Chapter 14: Steadfast
Oh great and powerful and ever-patient readers, my deepest, most humble apologies and thank you for giving me a much-needed kick in the backside to get my creative juices flowing again. It has indeed been a full year since last I posted. That is disgraceful and I have no excuse great enough to cover this shameful lack of progress. However, I am back, and I hope the new instalment proves worthy of the wait.
Disclaimer: This is not mine. It belongs to Tamora Pierce. Don't sue me, I'm a poor student and don't have any money.
However, getting started proved to be a little harder than either Imogen or Kalasin expected. First they had to organize horses, gear, medical supplies, message systems, food, and sundry other items both small and large. Then they had to inform Thayet, who was delighted and envious, and the rest of the royal children, who all insisted on coming too. Then the duo had to waste even more precious time persuading Liam, Lianne and Jasson not to stow away in their gear. Alan and Alianne were actually pretty good about the whole business and after a few initial protests resigned themselves to staying put. Finally, after innumerable delays and false starts, the cavalcade of princess, truthsayer, and squadron swung into action, only to be halted at the city gates by a most unexpected human figure.
"Evening, ladies," said the gallant black-haired lad who hailed them. "I thought you might want some company on your long hard journey to Steadfast."
"Domingo, you ass," Kalasin hissed. "What in the name of the Goddess are you doing here?"
"Coming with you, of course," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You don't think I'd stay at home tamely while you to went off to have all the fun, now did you?"
"Fun?" choked Kalasin. "FUN? We're going to war, you brainless idiot. You know, war, where people get seriously injured and killed? How is that fun?"
Abruptly Domingo sobered. "It's not. That's why I can't let you go marching off all alone. If you got hurt or never came back, I would never be able to forgive myself or look anyone in the face again." Seeing that Kalasin was about to start protesting again, he added earnestly, "Please, Kally. You're my only friend. Please let me come with you. I need you." His blue eyes gazed at her pleadingly.
Kalasin didn't say anything for a long, long time. Imogen, gazing at her friend, noticed that Kally's beautiful blue eyes were almost unbelievably sad. Finally, she emerged from her reverie. "Yes," she said softly. "Yes, you can come." And Imogen was surprised to see a tear roll down her best friend's cheek. "I understand, Domingo. Believe me, I do."
Domingo swung into line behind Kalasin and Imogen and finally, finally the cavalcade was underway, bound for Steadfast.
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"Ouch, ouch, ouch, OUCH!" complained Imogen five days later. "You'd think I'd have adjusted to riding by now, but no, my stubborn stupid body has to ache just the same as ever."
Kalasin unsuccessfully attempted to suppress her grin. "Poor Imogen," she sympathized insincerely. "It isn't that much further to Steadfast. Just think of how relieved you'll be to have a chair that stays still for once." Kalasin paused reflectively. "That is, if you can sit down by then."
Imogen directed a death glare at her friend, who grinned unrepentantly at her. The cavalcade had been riding almost constantly for the past five days, eager to get to Steadfast as soon as possible. To Imogen's fury her body seemed to have developed a sensitivity to the saddle that was quite humiliating, especially since Kalasin didn't seem to notice it at all. In fact, the princess seemed to have been born in the saddle from the way she rode and Imogen had seen the admiring looks members of the squad were shooting at her best friend. However, seeing as Domingo rarely, if ever, left Kally's side, the other members of the squad hadn't much of a chance at all.
Speaking of Domingo – Imogen's eyes swivelled to the young commoner, currently sprawled out beside the squad's campfire, chatting animatedly with the men. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced over and saluted her, raising an eyebrow quizzically when encountering the intensity of her gaze. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and broke eye contact, turning her head to say something to Kalasin. However, the princess' attention was clearly elsewhere. She too was gazing at Domingo, her eyes thoughtful. Imogen observed her friend in silence for a few moments.
"He loves you, you know," she said very softly. "He really loves you, Kally, to follow you this far, only to protect you."
Kalasin looked over at her friend and smiled wanly. "I know, Imogen. I've known for quite a while now, and he knows I know. But it would never work. He's a commoner, and he's happy with his life as it is. I'm a princess, and I'm betrothed." Her voice became bitter. "I'm betrothed to the Emperor of Carthak, and I'll be his Empress by next winter." Kalasin looked away.
Imogen raised herself up on her elbow and stared at her friend, her green-gold eyes piercing. "Do you love him, Kally? Tell me plain and simple, with no diplomacy and no deception, because that doesn't work on me. Do you love Domingo?"
Kalasin's head shot around and she glared directly into Imogen's eyes. Sapphire-blue and green-gold challenged each other silently for long moments, before Kalasin dropped her gaze in defeat.
"No," she said quietly, sounding tired. "No, Imogen, I don't love him. He's my friend and I'm very fond of him, but I can't love him." She got to her feet, wrapped her blanket around her, and went to sit by the campfire with Domingo and the rest of the squad.
Imogen flopped down on her blanket and gazed up at the strange stars of the Tortallan sky. "Gods," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears, "when did loving someone get this complicated?"
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"Steadfast, at last!" Kalasin sang joyfully three days later as the cavalcade trotted over a rise in the ground and the fort rose into view in front of them. "No more horses, no more camp food, no more nights on cold ground with rain pouring over us, hot baths, hot food, real beds, dry clothing…heaven on earth!"
Imogen laughed at her friend's antics, just as relieved to see their final destination within an hour's ride. She patted Calypso's neck. "You're truly a glorious horse, lady," she said, "but I'll be grateful to be off your back. My legs and backside will take weeks to recover from your tender care." The mare snorted with indignation, making Imogen giggle.
"Begging your pardon, miss, your highness," said the sergeant commanding the squad, "but if we want to get there before nightfall, we'd better start now. Night comes on fast in the North."
The two girls exchanged glances, then looked at the sergeant. "Lead on, Macduff," Imogen said, earning her many curious looks from her companions, none of whom had ever so much as heard of Shakespeare. She heaved an exasperated sigh. "I'll explain later," she promised.
Raoul was waiting for them when they rode into Steadfast. "So here you are," he hailed them cheerfully, "the two fair maidens with enough cheek to hand an ultimatum to the king – and succeed! That's a skill I'll have to learn for when he's trying to make me come to court functions."
Imogen grinned despite her exhaustion. She loved the easy-going Knight Commander with his friendly demeanour and open smile. "It's easy, sir. All you have to do is become the human vessel of a god who lost his marbles several thousand millennia ago."
Raoul shuddered. "I'll pass, thank you very much." He reached up to steady Imogen as she swung down from Calypso's back. It was a very good thing that he was there, for as soon as her legs felt solid ground under them they threatened to collapse and dump her in a very undignified heap. "Gods, you girls must be exhausted. Jon will kill me if anything happens to either of you. Come on, I'll take you directly to your quarters."
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It was late the following morning when Imogen finally stirred and awoke. The sun was high in the heavens and by the sounds outside her window, camp activities were already well underway. Kalasin's bed was empty, indicating that the princess had awoken early but had been unwilling to disturb her exhausted friend. Imogen stretched luxuriously and eased herself out of bed, well rested after her first full night's sleep in over a week. She threw open the shutters and glanced down at the courtyard below.
Suddenly she froze. She looked back down at the courtyard, then rubbed her eyes, then looked again. The Lioness' horse was still there. "That's it, I've finally cracked," Imogen announced to the world in general. "Alanna's on the coast. There's no way she'd be at Steadfast."
She was answered by a very familiar laugh from the courtyard below. "That's what you think," called Thom. He was staring up at her from beside his mother's horse, hazel eyes twinkling, grinning demonically.
Afterward, Imogen was never precisely sure how she managed to navigate the stairs, or exactly how she managed to get to the courtyard in one piece, considering her breakneck pace. All of a sudden she was in the courtyard, gazing up into a pair of dancing hazel eyes that she suddenly realised she had missed terribly.
Thom swept Imogen up into a bone-crushing hug. "You fool," he whispered in her ear. "You little fool. Ma nearly had a heart attack when she heard King Jon let you and Kally go charging off to Steadfast without a keeper. She insisted on coming here to make sure you were all right and still sane."
Imogen buried her nose in his tunic. Gods, he smelled good! "Mmm," she mumbled, unwilling to let him go, "when have I ever been sane?"
Thom laughed shakily, releasing her but keeping his hands on her shoulders. "That's what I told her. Mithros, Imogen, I've missed you so much." He was looking at her in a way that made Imogen's stomach flip over. Suddenly the memory of how it felt to have him kiss her came rolling back full-force and she wanted nothing more than to feel it again.
Somebody not very far away cleared his or her throat loudly. Imogen looked around to see Kalasin standing a short distance away, looking extremely apologetic. "Imogen, Thom, I'm really, really sorry to interrupt, but Alanna demands to see Imogen right now, and I don't think it would be a good idea to argue, judging by the mood she seems to be in. I'd rather tangle with a twenty-foot rattlesnake, personally."
Imogen groaned and hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Great, an irate Lioness," she grumbled as Thom laughed. "Just what I need to start off my morning on the right note."
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To Imogen's astonishment, the Lioness was not angry with her. On the contrary, Alanna was extremely amused and congratulatory.
"When I first came here, I was furious," Alanna explained. "I was ready to rip your beautiful fair head off with my bare hands. How dare you go charging off into danger and lead the princess with you? But after sitting here for an hour with Raoul talking to me and reminding me of all my escapades while a squire and a knight, he managed to get me to see that you did exactly what I would have done had I been in your shoes." She made a face at the Knight-Commander. "He also said some things about me being jealous at being upstaged, which I will choose to ignore." Suddenly Alanna burst out laughing. "Oh, I would have given a hundred nobles to see Jon's face when that god confronted him."
Imogen grinned wryly. "It was fairly funny. Loge really went all-out. I guess there are some perks to being an insane god's human vessel, though most often I wish he had chosen someone else. He tends to pop up at the most inconvenient of times, and he's seldom there when it would be most convenient to receive help. He doesn't abide by any set of rules I've ever heard of."
"Well, gods generally don't. Our thoughts and opinions are truly of little or no importance to them. Our lives are only tiny blips in the total tapestry of time – what we do and think makes little difference in the long run," Alanna explained. Then she grinned. "Mithros, that sounds philosophical. I've been spending too much time around Thom." Alanna's face softened at the mention of her eldest son. "He's a good lad, Imogen, and he really cares a lot for you. Don't let his façade deceive you. He'd be devastated if anything happened to you." As an afterthought she added, "Not that I'm really qualified to give romantic advice." With a wry grin at the girl's astonished expression, she swept out of Raoul's office, the Knight Commander following her, shaking his head with ill-concealed amusement.
Imogen sat there with her mouth hanging open, completely flabbergasted. "Does growing up EVER make sense?" she demanded angrily of the ceiling.
Nope said the everlastingly exasperating voice of Loge. That's what makes you so amusing.
"Shut it, you," Imogen said irritably, and astonishingly he listened.
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That evening there was a party at Steadfast, or at least as much of a party as there could be in a military fort during a time of war. A visit from the Lioness, no matter how brief, was cause for celebration at any time. Some of the King's Own had found barrels of excellent wine somewhere and the spirits were distributed liberally, meaning that soon the men were in very good moods indeed, with the exception of the sentries, who had to stay alert.
Imogen had crept away from the campfire and the heart of the action early in the evening. Despite being on the Scanran front and seeing the Lioness and Thom again, she didn't feel much like celebrating. She was still stiff from her long ride the day before and there was something that felt suspiciously like depression weighing on her mind. Instead she climbed onto the soft thatched roof of one of Steadfast's buildings and sprawled there in comfort, gazing up at the deep blue Tortallan night sky and meditating on how confusing her life had become in so short a time. Scarcely six months before she had been a schoolgirl in her final year at St. Margaret's Academy, contemplating entering university. Now she was in an entirely different world, lying on the roof of a military fort in the middle of the war, and beginning to fall in love with the son of a legend. It made her head spin.
"Imogen?" A soft voice behind her startled her from her reverie. She swivelled around to see Thom's head protruding from the top of the ladder. "Umm…can I come up?"
She nodded wordlessly. Thom heaved his lanky form onto the roof and gingerly moved over to sit beside her. "You wanted to get away too?" he asked. When she nodded again, he said, "Well, you certainly picked the right spot. It's peaceful up here."
The duo sat in silence for a long time. Imogen watched the wisps of clouds scudding across the stars in the evening breeze. Thom was right; it was peaceful, and beautiful, all the more beautiful because he was there to share it with her.
On the rooftop beside her Thom shifted. "Copper for your thoughts," he said, propping himself up on his elbow to watch her.
Imogen smiled at the expression. Some things between Tortall and Earth were amazingly similar. "I was thinking of how much my life has changed," she said. "I'm an entirely different person than I was in my old home. Nothing's the same. I have a new life, new friends, a new role to play, even a new family."
"Do you miss it?" Thom asked earnestly, his gaze intent.
"Not really," Imogen admitted honestly. "After my parents died," she swallowed hard, then pressed on. "After my parents died, there wasn't much left for me to miss."
Thom moved a little closer to her. "It still hurts you, doesn't it?" he asked. When Imogen nodded, he was silent for a moment, then asked softly, "What were your parents like, Imogen?"
The girl smiled softly, remembering. "My mother's name was Ingemar, Ingemar Fajersson. She was Swedish, and I always thought she was the most beautiful woman alive. She was tall, taller than me, and her hair was the same colour, but her eyes were very blue. I suppose I must look a bit like her. She travelled a lot when she was young because she was a diplomat's daughter. She was very kind, and always seemed to be laughing. She sang all the time. She was a teacher. My father was a doctor. His name was Stephen, and he was the one that taught me everything I know about the outdoors, about animals, about practical things like that. He loved books and knowledge, a lot like you, I guess. He met my mother at university, and they got married as soon as they graduated." There was an ominous shake in Imogen's voice. She swallowed, steadied herself, and continued. "They died in an accident about two years ago, just before my sixteenth birthday. I had no other family to take me, so I was sent to St. Margaret's. I was never very happy there, and I have to admit I never really made an attempt to fit in. I didn't really belong." She smiled mirthlessly. "Sometimes I wonder if I belong anywhere."
"You belong here," Thom said quietly and firmly. He reached over and squeezed her hand. "You're part of our family now. You belong with us."
Imogen smiled, a real smile this time. "Thanks, Thom," she said, and squeezed back. Then she giggled. "A few months ago, if anyone had told us we would be sitting on a rooftop together having a philosophical conversation we would have told them they had been drinking too much. Yet another change in my extremely unpredictable life."
Silence wrapped round them again, broken only by the sounds of merriment from below. Imogen found herself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the silence and peace of the northern night. Disjointedly she was conscious that Thom still hadn't let go of her hand.
Thom shifted again. Drowsily Imogen reflected that he seemed rather restless about something. Then she felt a soft hand brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "Goodnight, Imogen," Thom said quietly, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her forehead lightly. Still half-asleep, Imogen shifted closer to his warmth, burying her face in his chest, utterly content to live in that moment lest it never come again.
YES, IT'S FINALLY DONE!!! I hope I have satisfied all my patient readers. As you can see, the story has now taken a very strong Thom/Imogen bent. Sorry to all who do not like this. Domitan of Masbolle was supposed to be in this chapter, but he seems to have vanished. No matter, Kel and Dom will be in here somewhere. For all those who do like Thom/Imogen, sorry that there was no real romantic action in here, only hints of things to come. For the past few weeks I have had to watch two of my best friends play tonsil hockey every time they meet – even when they're in the middle of the school hallway. Thus the thought of romance rather makes me want to vomit. Eurgh – young love is nauseating.
