Chapter 12: Inconvenient Wars and Confusing Males
I'm so terribly, horribly sorry this took so incredibly long to come out. I had a really busy summer, what with music camp, moving, visiting an old friend for three weeks, and helping my older sister move into her new home. She's not living with us anymore, much to my sorrow.
I want to dedicate this chapter to my patient, faithful reviewers. Also to Devon Joiner, who's never going to read it, but what the heck, he's inspirational anyway. Also brilliant, talented, a genius and my best friend to boot.
It all belongs to Tamora Pierce, except, of course, Imogen and the plot.
Needless to say, Kalasin was not pleased at how Imogen had chosen to spend the night of the ball. The princess tried to lecture Imogen, but due to her sense of humor kept bursting out laughing and eventually gave in to her curiosity, stopped berating her friend, and demanded a full narration of the mudfight. The princess had laughed so hard she had to be helped back to her rooms.
Another good thing came of Imogen's unorthodox activity. Kally had told her mother the story and Queen Thayet had summoned Imogen to her chambers and told her a very amusing story about a certain pink dress. Imogen in her mirth had promptly forgiven the Queen for her behavior on their first meeting and now was good friends with both the Queen and eldest princess, as well as practically Alanna's adopted daughter, giving her considerable clout in the court. However, she still avoided formal events on every possible occasion.
It was perhaps two weeks after Imogen's garden escapade and she was once again in the city with Kally, sitting at the Dancing Dove sipping tea and talking. Domingo was always very happy to see these two guests. Today the topic of choice was the growing threat of a Scanran attack. All had been quiet on the border and some courtiers were beginning to voice their opinion that the Scanrans had given up. However, Alanna didn't believe it, and neither did the king.
"So," Imogen said, stirring her tea with her finger, "this King Maggur has united the factions and now says 'Oh, I'm getting bored, let's go attack Tortall,' gathers an army, builds a couple of dozen machines, and starts a war. The Tortallans notice that an army is attacking them, get mad, amass their own army, and attack the Scanrans. The Scanrans get angry at the Tortallans and attack, further provoking the Tortallans, who retaliate, which enrages the Scanrans, and around and around it goes. It sounds very nonsensical to me, and an awful lot like the wars on Earth."
Domingo smirked at her. "Are you planning to go out to the battlefield and stop the war?" he asked. "Be the next Lioness and all that?"
Imogen snorted. "Me? Are you crazy? I'm definitely not hero material. And even if I was, I couldn't stop this war. There's always going to be war as long as there are human beings. We're a naturally war-like species." She wrinkled up her nose. "Ooh, that sounds wise. Maybe I could go into politics."
Kally choked on her laughter. "You in politics? You'd talk everyone in circles so they're chasing their own tails and never get anything done! It'd be the end of the world as we know it!"
Imogen smiled innocently at her friend. "It's a gift. But seriously, I don't think I could be a warrior. I can't fight worth beans, except with my fists. I prefer chess."
"You're not exactly a champion at that, either," Kally commented dryly. "Thom whipped you hollow yesterday. Mind you, it's possible you let him win…"
Imogen rolled her eyes. "Pardon me a moment," she said to Domingo, then poured the remnants of her stone-cold tea over the snickering princess' head. She turned back to Domingo, who was staring at her, open-mouthed. "She's trying to convince me that I'm in love with Thom," she explained coolly. "Either that or Thom's in love with me. She's either completely insane or has a death wish. Must have caught it from Alianne."
"In love with Thom?" Domingo had a very peculiar expression on his face, like he was fighting very hard not to laugh. "You're not, are you?"
Imogen glanced at him curiously. "No, of course not. I'm only seventeen. Is this insanity a contagious disease? I'm too young to be in love with anyone. According to Canadian standards, I'm not considered an adult until my eighteenth birthday." Imogen stood up and stretched elaborately. "Speaking of both Thom and eighteenth birthdays, his is tomorrow. He's an annoying lummox, but I still want to get him a present. He's one of my best friends."
"Well then, we'd better go now. It's dark soon and we should be back at the palace." Kalasin stretched too. "I'll take you to the best shops. What are you looking for?"
Imogen grinned, her green eyes lighting devilishly. "Book. He reads 98.5% of the time, and it's good for whapping him with."
It didn't take the two girls long to locate a shop that sold books of sorcery and soon they were trudging back up to the palace in companionable silence. Imogen was pondering Domingo's strange look when he heard of Kally's – ahem – delusions. What in the name of heaven could be so funny?
However, these thoughts were driven from her mind as soon as she set foot in the palace. Master Numair came running toward her, waving excitedly. He had apparently been waiting for some time for Imogen to return.
"I think I've figured out the secret of Tortall's disappearing truthsayers," he said excitedly. "If it's not inconvenient, Imogen, could you come to my room so we can talk more comfortably? I have a feeling this could take a while."
"Of course," Imogen said. "Kalasin, would you mind taking this to my room? And please explain to Alanna where I've gone. Tell her I'll be back as soon as possible." The princess nodded and Imogen followed Numair as he briskly strode through the hallways. He stopped abruptly in front of a door sporting a brass nameplate. "Numair Salmalin," it proclaimed, and then underneath , "Veralidaine Sarrasri." The mage pushed open the door and beckoned for Imogen to follow.
They were greeted by a large lizard about the size of a dog with a long snout and powder-blue scales. She cocked her head and peered at Imogen, trilling inquiringly.
"Ah yes," Numair said, smiling. "Imogen, this is Skysong, more commonly known as Kitten. She's a young dragon. Kitten, this is Imogen Darcy."
"Aren't you going to introduce me too?" inquired a woman's voice. Imogen looked up to encounter the gaze of a woman in her mid-twenties with softly curling brown hair and blue-gray eyes. "Hello, I'm Daine Sarrasri. Numair's told me about you. You're the young truthsayer."
Imogen smiled wryly. "Yep, that's me. Very unfortunate, too. Nobody knows my name anymore, I'm just 'the young truthsayer.'"
Daine laughed. "I know the feeling. I'm 'the Wildmage.' Sometimes I wish people hear my name before they hear about my abilities. Another empty dream." The two females smiled at each other, for a moment in perfect understanding.
Numair cleared his throat. "I was hoping you two would meet. You both have unusual magical abilities, abilities that haven't been seen in Tortall for many generations. Which brings me to my next point. Imogen, you may want to sit down."
Imogen selected a rather overstuffed green armchair as her perch. Immediately a large gray cat leapt into her lap and made itself at home. "Cheeky," she remarked to the cat, stroking it. "Continue, please, Master Numair."
"What I have discovered is that truthsense is a hereditary trait. Truthsayers can only be born to parents of which one or both have a family background of truthsense, which means that your parents must have either been truthsayers themselves or descended from truthsayers. However, that's not the only discovery I have made." The mage reached for a book at his side. "This book is the most detailed reference to the art of truthsense that I can find in the palace archives. It contains detailed portraits of all the major truthsayers on record. At first I could not discover why such portraits were included in a reference book, but I discovered the connection." He flipped open the book to a page of small painted portraits. "Look at their eyes."
Curious, Imogen leaned forward to peer at the pictures. At first, like Numair, she couldn't see their significance, but as she gazed from portrait to portrait she noticed a strange similarity. She looked up accusingly at the mage. "They all have green-and-gold eyes. Like me. Why?"
"Imogen, believe me when I say I really don't know," Numair sighed. "It's an unsolved mystery. I believe it has something to do with the truthsense ability, the gold in the eyes revealing that which is hidden to others. Of course, this is just in Tortall and, it seems, Earth. Elsewhere there are reports of truthsayers with completely unconnected eye colors. However, there is yet another interesting fact. Note the birth and death dates under each portrait. Now flip to the very last page, the last portrait."
Imogen did as she was bid. The last portrait was of a young man, slightly older than she was now. Under his portrait was a birth date, but instead of a death date there was this line: "Mysteriously vanished, March 19, H.E. 120." Under that, there was yet another line "No more truthsense."
Imogen shrugged. "So when the last truthsayer vanished, there was no more truthsense. What's so incredible about that?" Then she wrinkled her nose. "Wait a minute. March 19? I came here on March 19. March 19 three hundred years ago. He was the last victim."
"Precisely," Numair said, settling back in his chair with a satisfied expression. "There are special laws governing even the actions of the gods. What they take away they must give back, in some form or another. Since they took Tortall's last truthsayer, they had to give us back one in the next transfer."
However, Imogen wasn't paying attention. "You say that truthsense is hereditary?" she asked. "Then this nutter must be my ancestor in some way, shape, or form. I hope this stupid world-transfer thing doesn't run in the family."
"We see no reason to believe that," Numair said comfortingly. "However, since the gods took a truthsayer from Tortall last time, they had to return one, meaning that they had to take a member of the same family." The mage cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That's another thing the king wanted me to discuss with you. You're Tortall's last truthsayer. When you die, the ability dies with you, so…I mean…Jonathan thought…maybe…" Numair glanced at Imogen nervously and finished in a rush. "The king wants to keep you in the palace because there's a war on and you would be a very powerful bargaining piece if you fell into the hands of the Scanrans."
Imogen was seething. "So," she said, "your precious king Jonathan wants to keep me a prisoner in his very luxurious castle because he's worried that the Scanrans might want me. Bloody hell! I'm not even Tortallan! Of all the presumptuous, rude, unfeeling, foolish, pompous, arrogant, conceited prigs I have ever met, he's the very worst! How is it possible that Kalasin could be his daughter?"
Numair had risen to his feet in alarm. "Now, Imogen, try to be calm," he said, speaking very swiftly. "He's the king, he has a lot of important matters to take care of, and he just wants to make sure you're safe."
"I don't care! He has no right to keep me here, like I'm a piece of property! What a pompous windbag!" Imogen leapt to her feet, eyes blazing. "If he thinks he can keep me here against my will, he's got another thing coming!" With that, she stormed out of the room.
Numair stared glumly after her retreating back. "That didn't go down well at all," he commented.
Daine snorted. "She's a strong-willed girl, Numair. It's like trying to cage a hawk. She'll fight Jonathan until he lets her go, and if he won't she'll run away."
A week later Imogen sat on the ornate bed in her palace room, completely bored. The King so far hadn't imposed very restrictive measures on her. She still had full run of the castle, but every time she stepped outside the palace an armed guard surreptitiously followed her at a distance. It had become so annoying that Imogen had taken to remaining in her room just to avoid such reminders of her captivity. She was also rather hurt that the Lioness had sided with the king on this matter.
"It's not that I don't trust you," Alanna had explained. "It's just that the Scanrans are getting restless and you don't know how to defend yourself very well yet. If they get hold of you they have a very powerful weapon. Believe me, if I were the one confined, I'd be just as furious."
Imogen sighed, running her finger along one of the designs in the quilt. Kalasin, Lianne, Thom, Alan and Alianne visited at regular intervals each day, but it wasn't the same as it used to be. She missed her freedom. She missed the long afternoons spent playing chess and cards in the Dancing Dove.
Suddenly there was a frantic pounding on Imogen's door. She leapt to her feet and jerked it open to reveal Alianne, her face pasty white.
"The Scanrans have attacked our northern border!" she gasped out. "Hurry! The King's Own are leaving right now, and Ma and Thom are going with them!"
Imogen didn't need telling twice. She raced down the twisting corridors to the courtyard with Alianne, gasping out questions as she ran.
"Why is Alanna taking Thom? He's a mage, not a warrior!"
"They need all the mages they can get, even half-trained ones, to confuse the enemy. The Scanrans have mages too, but not up to the standard of our Tortallan ones." There was a note of pride in Alianne's breathless voice.
The courtyard was in utter uproar. Everyone was trying their level best to get ready in a great hurry and ended up getting in everybody else's way. Imogen shaded her eyes and scanned the crowd for the flash of distinctive red hair that characterized Alanna and her offspring.
"There!" shouted Alianne, pointing to the far corner of the courtyard. The two girls wound their way through the chaos until they were standing beside Alanna's horse. Baron George had his arm around his wife and the love shining in his eyes made Imogen think of her parents in those moments when they thought nobody was looking. Blindly she turned away, looking for something else to focus on so that she could leave the Lioness and her husband to say goodbye in relative peace.
Thom was standing next to his mother. His customary grin was gone, to be replaced with a look of half sadness, half grim knowledge. Imogen realized that this boy, only a few months older than she herself, was riding off into a battle where he could very well lose his life, and he knew it full well. Imogen felt an unexpected pull at her heartstrings.
"You all right?" she asked softly, going up to him and placing a gentle hand on his arm.
Thom looked at her, expression unreadable. "As all right as can be expected, I think," he said quietly. I've only been in one battle before, and I was too small to really do anything. I remember it, though. It was horrible." He leaned against his horse, face white under his thatch of fiery hair.
"You'll be all right," Imogen said, speaking with a confidence she didn't feel. "Thom of Pirate's Swoop, if you dare to die on me I'll go all the way to the Black God's realm and drag you back by your hair."
Thom looked up, his old rougish grin back in place. "Sounds painful," he commented and would have said more but Alanna called for him to mount up. He swung up onto his horse's back and looked down at Imogen. He opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and then sighed loudly in exasperation. "Oh, Mithros' beard," he grumbled, then suddenly leaned down, tilted up the fair-haired girl's head and kissed her sweetly.
Imogen was absolutely flabbergasted. "What…Thom…why…?" she stammered.
Thom laughed at her shocked expression. "Finally, I've got you speechless," he crowed, then took advantage of the occasion by kissing her again.
"All right, young man, if you're finished your romancing, it's about time to go now," Alanna interrupted, a note of amusement in her voice. Thom released Imogen and saluted his mother cheekily before wheeling his horse and following her out of the courtyard.
Imogen stared after his retreating back, her mouth still working soundlessly. Oh gods, just when I thought I had this world figured out, you develop a sense of humor, she thought pitifully.
YES, YES, I FINALLY GOT IT WRITTEN! THOM/IMOGEN ACTION AT LAST!
The next chapter hopefully won't take as long to come out as this one did, so remain patient!
