A/N – Ugh. I'm not even going to try and explain what caused the huge delay, so…please don't be too upset. Just note that 'life stuff' is a pretty broad category and, contrary to some opinions, writing fanfiction doesn't rank all that highly when it clashes with aforementioned 'life stuff' ^_^

Still. A long chapter is the reward for waiting. Even if it's not the last chapter, contrary to what I said in the previous chapters authors note. Sorry if anyone came expecting to see the end of this, but…one more chapter will be it! I've mostly finished that one too, and it won't be anywhere near as long as this one, so it should be out shortly!

This isn't my best chapter, I don't think, but it's one which needed to be done – to sort out some threads before I launch into the ending and resolution of the story next chapter. Not a complete resolution, mind you, because I've decided that I'll try and write the sequel. Which means that you'll be seeing a lot more of the Alanna, Jon and George from this world, as well as more on Ralon and Liam, as well as a look at what the situation with Carthak as shown in the Daine books would be like….well….without Daine to remove Orzone J But, uh, that's just a very preliminary idea of what the next story will be like. Not terribly spoilery, as I might change my mind…! ^_^

Anyway – here we go! One more after this!

***

For the first time in many nights, Alanna dreamt. Her tired eyes (which was, she noted, somewhat surprising given how energized she had felt while outside with Jon) closed on her plain room in the Dove, and she was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

"-still don't see what this has to do with me."

"Everything, Trebond. It has everything to do with you, don't you see that?"

"No!" a sigh was heard. Heard because she couldn't see anything – pitch darkness surrounded her, disembodied voices flowed permeating through its' depths. "No, that's not the truth. I understand why I'd be useful, but I don't see why it has to just be me."

"'Pick your battles'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I pick the battles in which I'd have a chance. If Roger wanted to face me in combat? Then I'd be all for it – I'd be stopping you from going. But…against his magic? No, I wouldn't last for half a moment against him. All my skill, all my training would be for nothing. On the other hand, there's you – you who could well stand against Roger, you who's the youngest Master the world has ever seen. You, Thom, would stand a chance against him. I, on the other hand, would not."

She heard the sigh again, almost an exact duplicate of the previous one. "Alright, I understand. I'll come with you tomorrow, alright? If you can sneak me around easily enough – I don't want to use my Gift when I get close to the Palace if I don't have to."

"Because of Roger."
"Yes. I don't want him to suspect that I'm near him."

"Does he know you're here? In the city, I mean."

"I don't doubt it. I've tried to be careful, but if he's half of what I've heard about him, then he's powerful enough to detect any Gifted person in Corus – let alone such a powerful one as I."

A pause followed, and she could tell that the two men were thinking – well, Thom and another man. She wondered why exactly she was being shown this, why she was being told about Thom's 'decision' to face against Roger. Why was it important, or was that just the point – perhaps it wasn't important at all, and the same degeneration that had plagued some of her more recent dreams was becoming slightly more sly, showing her false information or irrelevant things. She mentally frowned – where had that thought come from? The truth of the matter is that when it came to the dreams, she just didn't know anything at all about them, so it was relatively pointless to question them. Wasn't it?

Eventually the other man – the not-Thom, a voice which sounded somewhat familiar but which she couldn't recognise, spoke up again. "Good, so you'll come with me? I think you should take a look at the Queen, first. From what the Prince has told me she's very ill, and I have a feeling that if she dies, Roger could consolidate some of his power. And if the worst happens  - and Roger manages to remove the king too, then we have a real problem on our hands."

"You mean you have real problems on your hands."

"Thom, you're from Tortal too, don't you feel obliged to remove this…this cancer from its' heights? Roger has to be removed, and I think that even you recognise that."

She felt, rather than saw, Thom shrug, which was a decidedly weird feeling. "Maybe I do, but isn't that the benefit of being nomadic? That I can move away from trouble?"

"Some might call that cowardly, Thom." The not-Thom replied, "And besides. It's not just you on the line here – think about how many lives Roger has ruined."

"I don't know anyone who's been affected by him." Thom bit back, the words thin and harsh. "In fact, if you hadn't told me about his activities, I may well have left here with a positive impression of the man."

"Think on the lives that he can and will ruin in the future, then! Think of…think of your family! You're noble born, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Roger hasn't hesitated to steal lands from nobles in the past."

"So? I don't care about land or anything like that. And titles mean nothing to me."

The not-Thom sighed, "What of your family? Your father?"

"My father is dead." Thom replied, and Alanna – or at least, whatever she 'was' here, gasped. Their father was dead? When did this happen? As if hearing her thoughts (which would have been odd, since this event was supposed to take place in the past), Thom continued, "He died a year ago."

"Then what of your other family? Do you have any siblings? A mother?"

"My mother is dead."

"Siblings?"

She could tell that Thom was hesitant to reveal her existence, though she couldn't really think why. What was the harm in simply saying 'a sister' or something similar? A long pause followed the not-Thom's question, however, and she could tell that Thom was all but grinding his teeth in annoyance. "One." He eventually replied, his words sounding deliberate and forced, "A sister."

"What happens when Roger takes control over Tortall and orders that all noble born women must live away from home? Orders that they must marry by their twentieth birth day? What happens when Roger order's this sister of yours to do something against her will."

Thom snickered – she could guess what he was thinking. 'The day someone manages to make my sister do something against her will is the day that night becomes day'. Still, he seemed to take the not-Thom's (and who was this man? Who had convinced Thom to stand against Roger? Who, she realised suddenly, had convinced Thom to go to his death?) words seriously enough, as he responded to the question. "I see your point," he replied, his tone more moderate than it had been, "But we do this on my terms, alright?"

"By that…?"

"I say when we arrive and leave. I say who and when we talk to people-"

"But you don't know anyone at the palace! I've been there for a month already, been this far west for a month!"

"-With input from yourself. But most importantly, I say how and when we stand up to Roger, alright?"

The not-Thom seemed to agree, "I understand, Thom. I accept what you're saying. We've got to be careful in this, I know that's all you're thinking of."

"Oh more than that," Thom responded, "Being careful is one hand, but you can still perish while being careful. I don't just want to be careful, I want to live."

Alanna's head swam, and the darkness…changed. The voices disappeared, and she felt that she was in a different place. A…grey…place, very particularly not the inky black darkness that she'd been in before. She was alone for the moment, no voices, no apparitions, nothing but herself. She couldn't help thinking back to what she had just heard – Thom and the not-Thom's conversation. It was strange, but she couldn't understand why Thom, the same Thom who had given the impassioned claim about 'not dying', had later lost his life battling the man who he (at this point) apparently didn't even know. Why had he done it? Had the not-Thom revealed something else, or was the attitude something Thom had changed on his own?

A bar of light suddenly appeared, illuminating the grey around her, revealing a cavernous room. Or at least, she thought it was a room – the walls were bedecked with various bizarre items, similar items covered numerous tables scattered around and along the wall in front of her sat a large object hidden by a white sheet. It wasn't so much a room, she decided, as it was a…

She stopped, the thought sounding like a claxon in her mind. Not so much a room as it was a laboratory. And who did she know that possessed laboratories?

Roger's chambers – Roger's laboratories.

As if prompted by her mental answer, one of the large wooden doors behind her creaked open, and she spun around in shock. Thankfully, however, it wasn't the man himself – or even someone who looked remotely threatening at the time. Instead, it was her brother, cautiously looking back and forwards, often mumbling a few words under his breath as he, she guessed, searched for 'traps' with his Gift. It must have been safe, or at least Thom thought that it'd be safe, as he finally walked into the centre of the chamber with a wide grin attached to his lips.

"Easy." She heard Thom whisper; he hadn't seemed to notice her standing there, not that she'd ever considered that he would be able to do so. It seemed that whatever else she was supposed to be doing in these dreams, the intent was to simply stand and observe. Obviously unconcerned by Alanna's musings, Thom had walked to one of the tables along the wall, examining the items which lay on it's surface, glancing at pieces of paper and the like. She tried to stand beside him, to look over his shoulder as well, but she seemed unable to move from her central position. The intent here, she thought with a groan, was to observe from this exact point.

Which was irritating; it would have saved her a lot of trouble if she'd been able to find something…incriminating when she was, as she supposed she must be, incorporeal. Scrunching her face up in annoyance, Alanna decided that she should probably make the most of her position, taking a longer look at the various items that she could see from her current point. Nothing sprang immediately out; nothing screamed 'This is evidence!' to her – although she soon realised that she was neither prepared nor really at all able to recognise if something was what could be considered evidence.

The only thing which looked of some importance that she couldn't see was the large object along one wall, the one draped with a sheet. Luckily enough for her, it seemed that it had caught Thom's attention as well, and she watched with anticipation as Thom crept towards it carefully. He waved his hands over it for a brief moment, his eyes snapping open with such force that she knew that something was up. She wasn't disappointed, as Thom stood gaping at the object, seemingly amazed by what he had 'felt'.

Now she was really curious.

Slowly, carefully, Thom reached for the sheet and pulled it up slightly. Annoyingly, Alanna couldn't get any glimpse of what lay underneath, although she supposed that point was somewhat irrelevant considering Thom's reaction. Seeing whatever lay underneath the sheet, Thom's eyes glazed over and he stumbled backwards, the sheet draping once more over the object. Righting his footing, Thom stared in shock once more at the obscured item, before slowly shaking his head.

Alanna wasn't sure, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Thom mumbled the words "Is he insane?" under his breath, before turning his back and swiftly walking out of the doorway. She didn't understand – what was this dream supposed to be showing her? Or was it, potentially like the previous one, a complete mislead, something sent to her (or whatever; she again supposed it was somewhat presumptuous to wonder about the meaning of a dream, about which she still didn't know why she was experiencing) to throw her off Roger's trail?

Which, she realised as she bit her lip in worry, he would be very, very capable of. But she dismissed the thought easily; Roger had met her for little more than a minute, had never gotten her name, and (she hoped) would never suspect that she was Thom's sister. If Roger was sending the dreams to her…well, it would be an amazing feat – especially when the dreams felt so much alike the one's she had been experiencing since before she left the Shang Village. Plus the focus on Thom, the focus the dreams placed on him, was something which Roger would be unlikely to think of – or at least she hoped this was so.

Sighing, she realised that thinking about who sent the dreams, or who 'encouraged' them, was relatively pointless. The dreams all differed; seemingly evolving or changing over time – from the wonderfully romantic (and sexual, the suggestive part of her mind whispered) dreams that she had experienced at the beginning (which, as well as having an amazing subject matter, also seemed slightly…unworldly. References to things she knew had never happened, differences in the individuals she met, that sort of thing), to the disturbing and dark dreams that followed – the ones which had forced her to Eleni, seeking solace through the herbs that, regrettably, she had only used once or twice. And finally to these 'in Thom's shoes' dreams, which she knew were incredibly important.

Even these, however, had their bizarre qualities – what of the dream in which she and Thom had started as one being, then begun to fall away from each other? What was the significance in that? Was there any significance in that? She didn't know.

What she did know, as she suddenly took a long look at her surroundings, was that a lot of time seemed to have passed. Things had suddenly appeared on the tables while other's had disappeared, things had been taken off the walls – the room itself was the same laboratory that she had been within earlier, but the subtle alterations alerted her to the seeming passage of time. As did the re-emergence of Thom, who once again entered the room cautiously through the large wooden door behind her. Surprisingly, she realised that she could move this time, quickly moving over to one of the tables and attempting to pick up some of the papers that were scattered across it. A quick glance over her shoulder saw Thom rifling through different items on one of the tables, his quiet mumbling sounding far louder in this environment. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned back to her own table – hoping that the evidence she sought could be found now. Unfortunately, it appeared that her easy solution was not to be, as her hand simply passed through the paper – her seeming inability to pick anything up was quite a hindrance to that plan. She cursed, and turned to watch what Thom was doing.

She had expected him to be looking at the obscured object again – hoping to get a glimpse of it, but no, instead he appeared to be…hiding. He was standing behind a slight alcove at the rear of the room, pressing himself hard against the wall.

With a smirk, Alanna realised that even the mightiest magicians still appreciated a good hiding place some of the time. Of course, if he had simply used magic, it was probable that Roger could both sense – and then remove – such an enchantment, so she supposed that Thom was thinking clearly. Not that she'd have ever told him that, of course.

She spun around once more as the noise of someone entering the room came from behind her. Roger stepped into his chambers, and seemed to immediately know that something was wrong – frowning and…was he sniffing the air? She wasn't sure, but it appeared that he was; still, it must have worked, as he immediately looked at where Thom was hiding.

"Come out of there, Trebond." Roger said softly, "I applaud your rather…simplistic style there, it had me fooled for a moment. Looking for something, are we?"

"The great Roger admitting someone bested him," Thom responded in the same soft tone, ignoring the last question while stepping out from the wall section. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you ever admitted defeat."

Roger's smile was all teeth. "Ah, but you see – no-one ever needs to hear that I just admitted that, do they?"

"Of course, you assume that I'll keep it to yourself."

"I assume you will," Roger replied, "Because I don't think you're going to be talking much anytime soon. In fact, I don't think you'll be talking at all."

"Well it's so nice that we can skip the formalities," She shook her head; her brother sounded just like he had the last time she had experienced a dream of this sorts, cocky and challenging. She didn't understand it, not really – perhaps it was a magician's thing? "Do you want to get to the spell casting now, or should we exchange stories first?"

Her brother's killer waved his hand, "Oh, I already know enough about you, Trebond. I don't have any burning desire to talk with you, but feel free to ask questions of me. I'm always open to help any one of my admirer's."

Thom snorted, "The one's you pay?" Roger rolled his eyes; even she thought that was a pretty pathetic line. Thom seemingly recognised it too as he quickly rushed on, "Alright then. A question-"

"About the brooch, right?" Roger glanced down at the jeweled brooch he wore on his collar – the one Alanna had seen previously attached to the same place, the one that had sucked away Thom's Gifted blast like steel to a lodestone and also, she noted with a grimace, the one which she had realised was probably the 'bait' for Thom to come up here. "I see its' done its' job well."

"Actually, no." Thom shot back. "I don't care about that – I've never cared about that. All I have to ask is what you think the Vent will accomplish? What use is it?"

Roger winked, and Alanna shivered at its' pure malice. "Well, that's for me to know and for you to never find out, dear Trebond. The Vent accomplishes one thing; power for me. Apart from that, well – who really cares?"

"It's unstable."

"So?"

"So it's dangerous." Thom clarified, his tone of voice suggesting that he realised Roger probably knew this already, but nothing was lost in mentioning it. "The lives of everyone in this palace – everyone in this part of the city is at risk from it."

"Let me answer your question with another question, Thom." Roger replied with his smirk still firmly attached, "Why should I care?"

"Because you're a person too, although I've never seen one quite as twisted and perverse as you. But you're still human, and humans feel for others."

"Weak humans."

"All humans. Even you feel for other people, you can just hide it better."

Roger laughed, throwing his head back as he seemed to be greatly amused by what Thom had just said. Eventually, he managed to compose himself, his words interspersed with slight chuckles here and there. "What rock did you crawl out from under, Trebond? Have you ever seen the way people treat each other? No-one cares about anyone else but themselves in this world! That's just the way things are – if we left right now? If the laws were abolished? What do you think would happen?" Thom opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He frowned, and slowly closed his mouth again. Roger nodded, "I can tell you this, Trebond. Peace and Harmony are lies – people lie to themselves to get along with others. Getting at each other's throats is the way humans are, not 'concerned' with other people or their feelings! You have to fight for your survival – and I don't mean fighting the elements or nature, you have to fight your neighbour to get by!"

"So, what then. You're a superior human because you know of this?"

"No, I'm superior because I have skills that most other's do not. You too, Trebond. We're quite alike, you and I; superior beings."

It was Thom's turn to laugh, although his sounded a trifle unsteady, "Not hardly. I'm not a bastard, for one thing."

Roger shrugged, "That's just a label."

"Well then, since they're just labels, let me lay on a few more." Thom counted off on his fingers, "Madman. Psychopath. Murderer. Butcher. Egotistical. Overrated. Amateur."

Alanna watched as Roger's smirk slowly disappeared as Thom continued his listing, a furious scowl appearing on the last few items. "One might call you insolent, Trebond."

Thom shrugged, "Maybe so. But at least I'm not evil."

The smirk reappeared on Roger's face, "No. Perhaps not – of course, as I said earlier, you're not going to really be anything soon enough, except for perhaps a plaything of mine. I do enjoy siphoning away power from those who try to challenge me."

"Therein lies the psychopath side, I see."

"Funny, Trebond." Roger responded, sarcastically, before he waved a hand. "But enough of this."

"Yes. I've already heard enough of your posturing to last me a lifetime."

Roger waggled a finger back and forth, "If you're trying to rile me up so that I kill you faster, I should let you know now that it won't work."

Thom snorted, "I'm not quite that fatalistic, Conte."

His killer shrugged his broad shoulders, "Suit yourself." He replied softly, before sighing dramatically. "Such a shame that we couldn't work something out – I would have enjoyed having you on side. You've got potential, Trebond, I have to admit that at least. Of course, it doesn't seem like you're going to be able to grow into it, now. Like I said, such a shame."

"Spare me."  Thom spat, "Your kind doesn't share power."

"No," Roger said softly, "I don't suppose we do." And at that, he lifted his arm, bright orange fire trailing along it's length. The fire…jumped from the limb, stretching towards Thom's face. Seemingly unsurprised by the quick strike, Thom brought both his arms up, his own Gift easily catching the streak of orange fire, shattering the energy before it had a chance to get anywhere near him. In the short moments that followed, Thom waved his arms quickly and sent his Gift into the ground around him – Alanna at first couldn't understand why he did so; why hadn't he struck back at Roger while he could easily? But the reasoning soon became apparent, as Thom seemed to…fade away, a slight purple afterimage the only indication that he'd been standing around there at all. Roger seemed almost as surprised as she was, as his achingly familiar blue eyes glanced warily around the room. "What are you playing at, Trebond?"

As if in response to the question, a blur to her right suddenly appeared, purple fire streaming from it towards Roger. Amazingly, her brother's adversary simply stood still, an unconcerned look upon his face. As the fire streamed towards him, it suddenly veered away, attracted to the brooch that lay on his collar. Alanna finally understood; the brooch protected Roger from harm – or at least, from magical harm. That was why Thom had instead chosen to hide himself, he knew that he couldn't directly affect Roger with any apparent ease. She bit her lip; she'd resigned herself by now to the fact that this was very possibly the 'battle' in which Thom lost his life, but she was still learning more details than she honestly would have liked to have known. Thom would have faced a powerful foe…one who would have been immune to his most prized skill.

The foe was canny, as well – realizing that Thom had planned for his inability to attack him, he spun around the room in an attempt to work out what he might try instead. Thom's cover appeared to be relatively foolproof – or at least she thought so, as Roger didn't seem able to sense him, instead resorting to lashing out with Orange fire in random directions in the small hope of catching Thom unprepared.

She frowned – perhaps this wasn't the battle in which Thom fell. He seemed to be coping fairly well, perhaps he managed to stay out of Roger's reach this time. It was possible, she guessed – but why then would she be shown it?

Perhaps, her mind provided as her eyes settled on the corner of the white sheet draped over the mysterious object was rising by itself, it has something to do with that. Thom must be attempting to uncover this object without Roger realizing it, judging by how slowly the sheet was rising – but to what end? What could it accomplish? She just didn't know.

 Unfortunately for Thom, and unfortunately for herself as well, Roger's vision was as sharp as her own. He too spotted the slowly rising corner, and a maniacal grin spread across his face. "Clever, Trebond." He whispered savagely, "I'll give you that, but not clever enough I'm afraid." Thom didn't respond, and she wondered whether he had heard Roger in the first place – the obscured object was a good distance further away from Roger than she herself was. Even if he hadn't heard, she was sure that he would notice Roger stalking towards him, eyes wide and hands outstretched.

Orange fire spewed forth, slamming into some form of purple barrier that Thom had erected. Frowning, Roger tried once more, with similar results. Alanna was confused – she knew that Thom couldn't succeed in what he was attempting, since she knew that Thom had fallen and that Roger was still as evil and as threatening as he had been at this time, or so she believed. But on the other hand, Roger seemed unable to find a dent in Thom's defences. Just what exactly had happened?

Unfortunately, she soon found out - as Roger continued in his attempts to blast a hole in the purple barrier, each attempt failing just as the last had. Thom hadn't slowed in his attempts to remove the sheet – although he was still pulling it up rather slowly, which she didn't understand. Nevertheless, it was slowly being revealed; Alanna could finally see what it was, and to some extent she wished she hadn't. A multihued pool, swirling and dark, lay fixed within a twisted metal frame – the swirling colours making her impossibly nauseous, and she had to fight to prevent herself from retching at the sight. Perhaps it was just as disorienting and despicable for Thom, possibly explaining the slowness in his actions.

Still, she wasn't sure exactly what her brother was planning – so perhaps the speed was an essential part of it all. The sheet was almost half off by now, and she could tell that Roger was becoming anxious. Perhaps if…

But no; Roger was smiling again, he was planning something. She tried to call out to Thom, to tell him to watch out, but she knew it would have no affect – she was watching the past, not taking part. Roger slinked up to where she assumed (as had he, apparently) Thom was standing, and instead of letting loose a blast of energy, simply began swinging his fists. For a magician, she supposed, he was certainly adept enough at the physical arts – something which she assumed he had carried over from his knight training.

She grimaced when she heard Roger make contact, and in a blaze of white light Thom's invisibility removed itself, and her brother's recognizable form slumped to the ground. Blood dripping from his lip, he quickly tried to turn and look up at Roger…who hadn't wasted his time either, sending line after line of orange magic into Thom's body. Her brother convulsed on the ground, the pain tearing cries from his throat as Roger simply stood over him and grinned.

"Like I said," Roger whispered as he looked up at the ceiling, "You're clever, and you've got potential. But you're not a match for me."

Thom spat blood onto the ground, "Anyone who stands' up to your tyranny is a match for you, pig."

Roger chuckled wildly, "I suppose it's a good thing for me then that not many strong people do, then. They all want power too – power that I can give them. For the right price, of course." He looked down at Thom, lashing out with his booted foot and catching her brother in the stomach. She yelled, in pain or shock she didn't know, but the cries were futile. "Now, what to do with you."

"Why don't you just let me go?" Thom spluttered, as he tried to force himself into a sitting position.

His opponent seemed to think on it for a moment, tapping his lip with a well-manicured finger. "Hmm, possibly. Possibly. But no, I don't think so – why waste such valuable potential on simply allowing you to develop at your own pace? No, I have a much better idea for you…" Roger lashed out with a foot again, catching her brother while he was attempting to rise and forcing him to the ground again with a grunt. "Yes, I have the perfect solution."

She didn't want to look, didn't want to see her brother's death – but when Roger brought his hand down onto Thom's head she couldn't look away or close her eyes. Roger closed his eyes, whispering softly to himself as he did so, when a bright orange glow began to seep into her brother. He began to scream, and she felt a hole being torn in her heart as his pained cry echoed through the night. The orange glow brightened, blinding her, and a rushing sound wiped out the remnants of Thom's cry from her hearing. Suddenly, the rushing stopped entirely, and in that short instant, she heard Roger's soft voice floating within her mind.

"There. The boy is gone."

When the brightness faded, she was in darkness again.

***

She awoke with a gasp, unsurprising considering the scene she had just witnessed, and almost fell out of her covers. Untangling herself from their confines, she wiped her cheeks of the few tears which had appeared as she remembered what had transpired.

Why is it that these things happen now? Why today – on the one day of late in which I have been truly happy, why show me this?

She didn't know, but it irritated her a great deal.  Damn cryptic dreams.

And cryptic they were – though more in their origins than their intent. She had a fairly good idea of why she was being shown what she was; to focus her against Roger, to ensure that she didn't 'make the same mistakes' as her brother, so to speak. A rather harsh way of looking at things, she recognised this, but it was the most probable situation that she had considered. But the question was, to her at least, how were these dreams coming to her? She couldn't even begin to understand that part of the question.

So why bother? Her mind asked, and she found herself agreeing – well, for the time being, anyway. A glance out of her window showed that first light was close, the sky near the horizon (not that she could see such a thing from her window; Corus was far too populated and developed a city for her to be able to do that) was a dark red, signifying the imminent arrival of sunrise. Yes, far too early for any dissection of it all.

But not, she realised with a moan, too early for training. She'd been better at training as of late, the cooped up periods in the small hovel having forced her back into a semblance of the rigid order that had been imposed on her while with the Shang, and such structure was something which she wished to maintain. At least for the moment, anyway.

Plus, she realised with a scowl, her ears were still throbbing in pain – it was somewhat difficult to think on such important issues when your mind was so preoccupied. She had hoped that the wounds caused by yesterdays' piercing would have healed by this morning, Eleni had even assured her that they would, but it seemed that Alanna must be a 'special case'.

"What fun." She mumbled to herself. Groaning both at the unfair state of the universe (with relation to her ears) and at the twisted questions posed by the dreams, she pushed her way up and out of bed, angry at the world in the way that you can only be when rising before dawn – and set off downstairs to find her small patch in the alleyway once more. To find peace within her own mind and attempt to banish some of the more inane questions that had arisen thanks to the dreams.

All the while, however, one question remained unanswered in the back of her mind, needling forward now and then only for her to dismiss it once more. It was, after all, rather a distracting topic, one which she would have liked to spend a good hour or two thinking over – an hour or two which she simply did not have. What had happened to her brother? What had happened to Thom?

Was he really dead?

***

Alanna eventually managed to find this hour or two, although not before a tiring day had almost ended. Once her training had been completed for the day, she had returned back into the Dove and, after taking a quick bath and dressing, had emerged downstairs. Immediately, instead of being able to enjoy a quiet breakfast, she had been all but accosted by Nelly – demanding that she help her serve breakfast since 'one of the girls ain't coming in today', or some equally vapid excuse. Too bewildered to argue, Alanna nodded her head woodenly and was immediately set to delivering steaming plates of oats and sausages to patrons. Her quiet breakfast was soon forgotten, the only food she was able to eat was stolen from the kitchen – a skill that Riven (who had also been roped into serving duties) had quickly pressured her to acquire.

Thankfully, Nelly never once spotted her clumsy attempts, or if she did they were ignored. Alanna managed to feed herself, although not with a great deal of nourishing food. Finally, after a good hour and a half had passed, Alanna was waved away by Nelly to 'see to her own business', which Riven translated basically as meaning 'get out of my kitchen'. Taking his advice, Alanna escaped back up to her rooms in an attempt to find solitude there, to think over the dreams and her situation some more, or to just hope the burning in her ears died down. Unfortunately, it seemed that she was destined not to get such solitude – or at least, not get it here, as a rowdy group decided to enter the Dove. Their voices floated up to her level, the wooden door offering no protection from their aggravating noise, and Alanna began to get frustrated.

Finally, she decided that the best thing to do was just to leave, and so she did. She hadn't planned on going any one place in particular, but after seeing how high the sun in the sky was once she emerged from the Dove, she realised that she'd do best in just heading straight to Eleni's. After all, she needed to head there at some point in the early afternoon anyway; why not just get there a little earlier and hope that Eleni either had no friends or other loud things around, or she had a willing ear for Alanna's questions. Questions that she was fairly sure Eleni couldn't answer, but at the moment she didn't worry about things like that – not many people wouldn't have the answer, so Eleni was in good company there. And at least she enjoyed Eleni's company, more than she could say about, again, a great many people. She gave a self-deprecating smile as she realised just how thorny her thoughts were – which, she realised, wasn't strange considering what she was going to be getting up to tonight, and what had gone on the previous night. She still hadn't really mulled over the ramifications of last night's meeting with Jon yet, what with the dreams, Nelly and training for tonight taking up much of her time and thoughts during the day.

Luckily, once she arrived at Eleni's place, it soon became apparent that this would be the perfect place to sort through her feelings about what had happened. After all, Eleni didn't appear to be able to think on much else. Something which was made apparent from almost the very first words spoken to her, as they sat around Eleni's kitchen table sipping on the warm tea the older woman had brewed prior to Alanna's arrival.

"What did you and Johnny get up to last night, dear?" the woman asked, bluntly. Alanna gaped – people shouldn't ask questions like this! This was too confronting, too revealing! "Close your mouth, now. Good girl." She shot Alanna a quick grin, "Now then, I know that something must have happened, because you look as haggard as if you'd spent all night awake."

"Uh…" Alanna gaped once more, snapping her mouth closed as Eleni shot her a glare. How was she supposed to answer this? It wasn't as if she were embarrassed by what had happened, embarrassed by talking about it, but this was George's mother!

So? Her mind queried, What does that have to do with anything? She's proven nothing but a friend to you, and George did give me his blessing. She frowned slightly, Didn't he? Or was it just his way of showing her that he can give her space? She hadn't thought about George's words all that much, to be honest.

"Do you want to look like an old hen?" Eleni's voice cut through her mental chatter, bringing her back to reality.

Alanna's frown deepened. "No." she replied simply, "But what does-?"

"Then stop frowning, dear." Came the reply. "Frowning will make you wrinkle faster."

"Oh." Alanna blinked, before relaxing her face. "Sorry." She almost frowned again; old hen?

Silence reigned for a few moments more, Eleni pointedly looking at Alanna over the rim of her cup, eyes appealing for an answer. Alanna, in return, pointedly avoided the other woman's gaze. "And?" Eleni eventually asked.

"And what?"

"Don't be coy with me, girl." Eleni shot back, "Tell me."

"What's to tell?"

The other woman sighed deeply, before dropping her eyes to her cup and taking a sip. "You want to be like that? Fine – but you can find someone else to help you tomorrow night, dearie."

Alanna choked on her own sip; "What?"

"You heard me."

She couldn't believe her ears. "Are you…bribing me into telling you what happened last night? What might have happened?" She hastily amended, cursing herself for giving away that much, hoping that Eleni hadn't caught the slip.

Unfortunately, such a case was not to be, something noticed as the older woman's lips curled into a smile. "I think you'll find it's called blackmail, dear. Bribery is when I offer you something to tell me. Blackmail is when I already have something of yours, and offer to return it in exchange for something else. In this case, my services can be withdrawn if you don't tell me, Alanna."

"That's so…so…"

"Clever?" Eleni's smile widened, and Alanna's own mouth began to twitch. She had to give it to the older woman, she was quick.

"I was going to say callous." She replied. "After all, isn't my business just that?"

"Not when you get to my age, dear. My business is other peoples' business."

Alanna couldn't help it, a grin spreading wide across her face. "Well," she began, "It's nice to see that you're up front about your gossiping."

"No sense in hiding the obvious," Eleni replied, a matching grin taking hold with her as well. "Don't you think?"

Of course. "I guess." Alanna replied, petulantly.

Eleni laughed aloud at that, "Don't sound so distraught, dear! As you know, I like to gossip, and after seeing what the two of you were like around each other last night before you left…well. I had a feeling something went on, and I want to know about it."

"Sorry," Alanna replied, blushing. "I just find it hard to talk about my feelings with others." The smile slid off her face; it was true, after all.

"That's alright. I know you, Alanna, and I knew that you would. That's why I had to force you, isn't it?"

Her smile returned slightly, "Thanks, I suppose. And yes, you were right – something did happen last night. Johnny came to talk to me, to tell me something important-" Alanna left out exactly what Jon had told her about the Royal Patronage. It wasn't that she didn't trust Eleni when it came to the plan she and Jon had hammered out, it was just…well, two things, really. One, she didn't want to lumber the older woman with the problems she faced, the problems with her past and how Roger was involved in it all – it was easier just to let Eleni think she was merely going to a ball. After all, she didn't know who Johnny really was, did she? Telling her would just lead to far too many questions, some of which would invariably get George in trouble. George, in effect, was also the focus of the second point. If she told Eleni what was being planned, she had a sneaking suspicion that such information would somehow make its way to the Rogue himself and, to be quite honest, she would rather George didn't know that she was risking herself in such a fashion.

And she was, there was no kidding about the issue there. She was putting herself directly in danger of following her brother's footsteps. Quite literally, if the dreams she had had the night before held any relevance to the actual events. It's just that…She frowned, why was she concerned that George might stop her from placing herself in danger while she didn't mind Jon knowing the same details. Was it just that she couldn't help but have Jon know, or was it something else entirely?

"Don't think so hard. You're frowning again, and you know what that causes."

Alanna was shaken from her stupour. "Huh? - Oh, right." She grinned, "Old hen."

"Indeed." Eleni nodded, "So you should really stop thinking so hard. Tell me."

Stop thinking so hard? I suppose the adage of 'Beauty is pain' can also be known as 'Beauty is stupid' Alanna giggled to herself at that. Looking pretty was one thing, but she'd rather think things through (even if, as she knew, she often thought through things far too intensely) and ensure that she was doing the right things than merely looking pretty. Besides, she didn't think she looked all that good to begin with, so it's not that much of a fall – so to speak. "Alright, alright. As I was saying, Johnny came over to tell me something-" again she left out just what that was, "-and things just seemed to happen, really."

Eleni seemed a little put off by her apparent prudishness; "What sort of things, dear?"

Do I really feel the need to tell her – to tell this woman about my feelings? She supposed she did, at that. For herself as much as Eleni, however – she could justify it that way, too. Still, coming to this realization didn't make it any easier for her to articulate her feelings. "Just…" she shrugged, "Talking about how he felt, about how we feel about each other. Those sort of things."

"So did anything….happen? Besides this talk, I mean."

"Well, yes." Alanna replied, softly, ears and face burning at the memory. "Other things happened, yes. One might even go as far as to say that there were lip related things occuring."

Eleni smiled, "I always imagined that Johnny would be a good kisser." She sighed, before laughing at Alannas' opened mouth look of horror. "Oh don't be so precious, dearie! I may be old, but I still know a handsome lad when I see one."

"Uh." Alanna didn't seem to be able to offer any other form of response.

"Tell me," the other woman continued, leaning across the table to take Alanna's hands in her own in a conspiratorial gesture, "What's it like, kissing a King?"

Alanna froze… "How-" …and swallowed. She had to be calm – having her voice croaking wouldn't be the smartest thing she could do right now. "How do you think I'd know the answer to that, Eleni?" she continued, far more composed.

The other woman simply groaned, before her smile widened. "I don't know whether or not I should be offended, that you'd think I was that stupid. You and George both, dragging that boy round here all the time, trying to pass him off as merely Johnny the rich merchants; son." She leant further across the table, "Tell me, Alanna. Didn't you at least question the story George had dreamt up? A rich-merchants son whose name is similar to the young king, is of a similar age, and who looks the same?"

She gaped, "Uh, no. I mean, I don't think George had reason to question it." She didn't bother trying to refute the claim; now that she thought about it, the 'Johnny' cover story did seem particularly thin. Although, she realised, it has held stock with many other people. Riven, Nelly, Olly – none of them suspect, do they? She'd have to look into that one. The only reason Jon wandered around the city as freely as he did was due to his – supposed - anonymity. If this was built merely on an unsteady premise…

"Don't worry about it," Eleni broke in, "I don't think anyone else would know about it. I know Johnny fairly well, I'm in close contact with him many times – I doubt that anyone else would be able to put the pieces together without knowing him as well as I do." She grinned, "The way you do, for instance."

Alanna blushed once more, although the embarrassment she felt thanks to Eleni's words was tempered somewhat with the realization that the other woman's reasoning was probably rather accurate. "I don't know him that well."

"Maybe so," Eleni shrugged. "After all, you've not known him for all that long. However, you know him slightly more intimately than I do – more than most woman do and more than a fair few of those dare dream."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means just what it says – that you know our Fair King in a way that many women would envy. For a start, you've kissed the man." Eleni stopped, suddenly. "Haven't you?"

"Yes." Alanna replied quietly. "I have." More than once, at that.

A sigh of relief could be heard, electing a small chuckle from Alanna. "That's good. I had a moment of panic, then." Eleni said, holding her chest. "I knew what you said earlier was rather plain, but sometimes-"

"-You just can't stop yourself fearing the worst." Alanna finished, "I know the feeling. In fact," she continued, gulping. "it's what really kept me an Jon apart to begin with."

Eleni frowned. "So, last night wasn't your first…?"

"No." Alanna replied, "And don't frown."

"Cheeky."

"I try." She grinned, "And no, last night wasn't the first night something between me and Jon had occurred. That date happened a while ago now, about two weeks ago, give or take a few days. We then discussed how we felt about each other – rather generally, it seemed. That we felt something for each other, though we weren't entirely sure what." Biting her lip, Alanna felt a slight stab of pain at how this 'first attempt' had gone, "But even though we shared quite an amazing day together after that, things fell apart – hard – once he told me just who he was."

"Why was that?" Eleni proffered, her warm, motherly tone easing Alanna's pain.

Still, it was nonetheless somewhat distressing, and Alanna sighed in memory. "I don't rightly know, to be honest. I've gone over it many times in my head, wondering that very question, and the closest I can get to the truth is that…that we both had so many secrets to reveal to each other, and after I'd spent a while recounting my own secrets – secrets which I've never told anyone else, mind you - " She qualified, "he then reveals to me that not only is he someone with whom our lives would necessarily be public in nature, but who is already engaged to another woman that you've never met before."

"Ah. So this occurred before he broke it off with that Eldorne hussy." Eleni smiled, "I've heard rumours that it was because of another woman that the King broke off the engagement, even had my suspicions, but it's glad to have it confirmed – that it's both true and that it was you who caused it."

Alanna growled, a low sound originating from somewhere in her throat. "I'd rather not think on it like that." She announced.

"But it's true, no?"

"Not really. It was Jon's decision."

"Ah," Eleni nodded. "That's true, yes – but if not for you, do you think he would have done it?"

Another growl threatened. "Maybe." She didn't like where this was going; was Eleni accusing her of being a harlot?

Perhaps not; the older woman laughing softly in response. "I'm not saying that what you did, what Jon did because of you was a bad thing. On the contrary," she continued, giving Alanna a look of warmth, "I think the two of you make a wonderful couple, or you would once you become such. And that's taking into account my disappointment that it didn't work out between you and my George. I still think the two of you would make a lovely couple as well, but I understand that sometimes things don't happen that way." Her smile widened, "So I think what occurred is for the best. But – and that's an important but there, dearie, take note – you can't run away from what impact you've had. You are an important person, Alanna, in many peoples lives."

"For the better or worse?" Alanna queried.

"You're thinking of George, aren't you?" Alanna nodded softly, "Hum, I thought so. Look, George fell in love with you, and couldn't think of anything else but you. Then again, that's always the way George has been – he walks with his heart kept so confined and locked within him that when he lets it loose the entire thing escapes."

"That's a pleasant image." She interjected, a slight smile creeping over her lips.

"When he lets' his passion free," Eleni clarified, a rather melancholic smile reflecting Alanna's own, though for what reason the younger woman was not certain, "It tends to consume him. Whatever it is that he becomes passionate about attracts his entire being. He's always been like that, ever since he was a little boy and was incredibly passionate about saving his father."

There's the reason. "His father? I don't think I've ever heard about him."

Eleni waved her hand, "I think George would rather it that way, to be honest. It's not something he's fond of remembering."

Touchy subject, obviously. "Alright. Well, thanks for your kind words regarding myself and Jon. Johnny, I mean."

"You can call him Jon," Eleni replied, smile perking up once more. "And I meant what I said. George may well be where my heart lies, but I can tell as well as anyone else with eyes that you and Jon are in love with each other. And from what I gather happened last night…"

"Nothing really happened last night," Alanna responded, after seeing Eleni's eyebrows shift noticeably upwards, hinting at something different. "Nothing like that, anyway."

"Would it have been a shame if such a thing happened? Would it be a shame to lie with the King? With Jon?"

"No!" Alanna replied quickly, and far too loudly. Feeling colour suffusing her cheeks, she attempted to clarify her point. "No, it wouldn't be a shame if something like that happened – but not now, not so soon."

"But from what you've said, it's not really all that soon at all."

Did this woman have no shame at all? "But it is. Until last night, we'd come to an…an agreement to, uh, ignore what had happened before-" She cut off, biting her lip.

"Before what, dear?"

"Before the night where we revealed just who we were to each other." Before that night.

"Ah." Eleni seemed to understand now, though whether she understood in relation to what Alanna had told her, or in relation to what George may have told her, she didn't know.

"Did George…? That is, was there anything unusual about George a week or so ago?" Alanna queried, attempting to ferret out just how much this older woman knew about her romantic life. It was strangely…comforting…to know that someone (who wasn't even her!) was keeping as much attention upon such happenings as she herself was. Very strange.

Eleni grinned, "No, dear. George didn't say anything to me about anything happening between either the two of you or you and Jon, but I'm his mother."

She really should know what that means – or at least, what Eleni wants' it to mean. "So…"

"So I can tell when something is upsetting my child, Alanna. And, based off what little he'd told me about his feelings for you previously, I could gather what had happened."

"So…"

The other woman all but rolled her eyes. "Would you like me to spell it out for you, child?"

"Uh."

"I know that you and George lay together. I know that you did and do not feel the same way for him that he feels for you. I know that there was a lot of tension between the three of you as of late, particularly between you and my son. I know, now, that the bonds between the three of you are re-affirmed, that they are just as strong as they ever were, though still changed. George understands that you don't feel for him in the same way, though he remains to feel the same way about you. He also understands that you love Jon, and it is this fact – together with his desire to see the best for you, Alanna – that has re-affirmed his friendship with the King. He wishes to ensure that Jon's life is as smooth as possible, so that the King can focus upon you, dear."

"Wow." Alanna stated, simply, after a long period of silence. "You know all this for certain?"

"No, Alanna," came the reply, "I do not. However, just as my son has a gift for understanding people that helps him with his thieving, so do I have a gift for understanding people when it comes to my gossip. I don't know that everything I just told you is true, but I feel that it is. Just as I don't know that you are still confused with your own personal dealings, but that things are becoming clearer to you everyday – that you feel you belong with Jon, even as it hurts you to see what effect this has on George. I don't know these things, but I feel that they're true."

"Wow."

"Just as I felt that something happened between you last night." Eleni looked pointedly into her eyes, "Just as I feel that something is going to happen tomorrow night."

Ah. Of course, the same dilemma arises now – tell her and endanger her and George, or don't tell her and risk a friendship? It seemed an obvious decision, when Alanna thought about it. "I can't tell you." She whispered, "I just – if I tell you that what you…feel is correct, expand on it, then you may well be put in danger. I don't want that, not for you."

"Don't try and protect me, dear. George does enough of that as it is."

"I'm sorry, Eleni. But I won't put you in danger." Alanna pulled her hands back, eyes downcast as she did so. "I just won't do it, no matter how much I may want to – because I do want to, Eleni. I do want to tell you and be a good friend, but I won't."

The other woman sighed deeply, "Fair enough, then. We all have secrets, don't we? I suppose that I can understand where you are coming from, although I have to tell you that I'd never try and act personally upon whatever it may be that you would be doing tomorrow."

Personally – yes, that's what I'm worried about. "I'm sorry."

"That's alright." Eleni's smile returned, "Now, thinking about tomorrow still – I think you should get here at about noon, so we can start getting you ready."

"Noon?!"

"Yes, dear. It takes a long time to make you up properly, and then we still need to worry about the hair, and the dress – oh, and we need to do some last minute run downs of Lady-like things."

Alanna narrowed her eyes, "What do you mean by that? I'm feminine enough, aren't I?"

"Feminine?" Eleni had the gall to actually snort, "Alanna, I think you're a wonderful person, but you're as un-lady like as a farmers' son."

"Don't you mean daughter?"

"No."

"Oh. Well…"

"Exactly." She smiled at Alanna then, "But don't worry – we're not going to try and turn you into a lady overnight. Just enough skills and know-how to get you through a few hours, and a few highly-intrusive questions from noble ladies and noblemen."

"Why wi- Oh, right." Alanna hadn't thought of that – of course other's would be interested in her. She was, after all, attending as the King's 'New Partner'. Not that you'll technically be attending at all, a more rational part of her mind noted. You'll be off attempting to find some evidence that will incriminate Roger in the old Queen's death, not worrying your pretty little head over what the nobles think of you.

That was true, Alanna knew it. She didn't really need to worry about such 'lady' lessons, considering that the closest she'd get to nobility all night (besides Jon) would probably be the Guards at the gate. She was surprised to feel a pang of regret at that thought; why am I disappointed by that? I don't want to mingle with nobles…

But that probably wasn't it, she realised. It was more probable that she regretted being able to meet with Jon's friends and acquaintances, to show the world that Jon was an amazing man. Moreover, she added mentally with a grin, it would have been fun to see the nobles' reaction to seeing their King with a Female, Gifted, Noble born Shang Warrior. Still, there wasn't much point complaining about such 'lady-training' if she wasn't going to be needing it anyway – and if she tried to wrangle out of it by claiming this very fact…well, there wasn't much point going down that route, either. "Alright," she finally responded. "I'll get here around noon, then. Anything else that I should do before I arrive tomorrow?"

Eleni seemed to think on that for a while, rubbing her hands together as she did so. "Not particularly, dear. No. Although you probably shouldn't tax yourself too much this evening, just to be on the safe side." She must have noticed Alanna's puzzled expression, "Neither bags nor bruising are awfully attractive, are they?"

"I suppose not."

"How are your ears doing?"

Alanna reached up and touched then, "They still hurt, a lot. But they're getting better." They were, at that. Never mind of course that 'getting better' still measured very high on the painful scale.
"Good. With anyone else it would be a few more days before I'd risk putting in some of the more elaborate earrings, but for you…" Eleni smiled, "Well. I think we'll be alright for tomorrow. We'll get you some nice ones to match your dress."

"Matching?"

"Yes. You can match what you're wearing, Alanna. It's a new concept, I know."

She rolled her eyes at that one. "Very funny. But I didn't realise that earrings matched or didn't – I just thought that they…well, were."

"You've a lot to learn, Miss Shang." Eleni responded with a crooked grin, "A lot to learn."

***

It turned out that indeed Alanna did, as she spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the night with Eleni, being taught the basics of lady-hood. True, the two of them realised that girls trained for years to become Ladies, and thus one or two evenings wouldn't really be able to make a difference, but it all counted. And considering that besides the very minimal training she had undergone while still in Trebond Alanna had not gained any formal training in either etiquette, deportment or fashion – let alone the numerous other elements a lady was expected to be versed in, any more 'count' would be immensely useful.

Not that Alanna planned on needing to utilise such skills, oh no.

Liar!

She had stopped walking suddenly at that, about halfway between Eleni's home and the Dove. She was lying to herself, wasn't she? Yes, yes – truth be told, she did want to try some of the skills out that she had recently acquired, to act like a lady a little. Not a lot, definitely not act a lot like a lady, she didn't think she'd ever really want to act a lot like a lady – but she wanted to be the kind of woman that Jon would have been proud of.

She frowned at that thought. That wasn't entirely true, now was it? It wasn't that she wanted to change herself to be what he wanted, but there was nothing wrong with showing the man how much she desired his attention. And that's all this was, really, she decided. She wanted to show the King how she wanted to be with him by presenting…something to him which had taken her time and energy to create. That was all this was. It wasn't as if she was contradicting just who she was with this little act – she still recognised that she never would be a lady, that she was a Shang Warrior, and that above all else she was an individual. But as part of that…she could give a little, couldn't she? Show Jon that she wasn't just comprised of steely-eyed resolve, that she could be soft and ladylike when she wanted to be.

But was that enough? Was it enough to justify her attending the ball just to show Jon how she cared? Was it worth, potentially, her risking herself by doing so, by exposing herself to Roger?

She couldn't conceive of it as being so. Going through with it could do far more harm than good. Even if nobody did catch you, or question you, or one of a hundred other potential problems, then Jon would be too upset and anxious about what you're doing to take good notice of just why you're doing it. The exercise would be utterly pointless.

And pointless exercises weren't something she was generally willing to aim for. So, in the end, she decided that there was no possible chance that she would actually attend the ball itself, regardless of how badly or well her other 'mission' had progressed. It was a shame, but it was the right thing to do.

"Doing the right thing all the time sometimes gets irritating." She noted solemnly, before realizing how silly it was to talk to oneself. She shook her head at that thought, and continued walking. But doing the right thing in this situation, she continued internally, is really the only thing of importance. You're going to the Ball to find evidence on Roger, not to better the standing you have with Jon. Taking unnecessary risks are just that – unnecessary, and may well lead to severe consequences, ones far worse than not taking the opportunity to show Jon how you care.

It's irksome, but it's accurate.

***

"What are you talking about, Riven?" Alanna could barely believe what she was hearing, "Do you honestly expect us to believe that?"

"It's the truth, I swear!"

She rolled her eyes, catching sight of George grinning smugly off to one side of her. Throwing him a soft glare, she turned back to Riven, "So let me get this straight. You're trying to convince us that in one day-"

"Today."
"Right," she sighed, "that today you managed to steal enough gold to buy…what was it now?" Alanna tried to put on a show of thinking, dramatically scratching her chin and pursing her lips.

George laughed lazily, "Three horses, apparently. Nice ones' that wouldn't roll over and die after a good run."

"Right. Three horses, horses which would cost something like...what, George? Fifty gold all up?" George nodded at that, "So fifty gold in one day, eh Riven? That's a pretty big haul."

"It's true! There must have been some kind of merchant convention or gathering going on," Riven adamantly insisted, as he had been doing for the past ten minutes, "There were hundreds of them all in the one region of the markets, and I just happened to be the only one working the area!"

"Where's the money now, Riven?" George asked, fixing an intense gaze on the youngster. "Your pockets don't appear to be all that bulging."

Riven blinked, patting down his pockets instinctively – sure enough, nothing appeared to be in them, no jinking of coin was heard at any rate. Something Alanna wasn't all that surprised about. "Uh. I've spent it already."

"You spent fifty gold in a matter of scant hours?" George continued, incredulously, "On what, dear Riven? Because it certainly wasn't on new clothes, was it?"

That tore a guffaw from Alanna, and a glare from Riven (after, admittedly, a rather sheepish look at his tatty clothing). "What's wrong with me clothes?" he asked, indignant. "They're very serviceable!"

"Aye," George continued, "But you couldn't say they're worth fifty gold."

"Or even five!"

"Don't you start in on this too, Alanna." Riven warned, "I'll have you know that with all the adjustments I've made on these here-"

"Like what? Patches? Darning up tears?" Alanna continued, before smiling as she thought of a point, "And why shouldn't I start on this? As a woman, don't you think that I'd know more about the worth of clothes than you?"

It was Riven's turn to laugh heartily, and he almost fell off the chair doing so. Soon enough, George joined in as well, though his were softer and not quite as violent and injury-inducing as Riven's. "That's a nice one, Alanna!" Riven managed to croak out, "I think we probably do know more about being a woman than you do!"

She glared for a moment, her blood boiling – before a smile broke out on her face. They were probably right about that, if she was being honest with herself. She didn't know much about being female, and while Eleni had been teaching her steadily and quickly, they had a lot more to go through. Just because she had breasts and a cycle didn't mean she knew more about womanhood than men did. Although it certainly helps, she thought with a chuckle. "Nevertheless," she continued, accepting Riven's point, "Your clothes are still not worth fifty gold, nowhere near that. Five silvers, more like."

"Actually," Riven added in a conspiratorial whisper, "Not even that."

"So, if not the clothes….?"

"Yeah, Riven." Alanna added her voice to George's, "If you didn't spend this fifty gold on clothing, and you don't appear to have any horses running around, what exactly did you spend it on?"

Riven sank back into his own chair, mouth opening and closing a few times before he realised it – after which it snapped shut. "Well, it's an interesting story, actually." He finally choked out, face reddening slightly, "Because, uh, I know what you're thinking. That perhaps I'm making this up."

"Good guess." The Rogue huffed, "Whatever gave you that impression?"

"Can I finish?" George grinned at that comment, waving his 'consent' at Riven, "Thank you. As I was saying, I can understand why you'd think that I'm making it all up – but you've got to understand, uh, something. Something that's very important to the tale." Having said this, he paused dramatically.

The silence stretched, until it was readily apparent that Riven actually had nothing to say, no explanation of his actions that would account for the seeming lack of evidence. "And that is?" Alanna prodded with a smirk, not allowing the youth any respite. "That you gave it all to a needy beggar? That you returned it to the merchant once you realised that your actions were illegal and swore of a life of thievery?"

"Actually, those aren't bad." Riven noted quietly, before his eyes bugged, an incredulous look spreading over his features. "Uhh, that is to say…" He obviously hadn't meant to say anything then, "Of course that's not what happened! I spent it all on things that, you know…are easily, uh-"

"Expendable?" George offered.

"Yes! That's it, expendable. It was already spent on things which I've already used. So there." And with that, he sank back down in his chair, arms crossed with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. "Food, drink, helping out some friends – you know, these kinds of things. And that's why you can't see the, uh, benefits of my masterful work."

Alanna shared a glance with George, before shaking her head softly. "Nice try, Riven. But you're really going to have to work on those skills – I don't think they've gotten any better since the moment I met you."

George nodded, "Listen to her lad," he added, ducking his head at Riven in punctuation, "A thief needs to be able to think on his feet more than anything else. Plus they need to know how to lie well-"

"-And lying well does not include making up stories that are quite obviously fake-"

"-As your one clearly was. Now look, stealing the amounts of gold that you claimed you did in one day isn't unheard of, you understand, but if you're going to claim that you did so, well-"

"-You have to act like you did, right?" Alanna finished the thought, smiling as she realised just how similarly she and George were thinking on this issue. "I've never really thought about it before, but being a thief and being a Shang are quite similar. You need to think on your feet well, be trained to react almost without thinking most of the time, and you need to go unnoticed most of the time." Her grin widened, "Of course, there's a few, subtle differences-"

"Like the whole law thing, aye?"

She nodded at George's words. "Well, yes. Not that 'being Shang' is legal everywhere one goes. We're not legally permitted to be in Carthak, for instance."

"Why not?" Riven asked, eyes wide. He really loved all this Shang stuff, she knew – she could still remember a time when he would pester her to teach him something. "What's wrong with being a Shang? I mean, don't they sort out all sorts of things, keep the peace and all that stuff?"

"Yes, we do." She replied, frowning. "At least, that's what we're supposed to do – some have been known to follow other agendas. But that's not how the Carthaki's see us. Of course, the fact that they don't really like any northerner's kind of puts a kink in the relationship even before we get to the whole concept of assassinations."

It was George now he leant forward, an almost wondrous look on his face, "What do you mean by that? They're worried that Shang will start killing people?"

"Not so much 'people' as 'leaders'." Alanna replied, eliciting a nod from George. He understood, she could tell. She turned to Riven, who didn't appear to have made the connection as of yet. "The Carthaki's are just like us, in that one person rules them, right? The Emperor, he's called, although I'm not sure if there's ever been an Empress."

"I doubt it."

She nodded at George's words, "Probably not. But anyway, the Emperor, more accurately the current Emperor Orzone, generally like to hoard their power. See, that's where the countries differ in how they work – here we've got lots of fiefs and so forth, not to mention lots of neighbours, who generally…uh…" She looked at George – it had been a long time since she'd had to study this. Shang weren't taught all that much about the outside world, but anything relating to them in particular; where they could and couldn't go, for instance, was taught in meticulous detail. Still, she'd apparently forgotten some of this detail.

"Constrain the Kings' power." George continued, and Alanna nodded. "The Throne's got a lot of power, don't you worry about that, but it's not all powerful. The King – or the Queen," he quickly added with a shifty glance at Alanna that caused her to chuckle softly, "have to play off the various duchy's and Baron's. They need the support of these if they're to remain in power, and this – together with ensuring that neighbouring countries don't encroach into Tortall's borders, means that they can't do whatever they like."

Yeah, that was pretty much how she remembered it. It struck Alanna then just how clever George really was. She knew that he was smart, of course – one couldn't really be King of the Rogue without being so, but…this was different. He reminded her of…she frowned, she couldn't quite tell. She knew he reminded her of someone, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Nevertheless, he was very intelligent, far more so than she had first had reason to believe. He'd make a great politician, her mind noted, maybe that's why he and Jon got on so well.

The thought stirred something else in her mind, an image from a dream, or so it felt. As it focused in her mind, she remembered, and a question that she had to ask George became apparent.

"Alanna?"

Rivens' voice broke into her consciousness, and she was dragged back to reality. "Yes? Sorry, I drifted off for a bit then."

"Obviously." George whispered under his breath, and she shot him a warm glare. "Anyway, lass – that's the way of things, right?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, that's the way I remember things being told to me." She dropped her head slightly, "So, that's the way things work here. But in Carthak there's no other powerful force nearby, only the 'northern nations' and a few scattered tribes that lie to the east and south. While inside the country, their religion commands them to worship the Emperor as a divine force – a God among men, I think. Something like that, anyway. Which means that-"

"-no-one opposes him, right?" Riven said, catching on.

She nodded – Riven was smart too…in his own way. If he wasn't such a bad liar, he'd make a good thief, she thought with a grin. "Yeah, that's about it. So the only thing the Emperor is really worried about, then, is us. The 'northern nations', I mean. So they try and keep most northerner's out, or at least those who are a potential risk to the established system. The Emperor, in particular, is deadly afraid of some northern ruler getting an idea in their head to try and assassinate him – and since he thinks the Shang are some kind of mercenary force, or something strange like that – I don't really remember the details, he doesn't want us there. So, Shang are illegal in Carthak."

"Wow." Riven noted with a blink, "That's pretty amazing. So no Shang have ever been to Carthak, then?"

"Oh I didn't say that," she replied with a smirk, "Plenty have. We just disguise ourselves as something other than what we are and pray that we're not caught. If one is, then we hope they escape. Which unfortunately doesn't happen as often as one might like." Her smile twisted, "Sad and brutal, yes. But that's part of being Shang."

It was at that, something which she was learning all to quickly. Killing was never something she had really wanted to do, but more and more she was beginning to realise that it never was for any Shang – any Shang who was living the life properly, at any rate.

"Again, I say wow." Riven continued, oblivious to her thoughts. "Well, that's a very…interesting point."

George nodded at that, "Aye. I didn't know that – though I suppose there's a lot about what being a Shang means and entails." She noted that George wasn't quite as cheery as he had been previously; perhaps her comment about sadness and brutality being a part of Shang got to him as well as it did to her. He still cares for me. Of course he did – one doesn't get over feelings of…love…quite as quickly as the words are said, do you? She was pretty sure that time was required to heal old wounds of the heart as much as wounds of the body, something she was sure to learn soon. Things have happened so fast. I've not really had time to grieve George as much as I probably should – first this plan about Roger and then the thing with Jon. I need to make sure that he's alright before I begin to concentrate solely on Jon, don't I? George is still my friend, after all…

Riven appeared to catch on to George's mood as well, and presumably her own too – realizing that she'd upset George, albeit in an unintended fashion, upset her as well. "Well, you guys can stay here brooding if you want, I'm off."

"To spend the rest of your pickings, I take it?" George noted, a small smile slipping back onto his face.

His reply was a roguish wink, and a line thrown over the younger thief's shoulder as he left the table. "Ah, but you forget George, I've already spent it all."

She chuckled at Riven's disappearing back as it slipped through the crowd, "He's going to cause you problems in the future, I can tell."

Her companion nodded softly, "Very probably. That's if he does end up as a thief, however. A thief in my court, at that."

"Nelly?"

George nodded, "Aye. She doesn't want him to, but I can tell that he's going to win out on this one." His smile widened, and he looked up to meet her eyes, "Mind you, not because she'll give up trying to make him stop, but because he's got gold on the brain – if he ever sees something he wants, the first thing he thinks about is how to steal it. Even if he does have the money to buy it, he always thinks of stealing first." He sighed wistfully, "Reminds me of me at his age, sometimes."

"Really?" she questioned, slightly disbelieving his words, "I would have thought that you were more…" she trailed off, thinking. "Stable."

He snorted, "I think not. I'm surprised you haven't heard all the stories of 'George the Tearaway' from my mother already, actually."

Alanna shook her head, "Oh, no. We tend to talk more ab-" she cut off, suddenly, but the thought continued in her mind. More about Jon, more about how I feel about him and how he makes me feel. She couldn't tell George, that, she knew – to have the knowledge that even his own mother talked about Jon and her together probably wasn't what he wanted to hear. Poor George.

"More about what?"

"Sorry?" She blinked in confusion, "Oh, just more about, you know, lady stuff. How to be womanly, that kind of thing." It wasn't really a lie; they did talk about that kind of thing a lot. Plus it was a whole lot less damaging than the other concept.

"I don't know why you need to talk about that kind of thing," George replied in a soft tone, "You're woman enough for any man. Anyone, for that matter."

She dropped her head, I wish George move on. I like him, love him even, but we're not to be. Who knows, if Jon wasn't in the picture…But he is. She didn't want to think about that, it would depress her too much. "George…"

"I know, lass. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be." She reached across the table, taking one of his hands in hers. "I know how hard this must be for you George; I'm the one who should be sorry." He nodded at that – a good sign? Accepting that she was to blame for his situation just as much, if not more so, than he himself was? – and she decided to steer the conversation away to less personal topics. Remembering the thought that had risen earlier, she furrowed her brow. "George," she began, "Do you remember anything about the people Thom associated with when he was here? I mean, apart from yourself, of course."

George's brow deepened as well, and she could tell that wheels were turning in his sharp mind, "What do you mean, lass? Who he would talk to, and all that?"

Was that what she meant? "Yes. I mean, I suppose so. I don't really know what I want."

"Then how do you know to ask the question?"

Damn. "I just heard that Thom used to hang around with…uhh…elements which weren't what one would have expected." She just suppressed a self-satisfied grin as she said the words, astounded that she could actually come up with such a plausible sounding excuse. She hadn't told George about the dreams yet, hadn't told many people, and she did kind of wish to keep it that way. She wanted a few more answers on why they occurred before she let the whole world know about them. George wasn't 'the whole world', of course, but he was still a part of it.

So she justified her lies to him. She knew he despised liars, but there was nothing to be done about it. It wasn't hurting him any by lying, anyway.

He seemed to accept her words – lies – at any rate, nodding softly to himself. "Well, there's not really anyone that I can think of. No one person, I mean. He didn't really come out into the city much anyway, so I didn't get to see him associatin' much anyway – and when he did come out of the palace, he disguised himself a lot of the time."

"So you don't know?" Her heart fell; who was that man who convinced Thom to go up against Roger?

George smiled softly, "I never said that, did I? I don't have a name or anything, no, but I do know that apart from Jon and Roger, there was one other person whose name was mentioned along with Thom's, anyway."

She frowned at that, "What does- What do you mean by that?"

"Just that, and you'll have to remember that this isn't really an answer to your question – it's just an observation. I don't know how the two of them interacted at all, or even if they did. But the only name mentioned as much as Thom's while he was here was that friend of yours. The other Shang."

"Arune?"

George nodded, "Aye, that was it. Yes."

"Why would Arune's name be mentioned at the same time as Thom's?"

"It's probably nothing," her friend shrugged as he talked, "As I said, I don't know if it's an answer to your question. Just an observation – Arune arrived around the same time as Thom did; the first time, anyway."

"The first time?"

"Yes. You didn't know?"

She frowned, there seemed an awful lot about Arune that she didn't know. "Know what?"

"I take it that's a no. He arrived, as I said, about the same time as Thom did – so what now? Almost two years, I think. Might even be a little longer. Anyway, He stayed for about a year or so, teaching and advising, before leaving again. He only recently arrived back, a few weeks before your face was seen around here." George shrugged again, shifting back into his chair as he did so. "As I was saying, while he was here the first time, his name was mentioned as much as Thom's was. Not in the same context, mind you, not all the time. Dances, balls and gatherings were the only places, if you were to believe everything told to you by the gossips, that the two met up."

"Why didn't you tell me about this when you met Arune?" she asked, confused. If he had known all along that Arune may know about Thom….

George frowned at that, "Well, we were a bit preoccupied at the time; remember? My face, his fists? Besides, I thought you already knew."

"Why would I already have known?"

"Well, you are both Shang."

True. "Oh." Yes, she probably should have realised George would see it as that. "Well, I didn't know, but I understand why you didn't say anything about it to me." Arune was here, in Corus, at the same time that Thom was. The voice in the dream had sounded slightly familiar; the question, then, was whether it was Arune, and if it was, how were the two linked? Why would the two be linked? The voice in the dream had sounded so…anti-Roger, had convinced Thom to go up against him. But it couldn't be Arune – if it were him, why had he never talked once to her about it?

"You think the two might be linked?" George's voice inquired, interrupting her thoughts as it did so. "Arune and your Brother?"

She shook her head, before stopping the movement. "I'm not altogether sure." She wasn't, at that. There were many reasons why Arune wouldn't have talked to her about it, if it were indeed him she heard talking to her brother. He could be waiting for the right time, a time when he had…sorted through, well, anything important enough to him to prevent him talking to her. He could be unwilling to get her involved, thinking her either too young, or not ready enough to go against Roger the way he desired to. That thought set her blood boiling, but she realised that it was just a thought.

Or, a more rational part of her mind noted, he might not have known who you were.

And there it was – the answer. "I think it was," she said to George, "I think he was linked to my brother." He wouldn't have talked to her about it because he had no reason to believe that she was anything besides what she claimed to be; Alanna the Shang Falcon. She assumed that Thom hadn't told anyone about her, and so Arune wouldn't have reason to believe that he even had any siblings, let alone a twin sister with a desire to be anything besides a lady. Moreover, she herself had never revealed anything about a brother, or the rest of her family for that matter. No-one at the Shang village, besides Liam, knew she was noble-born, and she had never revealed to anyone besides George and Jon that she possessed the Gift. Finally, there was her hair – perhaps the most innocuous factor, but one which would have prevented her from even arousing Arune's eye as a potential link to Thom. Yes, he never talked to you about Roger or Thom because he had no idea that you were his sister, and he's not about to go around asking everyone whether they wish to do away with the current 'steward' of the King, is he?

"For or against?" George asked, softly. "Best to know that, first of all."

She nodded, "Defiantly, need to know that." She muttered softly, "But I'm certain that he was against Roger. More than certain."

"Willing to stake your life on it, lass? Because if you do what I think you're going to do, then you might have to be." A level gaze accompanied George's words, and he appeared to be trying to force her to take his comment seriously. Not that there was any chance that she wouldn't…

Still, "And what do you think I'd do about it?"

George caught himself before he snorted, "What wouldn't you do about it? You're going to go to him, asking him questions and all that. If he's not who you think he is, then you're going to find yourself in trouble up to your pretty neck faster than you can think."

"I'm not stupid, George." She replied sharply, "I'm not going to ask him unless I'm sure about him. And yes, he might turn out to be an ally to Roger. He might even turn out to be not linked to this whole thing at all. But I'm fairly certain that I already am sure about him, who he is and what his motives are."

"Fairly certain ain't certain, lass."

"I know that," she was beginning to get a bit frustrated now, and she could tell that her tone was reflecting that. Closing her eyes, she forced her anger down, continuing with a far calmer tone. "Look, George. I'm not going to do anything…rash, here. I know what could happen if I were wrong, and I'm going to do everything I can to prevent that from happening."

George smiled, raising his eyebrows slightly as he did so. "Aye? Then that's all I could ask for."

She returned the smile, "Good. And you don't have to worry about me, George. I've been, uh, investigating this for a while now – I know what I'm doing, and I know how to keep out of peoples attention."

"News to me." George shot back with a cheeky grin.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The grin remained firmly in place, "Just that I'd find it difficult for you to keep out of peoples attention. Something that I reckon is pretty evident, too, considering how much has been happening around here in the past few months."

Her mouth dropped open; "Wha-? The price on your head? That was not my fault!"

"What about the ever increasing number of nobles here at dinners? What about those?"

"Who? Gary, Raoul and Alex? They've not been around for a long time?" George began to laugh under his breath, and she glared at him. "You're just poking fun at me, aren't you?"

"No, lass! I'm deadly serious." As if to prove his point, he peered over his shoulder, looking at various other patrons of the Dove. Evidently finding what he was looking for, he turned back to her, surreptitiously point to a table on the far side of the room. "Over there, the three men at the table."

She frowned, looking at the table he was pointing to. "And?"

"And what? They're nobles, Alanna! Nobles who wouldn't have been caught dead here a month or so ago. No, they all come to get a good long look at the Fighting Falcon!"

Her frown remained; were they nobles? She couldn't really tell. They certainly looked slightly more in the money than most other patrons, but….nothing about them really screamed nobility. Perhaps George was merely having a laugh at her expense. She decided to move on. "Oh well, I doubt that that's the only reason, George. If they are nobles, they're probably just out here for, you know, the excitement. To mix with the roughest sorts, that kind of thing."

"Oh, I'm sure that's the reason, aye." George rested his arms on the table, "Just a spot o' roughhousing, eh Alanna?"

She nodded, eyes closed, "Exactly," she replied, snootily. "You'll understand yet, George." George's reply was simple, a snort, accompanied by a wave of his hand. Grinning as the friendly banter gave way to relative silence once more, she began to once more dwell on her friendship with the man in front of her. More than anything else, at the moment, she needed to keep him close to her. She knew that if she allowed him to move away, for their close friendship to drift apart any more than it already had, could prevent it ever becoming as close in the future. They couldn't go back to what they had – George himself had said that, and she knew it for the truth, but they could have something relatively similar, couldn't they?

The question was, of course, how best to go about such a thing? Could she do…this? Banter with him? Ask him questions about Thom and what she was doing with regards to him? Could she talk to George about Jon?

She bit her lip, then. That was the question, wasn't it? She knew the answer to the others – a simple 'yes' would suffice, more often then not. But Jon was another matter. The answer to this was something still left unsaid and unclear within the murkiness that was their current relationship. George probably didn't want to hear some of the details of what she and Jon did, what she felt about Jon and the like. Although he does know that you love him, and isn't that the only 'real' truth here? She felt like screaming; why did it have to be all so confusing?

He doesn't like liars, remember that.

It was the truth, wasn't it? She had made this mistake in the past, made it again quite recently actually. Was lying to George about her heart, however, which was never really clear itself….no, she shouldn't consider anything relating to that to be lying. It was too complicated, and she needed the possibility of keeping things to herself. It kept her sane, kept her whole.

Which didn't really make a whole lot of sense, if she tried to examine it rationally. She knew she shouldn't lie to George, and she didn't want to, but she knew that with regards to some things that she not only had to, but she should – for George's own benefit. So what shouldn't she lie to George about? Everything else? Quite simply; yes.

"What?"

She frowned as George's voice intruded into her thoughts. "Sorry?"

"What was the question? You just said 'yes' out loud."

Oh. She hadn't meant to, though…perhaps this would be a good time to let George in on some things. Things which he would like to know about. "Oh, uh, nothing all that much, really."

"But there's something, isn't there?"

She nodded softly at that. "I just wanted to tell you something. About tomorrow night, I mean."

"What about it?"

How to go about this? "It's just- I should probably- Uh." A grimace spread over her face, "I just didn't want you to worry about me, and while I doubt that what I'm about to tell you will, you know, prevent that from happening, I just didn't want to lie to you. I know you want to know if I'm going to do anything…dangerous or anything, so…" she trailed off, trying to work out the best way to continue. "Anyway, I was talking to Jon a while back about Roger, and about Thom. And, well, to put things simply, he thinks that Roger's behind Thom's death. I do to, for that matter – but he also mentioned that there's really nothing that can be done to Roger, legally I mean, while he's still in the position that he's in."

"So tomorrow…?" George noted as Alanna didn't immediately continue talking.

"Tomorrow we're going to try to rectify that. I'm going to the palace, getting in thanks to Jon and by pretending to be a court Lady, and I'll try and find sufficient evidence of bad dealings by Roger. Sufficient evidence to have him, uh, demoted. To have him removed as advisor to the King and allow Jon to have him tried."

She watched as George simply sat there for a long while, apparently absorbing all that had been told to him. "So," he began, eventually, "How do you know that such evidence exists?"

"I don't." she replied simply. "I honestly don't know if such evidence does exist, but we have to try."

George apparently didn't like this answer, "Do you? Do you really? You said it yourself – this is the only legal way to remove Roger. What about other methods? I could have him killed, if you'd like. Did you think of that?"

"George," she began, ready to softly reason with him, before it struck her that it really hadn't occurred to her. She'd always had the intention, ever since she met Jon at any rate, to bring Roger to justice in the official sense of the word. Perhaps that was the reason, she realised with a start, 'ever since you met Jon'. Do you want Jon to think you killed his cousin? He may not like him, may even hate him, but does he want his cousin actually killed? She didn't think so. "To be honest, no. I hadn't thought of that. But I don't want that to happen, and I don't think you would, either."

"Wha-?" George spluttered, "What makes you think that? If you asked, I'd send all of my men who'd go up against Roger."

She grimaced, "But it would mean you'd probably lose the Rogue. Having sent all those who supported you up against the Kings' Advisor wouldn't leave you in the best position. Jon would have to ensure that the Grand Provost didn't try and take your head for it, and you'd probably have to leave Corus!"

"So?"

It was that one word which shocked her more than all this talk of assassinations and murder. It showed just how deeply George still cared for her. "I can't allow you to do that, George. I just can't allow your life to be ruined for my benefit."

He shook his head softly, "But you wouldn't be ruining my life, don't you understand? Helping you would….it would be sufficient, don't you see that?"

"George…"

"I know, I'm sorry." He sighed, sadly. "I'm sorry. But Alanna, you shouldn't think that I can't help you in this. Because I can, and I want to – regardless of the cost. And yes, mostly I'd be doing it for you, because of my feelings towards you, but there is another level to it. That's important to you, I know that, so you've got to understand that – just as I want to help remove Roger because of what he's done to you and your brother, I want to do it because of all the other people who've suffered like you have by his hands. I want to help because I want to remove his blight from the land."

"George," she started, heartfelt, before stupidly realizing just how often she said his name in that fashion. I'm like a nagging mother, she thought with a smile. "I never realised you were so nationalistic," she continued, "To suffer so that the life of a stranger is better off? Sounds like the Shang credo."

He shrugged at that, and she could almost see his cheeks reddening slightly. "What can I say?" he replied in time, "I'm a patriot." She smiled at that; she was fairly certain that she wouldn't be asking for George's help in this endeavour – for herself and Jon it was quite a personal battle, after all, and she wanted to keep her friends out of danger as best she could, but it was always heartening to know she had support if she desperately needed it. George's mouth widened into a toothy grin after a short moment, "Either that, or I'm sick of his taxes scaring away all the fat-pursed merchants from these streets."

Roger himself could almost have heard her resultant laugh. 

***

Waking early the next morning, Alanna attempted to allow the day itself to be as normal as it could be. Exercises done, helping Nelly somewhat during the morning rush, chatting animatedly with Riven and George over lunch; she even had a long discussion of all things bothering her with Swift. Swift, the horse whom she'd all but abandoned during her time in the city.

The poor thing, thankfully, wasn't in quite as bad condition as she'd feared. She was still strong and lean, and snorted happily as Alanna approached. "That's…odd." She noted. Not that she was necessarily displeased with such a development – she had half-feared the worst when the notion of checking over the horse first came to her. She was sure George would have been more than willing to give her another horse, he seemed to have several excellent specimens, but that wasn't the point. So it was with quite a happy heart that she entered the stall to see a well kept horse happily trotting about its' stable. "And whose been looking after you, then girl?" she asked Swift softly, stroking its head as she did so. "Or are you some kind of wonder-horse that doesn't need any looking after? Clean and feed yourself, can you?"

"Not really." came a quiet voice from beside her, "She gets very dirty, actually."

She looked down to see Olly there, grubby face looking up at her with wide eyes reflecting…fear? "Olly?"

"H-hello Alanna. I mean Lady Alanna! Lady Alanna, sorry!"

Looking around furtively, she put a finger to her lips. "Shh, Olly. I don't want other people to know about that, remember? And I don't care if you don't call me just Alanna either. Remember that, too?" The boy nodded his head violently, dislodging a piece of hay as he did so. "Now, are you saying that you're the one who looked after Swift, here?"

The boy's eyes widened more, and he began to squirm. "Oh, miss. I'm sorry, I'm sorry about it. Really!"

Alanna frowned, "What are you talking about, Olly? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"For riding her!" he managed to croak out, finally, after a good silence filled with more squirming. "For riding her and feeding her and cleaning her! Without askin'! Please don't be angry at Olly!"

"Ah," she understood now, and smiled. "No, Olly. I'm not going to be angry with you."

"You're not?"

"No. In fact, I'm in your debt."

The boy stopped squirming at that, his eyes narrowing in a silent question – one which he still felt needed to be verbalised. "What?"

"I owe you, Olly. I shouldn't have neglected her like I did, and if it wasn't for you and your tending to her, well. She'd be in a pretty bad sort, wouldn't she?" Olly nodded, his large head lolling on his neck like he was being shaken. "So there you have it, I'm in your debt."

"Oh." Olly looked around, before he stepped closer to Alanna. "Oh, that's good then."

She smiled, "Yes, it's good. And if you ever want anything from me, just ask."

"Can-?" the boy frowned as he let his words trail off, shooting a glance towards the horses' stall as he did so.

"Can what?"

"Can I…keep doing it?" he asked softly, "Keep taking care of her? I don't have to ride her, if you don't want."

Alanna grinned, "Yes, you can keep tending her. I'll pay you something for it, actually-"

"-No, you don't have to do that!"

"-And yes, you can keep riding her." A question popped into her head, "Where were you riding her, anyway?"

"You don't have to pay me, miss Alanna! Don't worry about that, just let me take care of her and all that. And like I said, I don't need to ride her!"

"But if you're going to take care of her properly, you'll have to ride her, won't you?" she asked, softly. "And you didn't answer my question – where did you take her when you were riding?"

"Oh." Olly blinked, as if he had only just heard the question. "Just…uh, around the city. I guess."

"Outside the walls?"

The boy nodded. "Most of the time, yes. I'd take him out the west gate – the guards there were very nice, they let me do it all the time. She'd run with me on her back and we'd go down to the sea, almost." Alanna noticed that a warm smile had crept onto Olly's face; he greatly enjoyed this, she could tell. And if he greatly enjoyed taking care of her horse for her…well, there wasn't anything wrong she could see with that. Maybe she should just give the boy Swift, it wasn't like she was using it…

Her smile slipped then – unless she needed it later. Later. After Roger. What was she going to do after…after whatever happened, happened? She didn't want to get ahead of herself, she still wanted to keep focused on what she needed to do to get rid of the man in question. But…leaving that aside for the moment, what was she going to do after she defeated him? Was she going to stay around? Was she going to stay at the Dove, or move into the Palace like Arune had suggested…move in with Jon? She could leave Corus, go adventuring for a while. She could go back and see Trebond at that, see Coram, Maude and her father again. Shang weren't supposed to be sedentary, and she had actually begun feeling a longing for the open road as of late; albeit one which was held in check by her desire to remove Roger. It had crept up on her during the week she spent holed up in the hovel with George – confinement was not something she enjoyed.

"Miss Alanna?"

She looked down, and saw Olly watching her with a confused expression on his face. "Yes, Olly?"

"So I can keep looking after her, right?"

Her smile returned, slightly. "Yes, Olly. As I've already said three times, you can keep looking after her. You can keep riding her, as well. And I'm going to talk to Nelly about arranging a wage for you." Olly opened his mouth to refuse the offer once more, but she cut off his protestations with a finger to his lips. "No arguing Olly. I owe it to you for all the weeks you've spent looking after her, anyway."

"Alright, miss." Olly dejectedly said. It was as if she'd refused his requests, rather than granted them and offered him money!

"Would you mind running along now, Olly?" she asked, "I'd like to talk to Swift for a bit. Alone, if you don't mind." Olly nodded, his eyes widening once more, and he took off back into the inn. She turned back to the horse once Olly was out of eyesight, and sighed heavily. "I suppose I needed to think about these sort of things, didn't I?" she said softly to Swift. "On the one hand, I want to keep wandering for a bit; see the world, give to the people what a Shang should. But on the other hand…I want to stay with Jon. I love him, Swift, I really do, and I don't want to leave him."

Swift neighed loudly, sending her mane into Alanna's eyes.

"Thanks for the gentle ear, Oh horse of mine."

***

Alanna had eventually left Swift alone, and began the walk over to Eleni's house to prepare for the ball. It was still early, but she had been told by Eleni that preparing for a ball was like preparing for a battle; the more time you had beforehand the better. It wasn't the most reassuring analogy the older woman could have used, Alanna felt, but at least it was quite clear.

Still, she hadn't wanted to get there too early, and had waited until the first hour after noon before leaving. This gave her plenty of time, she felt, and meant that she actually had been able to accomplish things in the morning. Things which may or may not have been terribly important, but 'things' which she wanted to accomplish, at any rate.

Eleni's first words to her, however, left her questioning the wisdom of this attitude. "What are you doing, fool girl?!"

"Sorry?" Alanna didn't quite understand; she'd gotten here with plenty of time before the coach was supposed to arrive to take her to the Palace, and she'd taken extra care to ensure that she hadn't gotten any dirtier than she needed to in the morning. "What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?!" Eleni repeated Alanna's words in a tone that could conservatively be labeled as 'shrieking'. "Did you stop for flowers along the way? See a good purchase at the markets, perhaps? What took you so long in getting here?"

Alanna replied stupidly, "I'm late?" You're probably not helping yourself here…

"Late?!" Eleni continued to repeat the last thing Alanna had said. She shook her head in wonderment as she ushered Alanna into the house, prodding her with a bony finger as she went by. "No, of course you're not late! You're right on time – oh, that is, if you were heading out to a country fair! Fool girl!"

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"No! Not until you start acting like a woman, girl!"

Alanna narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth in preparation for unleashing a torrent of 'Look here!'s and 'You can't talk to me like that!'s. The words died in her throat, however, as she walked into Eleni's small living room…which was even smaller than usual at the moment due to all the mature women packed into it. It was as if Eleni had invited around her entire social circle to help her in this 'battle'. "What's' going on? Eleni, why are all?- Hey!" The 'mature women' who seemed to surround her were now beginning to be a little too…helpful for Alanna's taste, tugging at her shirt as if to hurry her along the process.

"Just calm down, girl." Eleni's voice shrieked from behind her, and Alanna turned to see her flustered face, "Let us do our job and we'll try and make up for the time you've lost us!"

"Us?" Alanna queried quietly, before shaking her head. "Alright! Alright, I'm sorry for turning up…late….but can you at least let me handle the undressing thing? I'd rather do it myself, you realise?" Catching Eleni narrowing her eyes at her tone, she quickly added "Please?"

There were a number of murmur's all about, and Alanna began to wonder whether or not each of the women present were actually individuals, or whether it was just some large collective – bee-like, with Eleni as their queen. This certainly seemed to be the case, as Eleni clicked her fingers and the entire group fell silent almost instantly. "I suppose, girl, that we could accommodate that. But you'd best be quick, you understand me!"

"Yes, Eleni." Alanna replied, reverently, before shooting upstairs to the bedroom. She supposed that she shouldn't be angry at Eleni – after all, the woman had helped her greatly, in fact was still helping her greatly right at this very moment in a manner which no-one else she knew could help her in, but…she still didn't really appreciate being treated like a child. "Not like I was that late, was I?"

The realization that she just didn't know indicated just how much she needed Eleni in this regard.

***

Sure enough, after a good few hours preparing for the night ahead, Alanna was meekly doing whatever it was she was 'asked' to do. Asked, of course, being a relatively…sugary term for the current situation. 'Hold this, Alanna', 'Turn this way, Alanna', 'Don't do that, keep still, Alanna', 'Move into the light, now', 'I said keep still, Alanna.'

Keep still. Huh. Standing in roughly the same spot for hours on end. She'd had enough of 'keeping still' for a lifetime.

Still, her rebellious mind wistfully noted as the woman all seemed to congregate together once more, they've done a rather stellar job, haven't they? She had to agree with…herself there, at any rate. There was no mirror as of yet, what with it apparently being 'bad luck' for the young woman to see herself before the ensemble was finished, but she could still look at herself. A liberty which she exercised quite regularly, for that matter.

She knew she liked the dress – she had, after all, worn it two days previously, albeit only briefly. It was a little too revealing, but Eleni had convinced her that if she didn't want to look like a prude (something which Alanna herself originally hadn't been terribly concerned about, not until Eleni had whispered to her that she did want to try and attract as little attention as possible. Where Eleni had divined such a concept, well – that was beyond Alanna at the moment. Nevertheless, she was right), then she'd best deal with it. And to her credit, Alanna felt that she had dealt with it now. Yes, the cut was low, but it wasn't all that low…so she kept telling herself. Moreover, it wasn't too long, and with the comfortable boots being provided for her it was certainly far more maneuverable than she had at first feared a ball dress would be like.

The boots in question were already on her feet, something she was slightly surprised about. When she asked just why she was pushed into them almost as soon as she had washed, Eleni had pointed out that she was not particularly skilled in walking in heels – and why give up a few more hours practice? Alanna couldn't really argue with that…even though her feet were beginning to throb painfully. Beauty is pain. She gritted her teeth, beauty may well be pain, but this pain isn't always necessarily going to work on that beauty concept! Not that beauty is all that important tonight, is it?

"Stop grinding your teeth, Alanna."

"Sorry, Eleni."

"And stop moving about, dear!"

"Sorry, Eleni."

They were onto her hair, now. It was strange, about four different women were standing about her, all with both hands seemingly affixed to her head. What they were doing up there…Alanna wasn't really sure she wanted to know. She could see other women handing them pins upon pins, some large and pointy, others…well, others that were not quite so large and pointy. Still, she was surprised that her neck could still support the weight of her head, considering the amount of metal being placed up there.

Maybe it can't. Maybe they've all got their hands on your head to make sure that it doesn't collapse…

She giggled slightly at that. A ridiculous thought, yes, but ridiculous thoughts were all the company that she had had for the last few hours. Any time she tried to think on subjects of a more angst ridden nature, she was criticized. 'Don't frown, Alanna. You'll get lines, and you don't want lines'. No, she probably didn't want lines if she was pressed for choice. But if not getting lines meant constraining oneself to only 'happy thoughts' for ones entire life, then she most certainly did want lines. Not that she'd say such a thing to Eleni, of course.

"Don't move like that, Alanna." The disapproving voice of Eleni floated into Alanna's ears, not that she dared look around to find out exactly where it had originated from. "We're almost done, and we don't want you spoiling all our work by laughing so hard you can't control how your head is moving."

And that would be bad because…?

"Sorry, Eleni. I'll try and keep as serious as possible."

"Don't do that! No! Just, try and smile softly, alright girl? And don't move a muscle!"

She still didn't like being called 'girl', but if they were almost done perhaps it wouldn't be too much just to grin and bear it. A Shang is trained to be immobile as the Rock. Accept whatever punishment is coming to you and accommodate it into who you are – forge yourself in the pain.

Did she really want to 'forge' herself from the torture that was standing still amidst a gaggle of old harpies as they tore and prodded her body and hair? Perhaps not. She was fast discovering that while she liked the 'beauty' aspect of their work, she wasn't entirely sure if the 'pain' was quite worth the reward. Surely it must be something looked upon in hindsight as being 'bearable'? How could so many other women go through it again and again and again if this was not the case? Of course, comparing yourself with real, noble-born court ladies is what got you into this mess in the first place, wasn't it? She just stopped herself from gritting her teeth at that thought. True, it was. Perhaps it would be best to just accept what was happening now, and treat it as an 'experience'. Learn from it – if it's later decided to be worth the hassle, then let it occur again.

Otherwise…look haggard. She could deal with that.

Can Jon?

No. Don't think potentially frown-inducing thoughts. Bad Alanna.

"I think- There! I think we're done now, don't you, ladies?" Alanna was dragged back to what amounted to an unfortunate reality at this moment by Eleni's voice, followed by a dozen others clamouring in agreement. "Yes, I think we've done it."

Oh thank Mithros. "Can I see now?" She asked, hopefully, widening her smile and almost fluttering her lashes as she attempted to coax a mirror out of one of the women here. "I mean, if you think you're truly done now."

"Oh, we're not truly done, not by a longshot." Eleni replied, causing Alanna's heart to drop suddenly. "But I don't think there's any harm in you seeing now. We've only got the makeup to go, which shouldn't take quite as long as the hair."

The very idea that it might have taken as long as the hair was almost enough to send Alanna's wavering smile to the depths of the underworld, but she maintained it. Just. "Oh. Good."

"That tone better perk up, girl."

"Sorry, Eleni." She sighed softly, thankfully low enough so that no-one heard. It was just difficult for her. "It's just a little-"

"Difficult for you." Eleni finished, allowing the first smile Alanna had seen on the older woman's face this evening to dawn, "I know, Alanna. That's the only reason I've been hard on you – you were a little late, but I know that's more to do with your lack of knowledge rather than anything else you did or didn't do. We had to make up some time, time which we wouldn't have gathered if you were constantly fighting us."

"Oh." It did make sense. "Oh."

"But we're going to still need you to follow our instructions for a little while longer, alright? Just until the make-ups done, then you can do what you will." Eleni let her smile fade, and the stony-eyed gaze she had apparently perfected over the night return, "Is that acceptable?"

Alanna almost nodded, before realizing that doing so might not be the best thing at this current moment in time. "Yes. Definitely. Thank you, Eleni. Thank you everyone."

That certainly seemed to placate them; smiles creased faces wherever she looked after that. 'Isn't she a contrite girl?', 'Lovely mannered', 'I know just the boy for her…' Oh dear, what have I done?

The answer to that question was soon evident, as the large mirror she had been in front of numerous times over the past month was wheeled into the room. A path was cleared so that Alanna could walk to it as easily as she could, and she quickly set about getting there. She wasn't quite as proficient with the high-heeled boots as she would have desired, so her steps were slower and slightly more cautious than she may have wished, but at least she wasn't trembling anymore with every step. The heels weren't all that high, or so Eleni had claimed, and the strong leg muscles she possessed together with a natural sense of balance…well. She wasn't a natural, but she wasn't too bad at the whole walking thing.

Which was a bonus.

She could see herself in the mirror now, and a similar thought to that which struck her the last time she had worn this dress emerged into her mind. She was pretty. The women had pinned her hair to her head in some kind of elaborate roll, small strands of hair flowing out of the seething mass to frame her face well. The dress accentuated her natural colouring, and – best of all, she thought, the wonderful boots made her almost appear another foot taller.

"Wow."

"I see you've not learnt your lesson," Eleni whispered warmly, "It's unbecoming to be so vain."

"It's not vanity, it's just that I've never really seen myself like this before. It changes how I, uh, think about myself."

Eleni chuckled under her breath, "Then I'd say we've done our job well."

***

They continued to do so, with the make-up process taking considerably shorter than Alanna had feared. Furthermore, it accentuated and heightened the effect she had seen earlier. While she considered herself pretty without make-up, with it…she was more than pretty. Alanna was hesitant to use any, stronger word, mainly because she thought that pretty was quite appropriate. She wasn't beautiful like many of the other Court ladies, or at least she didn't think so, because she lacked the delicate fineness that such ladies carried with them. Being a Shang prevented such attributes, as Alanna's wrists and arms were quite well developed. She would never be considered beautiful, no.

But pretty? Yes, she thought so. With the highlighting and other work done by the ladies on her face with powders and creams, this was accentuated. She'd been granted some jewelry too, little pieces mostly. Items' whose owners had stressed the temporary nature of their loan. Silver earrings from one of the women framed her face well (even if the holes in her ears were still a tad too raw for them to be in there. Eleni had jammed them in regardless, probably assuming that since she was Shang she could stand the pain. And she could, although she'd rather not), and a ring granted to her by Eleni worked well, too. She had contributed to the collection herself; Thom's pendant lay around her neck as it usually did, though this time the purple sheen of the amethyst was visible to the naked eye.

"Won't Johnny be in for a surprise?" Eleni had whispered to her once she had applied the final brush stroke of face powder, "After almost fainting at the sight of you in just the dress, think how he'll react when he sees you like this."

Alanna didn't particularly want to think on it, now that the time was upon her. She had been torn all evening – thoughts about both Jon and 'the aim' of the nights activities floating around her mind in equal measure. She wanted to ignore all the thoughts of Jon, to focus on what she needed to do…only for the reality of the situation to take hold; she wouldn't have had to be going through this particularly tedious experience if she wasn't trying to impress Jon. Which then sent her into a spiral, questioning her motives over the nights activities.

Which, of course, would inevitably result in her being yelled at by Eleni for 'thinking frown-inducing thoughts'. So, she'd stop thinking about it – only to have her mind drift back onto Jon, which would start the whole cycle over.

So really, the question was, as it had been for quite some time now, was it good that 'Johnny' might be surprised by how she looked? Was it good that she might be distracted by what she was doing tonight? What she and Jon had planned together? If she were being pragmatic about it all, the answer was a pretty clear no. But…pragmatism was rather unappealing, so she had increasingly felt. She was strong, she was determined – and she was going to do what she had to do tonight, regardless of how she looked or what people thought about her.

She hoped.

***

It was quite incredible, really. A carriage, an actual carriage, had just drawn up in front of Eleni's small house a few miles away from the palace. Some of the neighbours had exited their houses, excitedly talking and pointing at the carriage as the two fine horses snorted and stamped as the driver reigned them in. Following this, he had reached into his pocket to retrieve a scrap of paper.

"Any one of you Lady…uhh…" He scratched his head, peering more intently at the paper. In the end, he just gave up, looking around at the rapidly assembling crowd of people. "I don't suppose anyone here knows who I'm supposed to be collecting?" Which, to be fair to the poor man, probably wasn't meant to be quite as open as it came out – a dozen girls, and a handful of boys at that, immediately began screeching and waving their hands back and forward. 'Me! Me!' Drops of sweat began to bead on the drivers forehead, and he surreptitiously grasped the reigns again.

Thankfully he didn't bolt away, as Eleni called out to him, "She's in here, Stefan! One moment, and she'll be ready."

The crowd became, at the same time, more subdued and more anxious. Those who had been attempting to get the drivers' attention were silenced, but those with only a passing interest became more incensed – just who was this person that the carriage was here to collect? And where were they going? It was such a fancy carriage at that, could it be that their destination was the palace, rather than just a nobles house?

"You'd best hurry," Eleni called out to Alanna from the doorway. "There's quite a crowd gathering here, you know, and Stefan is not the most quick witted of men ever to grace this earth."

"Probably not the best thing to say to the man about to drive me to the palace, Eleni." Alanna told the woman softly as she whisked by, "Might cause him to hold a grudge."

"No it won't." Eleni replied confidently, "Because he couldn't hear a word I just said. Plus it's true – I know it, he knows it."

Alanna grinned, nervous energy causing her to blush slightly. "It's not nice to say nasty things about people when they're not able to defend themselves."

"Since when did that ever stop anyone, however? Anyway, best be going now, dear."

"Thank you, Eleni." Alanna sincerely noted, "Thank you for everything you've done for me."

The older woman almost appeared to blush, or so Alanna thought. "Never you mind, dear. It's fun for someone my age to mould someone like a doll. Dressing you up, teaching you how to act – it's like I could be young again."

"Doll?" Alanna echoed, somewhat troubled by that description.

But Eleni apparently wouldn't let her dwell on the notion, smiling widely as she tapped her on the shoulder "Go now, dear." And with that, she placed a hand at the small of Alanna's back and propelled her towards the carriage. "Here you are, Driver." She said, "Here's the one you're taking."

"Ah," the man replied, eyes bugging as he saw Alanna, "Yes, she certainly looks it, doesn't she?" Looking was certainly what the man was doing, and Alanna couldn't get the thought out of her head that he wasn't the only one. Shooting glances around her, she saw eyes everywhere locked onto her – men perhaps wanting her, older women perhaps wanting to look like her once more, and younger girls perhaps wanting to be her; to be dressed up and getting onto a carriage that would sweep them away to a palace, where they would meet a handsome prince and never want for anything ever again…

Actually, there's a handsome King at the palace, and I have a feeling that I'll still be wanting for things after I get there. Most of all, I'm wanting to not be noticed as I go about snooping around a powerful enemy's rooms.

Which, she had begun to realise, might be a little more difficult than anticipated. "Hopefully there'll be a lot of very graceful, very beautiful noblewomen at this ball," she muttered to herself, "otherwise things might be a little irksome." After shooting a hot glare at the driver, who took a long opportunity to leer at her as he opened the door for her, she quickly entered and settled herself down on the seat. A large envelope lay to one side, and she picked it up as quick as she could, tearing the thing open as she did. As she pulled out the large sheet of card that lay within, she noticed the large red, wax seal that lay on the cards' back. Taking a quick look at what was written on the other side of the page, she realised that this was the Royal Patronage that Jon had been so adamant about her requiring.

Placing it to one side, she clasped her hands tightly in front of her knees.

Alright then, here we go.

***

The carriage had wound its way through the dingy streets of Lower Corus, before noticeably altering its gradient as it made its way up a subtle hill towards the Palace itself. Alanna could barely sit still, hitching her dress down every few moments, twitching her hands as they tried to shift hairs away from her face (with the time spent on arranging it in such a fashion, she was going to do all in her power to prevent anything from dislodging it)

The carriage shuddered to a halt, and she heard the driver calling out to her. "We're at the gates, uh, M'Lady." He seemed somewhat hesitant on that last word. Not that she could blame him, really. While it wasn't likely that she'd be a lady, considering where he picked her up from, she looked like a Lady, and she was going to a royal ball. "Just sit tight, some Guards'll be round in a moment."

"Thank you." She replied, if only to fill the silence. The Guards would be the easy part of this evening, she knew that. They'd take a long look around, ensure she was who the invite said she was, those kinds of things – but with Jon's Patronage with her, there was very little they could do to her. Oh, they could ask her all sorts of questions, but as long as she stuck to the story Jon had apparently set out for her, that she was Lady Alanna of Murmond (not that she had the slightest idea of where this Murmond was, if it even existed), then she'd be alright.

And on the off chance that she wasn't alright…well. She'd fought her way through a palace gateway before, she could possibly do it again. With a little more difficulty this time, thanks to the Guards probable readiness and her own constrained circumstances – i.e. the dress and boots – but she could do it, she knew it. But that was not the ideal situation, suffice to say. They were going to have a slim window of opportunity for her to look around Roger's chambers anyway, she didn't want an alert of some kind to narrow this window any more.

No, best to hope Jon's name carries the sort of weight it should. Hope that these Guards have already had quite a long night, and don't really want to take more notice of the people entering the palace than they should.

Which is quite a strange thought. Wanting those who Guard the man you love to be lax about their duties. Funny, in that disturbing way.

A knock at the carriage door broke her out of her reverie, and she smoothly moved to open it. It swung open to reveal the faces of three guards, one of which was reaching a hand out to her. "Patronage, M'Lady."

She frowned slightly, before retrieving the document in question and handing it to the Guard. He skimmed it quickly for a moment, before taking another look at her. She met his eyes solidly, before realizing that doing so wasn't very Ladylike, and thus not in keeping with her disguise. Shifting her gaze over his shoulder, she noticed the other two Guards smiling at her. One even waggled his eyebrows at her.

This is what comes with wearing a dress, obviously. You had more than enough attention without being all made up, remember?

She grimaced slightly, but forced a small smile onto her face as if to thank the Guards for their…appreciation. Turning back to the front Guard, she opened her mouth to speak. "Is everything in order?"

'Uh, yes M'Lady. I think so, anyway." He frowned at the paper, then at her, then at the paper again. Alanna began to get slightly uneasy. "If you don't mind me asking, where's this Murmond place?"

Now she was definitely uneasy. Did he genuinely not know, or was he trying to test to see if she knew? Damn, Jon. She knew that he had to choose a small fief that wasn't all that well known, to ensure that she wasn't asked more questions than she was now, but why did he have to pick one quite so obscure? Or one which might not even exist! She licked her lips slightly in anxiety, "Murmond?" she repeated, before blurting out the first thing that popped into her head, "Why it's slightly east of…uh…Trebond. Haven't you heard of it?"

The Guard shook his head, and smiled at her. "No, M'Lady. I hadn't, but it's good to see that we get folks from as far as that coming to these events. What with the relatively similar crowd that we always seem to get, it's good to see a new face."

"Thank you, " she said, wondering what his title might be, "Uh, Captain?"

"Uh, no M'Lady. Just a Sergeant." He corrected, handing her back the letter of Patronage.

"Ah." She grinned, "Well, thank you, Sergeant."

"And you, M'Lady. Enjoy the evening." And with that, she ducked her head back into the Carriage, and with a crack of the Driver's reigns it rolled on into the Palace grounds. They hadn't gone all that much further, or so it appeared to Alanna, when it once more shuddered to a halt. This time, however, there was nothing said to her by the Driver, and Alanna began to worry slightly. Footsteps followed, as did the sounds of whispered voices hurriedly conducting a conversation a little way away from the carriage itself. Officially worried now, she lifted herself off the seat and carefully stalked towards the carriage door.

She didn't like being surprised, and if someone was going to burst in through the door in the near future – whether the driver or another crony, someone who perhaps was a little more interested in the 'Lady from Murmond' than she had hoped – she wanted to be able to deal with them. As difficult as that may well be in this dress…It was then that she realised that the conversation outside had ended, and that someone was moving towards the carriage.

"Alanna?" Jon's voice rose up out of the silence outside, "Can you hear me?"

"Jon?" she reached for the carriage door, wanting to throw it open. "Is that you?"

"Yes. It's me." At that she did unlatch the door, pushing it open and scanning about. Sure enough, Jon was standing just there, waiting for her. As she stepped out of the dark carriage, into the dim torchlight that seemed to spread across whichever part of the palace grounds they were currently on, his eyes widened in astonishment. "Wow. You look amazing, Alanna."

She blushed softly, "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself." He didn't; a wonderfully resplendent black tunic matching well with his hair and slacks. Simple, but decidedly effective, was how Alanna would have described it. "What are you doing out here, anyway? Isn't that slightly risky?" She shot quick glances around the clearing, noting that they were drawn up alongside one of the buildings outside the Palace itself. There didn't appear to be anyone else about, but it always paid to be careful. Jon may dominate her attention, but thankfully it wasn't dominating it too much – she still had her wits about her.

"Well, if I'm being honest, yes it is." He smiled gently, "But it was worth it for seeing you like this, alone, at any rate." He grasped her arms then, drawing her closer to him. "By Mithros, you're beautiful, Alanna."

"It's not wise to lie to a girl, Jon."

"I'm not lying," he said, before smoothly drawing her face up to his, meeting her lips with his in a gentle kiss. "I missed you, over the past two days."

She nodded, "So did I."

Jon smiled, "So I wanted to see you. Now, anyways. Before it all happens." He glanced around quickly, checking his surroundings. "And I wanted to talk to you about, uh, possible problems."

"Problems?"

"No! No, I said that wrong." He looked at the ground, "What I meant was if there's any problems. If Roger decides to head out to his chambers, something like that. If he catches wind that something's happening, I need to get in touch with you."

"That would be useful, yes."

"I know you don't like using your Gift, or having anyone else using there's near you-" A little behind there, Alanna thought. She'd come to accept her Gift in recent times; she still didn't love the ability, but it was proving more useful than hindrance. "but I can manage to communicate with you by, uh, linking my mind with yours for a short time. Talk with you, but without actual talking."

"I won't assume to understand how it works, Jon." She said with a grin, "But if you think it's the easiest way to do things, then we should probably go ahead with it. I won't claim that using my Gift fills me with joy, but I can accept its' use."

"You can?" Jon seemed thrown for a moment, before quickly regaining his composure. "I mean, that's great! It's probably the safest way of doing this without, you know, not communicating at all. It doesn't require either of us actually talking, and it happens instantaneously."

"Can Roger trace your actions? Can he tell if you've used your Gift?"

Sighing, he nodded at that. "Yes, he probably can."

"Probably?"

"I'm not altogether sure, but I'd assume he could. But that doesn't change anything, this is still the best way of doing it. Even if Roger does notice that I've used my Gift, I can cover it, pretend I'm doing something else."

Alanna wasn't terribly sure of that. Roger was clever, he must be; did Jon think he'd be fooled by something as basic as that? But…she couldn't think of anything else, and they did need some way of communicating with each other. This was quick, too, which made things a little safer for her. And to be honest, I'm the one in the immediate danger, anyway. If Roger turns on Jon, at least I can try and help him then. "Can you handle that?" she asked Jon, eyes widening as she realised how that sounded, "I mean, do you think he'll turn on you if he thinks you're working against him?"

"He might. I don't know." Jon suddenly pulled her against him, "Are you ready to go ahead with this, Alanna? I know that you want to get back at Roger for what he did to Thom, but…this is my fight, really. I don't want you to be harmed while trying to help me."

What? "Yes, Jon. I'm going ahead with this, don't worry about me." Exactly; I can take care of myself. "It's you that I'm worried about – if Roger turns on you, tonight I mean, are you going to be alright?" She felt him nod sharply above her, "Good. Good. Then we'll have no more of this nonsense about this being 'your fight', alright? He's harmed us both, and the both of us together are going to best him."

She felt Jon's chest move, a hollow chuckle floating down to her. "Yes, m'Lady. I will obey your instructions. On your honour shall I uph- Oof!"

"Don't be pert." She whispered, sternly. Her face broke into a grin as Jon began to rub the place where she'd struck him. "So, how long do we have before everything starts?"

"Pert?" Jon mumbled, "I wasn't being pert!" He frowned, "What does 'pert' mean, anyway?"

"It means you were being cheeky. And try and focus, Jon."

"Sorry. Anyway, I've got to be at the ball in about a half hour. Actually," he turned his head, looking back towards an illuminated doorway that Alanna hadn't noticed before. There was a servant there with a lantern, one which was hooded oddly, or so Alanna thought, "probably a little less than that. So we don't have long."

Damn. She wished they had a little more time. It wasn't as if they were saying goodbye or anything, but…it was still a tense time, right? Probably best to get what you need now, at least. Just in case time runs out. "I need to know where Roger's chambers are, Jon."

He frowned slightly at that, before nodding sharply. "Ah, of course. Yeah, well that's why I had Stefan bring you around here. It's the closest entrance to Roger's chambers, and it's quite simple to get there. I'll take you to a corridor, and then from there it's the first left, first right and then the third door down." He grinned as Alanna began whispering the details to herself quietly, "If you can remember the first two directions, you should find it. It's pretty obvious which door is his."

That's useful. "And after I've finished? Well, if I finish? What then? Should I just try and leave the Palace, and we can meet at the Dove tomorrow?"

Jon shook his head, "No, I don't think that would be best. Perhaps," he added hopefully, "you could come out and attend the ball?"

"I'm not sure about that." Though it would be a shame to waste the dress…"It's not that I don't want to, but doing that complicates things a lot."

"Alright," he shrugged, a somewhat disappointed look stealing across his features for a moment, "You're probably right. I'll head down to the Dove early tomorrow. You can get out with the Patronage."

"Good, good." She stepped back from him then, and placed one of her hands on his chest. "And I want you to be careful too, alright? Don't go getting yourself into any trouble at my expense."

"I don't think I'd be able to stop myself, if you needed it."

She shook her head calmly, "You're just like George, aren't you? Please understand that I can take care of myself a lot of the time."

"Ah, but who are we to comprehend the workings of the heart?" Jon all but recited, clasping her hand in his own.

"Sorry?"

"We – I care for you, Alanna. I love you with all my heart, and I'm going to try and protect you. It's a part of that caring, the overprotection." Doesn't mean I have to like it, does it? "But I know that you can take care of yourself. To a degree, at least."

She decided not to pick up on that last part. "Well I want you to be careful too, regardless."

"And I promise you I will, Alanna."

"Good." Alanna nodded, accepting his promise. "And I'll promise you, in return, that I'll also be cautious." She grinned up at him, "Well. Looks like we're all set, then."

"Looks like."

Her grin widened, I know it's best to just get on with what I'm here for, but I can't resist…Thanks to the boots, she didn't have to stand on tiptoes as she threw her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to her own and showing him how she felt. His arms slid around her waist, holding her tightly as he let his own lips do some non-verbal communication. In time they pulled apart, somewhat breathless, before she let her kiss-swollen lips spread into a wide, warm grin. "I love you, Jon."

"I love you too, Alanna." He intoned in reply, smiling himself. "And one more thing."

"Yes?"

"You do look beautiful."

***

There had been one or two – or five – more passionate embraces before the two of them had set out, shadowed by the servant she had seen earlier ("He's trustworthy," Jon had whispered to her in response to her silent question. "He's another one of George's 'spies' here, and I'd trust him with my life." She'd kept her thoughts, Well that's good, because we are, to herself. Another fine decision, or so she thought) towards the hallway Jon had mentioned. Sure enough, he'd left her once he arrived at a very wide hall, pointing wordlessly along its length towards where she assumed the first turn was. After a final hurried kiss, he had quickly strolled off in the opposite direction.

If she strained her ears, she could tell that the rather loud noise, the ball she assumed, was certainly taking place down that way. And as much as your heart may be telling you to run down there after Jon, to spend the rest of the night in his embrace, your head is telling you to go the other way. To Roger's chambers and potential…harm.

She grimaced. Yes, it was necessary to do this – right? Roger needed to fall, and she and Jon looked like the only ones who could do it. George's name flitted across her mind, but no. She wasn't going to entertain that thought; George's life would fall apart if he helped her in this endeavour. The best thing she could do for him would be to keep him uninvolved. Arune's name also flashed briefly, and she was once again struck with the question of what his role in this whole mess entailed, but she pushed the queries down. She didn't know anything for certain about him; a dream and a hunch didn't add up to anything.

Shaking her head, realizing that she'd probably been standing stock still in the hallway for a long few seconds, she quickly hurried down the corridor looking for the turning she needed. Following Jon's directions, she managed to move a good distance through winding hallways which she knew she'd have had difficult with otherwise, finally ending up in a small section of passage with numerous doors lining each wall.

Thankfully, she'd so far remained undisturbed. She wanted to keep it that way for as long as she could. Trying to be silent had been a little more challenging with the heeled boots that she was wearing, but it was easy enough. 'Stealth paid dividends silently', or so the Shang saying went. It was something which was a challenge to do well, but it was always worth doing. One wasn't looking for results while engaging in it, rather, it was the opposite effect one sought.

Peering at the doors in this section, she almost immediately discovered what Jon had meant – while most of the doors had simple knobs on them, and none had knockers, one large specimen had particularly elaborate examples of both. Standing in front of it, she took a quick glance about. No-one.

Now then, she sighed, the hard part. Getting in.

Of course, she'd realised that Roger wasn't going to allow any random passer by to walk into his private chambers without warning – no, for a spell caster of his repute there'd be wards. Powerful wards. Wards which Alanna had no real understanding of.

Not that she really understood anything about magic, come to think of it.

Still, she knew one thing. That her Gift was able to destroy other spells. The Goddess had taught her the skill to break through the magic present in the secret passage going into the grounds of the palace, but it was Alanna's idea to use it now. To push her Gift into the locks, to cause the spell weaving's present here to burst as she had caused the other pattern to. Her Gift wasn't something she was comfortable with, not yet anyway, but she would never again neglect it – it was a part of who she was, and it was something which could prove useful to her in the future.

As it was about to now.

Taking a step away from the door, she began to concentrate, calm herself. She looked within herself, to the very core of herself, to find the magic; prod it, and coax it to life. It grew, faster than the last time, amethyst tendrils spearing upwards and outwards, suffusing her with their power. She could feel it within her, tearing this way and that throughout her. She gasped at it, and opened her eyes.

The door…was almost completely blocked by a massive pattern of intermingling threads, orange threads, pulsing with energy. She had been right, more right than she had anticipated, come to think of it. The door was warded, though warded with spells so complicated that she began to worry if her Gift would be sufficient in destroying them. She reached back down into herself, grasping hold of one of the tendrils of her magic and tugging it out of her. The feeling of being closer to life itself filled her again, but she was ready for it this time. Remembering the Goddess words about not drawing too much at once, she forced herself to be content with this amount of power she had gathered already, and turned to the doorway.

A thought suddenly reared in her mind, and she lost her concentration completely. The magic fizzled out, and an almighty pounding began in her head. Unfortunately (or fortunately, although Alanna didn't consider it thusly), this was not strong enough to drown out the thought that had caused her to lose her focus in the first place. If Roger can feel Jon using his Gift to contact me, however small amount of power that requires, then surely he'll feel when I destroy his wardings. How long does that give me, then? Five minutes, maybe ten?

She sank back, resting her back up against the doorway as she massaged her temples. No, no, no! This isn't right!  I can't do this whole thing in that time, I'll never find what I need! And then Roger will still know that someone's been in his room, and he'll reinforce the wards…She groaned quietly, this was their only chance at this, and she only had a limited time frame within which to find this proof that they desperately required.

Rising to her feet, Alanna gritted her teeth. It wasn't quite 'now or never', but it was certainly 'now or much later'. And that, she knew, just was not acceptable. Time was of the essence, after all. Nodding softly, she began to focus once more. Her breathing slowed, eyes closing as she turned inwards once more to the pulsing core.

A flare of magic, a strand tugged away from the centre and out of herself…the rush of life, vivant and bright.

Holding the magic in her hand, she pulled more of it. If time is of the essence, then let's break this down quickly. The light, the joy that came with holding the magic began to increase, and as she continued to draw the sweetness began to sting. The stinging grew, until it burned her, yet she still drew what she could bear. As the pain increased to a level she had never before experienced, she decided that it was enough, and cut the flow. And with that, she gritted her teeth, and forced the magic into the weavings on the doorway.

Just like in the tunnel, the pattern began to bulge and stretch. The threads were like elastic, however, and didn't look like they were about to tear any time soon. Alanna frowned, and thrust more power into them. More amethyst power entered the weave, and more stretching became evident. She didn't understand; were the wards too powerful for her, or was she doing it wrong?

There-! A thread gave way, snapping silently. The threads around it began to loose shape too, until a small hole had presented itself to her vision. She pulled some of her magic from elsewhere on the weaving, thrusting it through the hole, trying to flex it about – a finger thrust through a hole in one's clothing increases the size of the hole, after all. The magical orange threads appeared to behave similarly, as the hole began to widen as she thrust more and more of her Gift through it. It's edges almost reached the edge of the door now, only a little more-

And then the pattern burst. With an audible pop (one that Alanna considered deafening), the threads seemed to scatter in all ways at once. Alanna let her Gift die down again, breathing a somewhat exhausted sigh of relief, before pushing open the door and entering Roger's chambers. As she pushed the door closed she collapsed against it, breathing heavily as she let a weary smile creep over her lips. Lips which were suddenly moistened by a warm trickle, one which Alanna discovered to be her own blood as she wiped the back of her hand under her nose. It appeared that bleeding noses were a common result of the magic she had just employed.

Careful not to get any blood on her dress (it was bad enough that it was getting particularly dusty from all this sitting about; blood wouldn't add to it's appeal in the slightest), she pushed herself to her feet. It would have been nice to catch her breath, but she just didn't have the time. Allowing her eyes to focus to the dim light available, she took her first firsthand look at the rooms of her adversary.

They were large, which she already knew, and were decorated in the same overbearing style that she remembered from her dreams. Large, dark items of furniture spread about, wide tables cluttered with notes and pieces of equipment. It looked, to her anyway, that a half-dozen people used these rooms, rather than just one. Maybe they did, she wasn't entirely sure, but she wasn't going to place any money on the likelihood of a man like Roger allowing people to come in here. True, she had only met the man once in reality, but she'd gotten enough information from that one encounter, not to mention the Roger in her dreams, to come up with what she considered a relatively sound image of his character.

As cluttered as the room looked, there were a few areas which looked a little more clear. One of these, Alanna noticed, was over near one wall. A large object, covered in a sheet, dominated the small area to the exclusion of everything else. To her amazement, there even appeared to be a somewhat dense layer of dust lying about the object, a rough semi-circle of dirt that seemed at odds with the well-worn and utilised appearance of most everything else in the room.

Of course, she recognised it instantly – this was the thing Thom had been searching for, or had at least been particularly interested in at any rate. This was the object that he had been…uncovering…when he was killed.

It's strange, she thought solemnly as she began to finger Thom's pendant, I feel closer to Thom here than I have done in years. Here, where he died…She shook her head, trying to dislodge the morbid thought, before quickly stepping closer to the covered object. Dream-Thom had called it 'dangerous', so she was cautious in her approach. Or at least, she was attempting to be cautious; her knowledge of magic and of the potential traps that magic could devise was strictly limited to whatever the Goddess had deigned to divulge to her on their previous meeting. Regardless of how much natural aptitude Alanna may possess when it came to magic, her ability to remove – even detect! – such potential traps was about as miniscule as…well…about as miniscule as had her skills at 'lady hood' been up until a few weeks ago.

That though set a small quirk into her lips; Look at me now…Dressed up for a ball, hair styled, makeup on, waiting for my love…It's a good thing I ended up here in the dingy, evil sorcerer's laboratory, otherwise I'd have thought I was going soft!

She reached out, grasping hold of one of the upper corners the plain sheet. Taking a breath, holding it in, she softly lifted it, attempting to reveal what lay beneath. The sheet rose, creases remaining where the edges of the large article underneath had lain. Blackness came into view, and Alanna frowned.

It was…strange. It wasn't…it didn't truly appear to be…solid. It was darkness, a rough circle of non-light that seemed to be encased within an obsidian frame. The frame was visible, certainly, but what lay within it was beyond any real description – it almost appeared to be a dark liquid, suspended within the frame and frozen in place.

But it wasn't frozen. It just…wasn't moving.

Alanna lifted the sheet some more, revealing most of the dark frame and it's mysterious contents to her vision. It was more of the same, a large circle of frame enclosing the dark centre.

What is this? She hadn't the slightest idea, and she had a feeling that not many people did. Thom had seen it, whether it was this item in particular under the sheet or not was another matter – but what he had seen he had considered dangerous. He couldn't believe Roger possessed one, either. There was something else, she felt, something else Thom had done with it or said about it, but she couldn't recall precisely what.

What was obvious, at the moment at least, was that this wasn't exactly what she was looking for. Jon needed proof that Roger was behind the death of his mother, and this certainly wasn't it. Well, unless it was something that helped him do that, but she had no idea of how she'd prove that. If it was true, which could be very unlikely. For all she knew, the circular frame was used to predict the weather!

No, she'd have to look a little harder for what Jon needed. But this could be something that would help the Goddess. Possibly.

How was she going to know? The Goddess wasn't here, and she'd be the only one able to tell what exactly constituted 'sufficient proof', wasn't she? Though didn't she say something about her knowing when Alanna found…?

"Alanna?"

Geeaaaagh!

Alanna spun around in fright, heart climbing into her throat at the whispered voice behind her. Raising her fists, she readied herself to slam them into the face of whoever it was accosting her…only to see the radiant face of the Goddess there, a dark haired beauty clad in the brightest white gown Alanna had ever seen. More than at any other time Alanna had been in her presence, the Goddess truly looked…like a Goddess, quite simply. That doesn't excuse her actions, however…!

Lowering her fists, Alanna settled for the angriest glare she could muster. "What's your problem?" she whispered savagely. "Why'd you sneak up on me like that?"

"I didn't." the Goddess answered, simply. "You just didn't notice me. Besides, would you rather me make a lot of noise, perhaps attracting attention?"

"Yes!" She sighed, "I mean no. No I didn't want you making a lot of noise, but…honestly! You could have taken my own, admittedly very mortal, notions about fear and terror into consideration." The Goddess smiled slightly, before dipping her head. Alanna wasn't sure whether it was done in amusement or contrition, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

The other woman pointed at the object in front of Alanna. "I'm here because of that."

Alanna waited expectantly, until it became obvious that she wasn't going to get an explanation offered to her. "And? What exactly is it? I take it that, since you're here, that it's proof of Roger being this other gods, uh, prawn."

"Pawn, Alanna." Alanna smiled sweetly at the Goddess, thank you so much for the English lessons, She wasn't sure quite why she was suddenly so antsy, but she didn't have the time nor the inclination to really wonder, "And yes. It's evidence of that and more, quite frankly. As to what it is, well, there's no real way for me to describe what a Chaos Vent is."

Chaos Vent? "But it's proof enough, right? Enough for you?"

"Oh yes, definitely. Usuoae releases her essences into different worlds through these, and the fact that Roger apparently has such a stable one is evidence enough of a link between them. Or should be, anyway."

Alanna frowned, "Should be?"

"Yes. We gods are not omnipotent, Alanna. You should know that by now," I would if you didn't act like you are all the time, "More than that, Usuoae's influence means that our vision is far…blurrier than it should be. But based on what I've seen already, this is evidence enough of a link."

"Good. So can you just…magic Roger away, or something?" She grimaced, "While I'd rather Roger be put away by those who he wronged, I wouldn't oppose you just getting rid of him."

The Goddess smiled wanly at that, before stately turning her back on Alanna. "I wish I could, Alanna. You've done what I asked of you, after all."

"But…?"

"But I cannot. Gods have laws too, Alanna, and I cannot simply…magic Roger away. Not until he's judged by the Celestial Court, anyway."

"Celestial Court? Ugh, I don't think I want to know." What a name – if they name something like that, such a prosaic name, then I know they're not omnipotent! She rolled her eyes, "So we've still got to deal with Roger ourselves? You can't help in that at all? You said it yourself – I helped you as you asked me to, and in thanks I just get my problems completely ignored?!"

"As I said, Alanna," the Goddess remained with her back to Alanna, something she found particularly aggravating, "If circumstances work in your favour I may be able to remove Roger."

"What does that mean? What does remove mean? And how long might it take for these 'circumstances' to align?"

"Remove in the very obvious sense of the word, Alanna." The white-gowned woman spun on her heel, "And as long as it takes to adjudge his role in Usuoae's scheme."

"And how long might that take?"

"I don't know. It could take any amount of time. Seconds to years, I don't know how the Court will act on this matter."

She's no help, she's not going to be of any help whatsoever! She doesn't even care that she can't help me, whose done so much for her…! Alanna couldn't keep a handle on her temper for much longer, "So what you're trying to tell me is that unless I want the possibility of waiting around for perhaps years to see Roger pay for his crimes, I'm on my own?"

"Not on your own," The Goddess replied softly, "You have your friends. Those who love you."

She scoffed, "Which obviously doesn't include you." Hurry, Alanna. You've wasted too much time on this already. If she's not going to help, then you still need to find some evidence to bring Roger down. Seeing the Goddess open her mouth, Alanna held up her hand. "You know what? Don't bother answering that. I'm very happy that I could help you, but since you're not going to return the favour, I'd better get back to what I was doing. Roger – the one that you're so willing to allow freedom to – could walk in here at any time and in fact, since I overloaded the warding on the doorway," She stopped for a second there, swallowing thickly as she realised that was something the Goddess had helped her with. Nevertheless, her seething anger was a little too established for her rant to be undone yet, "he's probably already on his way here. So, if you don't mind…?"

The Goddess stood there for a moment, and Alanna began to fear she'd gone too far. She didn't particularly care, mind you, but it was a fear that she considered rather evident. She licked her lips, watching the other woman continue to just stare at her. Not that what I said was unjustified, but perhaps I could have been a little more tactful. She sighed softly, cursing under her breath, and tried to rein in her temper enough to allow her to apologise. "Look," she began unsteadily, "I meant what I said – don't think I didn't. But I shouldn't have been so…forthright about it all. Sorry."

"I do love you, you know." The Goddess broke her silence with a statement which seemed to be so absurd to Alanna that she almost began laughing,

"Sorry?"

"You though that I don't love you. I do. I love each person on this earth – and I love you especially, because of who you are and what you've done."

Ah. "Right. This whole Champion thing, if I remember correctly."

The Goddess sighed, "More than that, Alanna. You're a paragon, don't you see?"

Narrowing her eyes, Alanna shook her head. "Not as such."

"You're an example. To the women, obviously, but also to the men of this world. What one person can accomplish when they set their mind to it; regardless of convention or prejudice."

"Right," Alanna restrained her sneer, "So I'm a role model, eh? I see – the unfeminine Shang who lies about her past to prevent people from turning on her, who didn't believe in the Gods until one finally dropped into her lap, who hurt her best friend when she slept with him, even though she knew she didn't reciprocate the feelings he felt for her." She rolled her eyes, "I'm great, yeah."

"Everyone has their flaws, Alanna. But don't you see? The good parts of who you are, the caring soul who is willing to help those less fortunate, the love you hold in your heart, the commitment and dedication in pursuit of a goal – these are all very admirable qualities, Alanna."

She wasn't sure about this, in fact she was very unsure about what the Goddess was saying. A cynical part of her mind kept whispering that she was merely trying to placate her, to flatter her so much she'd forget how much she had risked to help the Goddess…who had offered nothing in return. She shook her head, turning to one of the benches and beginning to visually examine papers and the like. "Whatever. I need to keep looking around – I don't have much time, and I don't know what I'm looking for at any rate."

"I do love you, my Daughter." The words rang hollowly in Alanna's mind. "And know that I won't forget what you have done for me. I still consider you my Champion, even if you do not wish it."

Alanna grimaced at that. "Go, please."

A sigh was her only reply. When she turned around, both the Goddess and the sheet covered object – what had the Goddess called it? A Chaos Vent? – had disappeared. That was a whole lot of fun. Though, she supposed as she wrinkled her nose up at the thought, having fun probably wasn't the point. At the very least, she'd accomplished one thing tonight. Perhaps she should set about making it two. Nodding, she tried to focus once more. She thought that almost five minutes had elapsed since she'd entered the room, and hopefully Jon had stuck close enough to Roger over the evening that he'd be able to warn her if his Cousin had left to check on his rooms.

So she had a little time, at any rate. Best to be using it, then.

With that thought in mind, she began to skim her eyes over the tables, attempting to locate anything – anything – that might look…what? Incriminating? Yes, I'm sure Roger leaves papers lying around which could be considered legal proof of his previous misdoings. She cursed softly, and tried to focus once again. There was no point in illuminating the flaws in this current plan; no, better to just try as hard as she could to turn up such evidence, and leave the potential for failure element alone until after she didn't have immediate access to Roger's personal effects.

Personal effects…She frowned. Roger surely wouldn't leave such incriminating evidence out here in a, well, she didn't technically know what this place was. A laboratory she'd called it previously, and it seemed to fit – but he might have left such documents or whatever in his sleeping chambers. The question was, where were they?

Jon had termed these 'Roger's Chambers', so she assumed that Roger lived in a number of different such rooms, most probably all joined together. He was, after all, one of the more powerful individuals at the palace, and she imagined it was a fair assumption that he'd ensure that his various rooms were all adjoining. Peering about, however, revealed another problem. Not counting the door she had entered from, there were at least four other doors leading from the room.

Which went to Roger's sleeping chambers? And perhaps more importantly, were all the doors warded?

A chill ran up Alanna's spine, and she frowned. The cause became apparent enough, however, once a booming voice suddenly (and loudly) entered her mind. "Alanna!" Eyes closed in pain, she clutched at her temples, trying to lessen the pain that accompanied Jon's disembodied voice. "Alanna can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you!" she whispered through gritted teeth, hoping Jon could hear her. "And could you try being a little quieter?"

"Alanna?" Apparently he couldn't hear her. Which was bad for many reasons, she felt. "This is not good. Can you hear me?" She agreed with the 'not good' prognosis, but she truly wished Jon would get to the point. She was relatively certain she knew why he was calling, Roger must be coming, but she wished he'd give her a little more details. "Can you hear me?"

Yes, I can hear you!  She thought, as loudly as she could.

To no avail. "Alanna? I don't know if you can hear this or not, but if you can – Roger's coming. He started getting fidgety a while ago, and just made his excuses to leave the hall. He's making his way towards you now!"

How long, Jon?! She all but shouted in her mind, pleading with Jon to give her this information. How long do I have till he gets here!? She looked amongst the doors again, trying to determine if she could just open them without removing their wards. Probably best not to, but she might be forced to if things came to a head. Please tell me how long till he reaches his chambers!

Nothing. Jon hadn't heard her, and he didn't extrapolate on his previous message. She shook her head, cursing quietly to herself. How long did she have? She had no idea – it might be as long as five minutes, or it could be far, far less than that. She might only have enough time to get out of his rooms and out of sight. If that! Could she look into one of the rooms? Did she have the time? Was the possibility that there'd be evidence in there warrant the possibility that she'd have to face off against Roger?

She just didn't know. Only one thing was for certain; "This is not good."