To:
Magix Pawn: Æveradysné Ceïlan is pronounced "Ay-VERA-diz-nay SAY-ee-lahn." And yeah, I know Dom's cooler, but...doubt he'll give her sappy nicknames. I LIKED the sappy nicknames!
Anonymous: *Gapes in horror* NO!!!!! No this story doesn't involve incest! Ugh, that would just ruin it...ugh! Nasty...nasty! Ew!....arg!
RoseFyre: You're right, he is still a mystery. Unfortunately, he'll have to stay shrouded in mystery for some time, because I DON'T have an answer. That's bad, right? And I'm not sure if I'll like how things'll turn out either.
Lady Tarillyn: Think you're taking this a little too seriously? Sorry, but Alex won't appear for a while. *trembles in fear*
But thanks for the long review! I think you *almost* made up for everyone else writing such short ones. *glares pointedly at people. And your info is more or less correct.
Lady Lizzy: Really? I'm doing well? You're not just pulling my leg?
Dyana-of-Tortall: Yes, I'm awaiting him in my lonely tower.
Crown: ALEX IS NOT DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMIGOD ALEX CANNOT BE DEAD!!!! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA???
Lady Marie: Oh! The duel thing! Hmmm...I could use that!
White-Wolf: Maybe I'll make 'em end up together...but then all these converted Alex fans would hate me. UPDATE. Just pretend that I sent you a howler. Now UPDATE.
labels.DONT.like.me: cool pen name.
KeladryLadyKnight: *sighs* I didn't explain that very well, did I? Actually, Black Ice is just a type of rock, or mineral, or gem, or jewel...whatever. It looks just like a polished black stone. I don't know what it's actually called, but I know that the nickname is Black Ice. Guess I better explain that in the story, though, huh?
P.S. I disagree. If I say "Please" as in I am speaking to you, as in one person informally, it would be "S'til te plait." (because I prefer to believe that this is an informal relationship) Obviously I chose to do so. I could say "S'il vous plait" as in I'm addressing the crowd of you, but if only one person reads my story, then that would be stupid (on my part).
Lady Star: I didn't like Cleon at first, but then....well, he just sorta grew on me, I guess. *grins sheepishly*
Smileypal4eva: It's official. I've decided that I'll write a prequel about Elijah's life so you get an in-depth experience about the whole messy love triangle thingy, which I haven't worked out the details to, yet.
AerinBrown: No George in this chapter. Sorry, maybe the next.
Chickensoup3: *sighs* I suppose not. Maybe I'll make him turn evil later...
Ladyluck: *gapes* But, but...it WAS badly written!
Lady Arabian Knight, Lady of the Shadows, Xelena, StarFire, Anonymous (a different one), and everyone else who reviewed: You rock! Please keep reviewing, it makes me so happy! Reviews are my oxygen, my water, my...ok, shutting up now.
AN:
I GOT THE LOTR SOUNDTRACK!!!!!!! YAYAYAYAY!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm listening to it as I write this. *grins*
And this is so weird...nobody thought the chapter was bad. I'm starting to get the impression that you'll say my chapters are good even if they're not...ah, well. Happy you didn't think my chapter was as horrible as I thought it was.
I'M SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (about the late update!!!) I had tons of homework and....yeah.
Chapter nineteen--
Alanna stayed out of sheer curiosity. After all, the man had just appeared in the middle of the street. How often did a phenomenon like that occur? She'd managed to get him a spare room and a meal for the strange man, and coax a few men into helping her carry him to his room. Alanna sat beside the warm fires of the hearth, willing for him to wake. It wasn't as if she would have been able to sleep, anyway.
The man grunted and shifted, causing the mattress to groan, but did not wake. Surveying him, Alanna guessed that he was perhaps twenty. He traveled often; that much was obvious from his weathered face and travel-worn clothing. He did not appear Tortallan. Earlier she had looked through his things, rather guiltily, and deduced that he was from Tusaine. At least, that was what Solom had said when she'd dragged him into the Dancing Dove.
"Fellow from Tusaine?" he'd asked, gesturing toward him. Alanna only shrugged.
"Found him in the street. Said he wanted a place to stay. Then he fainted."
Solom had guffawed, then claimed that he'd had no rooms left. After haggling and pleading with him for a moment, he at last admitted that there was one last available room, a very small one.
The stranger carried in a pack a few belongings, some that were ordinary and some that puzzled her. He posessed a fine sword that looked to be from Tusaine, or so one of the men had told her. It was extremely plain but even she knew it was a remarkable weapon. Inside his eather pouch were maps of Tusaine, Corus, and two of Scanra and Galla. There was also a simple compass, a few herbs, and a letter in a language she couldn't read. At the bottom of the pouch there was a brooch and a necklace, one gold and the other silver. The gold brooch was inlaid with pretty rubies that Alanna had admired for a long moment. The silver necklace was a spiraling pendant with glass and crystals in its thin wire workings. She wondered who it belonged to, for it was surely not a man's.
Now Alanna helped herself to his meal. He probably wasn't going to awaken until dawn, and she was hungry. The stew was long cold by now, but she finished it anyway. The crusty bread and bitter ale Alanna decided to leave for him, as she did not drink.
She surprised herself with her patience. Even when the sounds below them quieted a bit, Alanna remained sitting next to the dying fires. When the sky began to lighten and the embers were cool, she was still awake and watching him with the gaze of a hawk. Somehow she didn't grow impatient with him and allowed him to sleep.
At last there was a change in his breathing.
"Good morning," she said cheerfully. He bolted from the bed. Alanna watched as his eyes combed the room. Casually she gestured toward the bedpost. "Your sword is over there."
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice scratchy.
"There's ale and bread over there," Alanna said, ignoring him. "There was stew, too, but you didn't wake up. So I ate it."
Warily he seated himself at the table. With one eye on her, he attacked his food. Alanna waited for him to say something.
"I'm Alanna," she said at last. "You never told me your name. You appeared in the middle of the street in a flash of bright light. Then you fainted. Who are you?"
"Bowen," he answered carefully.
"Bowen? So you're Tortallan?"
Bowen licked his lips. He was still starving. Standing, he slung his sword over his back and tied his leather pouch to his belt. How much could he tell?
"Yes," he said. "You sound surprised."
"Everyone thought you were from Tusaine."
Bowen stiffened. "Everyone?"
"Well, when I brought you in, that's was Solom said at first. Then I had a few men carry you up here. They thought you were from Tusaine, too."
"Did you spend the entire night here?" he asked her uneasily.
"Yes. You sleep like a rock. I suppose you'll want breakfast now."
"Yes," Bowen murmured. He seemed to shake himself. "I'm sorry, milady. I've been uncourteous."
Alanna raised an arm with an agitated expression to stop him as she rose. For the first time, Bowen noticed that she wore breeches and a tunic.
"I'm not a lady, so no need for that. Breakfast?"
Bowen bowed and opened the door for her. In obvious distasted, Alanna walked past him, ignoring his extended arm.
"Where are we?" Bowen asked politely as they stepped down the hall.
"The Dancing Dove. In Corus."
Bowen halted. "The Dancing Dove?"
"Yes, the Dancing Dove. It's an inn," Alanna answered slowly. "Why?"
Bowen increased his pace. "I'm sorry, milady. You've been most kind to me thus far, and I'm ever so grateful for your aid, but I must not burden you further."
"What do you mean?" Alanna asked as her brow furrowed in confusion.
"I've urgent matters to attend to," Bowen replied, as if explaining something simple to a child.
"You mean you want me to leave," Alanna realized. "Well, not until I'm sure that you've eaten a proper meal, because I think you fainted from lack of food. And not until you answer my questions."
"Milady!"
"You owe it to me," Alanna shot back. "Do you know how hard it is to drag a full-grown man through the streets of Corus?"
Bowen visibly struggled for an argument. At last, he sighed.
"Aye. I'll answer your questions and eat breakfast. After that, I must take my leave."
"Fair enough," Alanna replied cheerfully. They entered the common room. It was devoid of people save a maid who was cleaning and Solom.
"First of all," Alanna began, "why are you here?"
"I can't answer that," Bowen answered politely.
"Fine. How did you get here? With the bright light and all. Do you have the Gift?"
Bowen shifted uneasily. "No."
"Oh." Alanna was disappointed. "Then how did you get here?"
"I have..." Bowen hesitated. "I have a friend who has the Gift. She was the bright light you saw."
"She?" Alanna raised an eyebrow. Bowen turned his direction to Solom.
"Hearty stew for me, and whatever the lady likes," he told him. Alanna waved an arm in dismissal to Solom, who shrugged.
"So, who is this friend of yours? I think I heard you say her name, but I can't be sure. Ahvra, I think?"
"I call her Vera," Bowen replied. "She's my brother's wife."
"Younger or older brother?"
"I prefer not to speak about my brother," Bowen said abruptly.
"Then why mention him in the first place?"
"Younger, if you must know," Bowen said.
"Does he have the Gift, too?"
"Yes," Bowen said distastefully. "He looks a bit like you, truth to tell."
"What do you mean?"
"Red hair. Violet eyes."
"Elijah?" Alanna asked excitedly.
"You know him?" Bowen restrained himself from raising an eyebrow.
"Not really," Alanna admitted. "He came to Corus, and I spoke with him once. When I tried speaking with him again, I found out he'd already left. So you're his brother!"
Bowen accepted his stew from Solom and stirred it with a spoon. Why was everyone so gods-cursed awed by his brother??
"Are you a noble?"
"No," Bowen answered after swallowing a bitter stalk of an unknown vegetable. Alanna started.
"Really? You act like one."
"What do you mean?" Bowen asked sharply.
"You're so....so...well, polite, I suppose."
"And only nobles have good manners?" His tone was sharper than he'd intended.
"No. You...you talk like a noble, too."
"Milady, this conversation is making me uncomfortable. Can we not speak of other things? How is your family? It is only fair that you should tell me, as I have already told you of mine."
"No, not true!" Alanna protested. "Who are your parents? Where were you raised? Where is your home? You haven't told me THAT yet!"
"Alright," Bowen replied heavily. "I do not know who my parents are. Elijah's parents raised me since as far back as I can remember." He stopped, lost in a myriad of memories.
"What did they do for a living?" Alanna prompted.
"They were mages," Bowen responded, shrugging. "Mostly healing. We have always been traveling, so I do not have a home. Well, if I must say I have a home...there is a farm in the east. Far to the east, past Tusaine and Galla and Jevu and MqUian, further east than the land of the Shang, in a small little country no one in Tortall has probably ever heard of. I go there whenever I can. But even that is not really my home, as the farm belongs to Vera's family."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Alanna said sincerely.
"And what of your family?"
"My mother died soon after childbirth. My father died recently. I have a twin, but no one knows where he his. His name is Thom, and I intend to find him and take him back from the people who stole him. My home is Trebond."
"Trebond," Bowen said thoughtfully. "I think I've passed by it once. Now, about this brother of yours. Was he kidnapped by raiders? By pirates while at sea? Or perhaps he was taken prisoner during the recent war with Tusaine?"
"Neither," Alanna said matter-of-factly. "A couple took him away soon after his birth."
"Why?" Bowen cried. "'Tis a sin, to separate an infant from his parents!"
"Yes," Alanna agreed. "They demanded it in return for healing him. You see, my brother was very sick."
"The swindlers," Bowen growled. "I hope you find your brother, and bring those thieves to justice."
"Thank you," Alanna said gratefully. "You really think I can do it?"
"Why not?" Bowen said with a shrug. "People in my land, my country--"
"Wait. A moment ago you said you had no home, and now you have a country?"
"I thought we agreed that if I was to call any place my home, that would be the place," Bowen corrected patiently.
"You said that you were Tortallan!" Alanna accused.
"In a manner of speaking. As I was? People in this land...there they believe that women can fight as well. In fact, they encourage it. Women there are equal to men."
"Equal?" Alanna hardly dared to let herself believe. "Are women there knights?"
"Knights?" Bowen laughed. "Yes, but there are hardly any knights there any more. There is no need, you see."
"But still, there are lady knights?" Alanna persisted.
"Yes," Bowen reassured her.
"Oh, I must go there sometime!" Alanna cried. Bowen laughed again and stood.
"Well, then you will. Perhaps I might see you there someday. Now, milday, you must keep your promise and let me go."
"Oh. Well, a promise is a promise. But I haven't asked all of my questions yet!"
"Perhaps later," Bowen offered.
"Yes," Alanna said automatically. "Yes, we must speak again. When can I find you again?"
"Tomorrow night, mayhap," Bowen suggested. Alanna nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes. And will you tell me more about your country?"
"Of course," he said with a smile. "Do you always converse with strangers like this?"
"It's becoming a habit," Alanna said with a smile. As she turned to leave, Bowen took a gentle hold of her elbow, so gentle that it surprised Alanna, for his hands were large and looked strong enough to crush a man's skull.
"I still have a question for you. Why do you dress in breeches and a tunic? I believe that it is considered the clothing that only a man should wear, at least here in Tortall."
"Because I choose to," Alanna responded stiffly. "I wear what a like." With that, she turned and left.
Alanna slipped easily into the streets, as there was no crowd to push her way through, only a few early risers milling about. She found herself grinning with new hope. Yes, she must speak with Bowen again to learn more about the land where women were equal with men. Imagine!
So, the night and morning spent with the stranger had not been such a waste of time after all.
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"What do you MEAN you can't help her??" Jon raged. His face was red with fury, his blue eyes bulging.
"She is beyond my skills," Roger explained calmly to his cousin. "I have tried my best to heal her. There is nothing else I can do."
"You're lying!!" Jon spat. "Lying! You're the most powerful mage in Tortall!! You're supposed to be able to heal her!"
"What are you saying? That I'm purposely letting the queen die?" Roger said coldly.
"If she dies," Jon said bitterly, "I will blame you. I will blame you because you did not try."
"You don't know that I didn't try, cousin. I used every spell within my knowledge to try and heal her. Ask any of the palace healers--they will vouch for me."
"If you can't do it, I will call Elijah," Jon said. Roger raised an eyebrow.
"The boy who healed you of the Sweating Sickness? I've not yet had the oppurtunity to meet him, though I would certainly like to. He must indeed possess great power if he saved you then, but I doubt even he could help the queen in her present state."
"He's not a boy; he's more a man than you are!" Jon yelled. "I'm sure that he wouldn't be too...too AFRAID to try to heal my mother!"
"I am not afraid," Roger snapped. "You aren't listening."
"No," Jon said, his voice dangerously low. "YOU aren't listening to me. I will call Elijah, and when he heals my mother, I will have you stripped of your title as a Duke."
"You can't do that," Roger replied, a hint of amusement inching into his voice.
"Are you so sure?"
Their blue eyes locked, and they faced each other like combatants before Roger sighed.
"Mithros, Jon, if you want to call the boy, call him already," he said, his voice indicating his dismissal.
"Let me see my mother, and I'll reconsider having your title stripped."
"Jon, we've been through this. Even your father agrees with me. No one is to disturb the queen."
"You can't stop me," Jon declared fiercely. "You can't keep me from her. She'd my mother, Roger!"
"And what do you think you could do?" Roger demanded, raising his voice for the first time. "Do you think you could heal her? You are not trained in your Gift!"
"I could try something," Jon said defiantly. "Perhaps if I was there, she would awaken to see her son."
"You don't truly believe that, do you, Jon?" Roger scoffed.
"Don't ever tell me what I can or can't do."
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Ugh. My chapters are getting worse and worse. Oh well, this was the best I could do in such short amount of time (I rushed home so that I could write it up today).
Guess what? My parents say no more library for me. That means I won't have anything to refer to when I write the rest of my chapters. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ok. I've got ideas for another TP fanfic and a prequel to this story. *Sighs* Writing fanfics takes up wayyyy too much of my time.
Coming up next chapter: and exchange between Jon and Alanna.
Sorry, Alex fans, but he's not going to show for a while. Not 'til after Jon's had his shot at Alanna.
In case you haven't noticed, my writing style changes often. After I read a book (or a story), I subconsciously alter my style a tad bit to replicate the book/story I just read. That's why oftentimes the way I write in the beginning of a book is very different from how I wrote in the beginning. (want proof? After reading this chapter, go back and read 1 of my earlier chps. See the difference??) These inconsistencies are a nuisance.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review!! If you don't, you are EVIL EVIL EVIL. And if you don't want to bother or waste your time, just write a 1 word review! PLEASE!
Magix Pawn: Æveradysné Ceïlan is pronounced "Ay-VERA-diz-nay SAY-ee-lahn." And yeah, I know Dom's cooler, but...doubt he'll give her sappy nicknames. I LIKED the sappy nicknames!
Anonymous: *Gapes in horror* NO!!!!! No this story doesn't involve incest! Ugh, that would just ruin it...ugh! Nasty...nasty! Ew!....arg!
RoseFyre: You're right, he is still a mystery. Unfortunately, he'll have to stay shrouded in mystery for some time, because I DON'T have an answer. That's bad, right? And I'm not sure if I'll like how things'll turn out either.
Lady Tarillyn: Think you're taking this a little too seriously? Sorry, but Alex won't appear for a while. *trembles in fear*
But thanks for the long review! I think you *almost* made up for everyone else writing such short ones. *glares pointedly at people. And your info is more or less correct.
Lady Lizzy: Really? I'm doing well? You're not just pulling my leg?
Dyana-of-Tortall: Yes, I'm awaiting him in my lonely tower.
Crown: ALEX IS NOT DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMIGOD ALEX CANNOT BE DEAD!!!! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA???
Lady Marie: Oh! The duel thing! Hmmm...I could use that!
White-Wolf: Maybe I'll make 'em end up together...but then all these converted Alex fans would hate me. UPDATE. Just pretend that I sent you a howler. Now UPDATE.
labels.DONT.like.me: cool pen name.
KeladryLadyKnight: *sighs* I didn't explain that very well, did I? Actually, Black Ice is just a type of rock, or mineral, or gem, or jewel...whatever. It looks just like a polished black stone. I don't know what it's actually called, but I know that the nickname is Black Ice. Guess I better explain that in the story, though, huh?
P.S. I disagree. If I say "Please" as in I am speaking to you, as in one person informally, it would be "S'til te plait." (because I prefer to believe that this is an informal relationship) Obviously I chose to do so. I could say "S'il vous plait" as in I'm addressing the crowd of you, but if only one person reads my story, then that would be stupid (on my part).
Lady Star: I didn't like Cleon at first, but then....well, he just sorta grew on me, I guess. *grins sheepishly*
Smileypal4eva: It's official. I've decided that I'll write a prequel about Elijah's life so you get an in-depth experience about the whole messy love triangle thingy, which I haven't worked out the details to, yet.
AerinBrown: No George in this chapter. Sorry, maybe the next.
Chickensoup3: *sighs* I suppose not. Maybe I'll make him turn evil later...
Ladyluck: *gapes* But, but...it WAS badly written!
Lady Arabian Knight, Lady of the Shadows, Xelena, StarFire, Anonymous (a different one), and everyone else who reviewed: You rock! Please keep reviewing, it makes me so happy! Reviews are my oxygen, my water, my...ok, shutting up now.
AN:
I GOT THE LOTR SOUNDTRACK!!!!!!! YAYAYAYAY!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm listening to it as I write this. *grins*
And this is so weird...nobody thought the chapter was bad. I'm starting to get the impression that you'll say my chapters are good even if they're not...ah, well. Happy you didn't think my chapter was as horrible as I thought it was.
I'M SORRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (about the late update!!!) I had tons of homework and....yeah.
Chapter nineteen--
Alanna stayed out of sheer curiosity. After all, the man had just appeared in the middle of the street. How often did a phenomenon like that occur? She'd managed to get him a spare room and a meal for the strange man, and coax a few men into helping her carry him to his room. Alanna sat beside the warm fires of the hearth, willing for him to wake. It wasn't as if she would have been able to sleep, anyway.
The man grunted and shifted, causing the mattress to groan, but did not wake. Surveying him, Alanna guessed that he was perhaps twenty. He traveled often; that much was obvious from his weathered face and travel-worn clothing. He did not appear Tortallan. Earlier she had looked through his things, rather guiltily, and deduced that he was from Tusaine. At least, that was what Solom had said when she'd dragged him into the Dancing Dove.
"Fellow from Tusaine?" he'd asked, gesturing toward him. Alanna only shrugged.
"Found him in the street. Said he wanted a place to stay. Then he fainted."
Solom had guffawed, then claimed that he'd had no rooms left. After haggling and pleading with him for a moment, he at last admitted that there was one last available room, a very small one.
The stranger carried in a pack a few belongings, some that were ordinary and some that puzzled her. He posessed a fine sword that looked to be from Tusaine, or so one of the men had told her. It was extremely plain but even she knew it was a remarkable weapon. Inside his eather pouch were maps of Tusaine, Corus, and two of Scanra and Galla. There was also a simple compass, a few herbs, and a letter in a language she couldn't read. At the bottom of the pouch there was a brooch and a necklace, one gold and the other silver. The gold brooch was inlaid with pretty rubies that Alanna had admired for a long moment. The silver necklace was a spiraling pendant with glass and crystals in its thin wire workings. She wondered who it belonged to, for it was surely not a man's.
Now Alanna helped herself to his meal. He probably wasn't going to awaken until dawn, and she was hungry. The stew was long cold by now, but she finished it anyway. The crusty bread and bitter ale Alanna decided to leave for him, as she did not drink.
She surprised herself with her patience. Even when the sounds below them quieted a bit, Alanna remained sitting next to the dying fires. When the sky began to lighten and the embers were cool, she was still awake and watching him with the gaze of a hawk. Somehow she didn't grow impatient with him and allowed him to sleep.
At last there was a change in his breathing.
"Good morning," she said cheerfully. He bolted from the bed. Alanna watched as his eyes combed the room. Casually she gestured toward the bedpost. "Your sword is over there."
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice scratchy.
"There's ale and bread over there," Alanna said, ignoring him. "There was stew, too, but you didn't wake up. So I ate it."
Warily he seated himself at the table. With one eye on her, he attacked his food. Alanna waited for him to say something.
"I'm Alanna," she said at last. "You never told me your name. You appeared in the middle of the street in a flash of bright light. Then you fainted. Who are you?"
"Bowen," he answered carefully.
"Bowen? So you're Tortallan?"
Bowen licked his lips. He was still starving. Standing, he slung his sword over his back and tied his leather pouch to his belt. How much could he tell?
"Yes," he said. "You sound surprised."
"Everyone thought you were from Tusaine."
Bowen stiffened. "Everyone?"
"Well, when I brought you in, that's was Solom said at first. Then I had a few men carry you up here. They thought you were from Tusaine, too."
"Did you spend the entire night here?" he asked her uneasily.
"Yes. You sleep like a rock. I suppose you'll want breakfast now."
"Yes," Bowen murmured. He seemed to shake himself. "I'm sorry, milady. I've been uncourteous."
Alanna raised an arm with an agitated expression to stop him as she rose. For the first time, Bowen noticed that she wore breeches and a tunic.
"I'm not a lady, so no need for that. Breakfast?"
Bowen bowed and opened the door for her. In obvious distasted, Alanna walked past him, ignoring his extended arm.
"Where are we?" Bowen asked politely as they stepped down the hall.
"The Dancing Dove. In Corus."
Bowen halted. "The Dancing Dove?"
"Yes, the Dancing Dove. It's an inn," Alanna answered slowly. "Why?"
Bowen increased his pace. "I'm sorry, milady. You've been most kind to me thus far, and I'm ever so grateful for your aid, but I must not burden you further."
"What do you mean?" Alanna asked as her brow furrowed in confusion.
"I've urgent matters to attend to," Bowen replied, as if explaining something simple to a child.
"You mean you want me to leave," Alanna realized. "Well, not until I'm sure that you've eaten a proper meal, because I think you fainted from lack of food. And not until you answer my questions."
"Milady!"
"You owe it to me," Alanna shot back. "Do you know how hard it is to drag a full-grown man through the streets of Corus?"
Bowen visibly struggled for an argument. At last, he sighed.
"Aye. I'll answer your questions and eat breakfast. After that, I must take my leave."
"Fair enough," Alanna replied cheerfully. They entered the common room. It was devoid of people save a maid who was cleaning and Solom.
"First of all," Alanna began, "why are you here?"
"I can't answer that," Bowen answered politely.
"Fine. How did you get here? With the bright light and all. Do you have the Gift?"
Bowen shifted uneasily. "No."
"Oh." Alanna was disappointed. "Then how did you get here?"
"I have..." Bowen hesitated. "I have a friend who has the Gift. She was the bright light you saw."
"She?" Alanna raised an eyebrow. Bowen turned his direction to Solom.
"Hearty stew for me, and whatever the lady likes," he told him. Alanna waved an arm in dismissal to Solom, who shrugged.
"So, who is this friend of yours? I think I heard you say her name, but I can't be sure. Ahvra, I think?"
"I call her Vera," Bowen replied. "She's my brother's wife."
"Younger or older brother?"
"I prefer not to speak about my brother," Bowen said abruptly.
"Then why mention him in the first place?"
"Younger, if you must know," Bowen said.
"Does he have the Gift, too?"
"Yes," Bowen said distastefully. "He looks a bit like you, truth to tell."
"What do you mean?"
"Red hair. Violet eyes."
"Elijah?" Alanna asked excitedly.
"You know him?" Bowen restrained himself from raising an eyebrow.
"Not really," Alanna admitted. "He came to Corus, and I spoke with him once. When I tried speaking with him again, I found out he'd already left. So you're his brother!"
Bowen accepted his stew from Solom and stirred it with a spoon. Why was everyone so gods-cursed awed by his brother??
"Are you a noble?"
"No," Bowen answered after swallowing a bitter stalk of an unknown vegetable. Alanna started.
"Really? You act like one."
"What do you mean?" Bowen asked sharply.
"You're so....so...well, polite, I suppose."
"And only nobles have good manners?" His tone was sharper than he'd intended.
"No. You...you talk like a noble, too."
"Milady, this conversation is making me uncomfortable. Can we not speak of other things? How is your family? It is only fair that you should tell me, as I have already told you of mine."
"No, not true!" Alanna protested. "Who are your parents? Where were you raised? Where is your home? You haven't told me THAT yet!"
"Alright," Bowen replied heavily. "I do not know who my parents are. Elijah's parents raised me since as far back as I can remember." He stopped, lost in a myriad of memories.
"What did they do for a living?" Alanna prompted.
"They were mages," Bowen responded, shrugging. "Mostly healing. We have always been traveling, so I do not have a home. Well, if I must say I have a home...there is a farm in the east. Far to the east, past Tusaine and Galla and Jevu and MqUian, further east than the land of the Shang, in a small little country no one in Tortall has probably ever heard of. I go there whenever I can. But even that is not really my home, as the farm belongs to Vera's family."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Alanna said sincerely.
"And what of your family?"
"My mother died soon after childbirth. My father died recently. I have a twin, but no one knows where he his. His name is Thom, and I intend to find him and take him back from the people who stole him. My home is Trebond."
"Trebond," Bowen said thoughtfully. "I think I've passed by it once. Now, about this brother of yours. Was he kidnapped by raiders? By pirates while at sea? Or perhaps he was taken prisoner during the recent war with Tusaine?"
"Neither," Alanna said matter-of-factly. "A couple took him away soon after his birth."
"Why?" Bowen cried. "'Tis a sin, to separate an infant from his parents!"
"Yes," Alanna agreed. "They demanded it in return for healing him. You see, my brother was very sick."
"The swindlers," Bowen growled. "I hope you find your brother, and bring those thieves to justice."
"Thank you," Alanna said gratefully. "You really think I can do it?"
"Why not?" Bowen said with a shrug. "People in my land, my country--"
"Wait. A moment ago you said you had no home, and now you have a country?"
"I thought we agreed that if I was to call any place my home, that would be the place," Bowen corrected patiently.
"You said that you were Tortallan!" Alanna accused.
"In a manner of speaking. As I was? People in this land...there they believe that women can fight as well. In fact, they encourage it. Women there are equal to men."
"Equal?" Alanna hardly dared to let herself believe. "Are women there knights?"
"Knights?" Bowen laughed. "Yes, but there are hardly any knights there any more. There is no need, you see."
"But still, there are lady knights?" Alanna persisted.
"Yes," Bowen reassured her.
"Oh, I must go there sometime!" Alanna cried. Bowen laughed again and stood.
"Well, then you will. Perhaps I might see you there someday. Now, milday, you must keep your promise and let me go."
"Oh. Well, a promise is a promise. But I haven't asked all of my questions yet!"
"Perhaps later," Bowen offered.
"Yes," Alanna said automatically. "Yes, we must speak again. When can I find you again?"
"Tomorrow night, mayhap," Bowen suggested. Alanna nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes. And will you tell me more about your country?"
"Of course," he said with a smile. "Do you always converse with strangers like this?"
"It's becoming a habit," Alanna said with a smile. As she turned to leave, Bowen took a gentle hold of her elbow, so gentle that it surprised Alanna, for his hands were large and looked strong enough to crush a man's skull.
"I still have a question for you. Why do you dress in breeches and a tunic? I believe that it is considered the clothing that only a man should wear, at least here in Tortall."
"Because I choose to," Alanna responded stiffly. "I wear what a like." With that, she turned and left.
Alanna slipped easily into the streets, as there was no crowd to push her way through, only a few early risers milling about. She found herself grinning with new hope. Yes, she must speak with Bowen again to learn more about the land where women were equal with men. Imagine!
So, the night and morning spent with the stranger had not been such a waste of time after all.
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"What do you MEAN you can't help her??" Jon raged. His face was red with fury, his blue eyes bulging.
"She is beyond my skills," Roger explained calmly to his cousin. "I have tried my best to heal her. There is nothing else I can do."
"You're lying!!" Jon spat. "Lying! You're the most powerful mage in Tortall!! You're supposed to be able to heal her!"
"What are you saying? That I'm purposely letting the queen die?" Roger said coldly.
"If she dies," Jon said bitterly, "I will blame you. I will blame you because you did not try."
"You don't know that I didn't try, cousin. I used every spell within my knowledge to try and heal her. Ask any of the palace healers--they will vouch for me."
"If you can't do it, I will call Elijah," Jon said. Roger raised an eyebrow.
"The boy who healed you of the Sweating Sickness? I've not yet had the oppurtunity to meet him, though I would certainly like to. He must indeed possess great power if he saved you then, but I doubt even he could help the queen in her present state."
"He's not a boy; he's more a man than you are!" Jon yelled. "I'm sure that he wouldn't be too...too AFRAID to try to heal my mother!"
"I am not afraid," Roger snapped. "You aren't listening."
"No," Jon said, his voice dangerously low. "YOU aren't listening to me. I will call Elijah, and when he heals my mother, I will have you stripped of your title as a Duke."
"You can't do that," Roger replied, a hint of amusement inching into his voice.
"Are you so sure?"
Their blue eyes locked, and they faced each other like combatants before Roger sighed.
"Mithros, Jon, if you want to call the boy, call him already," he said, his voice indicating his dismissal.
"Let me see my mother, and I'll reconsider having your title stripped."
"Jon, we've been through this. Even your father agrees with me. No one is to disturb the queen."
"You can't stop me," Jon declared fiercely. "You can't keep me from her. She'd my mother, Roger!"
"And what do you think you could do?" Roger demanded, raising his voice for the first time. "Do you think you could heal her? You are not trained in your Gift!"
"I could try something," Jon said defiantly. "Perhaps if I was there, she would awaken to see her son."
"You don't truly believe that, do you, Jon?" Roger scoffed.
"Don't ever tell me what I can or can't do."
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Ugh. My chapters are getting worse and worse. Oh well, this was the best I could do in such short amount of time (I rushed home so that I could write it up today).
Guess what? My parents say no more library for me. That means I won't have anything to refer to when I write the rest of my chapters. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ok. I've got ideas for another TP fanfic and a prequel to this story. *Sighs* Writing fanfics takes up wayyyy too much of my time.
Coming up next chapter: and exchange between Jon and Alanna.
Sorry, Alex fans, but he's not going to show for a while. Not 'til after Jon's had his shot at Alanna.
In case you haven't noticed, my writing style changes often. After I read a book (or a story), I subconsciously alter my style a tad bit to replicate the book/story I just read. That's why oftentimes the way I write in the beginning of a book is very different from how I wrote in the beginning. (want proof? After reading this chapter, go back and read 1 of my earlier chps. See the difference??) These inconsistencies are a nuisance.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review!! If you don't, you are EVIL EVIL EVIL. And if you don't want to bother or waste your time, just write a 1 word review! PLEASE!