasn't actually, from what she could remember anyway; it had been almost a week since she had seen it, but she wanted to see his reaction.
She wasn't dissapoitned, as Riven again took on a likeness of a fish, this time with sweat beading on his forehead. To add to the youth's worry, she stood up lithely, cracking her knuckles. "I-I d-don't know what you're talking about, 'Lanna!" Riven stammered out, backing away from her. "Honest! I didn't touch it!"
Letting her face shift from apparent anger to a wide smile, she nodded. "I know, I was just teasing you." She told him, before adding. "And I hope you didn't touch my clothes either."
Riven grinned at that, shaking his head in answer. "What are you two talking about?" George piped up from the floor, "And why would Riven want to go through your clothes anyway."
"Never mind," Alanna replied, "Just something the little idiot here said earlier." Riven apparently took exception to the use of the word 'little', but she cut him off before he could say anything. "Can you go and tell Nelly that we're here? Discreetly?" she asked, hoping that it would keep him occupied for a short while at least. The youth seemed to think on it for a moment, before nodding his head and ducking out the door. Once he had gone, she exhaled heavily and sank backwards onto her bed. Her oh so comfortable bed – she almost fell asleep straight away.
"Tired?" George asked from the floor, "I know I am."
"Well get you back to your room soon enough," she replied, "We'll just wait until the rush has died down a little. Early afternoon should be alright for that."
"Aye, after lunch but before the night crowd comes in, good thinking. Still, we've got a few hours to waste."
"Uh huh, although I was thi-" she couldn't finish the thought, a large (and loud) yawn emerging instead. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking of just looking over some of my things, actually. Sharpening weapons and the like."
"Maybe a nap's a better idea," George pointed out, "I think we're both pretty tired."
"I'm fine," she responded, "But if you want to…? I mean, I can use the floor and you can have the bed if you want, that's fine."
"No, no. I wouldn't want to put you out. I'll help you with what you're doing."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he replied to her question, continuing with an after thought; "And I think I'm going to have to teach you again about accepting what your friends say to you."
She grinned at that – well, he had said that being her friend entailed his constant reminders to accept what he had told her about herself. "Alright then," she replied, shifting to the side of the bed and pointing at a small bundle that lay near the wardrobe, "Pass me that over there, would you?"
***
"Pretty clean," she said, holding up one of her knives. After an hour or two of polishing, sharpening and cleaning her weapons and equipment, Alanna could defiantly say that things were as clean as they had ever been. "Good work us, I say."
George snorted from beside her, "I think you gave me the sword with half a mind on the fact that you'd finish before I would. You like beating me, don't you?"
"Don't be silly, George." She replied, smirking slightly, 'I gave you the sword because I knew that it was in pretty good touch already..."
He apparently didn't believe her – drat him and his powers of observation - "So you don't enjoy beating me?"
Her smirk grew wider, "I never said that."
"No, no. Of course you didn't."
"I do it so well, though, don't I?"
"Aye lass," George replied, chuckling to himself, "That you do."
She lay back on the bed, arms crossed under her head. She was tired now, if she hadn't been earlier at least, and was wondering how long it would be till they could get George back to his room. She didn't think that it would be particularly courteous of her to fall asleep while he was here, after all. He probably wouldn't mind, but…she didn't particularly feel right in doing so. Besides, he was an extra set of hands when it came to looking after her equipment, something which she'd not done enough of recently. Her justification had always been that so far she hadn't really needed any of it here in Corus, but she knew that this wouldn't hold up for much longer. She would probably need the knives and the sword fairly soon…
Her eyelids drooped, and she forcibly pushed them back, blinking as she did so. Don't fall asleep! "George," She called out – yes, talk. Talking is good, keeps one awake. "How's it looking?"
"Like a sword." He replied flatly.
She rolled her eyes, "Very amusing."
"Thank you."
"Can I have a look at it?" She asked.
"Don't trust me with it, eh?" He responded, an amused lilt to his voice.
"We're not supposed to trust anyone with our weapons, George." She replied truthfully. "A Shang is never complacent."
George snorted, "Sounds like a Shang is never supposed to trust anyone else."
"We're not, not really. Apart from other Shang at any rate." Thinking back to her training, she tried to remember certain phrases that Liam had drilled into her time and time again, "'Trust can lead to Reliance. Reliance can lead to oneself being unprepared'. And, well – the next step is obvious." Death.
"Sounds like a fun way to live one's life."
She smiled sadly, "We're not supposed to have a fun life," she replied, "To be a Shang is to be alone. In principle, anyway."
"And in practice?"
"In practice we're taught something far more appropriate. That not trusting someone is equivalent to relying only on oneself, which can lead to – among other things, exhaustion." And hadn't she learnt that as the truth since she had left the Shang village? Trusting others wasn't equivalent to reliance, trusting others was just sharing the burden. "Trusting other people to do things isn't wrong, but it can leave one open for harm."
George made a sound that sounded like agreement, "Well, that's true for life in general. Not just for a Shang."
"Do you trust other people to help you run the Rogue, George?" She asked, wondering what his own philosophy on the matter was. "I would imagine that in that situation it's hard to trust others."
"It's hard, yes. You have to be careful about who you trust; placing your trust in the wrong person can easily lead to bad results, but not trusting anyone is almost always worse. Isolation means that rather than just a few individuals possibly turning on you, they all will. If you don't trust people, then no-one trusts in you to do your duty."
"Is that what you see it as? A duty?" she scooted to the side of the bed to look at him.
He looked up at her face, and nodded. "Aye, Some of the time. Just as some of the time it's a thankless burden, while other times it's a calling. But I guess that it's all of them together; it's both a weight and a joy to be the Rogue." He added, shrugging. She agreed with that; in many respects it had encapsulated what she had felt while at the Shang village – at one time it could feel both a blessing and a curse that she had been allowed to join their ranks. Now, at least, things were a little different – the freedom which she had now allowed her to do what she wanted, in many regards. "I guess it's like being a Shang. Sometimes it's the greatest thing in the world, sometimes it's just a pain. Not that I'd know or anything, but to me it seems that way."
She nodded, "It is, from what I've heard anyway. I'm still very new at this, being a wandering Shang away from the training village – it's been…what? One and a half months or something? I haven't really done anything yet." It was the truth, she hadn't. She remembered Liam telling her about some of his actions after he'd been raised to Warrior, about the lives he'd saved and everything. And what had she done? Not a great deal – she'd driven the raiders from Innesvale, well at least she hoped she had. There'd not been any reports of them returning at any rate – but was that it?
"That's not true, lass." George said to her softly, "You've done a great many things."
"Nothing besides confuse myself, I think." She replied flatly, "And most of what I've done here in Corus has been rather selfishly motivated."
"To what? Find out about your brothers death? I don't think that anyone could fault you for being selfish in that case, Alanna. Besides, you said it yourself, you've only been doing this for a little over a month! You've got years to go yet, years to do good deeds and help people."
She smiled at that; he was right – although possibly not with the 'years and years' idea. Shang never were particularly long lived, after all. But she knew he was right, she was being too hard on herself. "Thanks George," she said a few moments later. "I guess you're right on this. I hope you are, anyway."
"My pleasure, and I know that I am." Her friend replied, after a beat adding; "Now are you going to trust me with your sword?"
Alanna responded with a chuckle. "Not a chance. Hand it over." She held out her hand, and with a mock glare, George handed it over to her along with the whetstone. She rolled her eyes at him, which elicted a laugh from him, before taking a long look at the blade in her hands. It looked alright as far as she could tell, though it could definitely use a little more sharpening. She'd have to check the balance on it in the morning at any rate, but she knew that already.
"Do I pass inspection?"
She grinned, "Just barely." It was at that moment that a knock at the door sounded. With a harried glance down at George, who had already begun to slide himself under her wooden bed, she licked her lips. "Who is it?" she called out after a short second, hoping that George had managed to get himself out of sight by now.
"It's me!" came the cry, and she let out a relieved sigh. Tapping the bed with her hand as she rose to her feet, she made room for George to extricate himself before opening the door to Riven, albeit only opening it a tiny bit of the way. "There's someone here to see you."
She glanced back at George, before pointing at herself. "Me?" Riven nodded, "Who is it?"
"It's George's merchant friend. You know, Johnny."
Turning around to George once again, she thought over things quickly. "He wouldn't have come here unless he had good news."
"What if he couldn't get it revoked," George countered, "He'd come then, wouldn't he?"
She bit her lip, he was right. "So what do we do? He can come up here, that'll be safe, right?" But what was George to do?
"I suppose," George was obviously wondering the same thing as she was, "Riven!" he called out, moving to the doorway to look at the youngster. "Is there anyone around wandering up here?"
Riven looked around for a second, before shaking his head. "No. There's no-one around."
George nodded, "Alright then, I'll try and make my way back to my room." He turned slowly to Alanna, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'll come down in about ten minutes, alright? See how things went."
"Alright, that sounds good." She replied, smiling. "Riven? Can you send Johnny up?" she asked the youth, who nodded in reply before disappearing from sight. She turned her attention back to George, who was quietly glancing down the hallway himself. "Clear?" she asked.
"Looks like," he replied, before squeezing her shoulder. "Good luck, lass." He added, before he too slipped from sight and out into the hallway. She could barely even hear his footfalls as he stealthily made his way towards the stairwell at one end of the hall.
She closed the door behind him, and turned back to the room. "Mithros, what a mess." She mumbled to herself, before she quickly attempted to gather up all the various pieces of equipment that had been strewn about the room. In the end she simply piled it all onto her bed, hopeful that Jon wouldn't care in the slightest what her room looked like. Not that it really mattered, of course…just that she didn't want Jon to think that she was a slob, did she? No, certainly not. She took a quick glance in the mirror, wincing as she realised how absolutely disgusting she looked. Sleeping overnight in a dirty, smelly hovel, walking all day then lying down for an hour or so in the same clothes. She was a mess…and no amount of last minute preening was going to change that. Ugh. Still, she was never really very pretty to begin with, so maybe it didn't matter all that much.
Footsteps neared the door, and she forced herself to calm down. When the knock at the door came, she smoothly opened it just enough to see who it was, before opening it wider when she noticed that it was Jon. "Hi," she said in greeting, letting a smile come over her face.
He responded in kind, before coming to a stop in the centre of her room. She closed the door behind him and moved to where he was standing. He looked at her, she looked at him – it was only then she realised how awkward everything was. Did they hug each other, or what? They couldn't kiss, obviously – although she definitely wanted to, but…Jon appeared to be as confused as she was, glancing around the room as he stood in front of her. "This is stupid," she told him, smile growing wider as she realised just how true that was; it was stupid. They were friends, after all, they shouldn't feel awkward around each other. But were they more than friends? She didn't know; she just decided to do what felt right and what – she hoped, wouldn't be 'overstepping' anything. She moved towards him, thankful to see that he didn't shy backwards, and held her arms out. A smile spread across Jon's face, and he too held his arms out. She pressed herself into him, and he brought his arms down around her in a warm embrace. Her eyes closed – this was contentment, she could feel it.
"I'm glad to find you here, actually." He said softly to her, "I was halfway here before I realised that you might not have returned just yet."
"We only got back an hour or so ago, actually." She replied, soaking in the feeling of being this close to him again. This probably was stepping over the boundary of 'just friends', she knew that – but she didn't want to break it. She'd let him make the first move, "How'd things go?"
"Well, I went down to the Courthouse last night." Suddenly, he laughed, the reverberations spreading throughout his body and into hers. "You should have seen all the clerks and Magistrates! I had to rouse them all from their sleep; I can tell you that they weren't very happy with me."
"So it's done?" She grinned as she felt him nod above her, "That's good."
"Yes. The Magistrate told me that the orders would be passed down to the Guardsmen this morning, so hopefully there's no-one out there still searching for George." His hand started to move on her back, stroking up and down, toying with her hair. "Which is good."
"George was saying that it'll probably take another day or so for word to reach all of the thieves, so we've…" she had to take a deep breath, the sensations that Jon was creating were too…nice. It was nice just to be this close to him again, actually. "So we've almost gotten out of the woods, I suppose." She finally finished.
Jon nodded again, before he chuckled slightly. "We probably shouldn't be doing this, should we?" he asked softly.
She tilted her head up, looking at the bottom of his face. "Probably not." She agreed, mentally adding doesn't mean I want to stop. Jon was right, though, they shouldn't be doing this – not so soon anyway. It did feel nice, but nice wasn't enough a lot of the time. With a sigh of resignation, she moved away from him. Her smile had slipped, but she tried to force it back on again. "Thanks, Jon."
"Anytime." He replied, looking at her as well. Another silence followed, this one not quite as awkward as the previous one, as Jon looked around the room. "You don't have a lot of stuff in here." He eventually said to her.
She shrugged, "I didn't bring a lot of stuff with me. A few changes of clothes, my equipment, that's about it." She glanced around the room as she said it, pointing to the various articles mentioned. When her eyes settled on her sword, she remembered another point that Jon was going to meet with her about. "Did you find out when the next ball or whatever is? The one when Roger has to attend?"
Jon seemed to wince for a short moment, before answering her question. "Yes, yes I did."
A long beat followed; "And?"
"And it's in four days," Jon continued after her prompting, "The night of the fourth day from now is a ball in which we're supposed to be entertaining a Carthaki delegation, something which Roger is going to be present for."
"Right," she thought it over, "Four days doesn't leave us much time, but I'm sure that we can come up with something that will work for it. All we really need to work on is a way for you to communicate with me in case Roger leaves the ball early."
"Well, there's something that's probably a little more pressing than that," Jon said to her, "More pressing in the sense of how are we going to get you inside the Palace to begin with."
She frowned, "That's easy enough. Why is that a problem?" She didn't understand it, "Can't you just tell the Guards to let me in?"
"You know how I said that it was a Carthaki delegation?" she nodded, "Well they're…they're guests who are very, very important. Tensions between the two nations are rather…high right now, and things are very fragile."
"So?"
"So the Guards' have been issued strict orders to refuse entry to anyone who doesn't have Royal Patronage to attend the event."
"So can't you just issue me one of those?" she asked, still not understanding in the slightest. "Then I can just wander in and find my own way to Roger's chambers."
"Well, there's a problem with that." Jon replied, "In that such a Patronage has to approved by my 'Regents'. And by that I mean Uncle Gareth and-"
"-And Roger." She finished, "So in order for me to sneak into Roger's rooms, I need to get his permission." She added in disbelief.
Jon grimaced, "Pretty much."
She chuckled softly; it was funny, just not in a particularly appealing sense. "What about the tunnel through the wall?" She asked, wondering why the thought hadn't occurred to Jon. "Surely they're not going to be guarding something they don't think needs guarding."
"Well, there's a problem with that, too. In that I set about re-casting the spells that cover it up this morning – before I knew when this ball was going to be. I thought that we'd have at least a week and a half to plan this, and the spells would have been done by then."
"Can't I get through it anyway?"
"Not unless you want to risk the spell collapsing on you, or for Roger to be suddenly alerted to it's presence." Jon explained, "The spell is particularly dangerous at the moment, since I have to make sure that no-one else can detect it's being cast. Its' very, very…fragile I guess would be an accurate word, and it's this fragility which makes it too dangerous for anyone to try and travel along it."
Alanna sat down on the bed, suddenly overcome with despair. "So is that it?" she asked, "Does that mean that I can't get in? When's the next ball that Roger is required to be at?"
"I'm not sure of specifics," Jon replied, "But from what I can tell its' not for another two months."
"Two months?!" She sighed, two months?! Think of all the things Roger could have done by then – he could have removed any 'evidence' that she could find, either. And what of the Goddess? Could she wait that long either? No, Alanna didn't think so – but what else could they do? "Looks like we'll have to wait that long then, doesn't it?"
She didn't hear a reply, and looked up at Jon. He was wringing his hands anxiously, and she frowned. Noticing this, he began to pace. "There is one option that I've been thinking over," he said to her, "But I'm not sure if it'll work, and even if it does then it will really be our only chance to do it."
"What is it, Jon?"
"Well, it really boils down to winning over Roger and Gareth in getting them to issue you a Royal Patronage if I propose it. Now, neither of them knows you, not by name anyway, so I wouldn't expect them to be very receptive to the idea of me granting you one."
"Right, with you so far." She interjected, understanding the basics of politics. "So how can we get past that?"
"We give them something that they want." He told her as he stopped pacing, grinning at her confused expression. "They were both rather surprised when I broke off my engagement to Delia; especially since I never really explained to them just why I did it. So if…uhh…" he licked his lips, the grin faltering, "What I need to show them is that you are that reason."
"What do you mean?"
"I can probably get them to agree to issue you a Patronage if they at least believe that you are going as, uh, my partner."
"Huh." What else was there to say?
"I should tell you straight off that there's a few problems with this idea. The main one being that you'll have to look like you're traveling to a ball." At her blank expression, he explained. "The Guards take a thorough look through the carriages or whatever before allowing those with Patronages' to enter. It's a security measure, one which I used to be rather thankful for." he smiled at her.
Could she handle that? She supposed she could – she could always put on some clothes which allowed for a greater range of motion once she was in the Palace itself, "Alright, I can probably handle that. What else is there?"
"I assume that you do not wish to attend the ball," she nodded her head vigorously; she frankly couldn't think of something more horrific, "Right. So then I'll say something like…I don't know, that you're suddenly ill or whatever. Now, they won't accept that – but then again, they don't really need to. You will already have gotten in by then. The problem being that they'll probably be very interested in you after that, Roger especially will probably try and find out more about you."
"That's a problem," she responded, nodding jerkily in agreement. "That's a big problem."
"So it's really this one time that we can get things to work. If we don't get the evidence that we need to oust Roger this time, then we're not really going to have a chance to do it again – and perhaps more worryingly, Roger might try and…" he trailed off, obviously not liking the answer.
"Dispose of me?" Alanna finished, and Jon nodded. "Right, so we either go this risky and revealing option, or we wait two months. Two months in which things might become risky and revealed anyway."
"We don't know that-"
"-But we don't know that things won't, either." She interjected, "Another two months of Roger signing decrees in your name to get rid of your allies? I don't like the sound of that at all."
Jon nodded, "Nor do I, but think of the risk that you're taking in the alternative! Roger's focus will be entirely on you then, all his energy will be bent on trying to work out who you are if we fail!"
"Then we'd better not fail." She replied, shrugging. "It's as simple as that, really."
"Yeah."
"Any more problems?" She asked, "Anything more I need to know before we set things in motion?"
Jon thought about it for a long moment, beginning to pace once more. "You'll need a proper dress," he said to her eventually, "I'll give you some money to get one. Do you know someone who can help you get it hitched up, or whatever?"
Frowning, she shook her head. "No, but- Why do I need a dress? I have one which…alright, granted it's not something that you'd wear to a Royal ball, but don't we need to just get by the Guards?"
"If the Guards are suspicious, they might begin to ask questions before you're even inside the Palace," Jon replied. "Can you find someone to help you with the dress? We don't have much time to get it done."
She nodded to that, "Uh, Eleni probably knows someone. I'll talk to her. But shouldn't we make sure that I'll be able to get in this way before-?"
"No, I'll be able to get you a Patronage, trust me on this." He laughed softly, "If I told them that a dog was my partner they'd probably grant it one."
"I don't think I like being compared to a dog," she said to him, a slight degree of amusement showing across her face. "Doesn't do much for a girl's ego."
"Oh, no! I didn't mean-!"
"I know, Jon. Breathe." She grinned, "Don't worry. I was just playing with you."
He smiled in reply, before moving closer to her and enfolding her in a tight embrace once more. "You're nothing like a dog. You're beautiful, you're strong, you're intelligent and you're incredibly brave. See? Nothing like a dog."
"I don't know, some dogs I've known are pretty intelligent." She teased, loving this feeling once more; both the feeling of being in his arms and this feeling of being complimented.
"Not like you, though." He responded as he let go of her, holding onto the tops of her arms, "Nothing like you."
"Alright, nothing like a dog."
Jon grinned, "And don't you forget it." His eyes locked with hers, and they shared an intense look. His right hand trailed onto her face, tracing her cheekbone with a touch softer than silk. "I won't let you forget it." He whispered.
She blushed at that, closing her eyes at his touch. She wanted nothing more in the world for him to lean into her then and bring his lips to hers, but she knew that it would never happen. Which was a good thing, or so her head wanted her to believe. Things couldn't progress too rapidly; that was how they had been hurt the last time. She knew him better now than she had then, but was either one of them ready to deal with this now? No, she didn't think so. Her eyes opened, and she could see that Jon's eyes were filled with turmoil as well; she hoped with a similar conclusion being drawn. Still…she wanted him to kiss her, she just knew that he shouldn't.
"I'll try and talk to you tomorrow, alright?" he said to her softly, and she nodded. He brought his other hand up then, and she noticed that it held a small pouch. She frowned, "The money for the dress." He explained.
"Thanks," she said to him, taking it from him. With a final look into his eyes, she decided to ignore what her head was telling her for a moment, and stretched up to lay a soft kiss on his cheek. "Till tomorrow."
He smiled at her, a small soft smile, and tilted his down towards her. "Be careful."
"Only if you are as well. I'll need someone to bravely distract the evil sorcerer while I sneak into his chambers, after all." She said to him, grinning. He laughed at that, and with a final glance at her, headed for the door. He opened it and headed out, and she sank onto the bed with a wonderfully warm feeling running through her.
Almost immediately she heard a shout from outside; "Johnny!" Frowning, she smoothly lifted herself from the bed and moved towards the door. She almost opened it wide open, too, until she heard Jon's reply.
"George."
So it was George out there who had called out to 'Johnny'. What did he-? Why did he want to talk to Jon? She was curious, but she was also slightly fearful of what might happen; should she stay here and listen in, or should she go out and intervene between them?
"I just want to say something to you," She heard George continue, "You got a minute?"
Silence descended for a long pause, until Jon responded in the affirmative. "Alright, what did you want to say." She really wanted to crack the door open, to get even the smallest glimpse of what was going on out there. Was George looking to…do something to Jon? She didn't think he would, in fact she knew he wouldn't, but she was still worried that something bad might happen. She heard Jon chuckle ruefully, "Do you remember the last time we had a word here?" Something like what had happened then…
"I do," George replied, "And that's sort of why I want to talk to you." She heard him sigh loudly, "I shouldn't have said what I did that day. I won't say that I was wrong in what I said, but I shouldn't have said it. I'm not going to apologise to you, but I wanted you to know that."
"Oh. Thanks, I think." Jon said in return, and she could almost hear his confusion. She was confused as well – where was George going with this? "I too probably shouldn't have said what I did. I was just-"
"-Angry, yeah. I understand that. I was caught up with emotion too, though not anger."
"Then what?"
George obviously wasn't comfortable in answering that, "Look, what I wanted to do besides that was, uhm…"
"Hmm?"
"Treat her well, alright? She's happy with you, I know that, and I can live with that." George stated softly, almost whispering. "I guess I'll have to, won't I?"
"George-"
"No, Jon – just…be good to her." There was a bit of scuffling, they were moving or something, she couldn't tell what, and then footsteps leading away. She wasn't sure if both of them had gone or what, and decided to crack the door open a little. As she did so, she saw George just outside, and he turned to face her. "I take it you heard all that?" he asked, and she nodded. "You weren't supposed to."
"Why not?" She queried, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak coherently.
"I just-" he sighed, "I didn't want you to feel obligated or anything. To rush into things with him because of what I said."
She smiled, "Thank you, George."
***
She'd told him all about the warrant after that, and a few minutes later he'd moved down into the common room of the Dove, hesitant to the extreme, eyes darting this way and that to ensure that no-one was waiting to snatch him away. She followed him down, in her own mind acting as a sort of bodyguard for him. They'd met with Riven and Nelly, and things had pretty well progressed as per a normal night at the Dove from there. George had met with a number of thieves and members of the Court of the Rogue, trying to 're-network', or so he had told her. She'd spent a lot of the time with Riven, talking about what had happened while she was gone, until she eventually retired to her room after only an hour or two. She was, after all, very tired, and a nice soft bed like hers' couldn't be denied. Just as she had lain down on the bed, she saw a small pouch next to the headboard. Opening it up, she discovered that it contained the herbs Eleni had given her to ward off the dreams. What was all the more interesting, however, was that she had not used them once, yet had not had a single dream since 'that night'. How strange…
What was the use in thinking over it, however? She certainly didn't know why it had happened – even the goddess didn't know why the dreams had happened, so she should just get some rest. Which she did, laying her head down with great pleasure, eyes closing at the end of what had actually turned out to be a very good day.
The next morning had been rather hectic, as she had made her way over to Eleni's to discuss a number of different things. Firstly, Alanna felt she owed it to the older woman to explain recent…developments, as the woman had given her some good advice in the past – as well as some (probably) very good herbs. Secondly, and far less importantly, Alanna wanted to find the name of someone who could help her darken her hair again. More and more over the past week or so she'd noticed stray copper tips, something which she was rather concerned about. She had truly grown to like her hair the shade it was, and didn't really want to go back to having her natural hair colour any more. Eleni had mentioned that she knew someone who could do it, and Alanna wished to have it done prior to the night of the Ball. Which, granted, she wasn't actually going to be attending. But she wanted to look nice anyway; she was going to have to be made up to look like she was going to the Ball, wasn't she? And it certainly wasn't a crime for her to want to look her best. It certainly wasn't like she wanted Jon to see her dressed up in such a fashion, not at all.
Finally, she needed help in finding a dress which both looked good and fitted right. She'd counted the amount of coin Jon had given her and was astonished to see just how much it amounted to. Kings could probably afford to throw that sort of money around, she knew, but it still didn't detract from her discomfort and having to spend so much money on a single dress.
Once she had arrived and explained various things of note, Eleni had been more than thrilled to help her. Something which, initially, Alanna had been very thankful for. However, she was less thankful for the resultant schedule which Eleni drew up, monopolising her time for the rest of the day. She was worried, in the main, that she might miss Jon if he dropped around to the Dove later on in the day, but Eleni had dismissed any argument she had made.
"Do you know that he's actually coming?" She had asked.
"Well, no." Alanna replied, "But I'm sure-!"
"So you don't know that he's coming. And don't you think that if he really wanted to see you that he'd make his way over here?"
Alanna had frowned at that, "I guess so. But he's a very busy man! He probably can't waste the time to make his way over here!"
"Then you wouldn't have had all that long to talk to him anyway," Eleni countered, "In which case it's not that great a loss, is it?"
She just couldn't win, and had eventually given up trying to argue with the older woman. Instead she had given herself over entirely into her care, allowing herself to be carted too and fro. She'd been sat down at the kitchen table with a mug of honeyed tea and told to 'talk about things I don't yet know about' while Eleni had run around organizing how best to get through the day. She'd sent a neighbourhood boy around to various other women, holding in his hands various messages and a silver coin for his troubles, and Alanna had only gotten up to the night she and George had found out about the warrant when the first of Eleni's cohorts arrived.
"Alanna," she had said, "This is Lusa, and she's agreed to do your hair for you. So I'll leave you in her capable hands for now, but I'll be wanting to hear the rest of that story in a while, alright?"
She'd barely had time to throw out a "Thank you!" before Lusa had greeted her effusively, taking a handful of Alanna's hair as she did so. If that wasn't worrying enough, the old woman began to pull on it with a strength Alanna seriously remembered as being possessed by only the most heavily muscled of Shang Men. "Ouch!"
"Shush, child. It doesn't hurt, I'm just trying to get all these knots out. Calm down and we'll soon get it soaked up and ready." She'd then, with a little help from Eleni, prodded Alanna upstairs and into the bedroom that Alanna had remembered from the first time she had been here. A large bowl of warm water was procured – from where, Alanna couldn't tell – and she had her head forced backwards into it. "Now then, you just want it the same colour, is that right?"
"Uh…yes."
Obviously not the answer the woman was looking for; "Oh, come now, dear! What about a softer shade of brown, hmm? Eleni tells me that you're a natural red-head, we could perhaps lighten that up a little?"
"No, no. Just black, thank you."
"Well then. Alright, dear – we'll see what we can do."
See what we can do? How hard was it just making it black once again?! When she had done it months earlier, the small-time dyer in the Shang village had done it within minutes and with minimal fuss. She was increasingly having a bad feeling about this…
Moreover, the woman just would not stop jabbering! Alanna must have refused about six potential suitors in the time it took for Lusa to scrub the black dye she had brought with her into her long hair. In the end she probably knew more about local happenings than most locals did! Thankfully, however, it didn't last forever, and the dye had soon been scrubbed in. She was, however, forced to wrap her hair in a piece of cloth for the rest of the morning, which severely reduced the amount of activites she could get done. This didn't bother her, mind you, but it certainly had Eleni in a twist – "What about the schedule?!" she all but screeched at Lusa. "We've got to get her out into the markets in an hour!"
Lusa had eventually given in, saying that if she was careful with what touched her head, she'd be able to take the cloth off after an hour and a half. Eleni had still been furious, but had agreed. Eventually. Alanna was quite happy with it, actually – it meant she'd have a little rest for a while. It was strange, but after having been immobile for the past twenty minutes or so as Lusa scrubbed things into her hair, she really felt like she needed a rest. However it was not to be, with Eleni having the 'brilliant' idea of taking her measurements while she was waiting. She grumbled, slightly, but she knew Eleni was trying to do her a favour – so she acquiesced readily enough.
The measuring session was mercifully simple, and Alanna did end up having half and hour or so to rest before Eleni forced her onto her feet, removing the damp and dark cloth from her hair and prodding her out into the late-morning streets. They made their way through the markets, Alanna looking at what felt to be hundreds upon hundreds of dresses and styles. Eleni seemed to disagree with almost every choice she made, citing that such choices were "Unflattering", "Not particularly stylish" and once even "horrific" among other things.
"What about this one?" Alanna eventually called out, spying a deep blue dress at the back of one dressmakers rack. "What do you think?" Eleni had taken a closer look, nodding over the stitching and the cut before calling the dressmaker out. This young woman had quickly offered to help them, and Eleni had ordered the poor girl to get the dress out as soon as she could, grabbing it quickly and holding it up to Alanna.
"Not bad," she had said. "Not the best – I think we'd need to find something in a green for that, but it'll do on such short notice."
Alanna almost passed out in relief; it felt like they'd been out here for hours, doing something which Alanna honestly knew nothing about. After a good five minutes more eyeballing from Eleni, they had agreed to get the dress, and Alanna had forked over the pouch to the young dressmaker.
"But this is too much, m'Lady." The girl had called out, 'The dress only costs about half this."
Rolling her eyes, Alanna had retrieved the pouch, shelling out half of the coins. "If that's too much," She growled, annoyed by the distraction, "Keep the rest of it, alright?" The dressmaker had counted the coins with wide eyes, nodding her head as Alanna and Eleni wandered away with the dress over their shoulders. Alanna hoped that things were all but over after that, but no – Eleni had a whole handful of 'alterations' that she felt were needed and, not surprisingly, she needed Alanna to be there as well.
So she had stayed, spending a number of hours standing as still as a statue as Eleni and her seamstress friend stuck pins all over the place. They must have drawn blood a number of times as well, but after catching sight of a glare Eleni sent her way following Alanna's complaint at the first poke, she decided that it would be best to just grin and bear it. More inane conversation followed, although at least this time Alanna knew what they were talking about, chiming in with tidbits of gossip that she had remembered from what Lusa had said earlier.
About halfway through the fitting, a sudden thought struck her. "Would it be possible for you to make some…pouches or something on the dress?" She had asked, "I mean, I don't plan on…uhhh…" she cut off suddenly, realizing the sheer insanity of claiming that she wasn't planning on wearing the dress for too long. These two women would kill her if they found that out, Shang skills or not!
"Don't plan on what, dear?" Eleni had asked.
"Uh, I don't plan on…uh…needing them, but it might be useful if I could keep a knife or something concealed here."
"Oh no," the seamstress had cried, "Doing that ruins the lines! You can't make a pocket for something so bulky as that!"
"She's right, dear. Sorry, but you'll have to go without your weapons."
Alanna almost swore; ruins the lines? She didn't care about how it looked, not really! A knife could save her life, and these women were acting as if looking her best was more important than living through the night of the Ball! Still, she supposed that she shouldn't blame them – they had no idea about what the dress would be utilised for; they had no reason to think that she'd need knives in it.
Suddenly aware of where her own thoughts were going, Alanna frowned – she didn't need knives in it. She wasn't going to wear it after she'd entered the Palace, or so she'd told Jon yesterday. Although…was that actually the sensible thing to do? As she was wearing it now, it wasn't quite so restrictive as she had feared, and it wouldn't attract as much attention if she were wandering about the Palace with it on. After all, it would be easier to claim that she had gotten lost from the ball if she looked like she should be at a ball than if she were wearing shirts and breeches. And-…no. She couldn't wear this while sneaking into Roger's rooms, it was just impossible to do.
She almost didn't believe her own feelings at first, but she soon realised that such a decision was somewhat saddening to her. She liked this dress, which was a real shock as it had only been a few weeks since she realised that she liked dresses at all. But she did like this one, the colour was…elegant, she supposed, and the – what did the seamstress call it? The 'cut' was flattering, or so she thought. Besides, it would be a shame to go through all this torture to find something which she only wore for an hour or so.
Oh well; there wasn't much she could do to help that. It would be insane to go around the Palace wearing this, especially since she couldn't carry any weapons on her. Or was that such a bad thing? She didn't need weapons, after all – and she did like the thing. Maybe she should think about this a little more…
But not at that moment, as Eleni brought her back to reality by slapping her shoulder lightly. "Stop daydreaming, dear. We've finished."
With a start, Alanna realised that the dress was indeed finished, all the pins that had been stuck into her now completely removed, the stitching so fine as to be almost invisible. From what she could see, it certainly looked remarkable – the work the seamstress had done was hardly even visible, and the dress did look quite different than what it had in the stall. It was a little bit more revealing, from what she could tell, but she had moved beyond her fear of that – slightly. "Can I-?"
"See it?" Alanna nodded, "Yes dear, follow me." Eleni led her out into the other room, and Alanna followed. Movement wasn't that restricted, indeed – in fact she could probably even kick in this thing if she had half a mind to. She didn't, of course, mostly because Eleni would – again – kill her if she so tried. But it was feasible, she felt. Maybe she could go around in this. She stumbled on the hem, maybe not… "Don't worry about the length, dear. Once you have some shoes on that will be fine."
"Shoes?" She asked quietly. She'd been hoping to wear her soft boots, but…alright, obviously those wouldn't fit into a ball. "W-what kind of shoes?"
"Don't make it sound so horrible, Alanna. They're nothing to be afraid of."
That, somehow, didn't really comfort her. But the thought dropped from her mind as she came into sight of herself in the large mirror Eleni had brought down from upstairs. Her mouth dropped open – she wasn't exactly beautiful, or so she though, but she certainly…she was certainly pretty. "Wow."
"Don't think so highly of yourself," Eleni chastised. "It's not becoming."
"I just said 'wow'." Alanna grumbled under her breath. "Where's the harm in that?"
"And don't mumble."
Alanna continued to stare at herself in the mirror; the blue dress was really quite a contrast to her hair and eyes, something which seemed to…fit somehow. It was as if contrast was good in this situation, which was fairly odd – from what she had gathered from Eleni, anyway. But this…this worked. She looked…feminine, for lack of a better term.
"Just sit over there, Alanna, and I'll fetch your shoes." Eleni pointed to a wooden chair, and Alanna lowered herself into it, remembering some of the lessons Eleni had taught her about dresses as she did so. She certainly was pleased with the way she had come out, and she wasn't even entirely made up yet! Her hair was still very flaccid, and she knew that detracted from her appearance. It really would be a shame to just wear it while entering the palace…
At that moment, a knock came from the door. Alanna briefly wondered whether it might be the seamstress, but she was still in the other room, wasn't she? No-one was going to answer the door, however, and eventually Eleni's voice sounded out from upstairs. "Could you get that, dear? I'm just busy up here at the moment."
Alanna shrugged, "No reason why not, I suppose." She mumbled to herself – briefly wondering whether Eleni could hear her now – and rose off the chair. She hoped that the shoes Eleni was getting wouldn't restrict her movement any more than it was now, because currently this…this was actually quite free. She could do a lot of things in this dress, which she was pleased with. "I'm coming!" she shouted to the door after the person behind it knocked once more, and she soon grabbed onto the knob, twisting it and pulling the door open.
Open to the smiling face of Jon, whose expression swiftly
changed to one of…awe. "Alanna?" he asked softly, as if not believing
that it was her.
She blushed deeply; she wanted him to see her in the dress, yes, but she didn't
really want him to see her when she wasn't ready to be seen. Which she
certainly was not right now. "Uh, hi Jon. What are you doing here?"
His mouth was still wide open, and she almost had to poke him – "What? Oh, I'm…uh…George told me that you were here, so I came by." She nodded at that, stepping away for the door to let him in. He did so, moving past her and into the house itself. Turning back to her, he took her in again from head to toe. "You look amazing, Alanna."
"Thanks," she said simply. "I should hope so, anyway. What with all I've gone through today?"
He chuckled, "Was it really that bad?"
"No of course it wasn't!" Eleni snapped from the stairs she was descending, brandishing a pair of shoes at Alanna, "She's just complaining because she's not used to it. But I tell you, Alanna, you'll soon realise that what you went through today is just a warm up for the real thing."
That really quite frightened Alanna, and it must have shown, as Eleni cackled loudly. "Well, whatever happened," Jon continued, "I can't believe the end result. You look….beautiful, Alanna."
Her blush, which had until now been fading, came roaring back. She just smiled shyly at him. "Sit down, girl." Eleni ordered, "Into the chair, come on." Alanna allowed herself to be prodded down once more, and Eleni had quickly slipped the shoes onto her feet. To her surprise, and to her liking, they weren't quite as delicate as she had feared. They were, in fact, rather elegant knee-high boots finished in soft leather. Seeing her astonished look, Eleni smiled at her. "Heh. Just in case you decide to get into some rather…unlady-like antics, I suppose these will stand up better than a proper shoe."
"Yes, they're wonderful." Alanna managed to stammer out, "Thank you, Eleni."
"Don't thank me yet, dear." The older woman had replied, a satisfied smile playing about her lips, "Especially not with what's to come."
Alanna almost feared to ask, but she did so. "Which is?"
"Ladies have pierced ears," Eleni pointed out, "You don't. You should, however. So we're going to pierce them." As she said this, she made for the table behind her, bringing forth a candle and a darning needle.
"Oh no," her heart sank, "Please don't! I don't need my ears pierced!" Jon looked on in surprise, probably wondering just what was going on between these two women. Eleni lit the candle, holding the needle within the flame in an attempt to heat it. "Please no!"
"Don't make a fuss dear," Elenir replied, "And of course you need your ears pierced. Why a normal girl would have had hers' done years ago! And don't even think about complaining about the pain, because mighty Shang warriors aren't supposed to care about such things." Alanna was still incredibly afraid of just what was going to happen, but she knew that she had been beaten. What more could she possibly do? Eleni turned on her heel, brandishing the red-hot needle with a smile. "Johnny?" Eleni called to Jon, "If you want to help, you might want to hold onto her shoulders."
Alannas' scream probably deafened half the neighbourhood…
***
Her ears were still on fire, with the freezing cold small metal studs Eleni had jammed in the newly created holes causing an incredibly painful contrast, but at least she had stopped crying now. Some of that probably did have to do with being wrapped up in Jon's arms, but – no, she was a Shang Warrior! She was strong! So…why did this hurt so badly?
"Beauty is pain, dear." Eleni had proffered, although that really didn't comfort Alanna.
Jon had tried to comfort her in return, and he was a least slightly more successful. Still…Alanna still didn't quite see how pierced ears were necessary, but Jon hadn't been too quick to agree with her on that. "All ladies that I've ever seen wear earrings," he had told her, "It would look strange if you didn't have any."
Thanks for the support, love.
She worried more about what was going to happen after the ball, however. She knew she was the only Shang Warrior with pierced ears now, which didn't really seem to be something to be proud of. Would anyone be able to take her seriously if she looked quite as pampered as she did now? Granted, most of her current look was a result of her dress and her tear-streaked face, but that wasn't the point! She couldn't undo these piercings; she was stuck with them! Something which she did not enjoy all that much.
Sighing, she realised that there really wasn't much she could do about it now – it was done, she should deal with it.
Eventually, Eleni had 'allowed' her to go back to the dove, although she left the dress and the boots behind. She had agreed to return on the night of the ball, to be dressed and made up by someone "With half a mind on what they're doing" Eleni had suggested. Jon had jumped at the idea, telling her that he'd have a carriage come out to meet her here.
"Why a carriage?" She had asked, "Why not just a horse?"
"Ladies get driven everywhere," Jon had explained, "If you don't have to use your own legs or your own arms, you don't. Having a lady ride up the gates of her own accord would be cause for suspicion on that basis alone."
So she had grudgingly agreed, and bid Eleni farewell. Jon had taken her hand as the two of them walked away from the house, and she hadn't objected. In fact, she'd leant in closer to him, and he had responded with a smile. It wasn't far from Eleni's to the Dove, and so Jon had told her that he'd walk her back.
"So what news do you have?" she'd asked after a while, "Did you get the…uh, the Patronage?"
He nodded in reply, "That I did, and may I tell you how anxious to meet you Uncle Gareth and Roger are?"
"Why does that not fill me with confidence?" she mumbled, to which Jon laughed. "Did you have to do much to get them to accept it."
"Not really. As I said, they're very anxious to meet you – when I told them that I wanted to bring a 'certain lady friend' to the Ball, they practically jumped all over me to agree."
"'A certain lady friend'?" she repeated with a snort, "Nice phrasing."
"Well I couldn't exactly tell them that I wanted to bring the woman I loved, could I?"
She stopped suddenly, not so much stunned by his words but certainly stunned by the fact that he had said them. "Jon," she said softly, "You don't know how much it means to me for you to say that, but…but don't you think we should wait?"
"I do," he replied in kind, moving closer to her and taking her head in his hands, "But that doesn't mean I want to."
"I don't want to, either."
He smiled, "Then why should we?"
"It's the right thing to do," she said, "It's rushing into things which made things so mixed up last time."
"But we got through that alright, didn't we?" he asked, "I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of having to stop myself from holding you. I want to do this;" he bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. She brought her hands up to grasp the back of his head, pushing it down onto her own, loving the passion of it. Eventually breaking away from he, his smile was as wide as hers, he continued. "I want to do that all the time."
She grinned, "I know the feeling."
"I lied the other day, you know." He said to her, "When I said that I didn't know if I was in love with you anymore. That was a lie; I never stopped loving you, which is why it hurt so much. But I've gotten past that – what you said to me, what George said to me; I don't care about the past, all I care about is you."
"And I want to be with you," she responded, bringing her mouth back up to his again. This time the kiss was even deeper, more filled with passion as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He wrapped her into his arms again, lifting her clear off the ground for a time – the forcefulness of it all again making the moment even more passionate. She loved it, she loved him. As she said to him once they again broke off, "I want to be with you because I love you."
Jon's smile widened, "I know that things will probably be difficult, but I know we can make things work. And while it may be too early for us to…do this, I don't want to wait any longer."
She nodded, "I know, I know. And while I've thought about this a lot, the fact that we should wait, I don't want to either."
He kissed the side of her neck, "I love you."
"Jon," she managed to gasp out; talking was very difficult, or so she found. "I love you too, and I love what you're doing, but…"
"But?"
"But we're standing in the middle of the street." She giggled softly at his expression; as if he'd suddenly realised where they were. It was dark by now, but there was still a little light around. Things could be quite…awkward if they gave into their passion precisely where they were.
"What are you laughing about?" Jon asked, a smile on his lips. He took her hand again – she gave it a gentle squeeze as he did so – and began to walk off with her again.
"Just your expression," she responded as she leant into him, putting her head on his shoulder. "You look like…"
"What do I look like?"
She shrugged, "Some kind of small animal."
Jon snorted, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him. "I'm far more manly than any small animal."
"It's a cute small animal," she added, "Does that make it alright?"
***
They'd shared another kiss, or four, around the corner from the Dove. Fortunately for their modesty, just as things were becoming rather heated, Jon had the misfortune to touch her ear.
"Ouch!" Alanna screamed far too loudly.
"Oh! Sorry!" he tried to make things better by, of all things, rubbing the ear, but only succeeded in causing more pain. "Sorry."
"It's alright," she replied tiredly "It's alright. It just
really hurt for a brief moment. Kind of killed the moment, too."
He nervously laughed at that, "That it did."
"Jon, it's alright." She repeated, "I'm fine, just – I should be alright tomorrow. You could…come out to see me?" she raised an eyebrow at the end of the sentence, hoping that take the hint.
His pained expression indicated that even if he didn't quite get the hint, that he was sorry enough anyway. "I don't think I'll be able to come out into the city at all tomorrow," Jon said, "The Guards are getting things organized for the Ball the following night. It'll raise too many questions if I slip out."
She couldn't quite mask her disappointment, but she nodded in acceptance. "So I guess that I'll see you sometimes during the Ball?"
"I'll meet you at the side entrance to the Palace," he explained to her, "It's all arranged with the carriage already. I'll meet you there and explain how to reach Roger's chambers. Between now and then, I'll try to work out a way that I can send a message to you if I find that Roger is leaving the Ball early. I'll talk to you about it on the night, alright?"
"Alright, so I'll see you then."
He nodded, before he smiled at her, "I love you, Alanna."
"And I love you." She responded seriously, and with a final long glance, she made her way back into the Dove. She would have skipped, but she worried that it might cause too much pain. The common room wasn't too crowded by this point, and she was able to easily make her way up to her room, flopping down onto her bed as she did so and falling into a content sleep. It was strange, but as good as her last two days had been, it almost didn't feel like her life anymore…
