Chapter Seven: Misunderstood

Panic. Focus. Think.

The AI instructors, more efficient than any mere human, had drilled that into their heads so often until it had become fact. But more than fact—it was pure instinct. Despite the boredom of repetition, which they never experienced elsewhere, they learned the lessons quickly. Government officials who spent millions of dollars on a few children with talent simply refused to risk the destruction of their facilities due to a single child who froze during an emergency. Anyone who couldn't learn well enough left.

Alceta forced herself to halt her breathing for a count of ten and felt the hand on her face slowly withdraw. She held still, heart quieting to a faint pattering, until a shadow circled around her as if by a silent magic. Then the blade at her throat snaked away reluctantly, and she knew that it was just a common mugger. Someone out for blood would have cut the jugular seconds ago.

"Greetings, Lady Alceta Athanasius of Deimos Point," the cloaked figure drawled. Instinctively Alceta felt something was wrong, oxymoronic, but could not pinpoint what. So she settled for a similar reply.

"Greetings, stranger."

Light, tinkling laughter rang in the air, and in that instant, she remembered the name of the nagging suspicion. "I've come a long way to meet you, and 'stranger' is not a proper greeting."

"Child, stop the games," muttered Alceta. She was speaking to someone who seemed little older than she was, possibly even younger. The little boy couldn't fool anyone with that lilting voice. Just the sinusoidal trills of the speaking and the chortling reminded her of the gutter children, the ones that they all claimed did not exist. They were not bad, exactly, but they lingered as an ugly remnant of the families that needed to be killed before the Commonwealth was erected. The ordinary citizen was pleased to walk about his daily business while conveniently ignoring their presences. He had no interest in their daily misfortunes.

But that tone…that cockney speech, or rather lack thereof, held different implications. City lads who ran about the streets generally had not mastered the art of clean speech by that age, if ever. He could have passed for a researcher's child, save the constant fit of laughs.

"Tell me who you are…if you please," she added quickly.

"Me?" An arm reached up and whipped off the hood. Even in the darkness, Alceta could just barely make out a saucy, upturned nose and unusually white teeth that no nobles possessed. But that was possibly because they did not bother to clean them. "I am somebody, except to you."

The voice had lost its clipped tone, though she suspected that the introductions were memorized, not improvised. "Remember this face, 'cause you'll be seeing it again!" Then came a giggle. "The Sik-Rah wanted to know what you looked like, so I think that's done. You'd never guess at how much the Sik-Rah is interested, never, never, never, not in a thousand seasons! But no one ever knows," came the words in a dramatic whisper, "until he tells you. And then—SMACK! He's got you right where he wants you."

Folds of fabric fluttered before her eyes as the child whirled around. "So see you again later, Lady Alceta."

Just as fast as the dark cloaked had appeared, it melted into the shadows of the night and the shade of gardens and columns. For a moment Alceta stood rooted to the ground, a torrent of thoughts swimming through her head. Who wanted her? More importantly, she narrowed her eyes at a light in the distance, who knew of her?

Suddenly the air felt chilly blowing against her sweaty neck, and she wandered back towards the dining hall where the celebrators had just begun to sing the Chorals of Harvest. Lusty men and stern women belted out the lyrics; Alceta joined them in a much softer, shakier voice. She tried to shrug off the odd little encounter, dismissing it as pure chance. At any rate, Taria dearest did not need to find out how easily her once steely nerves had been shaken. But the sooner the party was over, the better. A period of quiet reflection would be most useful.

For the remainder of the festival, she hung around the shadowed corners listening to snippets of conversation and pondering the events that she had just experienced. When the First Daughter finally motioned the Convent girls to follow, Alceta smiled tiredly and trotted along, anticipating a night and morning for herself.

* * * * *

A familiar setting was comforting indeed, from the stark, unbleached walls to the lone ray of golden light streaming into through the window. Always accustomed to rising early, Alceta had already put on the required uniform and was sitting at her desk, a small pile of papers before her. Slender fingers flew through the stack, sending up a flurry of dust that had somehow accumulated over six or seven hours of sleep.

And then she scowled.

Bartering scholarly work, no matter how dull, as she readily admitted, for party services was unthinkable. By the Lady, Taria the dunce did need to learn, did she not? Though Alceta despised work devised for the sole purpose of occupying minds with a vehement passion, she did find the need to explain to others how often they were wrong. They were unwilling to spend the least bit of time to think, or to wonder, or to dream of what they could never accomplish. Fools, the lot.

But an agreement was an agreement. Countless times she had attempted to change Taria's mind, and countless times she had been silenced with a wave of the hand or a quick bob of her empty head. As she thumbed through the battered pages of the girl's mathematics textbook, a question that had been hovering in the back of her mind weighed heavily.

Why should I do this?

To that, she had no real, logical, forceful answer. Hell, she had no answer for why she was trapped in a forsaken Convent, or why she had agreed to the entire situation in the first place. The Goddess had claimed that the choice was hers, but as if she could be believed. Choices did not exist when dealing with so-called higher beings. Therefore, she had no choice but to choose whether to—oh, forget it all. Alceta thought herself lucky if she could simply find a form of intellectual stimulation, not social stimulation. Her abilities were rather lacking in that area. But still she smirked.

* * * * *

Carole of Sceeren carefully laid her hand on the brass doorknob, a marvelous contraption designed to allow insiders to enter and to keep intruders out. Being a noble-bred girl, she of course was uninterested in the finer workings of the entrance to Alceta's room; those ruminations were better left to lower mages and architects. She did concern herself with creating lasting bonds with her peers, however, and it tended to draw her into the oddest of situations.

Such as now, as she nibbled on her fingernails, running a mental debate as to whether or not to knock before entering, entering before knocking, or not to enter, and thus, not to knock. If only she knew how to approach the other girls, and if only she knew how to approach her own steaming indignity at the list of endless wrongs, she would be fine. The Noble Lady Carole of Sceeren, as they would call her, would glide down the hall serenely, confidently, then shine a smile upon the courtiers. It would be a fine day when that day came.

But that day was not this day, and there still remained the problem of simply walking into the room, announcing her business, and leaving as if nothing had happened. It was an impossible task, but it had to be accomplished, preferably now.

Screwing up her courage, although she could not understand what she feared from a little girl who had just come here, Carole gave the doorknob a little twist and pushed. The door was unlocked, so she walked in with as much grace and composure as was rightfully hers. Immediately she saw the straight, proud figure gazing out the window, chin propped up against a bent hand. She gave no notice that she had heard anyone trespass into her private domain.

"Erm…" Carole attempted to begin, but her tongue caught in her throat and produced a strange gurgle that sounded out of place in the surprisingly elegant room. She knew perfectly well that the Daughters did not give them much to work with, but there was a sort of refined crispness around Alceta's. Unfortunately, nothing but the flowery speech of courtiers seemed to be fitting.

"It's been two days."

There, finally getting it out.

The chair pushed back from the desk and Alceta turned. Almost unconsciously, Carole noted the uncertainty in her eyes, as well as the defiance on her face. This would prove to be a fight she did not want to become engaged in.

"Yes, I know."

"So can you tell me now?" She was surprised that it had turned out so easily; after all, confrontations generally turned out for the worst.

"Take a seat," Alceta motioned towards her bed, "and the games shall begin…"

* * * * *

She was startled but not unduly so when Carole had simply strode into her room as if it were her own. It was her own fault for leaving the door unlocked, although she had no knowledge of the simple magic upon which it operated. Alceta recognized that the Daughters only educated those who possessed sufficient quantities of the "Gift", but somehow, she also suspected that they were not telling her everything, just like everyone else here.

Well, she would show them wrong. Eventually.

At the moment, there was a much more pressing problem: what to do with the frustrated redhead who had been slighted several days ago. Who on Earth—or Tortall—knew what Carole was capable of when angered? And she had heard that redheads tended to flame.

Alceta manipulated her features to mirror her surroundings; timeless, cool, and sharp, so she hoped. "Fine then," she heard Carole say, "go on."

Oh, I will, she thought, as soon as I figure out what exactly to say. She should have been expecting a visit from her guide, but she had been neglectful and unobservant. It was a mistake she would not make again, so long as her mind was free.

"I shall…but about what?" she spoke, her tongue dancing over the words as if she were discussing the newest theories of string behavior.

Carole's chest heaved with a sigh, and she knitted her brows together. "Oh, you know perfectly well," she snapped before tempering her voice. "Why did you turn away from me?"

Slowly, her eyelids closed over dark, unreadable eyes. "To ask you the truth," Alceta twisted her mouth, "have I?" Her eyes popped wide open, one after the other, and she gazed questioningly across the three feet of empty space between herself and Carole.

"What have you done? I'll answer that fast enough. You've walked away, ignored me, started to exchange things with Taria, and do you need anything else?" Her hands shook in anger, but her voice was calm. A few more minutes, however, and Alceta sensed that it would have risen to blast holes through the roof.

Instead of inducing her uncontrolled fury, she carefully lowered her eyes as so to appear guilt-ridden. "You must forgive me, but I believe there have been misunderstandings." Her chin tilted up, and she continued, "Each must act upon his own interests, without sacrificing the rights of others to do so. Excessively."

"And you have not been excessive?" Carole demanded.

"Have I? In fact, have I acted against your favor in any situation at all, while preserving my personal, oh, what do you call it?" she shrugged, "Honor?"

A freckled face hardened. "Do you even have any?"

Alceta grinned like a half-grown wolf pup waiting for its first show of mettle and strength. She sensed that it was as good a time as any to play her trump card, the final opportunity to play with her mind. "But of course! And to prove it…" Her hand swept out in a dramatic arc, finishing with a sheet of parchment between her fingers. "Do take a look at this."

She accepted it and giggled softly as she read over the notes. A breath of air left Alceta's mouth swiftly and quietly, and she was satisfied that the heightened tension had been snapped. She had done it. She had done it, a task that needed to be accomplished, and all by herself.

The girls exchanged identical looks, one filled with barely concealed glee, the other, with uncomfortable embarrassment. "I'm really sorry then," Carole mumbled. "I truly thought that—well, you know," she finished haltingly.

"It's quite all right," Alceta acknowledged the apology, a note of graciousness entering her tone. "I would have done the same. But if problems have been solved, then shall we shake upon a bond of camaraderie?"

"Agreed." Sticking out her hand, Carole grasped Alceta's in a firm, quick movement and yanked it up and down a few times before releasing her grip.

"Give me a week or so, and I can assure you that all that is wrong will be made right, to the best of my ability."

"Accepted."

They stared at each other for a few moments before spinning around at the same time. There was an awkward silence, and when Alceta decided to look behind her, the door was closed and Carole was gone.

AN: Thanks to all my reviewers—you all really make me happy. I'm going over and editing all my old chapters, so hopefully each time I update, one new chapter will go up, as well as one revised old chapter, starting with Chapter One. From now on, I'll also be alternating when writing new chapters, so things might not get posted very often…ah well, c'est la vie.

l8er,

-cybErdrAgOn