Chapter Three: Are So
I have ten reviews! I have ten reviews! Thank you, everyone! I'll try to get another chapter of this up tomorrow, but I can't guarantee my productivity throughout the week. I'm preparing for final exams, so I don't have a lot of time. And for those of you who are curious, this mainly focuses on Pirate's Swoop and Imogen, so if there are any Protector of the Small characters, they don't play any major parts.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except Imogen and the plot.
Fifteen minutes later Imogen was in Baron George's private study, wrapped in a wool blanket and sipping a cup of scalding hot cinnamon tea, recounting the story of how she ended up sleeping in the middle of the woods. Alanna and George were giving her their full attention, and Imogen was finding it slightly unnerving to have two pairs of eyes, one purple, the other hazel, trained on her face so intently.
"So here I am," she concluded with a sigh, setting her empty cup down and wrapping the blanket closer around her shoulders. "I have no idea where I am, if I'm still moderately sane, or if this is someone's idea of a divine joke. All I know is this is definitely not home, and I still think I'm insane."
Alanna looked at George and George looked at Alanna. Imogen could tell from their expressions that they were just as confused as she was.
"Well, I suppose I could contact Numair," Alanna said slowly. "If anyone knows what this is about, it's him. Maybe he's come across some phenomenon similar to this in his endless research."
"I'll do it," George said, getting up. "You'd better stay and talk to our guest, lady-me-love."
As George left the room, Alanna leaned back in her chair, sighing. "I have no idea what this is about," she admitted frankly. "Both George and I probed you with truthsense, but you're plainly not concealing anything. This has me totally confused." Suddenly the Lioness sat up straight and became business-like. "However, until we get this straightened out, you're welcome to stay here. I'll have to arrange a room for you…" Alanna looked critically at the filthy school uniform, "…and get you some decent clothes."
Never one for procrastination, Alanna got up to make the arrangements. At the door she turned, looked at Imogen one last time, and grinned mischeviously. "You may want to pay some attention to your hair," she said. "You carried a fair proportion of the forest with you."
Imogen reflexively put a hand up to her head and cursed when she felt, as well as the caked blood, twigs and leaves from her forest pillow. "Gods-cursed Tortall," she muttered, pulling out the bobby-pins holding her coil of hair in place. "Gods-cursed earthquake, gods-cursed Saint Margaret's, gods-cursed Evin Larse…"
Finally, after extracting a small mountain of bobby-pins from her hair (A/N: Believe me, if you have long, fine hair, you need a mountain) Imogen's hair finally decided to come down from its coil. As Imogen attempted to run her fingers through it, she hissed angrily. Her hair was sticky with pine sap, dried blood, dirt, and various other substances that Imogen didn't want to identify.
As Imogen tried to pick out the twigs, leaves and needles stuck in the chaotic mass of her hair, a now-familiar flash of red hair in the shadows caught her eye. Sighing in exasperation, she gave up the battle with her hair. "Why don't you come out?" she demanded of the shadowy figure. "I know that you're there, and it's getting annoying seeing you whenever I turn around."
The boy came out, a scowl marring his features. Looking at him irately, Imogen noticed his hair was the same distinctive red of Alanna's, while his eyes were the dancing hazel of Baron George's. Imogen sighed with annoyance. "It's very rude to follow people around and not introduce yourself," she remarked, inspecting her nails.
The boy scowled even harder. "You're a mage," he announced abruptly.
"I'm not," Imogen said very quietly and dangerously, her patience near the breaking point.
"You are. How else would you have seen through my invisibility spell? Even Ma can't see me!"
"I am not a mage," Imogen said, still quietly.
"You are so."
"Am not."
"Are so."
"Am not."
"Are so."
"Am not."
"ARE SO!"
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" a new voice bellowed. Alanna and George had returned, and Imogen could see why the small woman was called the Lioness as she stood in the doorway, hands on hips, glaring at the two opponents.
Imogen opened her mouth to explain, but the strange boy beat her to it. "Ma, she saw through my invisibility spell and she says she's not a mage!"
"That's because I'm not," Imogen explained, the corners of her mouth twitching.
"Are so."
"Am not."
"Are s-"
"Stop it, both of ye," Baron George said, coming into the room and laying a hand on his son's shoulder. "This isn't going to solve anything." He turned to Imogen. "Now, lass, would ye mind explainin' how you could see through that spell? Not even the Lioness could detect it when Thom tested it."
Imogen stared at her lap. "I don't know," she stated truthfully. "I've always been able to see through illusions and suchlike. They just made no sense."
The Lioness looked pensive. "Yet another thing to ask Numair. He has no idea how you got here either, by the way."
Imogen threw up her hands in exasperation. "Lovely," she groaned. "I'm insane, caught in a country where nobody knows what's going on, and I just had an argument with a figment of my imagination."
Thom looked outraged. "I am not a figment of your imagination!"
"Are so."
"Am not."
"Are so."
"Am not."
"Are so."
The Lioness seized Imogen very firmly around the arm. "Come on, young lady," she said through gritted teeth, dragging the girl from the room. "Let's get you cleaned up. Honestly, you two are acting like babies."
As Alanna and Imogen retreated down the hallway, they were pursued by Thom's anguished shout.
"I AM NOT!"
