Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Another week, another chapter. This one's a bit long and talky, but it explains a lot and sets up more than a little. Enjoy!
The Protectors
Chapter Three : Duty
by: meghna
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It had stopped snowing in Corus a bit over an hour ago, and the mosaic stone designs on the Palace Garden walkways were still hidden from view by a thick, white blanket. The servants didn't worry about it too much on this cold winter night, though; they could sweep in the morning. Afterall, no one would be crazy enough to take a walk in the Palace Gardens at this hour right after a storm.
That is, unless they were asked to by their King.
The evening that had gone by at a snail's pace before now seemed like a blur to Keladry of Mindelan as she pulled her dark brown, fur-lined coat closer to her body, waiting for an answer to the question Neal had just asked of the King and his Champion moments before.
"I do not expect a decision from you this instant," Tortall's monarch had told them. "Talk it over, sleep on it, discuss it between the two of you some more. Remember, it's both of you or neither. Now, I don't believe that there's any more reason for us to stay outside. Alanna?" The coal-black haired man turned to the rather ill-tempered lady on his left and offered a hand.
"Wait-" Neal put a black gloved hand up as if to physically stop them. "I have a question."
Kel stared at her green-eyed friend, trying to remember if she had ever seen him look so young, yet resolute, before, but her search was cut short as the Lioness, impatient to get inside, prodded, "Yes, Neal?"
"Why us?"
Yes, despite the cold, she wanted to hear this.
The older lady knight mumbled something about how this could be discussed inside, where it wasn't so "gods-cursed freezing," so Kel and Neal looked to King Jonathan, dressed nondescriptively in a long, burly black coat and sturdy black snow boots. The forty-year old man, calm exterior unruffled by the sudden blast of wind that blew snow from the bare trees into their faces and had Kel's teeth chattering, simply smiled.
I was supposed to relax and have fun tonight, not that that would've happened at a ball, she thought, more than a bit irked from all that had happened today and trying not to picture herself smacking the grin off of her ruler's face. But still, it had been promising. At least until we read that stupid note.
She had told Neal about it on the way to the ballroom, and they, after a short search for a deserted hallway, stopped by an old painting of King Jasson, grandfather of Jonathan, to read the creased parchment.
Emerald eyes scanned the lines as he read the neat cursive out loud:
"Meet us by the reflecting pool in the Palace Gardens a quarter before midnight. Speak of this to no one else, and be careful when discussing it amongst yourselves. Be sure not to leave the ball before the aforementioned time.
Your duty to Tortall awaits. Are you ready to fulfill it?"
At first neither of them spoke, both at a loss for words. Kel used the silence to try and compose herself as a million questions raced through her mind.
He held the note up for her to see and asked, finally, "So what do you think of that?"
"Nothing at all," she lied. "Ther-"
He frowned, emerald eyes boring into hers. "You have your Yamani mask on."
Kel looked down a bit, not knowing what to say. She couldn't tell Neal about the quest the Ordeal had given her, therefore she couldn't share her fears that this might interfere. Neither was she quite ready to share her opinions on their King. So she replied, "So I do."
For once, he knew when not to push the subject. Instead, Neal put a hand on her shoulder. "Try not to worry about it too much, Kel," he advised softly. "What will come, will come, no matter a mere mortal's thoughts or actions." He then smirked trying to lighten the mood, and added, "And you were supposed to have fun tonight..."
Neal's right, she thought. The Chamber said that my quest would find me. Maybe what the King wants to discuss with us will help me. And as to King Jonathan himself, I don't have to like him, just serve him.
She smiled. "I believe we have a ball to attend."
He grinned back, offering a green silk-clad arm, and replied "Shall we, my lady Keladry?"
Kel was brought back to the present by the King's reply.
"Believe me," the monarch started, "you two were not even a consideration when I first held the High Council meeting. I believe that we threw around names for an hour before someone spoke up-"
"He didn't ask how they were chosen, Jon," Alanna snapped, shivering a bit even through the many layers she had on. Apparently her patience didn't agree with the cold. "He just asked why."
King Jonathan didn't look too angry at all. He simply smiled, crossing his arms against his chest, and said in an amused tone, "I was getting there, lady knight.
"As I was saying," he continued, turning his attention back to Kel and Neal, "the more we thought about it the more sense it made. Both of you learned the Scanran language in your lessons, along with the history and habits of every country in the Eastern Lands. You're good with weapons and are quick learners. You were both raised in royal Courts, and I do not care what country it's in, whether it be Tortall, the Yamani Islands, or Scanra, Court games are played the same. And of course there's no need to question your loyalty, the Chamber would have taken care of that."
"But sire," Neal interjected, forever the arguer, "so many other, older people fit that description."
Alanna smiled. "Yes, but not all of them have powerful magic potential, nor do they understand it half as well, which is very important, considering that magic is most probably somehow involved with those killing machines. Neal, you can talk circles around anyone, a very useful skill in a diplomat. You're the youngest person I know who's well-versed in politics and philosophy; you can actually read a book on that stuff without falling asleep, which is no mean feat. And you have been training with, excuse me for the lack of modesty, the best fencer in court. You almost unarmed me last week, remember?"
Neal sighed dramatically and made as if to bow. "I know, I am great, aren't I?"
"Shush, Meathead." The redhead had picked up on Neal's least favorite nickname.
Kel, who had been admiring the sky's icy reflection on the frozen pool next to them, smiled at this interchange and couldn't help but feel proud of her twenty-three year old friend. She also had no control over the thought that arose next. But why did they choose me over any other girl? Only because Neal and I would work well together? She knew that it was ridiculous as she thought it, but still–
"That covers Neal," King Jonathan's deep voice was adressing her, "but you're now probably wondering why we chose you, Keladry."
"Yes, I am," she answered honestly, although a bit disconcerted at how parallel the question was to her thoughts.
"You, Keladry of Mindelan, are quick on your feet. I believe that is one of the reasons why Raoul chose you as his squire; he wanted to train you for a commander position. That particular skill, however, is useful in other professions also. It would definitely get you past many difficulties. Growing up with the Yamanis, you can disguise your emotions extremely well, including any uneasiness or anger if, no when, Tortall is discussed. Tortall's first known female knight would be used to offensive comments towards women, which is commonplace in Scanra. I trust you will be able to keep your temper where others wouldn't. The fact that you are a lady is very important. Scanran men don't give much credit to the opposite sex, probably because they do not let them get educated. They also know that women's rights have not been pushed for much at all in Tusaine. They will speak as if you're not there most of the time, and, here's the great part, a woman is expected to wait on her husband and his companions at all times, including important meetings. You are sharp, and I believe you will be able to absorb everything." He paused, maybe to breathe, Kel mused, and then turned to speak to her and Neal. "Plus the fact that as good friends you two would work well together. Yes, your age, or lack of it, is a setback, but bo-but you, Keladry, are mature enough for someone ten years older, and neither of you are rash or foolhardy. Now, does that explanation suffice in putting an end to your doubts?"
Kel and Neal, both red from the accolade, nodded weakly.
"Good, that means we can get inside. Come on, Jonathan, Thayet's probably waiting," Alanna said, getting up and stretching, at least as much as one can when wearing five layers of clothes.
"I'm coming," the king replied, before rising. He brushed the snow off his coat, and said, "Try to give me a decision within the next two days. The sooner we have someone for this, the sooner we can start training." He turned and started walking after Alanna.
"Your Highness!" Neal called at his retreating figure, one more question on his mind.
Jonathan of Conte sighed and with the patience of an old man, returned, "Yes, Nealan?"
Neal smiled a weak apology back and asked, "Who recommended us at the High Council meeting, sire sir?"
Now this, I want to hear, Kel thought, chuckling inwardly at her friend's insistence to know everything.
The King stared at Neal incredulously for a moment, then gave out a laugh. "My lord Cavall, if you must know. Yes," he continued, seeing the looks on their faces, "it came as a shock to us, too. We would have thought that it was some kind of joke if this weren't Wyldon we were talking about." The monarch left them with that to mull over, and turning away, called after his Champion, "Alanna! I think we have a chance!"
Neal looked to Kel, missing a sight that would have amused him greatly: King Jonathan running after Alanna only to get a snowball to the face, "The Stump?" he asked, as if his brain had not yet processed it.
"I know, who would have thought that?" Kel replied, putting her hands behind her head and leaning back, letting her emotions course through her, but not take over. It was a calming exercise she had learned years before.
Neal ran both hands through his hair, which was now sticking up all over the place, and added in that absent-minded way one notices trivial things when faced with something much more important, "So that's why they made the trip down here so late."
Kel nodded. She had wondered the same thing when they saw Owen earlier at the ball.
He let out a deep chuckle. "The little whelp has changed, hasn't he?"
It was true; a deeper voice than she remembered had called out to Neal when they were trying to leave ballroom earlier that night.
It had been time for them to go meet the King, and Kel and Neal had been making their exit when they heard the call. "Neal! Oi, Neal, wait up!"
They turned around to be greeted by the sight of Owen of Jesslaw, dressed in Cavall colors, bounding toward them without a whit of grace. He bumped into displeased courtiers left and right, only throwing a quick "Sorry!" before going on.
As the squire approached, Kel had noticed many changes. Owen was only a bit shorter than her now and had lost quite a bit of weight. He had tanned considerably, bringing emphasis to his storm-grey eyes, which, to Kel's immense relief, had not lost their childlike innocence or joy. The plumpness that Kel had come to associate with him was absent also. He didn't seem to have grown into his height yet, though, because upon coming within a long-sword's length of them, he tripped over his own feet and into Neal.
"Long time no see, whelp," Neal greeted cheerfully, clapping Owen on the back after carefully disengaging himself from the younger man's bear hug.
"I know, I'm so glad my lord Cavall received that summons three weeks ago. Otherwise, we would have been in the northern villages, trying to teach them to defend against any possible attacks come this spring," he replied.
Kel put her hands on her hips and tried to look stern. "What, not even a hello?"
Owen looked at her for a moment, question mark shaped eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Kel?"
She did her best to hide her uneasiness at this question. She wanted to ask, "I haven't changed that much, have I?" but settled on, "Didn't even recognize me? I'm shocked, Owen, absolutely shocked."
"But you're wearing a dress! Not like the ones you used to wear to dinner when we were pages, this one makes you look all pretty and stuff," he babbled, trying to make amends for his mistake.
"Now there's your problem," Neal explained, raising an eyebrow at Kel. "He couldn't keep a hold on his tongue, forcing the Stump to beat him so senseless that he can't even remember what his friends look like. Right, Owen?"
The seventeen year old stroked his now stubbly chin a bit, thinking, and answered, "Well, there was that one time when I accidentally called my lord 'the Stump' to his face...needless to say he wasn't too happy about that."
Kel's eyes widened in shock and pity, and Neal shook his head, saying, "That would only happen with you. Now, pray do tell, how did you survive his punishment?"
Owen scratched the back of his head. "That's the weird thing. He just stared at me for a minute while I apologized, then told me that we were going to go hunt bandits. Now, that was jolly."
"Kel, my dear, I do believe that our former training master is loosening up," Neal stated wonderingly, as if he didn't half believe it.
For some reason, she wasn't nearly as surprised. Instead of responding, she poked at the arm muscle that was evident even under Owen's uniform. "I see squirehood under Lord Wyldon has agreed with you," she commented, changing the subject.
Owen blushed and returned that it had been hard work, but he loved every minute of it.
The three of them carried on like that for some time. It felt good to talk about old times and catch up, but Kel grew uneasy as more time passed; they were going to be late for their rendez-vous. Finally, an old yearmate of Owen's showed up and took him to meet his family, leaving Kel and Neal free.
"I guess we should get going," she suggested, "else we're going to be late."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Neal demanded.
And so they left.
The atmosphere outside contrasted greatly with that of the ballroom. The cold night air was absolutely refreshing for Kel, who had spent the last two hours smelling nothing but a mix of perfumes and colognes. Inside was bright, with everyone's jewels and bright clothes catching the light of the chandelier as the orchestra's songs, magically amplified to be heard over the people's voices, played non-stop, while here, the only light was that of the moon and stars in the velvety black sky, making the snow glow softly, and the only music was an occasional breeze whistling through the trees and bushes.
They tried to navigate the paths, which was difficult even on a normal day, for the Palace Garden had been designed like a maze, dozens of little walkways branching off to little secluded gardens, each hiding itself and the others. It was worse today with the snow blanketing everything from sight.
Cursing its length, Kel was forced to lift the skirt of her dress to keep it from getting dirty. The problem with this, though, was that it let a lot of cold air in. They had planned to change before coming outside before they had met with Owen. The meeting, however, left them only with enough time to put on some boots and grab coats from Neal's room. She could only thank the Goddess that she had put leggings on under her dress.
Almost tripping over her own feet, Kel grumbled, "Why do your feet have to be so big?" She had been forced to borrow a pair of boots from Neal when they didn't have enough time to visit her quarters. Needless to say they were huge on her.
Neal rubbed his knuckles on his coat front and blew on them. "Well you know what they say about men. The bigger the feet, the larger the--"
Kel slapped him on the arm. "Nealan of Queenscove! That's improper!"
He looked at her with mock puzzlement. "What's so improper and gross about having big hands, Keladry of Mindelan?" he asked. Then, his expression turned from one of innocent confusion to that of one scandalized. "You didn't think?" he gasped. "Lord and Lady, Kel, I'm shocked that you would ever think such a thing, shocked and disappointed." He shook his head, starting to tsk at her. "Young people these days, I swear, their minds are always in the slums of Corus."
"Excuse me, old sir, but since when did you age twenty years?" she inquired, amused at his antics.
He puffed his chest up like a six year old who had just learned how to lace his boots. "I'm five years older, remember?" To illustrate, Neal held out a hand with all five fingers up to her face.
"But you make it so easy to forget," she retorted, brushing the long hand out of her way.
He stuck his tongue out at her instead of responding. "One minute he's an old man, the next, he behaves like a five year old," she muttered, throwing her arms up in defeat.
Kel must have been speaking louder than she thought, because Alanna came around a turn on the path they were following. "That's our Meathead," she agreed, reaching up to ruffle Neal's hair.
Kel could only see the lady knight's face, plus a red curl or two that managed to escape her hood, under all the clothes she was wearing. She wore fur-lined boots that covered up to her calves over a couple of pairs of pants, the outer ones colored black. Her long, plum-colored coat was also lined and reached just past her knees. Normally it was loose on her, but apparently Alanna had decided to wear more than a few layers of shirts. Her hood was pulled over her hat in such a way that only the lady knight's eyes and nose were visible.
"Ah, my former knight-mistress," Neal greeted, rumpling her hair back affectionately, "are you in on this little rendez-vous with our beloved monarch?"
"Yes. That's why I distracted everyone at dinner with that 'discussion,' so you two could read the note under the table. What's been taking you so long anyway? Jon and I've been waiting forever in the cold, so I went out to look for you two."
Kel apologized quickly, knowing how much the King's Champion hated cold temperatures. "We're sorry, my lady, for the inconvience, but we don't really know our way around here."
Alanna scrunched up her nose. "I don't believe I have been addressed so formally in a long time. Please, Keladry, call me Alanna. I'm not that easily offended."
Neal snorted and was no doubt about to make some smart comment but Kel beat him to talking. "Right, then you can call me Kel, A-alanna," she replied. It didn't exactly feel right speaking with her childhood hero on a first name basis but calling her anything else now would seem ridiculous.
"Where is his Highness?" Neal wondered, looking about him as if the monarch might jump out of a bush.
"By the reflecting pool, in case you two made it back before me," she replied. Then, turning them by the shoulders in an about face, Alanna continued, "Which is, by the way, that way."
Neal scratched his head sheepishly for a moment but soon got over that. "We probably would have gotten there eventually," he said confidently. "You said all the paths here were connected, did you not?"
"Yes, Neal," Kel could help interjecting, "but like a maze. We could have frozen to death before getting there, with a few wrong turns." To the lady knight, she added, "Thanks, Alanna, for coming to get us."
The older woman brushed off the gratitude. "No problem. See, Meathead, she understood it perfectly, what's wrong with you?"
Neal looked away, apparently offended, even though both Kel and Alanna knew it was just a front. "Shouldn't we be heading for the King?" he asked rather stiffly.
"Aww, is Neal in a bad mood?" she inquired teasingly, violet eyes sparkling as she got on her tippy-toes to put an arm around his shoulders. Kel was surprised at Alanna's flexibility despite the burly layers. "It's okay," she continued, "we still love you. Don't we Kel?"
"Of course," Kel agreed, a smile touching at her otherwise calm face, "who couldn't love this idiot?"
At this, Neal smiled. "I know, I know," he consented, ignoring the part about being an idiot. "You can't help it, I'm just too irresistible." He sighed. "Too bad it's not requited."
Alanna just snorted at the thought of her former squire being "irresistible", and Kel just chuckled, not even bothering to retort the playful insult he had dealt.
They made their way through the snow, Alanna leading the way. Kel tried to concentrate on keeping her footing on the slippery ground, instead of letting her imagination wander with what King Jonathan wanted with them. She schooled her face to polite blandness in preparation to see the man she had yet to figure out.
He was on the corner of two benches, wiped free of their snow cover by restless hands. He looked like a silhouette, dressed in all black, from coat to boots, against the light of the reflecting pool. Kel saw him before he noticed they were there. He was pacing back and forth, only stopping once lean on the now bare cherry blossom tree, head down, handsome face etched with not only worry for their safety but all the worries of a king. She stared, not knowing what to think.
It was over in the blink of an eye; as soon as he saw them, Jonathan of Conte straightened, all emotion leaving his face, and once again became the all powerful, forever composed Ruler of Tortall. Kel heard a small sigh coming from her left; Alanna had also noticed the change in her old friend.
King Jonathan clapped his hands together and told them to sit down, so he could finally get started. They obeyed, Kel and Neal sharing a bench and Alanna taking the other, leaving space for Jonathan to sit. He took it and sat back. "You two are probably wondering why we asked you here on this cold night." It was a statement, a bit awkward, but even Kel couldn't blame him.
"Way to state the obvious," Neal commented dryly. At Alanna's glare, he added, "Sire sir." He leaned back also, throwing an arm to rest on the back of the bench behind her, more relaxed in the familiar territory of sarcasm. Some day, Kel thought, some day that tongue of his is going to get him in some real trouble.
"Point taken, knight," Jonathan acknowledged, getting up and starting to pace in front of them. "I suppose the best place to start would be the beginning.
"I'm sure you two paid attention in Sir Myles' class. Do you know what happened a little less than three decades ago?"
"Tortall was forced to defend her rights on the Drell River Valley against Tusaine, sire," Kel replied, almost automatically, though a bit puzzled. What did a small war that happened twenty-seven years ago have anything to do with now?
"That was my first war, as well as Alanna's first time and only time being captured," he stopped briefly to address Alanna. "Right, love?"
"That summer was full of 'first times,'" she replied, a mysterious smile in her violet eyes. "But get on with the tale! You come and save me, with help, and in the process capture the King's two brothers, ending the war and setting up a treaty very much in our favor. Neal, what were the provisions of that treaty? And stop slouching! You remember that old man with a curved spine we had to heal."
Neal ran a hand through his hair, irritated, but straightened nonetheless. "Tortall retained possession of the Drell River Valley, with a promise of no future interference. Tusaine was to pay a fee of ten gold nobles to the family of each casualty," he recited as if reading straight from a text book. "Each country was under the obligation to send troops if the other was attacked by any other country in the Eastern Lands, including Scanra, Galla, Maren, or Tyra. It was also expected that either country share any threatening information regarding the other." Under his breath so only Kel could hear, he added, "What is this, a history lesson?"
"Good," King Jonathan commended. Then in a softer voice: "My father was known as the Peacemaker for good reason. He wished not to make war, but friends. King Roald designed that treaty to forge an alliance type of relationship between Tortall and Tusaine."
He sat down, examining the sapphire ring on his right hand, and Alanna picked up. "So what does that have to do with today?" she asked rhetorically, moving her black scarf under her chin for clearer speech. "King Ain's has passed, his son, Aren, is now on the throne, and Tortall as a kingdom is having troubles with Scanra, not in the east. It all started the other day, as I was just about ready to make the trek back home, had Beast saddled and everything, when you, Neal, come running up to me with a message from the King."
Kel spared a glance for her brown-haired friend. He was stroking the nonexistent stubble on his chin, probably wondering what exactly King Jonathan had told him to say.
"I was calling a High Council Meeting," the ruler explained. "Word had just come in from Sir Myles that Maggur is now officially king of Scanra. The few clans not under his banner were already subdued. Apparently he knew this was coming for a while. I had also received a message from the Carthaki emperor, Kaddar; 'King' Maggur Rathhausak offered an alliance and one eighth of Tortall if Carthak helped attack our kingdom. He refused, thank Mithros, and notified us."
It took Kel a moment to realize that the sharp intake of breath she had heard was her own. This news meant full, blown out war with Scanra, not just the border battles of the summer. Plus those killing machines and possible alliances? Her beloved Tortall could be in real trouble.
Coming from her left, Kel could hear Neal giving off a string of the most colorful language she had ever heard from her elegant friend. This really surprised her, considering the many times she found herself being scolded by him for using "indecent language." "Cursing is not my style," he would say, brushing the insulting language off his shirt and wiping it from his hands "and shouldn't be yours. It's brutish and uncivilized."
"My sentiments exactly," was all that Alanna responded with, although Kel could see the worry in her crease of brow.
King Jonathan laughed, a dry chuckle devoid of humor. "It got worse. People on the borders were starting to report more and more of those damned killing machines. There aren't as many deaths now that we know how to kill them, but dismantling those metal creatures takes man-power that we can't afford to lose come spring. I was beginning to think that I would have to dust off the Dominion Jewel.
"Anyway, I had just taken a ride to clear my mind a bit before the meeting and was brushing Beauty, when the George comes running into the stables waving a piece of paper about and talking of secret letters and such.."
King Jonathan paused here, until Neal, who had been sitting straighter in his seat at each word spoken, got impatient, and demanded, "Well, what did the letter say?"
His highness looked pleased and nodded to him as if Neal had just passed a test. "It was from Aren, king of Tusaine," he replied, his mood suddenly grim. " 'King' Maggur invited a Tusainian ambassador to Scanra, in hopes of forming a relationship between the two countries. The maggot is no fool though. He knew Tusaine was aware of our border troubles with Scanra. He proposed an alliance between the two countries and mentioned giving Tusaine one fifth of Tortall."
"But he only offered Kaddar one eighth," Kel noticed, not liking where this whole conversation was going.
"Exactly," Alanna agreed angrily. "What makes Tusaine so special?"
A map of the Eastern lands flashed in Kel's mindsight and she saw the problem, almost immediately wishing she didn't. "He wants to attack us on all sides," she answered with a sinking feeling in her stomach. "The Carthaki Empire isn't extremely key because all it can really provide is naval help to either Scanra or Tortall. Plus, with a little help from the Copper Isles, his navy can keep ours busy on the west coast. Next to Scanra, though, Tusaine shares the largest border with our kingdom."
"Spread us out trying to defend three sides for easy pickings," Neal said, also suddenly serious. "I'd bet almost anything that he offered an alliance to Tyra, too."
King Jonathan nodded, "Very good you two. King Aren is young, you know. I thank Mithros everyday that he was honest enough to send me a copy of the letter from Scanra, but when I read what he suggested... I just thought that young people are foolhardy and heroic. If he were a couple of years older, the idea would not have even entered his mind. George had to go discuss something with Myles so I fetched Alanna over here. We had a few candlemarks to kill before the meeting, and I didn't think it would hurt to get some one-on-one feedback. She thought--"
"That we should try it," Alanna interrupted, trying to rub her gloves together for warmth. "This is bound to be a long, drawn-out war and Tusaine was offering us a way to shorten it on a silver platter. It could at least provide some valuable information, especially about those killing machines and maybe even his hostages. I think Maggur really wants Tusaine's help. He would tell her ambassador whatever needed to enforce Scanra as a powerful and stable nation that's going to win this war."
Kel and Neal seemed to realize what the king and his champion wanted them to do at the same time.
"Hold on," Neal stopped them, "so I can get this straight."
Kel picked up from here. "You want us, Keladry of Mindelan and Nealan of Queenscove, to act as ambassadors of Tusaine and travel to enemy land as spies?"
Alanna nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly.
Neal needed a bit more clarification. "Why can't Sir Myles get one of his spies to do it?"
"You've heard Myles lecture, he doesn't believe in heroics," the king replied, sounding a bit annoyed. Kel almost frowned; she liked Sir Myles and didn't appreciate King Jonathan not accepting his beliefs just because they didn't suit his needs. "Plus, the spies he places in Scanran houses are servants. No matter how good he or she is, it would be hard for a commoner to play the part of a true noble."
"And you two really believe that we know anything about being ambassadors?" Neal couldn't help but asking.
"You make it sound like we want to send you there tomorrow!" the redhead replied indignantly. "Kel's parents were ambassadors in the Yamani Islands for six years--"Kel didn't think this was good time to point out that the Yamani Islands and Scanra couldn't be less similar--"You know Scanran well enough, and Tusaine's language is the same, just with a different accent. What you don't know we'll make sure to teach you."
"The whole High Council agreed with this?" Kel wondered skeptically.
"Yes," Jonathan of Conte responded. "We have the whole thing planned out. I just wanted to spare you the details just in case you decide not to do this. If that happens, the less you know, the better."
Kel whistled; people on the High Council like Lord Wyldon and Sir Myles seemed too cautious. Tortall must be in a very tight spot for them to have agreed with a plan like this.
"I know it sounds ridiculous and far-fetched," Alanna said, almost pleadingly, " but we have gone over it a million times, individually and as a group. The whole thing can, and will, be achieved, not to mention with great results. You two can really help out your country here, more aptly then anyone else in this case."
Kel looked to Neal. She had already made her mind to do anything to serve Tortall, no matter how dangerous, and knew that he would feel the same way, but she just wanted to gauge his real, initial reaction.
He grinned weakly. "Sounds like fun?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hm, the main plot makes it's first appearance...
THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to review. As for the shipping, I'll say this: Each one (k/c, k/n, k/d) will be addressed in the story, whether it will be ending the relationship, closure, or the real thing remains to be said.
Questions, comments, flames? Review!
meghna