Title: "Simulacra"
Rating: T
Authoress: T-R-Us
Pairings: Numair/Daine
Setting: Somewhat AU. Set between Lady Knight and Trickster's Choice.
Disclaimer: I – T-R-Us – am not Tamora Pierce. Of course, you already knew that, since it says 'T-R-Us' and not 'Tamora Pierce' on my user page. I do not own the majority of the characters in the story. One or two did come out of my own mind, but they don't really have too much weight to anything. Anyway, since it's "important", I'll say I own nothing. Nothing but the laptop upon which I write. I don't even own my own brilliant mind, since it's on loan from Alex P. Keaton – who I also don't own – and he can live without it for a few … years. That's it for the disclaimer, I'll see you in the Authoress' Note.
Summary: Conspirator's Trilogy – Part Two: Daine has finally made it home, and now it's Numair that every one is looking for. Can he be found before the whispers of conspiracy grow louder?
Authoress's Note: "Simulacra" is the sequel to "Songs of the Past", and is part two of the Conspirator's Trilogy. If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you do before continuing with this. However, a re-cap will be sorta included here, so happy reading!
Chapter One: "Terror"
The feeling in his arms had disappeared what felt like a lifetime before, leaving only a dull throbbing in its place. It was only his arms that were blessed with an all-consuming numbness, while his shoulders buckled in agony under the weight of the lead chains pinioning him to the cold slab of rock. An altar – his head, always thirsty for knowledge, reminded him – it was an altar.
With a wince as one of the chanters circling him bumped against his foot, the man closed his eyes to the pain. His toes stuck out at awkward angles, broken in the struggle that had brought him there. The mixture of pain and fear was quickly becoming too much for his head to take, it pounded agonizingly, while a combination of blood, sweat, and saliva drizzled its way down his forehead.
With his eyes closed, he could almost feel her hand at his brow, hear her voice quietly calming his fears as she wiped away the dirt and grime of his past days of mistreatment. Her scent came foremost to his mind, a mixture of the dusty stable-smell that he'd come to love after only a few weeks of knowing her. It was intoxicating, and the man clung to it like a life line. Her expressive eyes, her soft touch. A tear found it's way into his eyes, a tear that she would have kissed away. His illusion lasted only a few precious moments, before the chanting that had filled his ears as only a soft buzz escalated to a dull roar.
People around him, fellow captives, began to cry out in pain, filling the air with their screams on top of the other sounds of the chamber. He knew he would soon join them in their cacophony of misery.
The sting began suddenly, as if someone had flicked a switch, while an excruciating flash shot through him. Head rolling listlessly, he collapsed, his only support being the lead holding him to the cool stone of the altar.
Something was wrong. Shivering against the early morning chill, Veralidaine Sarrasri shot up in bed. She did not need to look far for the cause of her awakening, there was a bristling sensation running up and down her spine that said something was out of place in the room usually shared with her teacher, and lover. Craning her head to the side, the wild mage's eyes flicked from left to right. The feeling seemed akin to the one her mother had had when there was a smudge on her spotless walls, but Daine knew different. This was magic.
Not wanting to sit up, she shifted her legs under the thick blanket. There was no one else in the room, a fact that caused her far more worry than it should have. The familiar weight of the young dragon who usually slept at the foot of her bed was gone, as was the warm feeling of her back pressed to Numair's, as he slept off another late night of reading. Sparing a quick glance out the window, she noted that it was not quite dawn.
The memory of what had happened hit her with full force, as it often did when she first woke to her cold bed. Numair was gone. Kitten had disappeared with him. The thought of her own amnesia and wanderings on top of the loss of her lover had her fighting back tears as she climbed out of bed. It had been a full week since her return from Emelan, and she could hardly believe how slowly the days dragged while she was reacquainted with her life. Worry brought more tears to her eyes. What if Numair was suffering as she had? Alone somewhere, not knowing who he was or – she choked back a soft sob – not remembering her. Him being so far left her with nothing but terror-filled thoughts. He could be hurt, dying. The image of him in pain filled her with dread as she reached for her hair brush. How could they expect her to live normally, to go through the regular day-by-day actions of someone who's world wasn't falling apart around them?
Throwing the brush down on her dresser, Daine grabbed a hair tie to quickly tame her unruly curls. If Numair had been there, it would have been his large hands holding her hair out of her face while she pinned it up. If Numair were here, she reminded herself, I wouldn't be so addle-brained as to be unable to fix my own hair! After a brief struggle, she succeeded in keeping the mane mostly out of her eyes. Standing, she made for the dresser across the room. Skipping the top drawer -- Numair's – she gave a sharp tug on the second.
The wood had a habit of jamming, and locking the drawer inside. Probably why Numair took the drawer above it, Daine thought wryly, ignoring the pain that thoughts of Numair caused. There had been a time when the dresser's peculiarities would have caused her to laugh, and call her teacher to come and pry the drawer open, but not now, as Daine struggled to open it herself. When the wood finally gave, she pulled out a clean shirt and a pair of breeches, throwing them on and shoving it closed.
It was a long walk from her rooms in the mage's wing to the Rider's mess hall, and by the time Daine had a tray of food in her hands, her stomach growled irritably. It had been suggested that she take back her old room with the Riders, but just being in her own room near Numair's workspace let off a feeling of safety, overpowering the emptiness. She claimed that there was something about Numair's lingering scent that made her feel as though he were there, and Queen Thayet had found the wild mage buried under a pile of Numair's cloaks more than once.
"Good morning," Thayet had grabbed a similar tray and slid into place next to her friend. The furrowed brow marring her fair face betrayed her obvious worry at Daine's blank stare and full plate – again, the wild mage wasn't eating.
"What's so good about it?" Tired eyes swiveled up to the Queen's, as Daine pushed her breakfast around with her fork. She'd been hungry on the way to the mess, but once the food was in front of her, her appetite had disappeared completely.
"Did you have another nightmare?" Thayet had noticed the fatigue, and draped an arm around the younger girl's shoulder comfortingly. "Because if you have, we can get you a potion to –"
"No," Daine interrupted, "I haven't had another nightmare."
"He'll be—"
Thayet was cut off again, but this time by the slam of Daine throwing her fork down. Her red-rimmed eyes appeared wild, and were wet with tears. The wild mage didn't dare say anything in response, her backwoods breeding urging her to be careful and not accidentally insult her sovereign. It took ten steps before she was out of the mess, and ten more took her down the hall. In the week since she'd returned from Emelan, she had found herself subconsciously taking to Numair's favorite haunts. The nearby apple orchard, Balor's Needle – only twenty-three paces to the library.
"Well, rose, can't –"
Kel's eyebrows were up in an instant, smashing through her Yamani façade. "Cleon, I thought we were past this." Or at least, she'd hoped they were past it. "You're getting married, I'm in love with—
His cocky smile stopped her mid-sentence. "With…?"
"Oh, be quiet!" The morning had found her in a foul mood, one which had failed to disappear even after an extended work out. The overcast sky outside screamed of more bad weather to match the previous week of rain and slush. On top of this, Kel was just realizing that it had been a bad idea to remain inside with her fellow knight.
Cleon laughed at her sudden secretive behavior, but as much as he'd like to, he knew better than to pry. As he opened his mouth to make another sardonic comment, the sound of soft footsteps on the library's stone floor drew his attention toward a newcomer. "Hello, Daine."
Kel looked up at the wild mage's entrance as well, and murmured her own greeting. The knights had all agreed against mentioning the missing mage. "Are you going out on the balcony, again?" For the past few days, all of which Kel had spent in the library thanks to the weather, Daine had gone to lean against the rail of a small balcony overhanging the front of the castle. When the knight was met with a curt nod in response, she added, "The Baron is out there, you know."
Daine appeared to cast the information aside, as she pushed past the pair, pulling open the door. If it was anyone unimportant, they would leave her alone. If 'Baron' meant --
"I figured you'd be here eventually, lass." George Cooper stared at her concernedly as she slammed the heavy door shut behind her, stepping out onto the balcony.
"Hello, George."
He nodded, and she took several steps towards him, leaning against the rail. "Stefan said you hadn't been to the stables yesterday." His tone was light, as though it were far less serious than it should have been.
"It's too hard." Daine looked away, not needing to see the pity in his eyes. "Everywhere. They all walk around saying how much they miss him, and how sorry they are. No one loved him like I did—" she stopped, aghast at her inadvertent change in tense, "—do! Like I do!"
George attempted a smile, drawing her gaze back to him. "I know how you feel." He held up a hand to stop her before she could interrupt, "I've lost people in the Rogue, spent weeks worrying, only to have 'em turn up perfectly fine." Daine began to feel as though me did know what she was going through, while George thanked any gods that were listening for his quick wits. "Numair is a great mage, he'll come through. Don't worry," he added, pulling her into a friendly hug, which she accepted gratefully. "Look—" his hand stretched out in the direction of an approaching cloud of dust. Raising his opposite hand to his brow, he added, "Alanna's coming."
Daine looked up, startled. "Where'd she go?"
"I suppose you didn't notice," His tone was teasing instead of accusing, and for this the wild mage was thankful. "Just after you came home, she dashed out to go and find that mage of yours." He watched as she colored slightly, "It's only been a week, and she's coming in pretty quickly… I don't want to get your hopes up, but I assume this means she's found something." The dust was moving closer to the castle with each passing moment.
"No… if it's been a week… she probably just wants to be home. Home in Corus, at least." She wouldn't let the bubble of excitement that had started to grow get any bigger. She couldn't.
"Now don't be so hasty, Jon said that in her last scry, she mentioned news."
Daine was torn between swatting him for not telling her this sooner, or hugging him. He began to move toward the door before she could do either. "Where are you going?"
He grinned back at her, "Are you daft? Alanna's here. I'll go back through the library. Why don't you just fly down? I'll meet you –"
The icy look she shot him rooted the Baron to his spot. "I'd rather walk."
"George!" Alanna, tired as she was, still had strength enough to throw herself into her husband's arms as soon as she saw him enter the front foyer. "Daine!" After noticing the wild mage, she gave her a firm squeeze on the shoulder, looking her over thoroughly. "You're pale, didn't you get any sleep last night?" Without waiting for an answer, the knight tugged them both into a private parlor.
"What's the word?" George sat himself down regally, reminiscent of his days as the Rogue, and turned toward Alanna.
"It's not good."
Daine frowned. "Not good?"
"There's trouble in Carthak. Those in the Emperor's Palace are in mourning."
"He's… no…."
Alanna shook her head. "No, it's Varice – someone we met in Carthak," she added for her husband's benefit. Smiling at Daine, she noticed the wild mage's scowl, and stiffened.
"You were looking for Numair, and all you found out was information about her?"
"Daine, Varice killed herself."
Closing Comments: Gasp! Varice is dead. Don't get any misconceptions there, she is in fact dead. Numair, at the moment, isn't. So don't worry about him. Yet, at least. I'll see you in chapter two! (So you'd better be there, 'cause I'm bringing cake.)