Author's Note: Yay! I'm over my writer's block. The key, apparently, was simply to get my fingers on the keyboard and write something; I was just lazy for a while and had to break out of that. Well, enjoy -- I hope this material stimulates the brain cells a bit -- and if you think *this* is a cliffie, wait til the ending of *next* chapter! *cackles evilly*

It has come to my attention that this story is a Tortallian Heroes Awards nominee, thanks to Candice. I'm honored -- and very excited for the competition. *crosses fingers*

Thanks: to Melody! God, I would *never* dare send out a chapter without passing it under your critical eye. Thank you so much for helping my story develop.

Oh, and as always, I would greatly appreciate some thoughtful and specific reviews.

Chapter 9

She spent the next three days healing. As she'd told Numair, Selene's care did work wonders. By the end of the day she was on her feet, though still tired, and took Selene's advice -- and Numair's more insistent urgings -- to rest a good deal. By the next day she could do many of her usual activities -- using her magic, archery -- but with reserve. By the third day she felt fully rejuvenated, despite Numair's qualms, and even the more conservative healers couldn't disapprove of their setting out the next day. After all, she *was* at least as well as she'd been when she first came, though not perfect, given the toll of the Scanran war. Her minor headaches and nausea persisted, and Selene steadfastly eased them with her magic and tonics. Daine's back, too, healed cleanly, though she'd always have the scar, just inside her right shoulder blade. It didn't bother her much -- after all, it was just one more addition to her collection -- but the reminder of her injury seemed to burden Numair to no end.

The day after the incident, they'd been talking together out on the balcony of their room -- they'd moved back as soon as Daine was on her feet again -- when her wound pulled, making her grimace.

"Daine? What is it?" Numair leaned forward anxiously, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"My -- back. Just a minute." She rose slowly and went inside to fetch the jar of salve Selene had given her, and a soft cloth. Forcing herself not to rub her back and disturb the wound, she returned to the balcony and gave salve and cloth to Numair. "Could you help me with this? Put it on with the cloth."

"Of course. Turn around." Sitting on the couch, she turned her back to him. Gently he lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing her back, and carefully pulled away the bandage. For a long moment he didn't move; she could feel his tension, and frowned. "Numair?" She twisted to look at him over her shoulder.

He was focused on her back as though enthralled, his dark brows pulled together; he seemed to be trying to say something. He touched the wound with infinite gentleness, long fingers running lightly over her back. His features contorted as though in pain.

She turned away and looked at her knees, saying nothing.

"Daine...." His touch withdrew. There was another long moment before he spoke again. "I'm sorry, magelet." It was barely more than a whisper; she found tears burning her eyes. "I'm so sorry." His voice broke.

She drew and released a breath, staring straight ahead at the wall. "There wasn't anything you could have done," she said hoarsely.

She could hear his choppy breathing, as though he fought to control himself. Somehow she *knew* what he was thinking: I wish I'd been out there with you.

But that wasn't fair. First, because he *couldn't* have gone with her, not without endangering the mission as well as both their lives. Second, because he couldn't let go of his overbearing possessiveness. He couldn't bear to be away from her, couldn't bear to have her go off on her own, couldn't bear it when she was hurt. Couldn't he see that she'd grown up since they'd met? Couldn't he let her take her own chances for once? Sometimes she could hardly *breathe* for him hanging over her....

She closed her eyes, lifting her face to the breath of a cool breeze passing. "Just put the salve on," she told him flatly. He obeyed without a word.

They spoke no further of the subject, but Daine did a good deal of thinking about it herself. She could never decide whether his overprotection was truly his own flaw, and she could hold him responsible, or simply a sign of his love for her. *That* she couldn't blame. But it seemed whenever she adopted one of the two viewpoints, he would do something unexpected, and leave her wondering again. In so many ways she knew him as know one else could -- she *knew* the details of his life, and what he made of it; she *knew* how he felt about being one of the world's most powerful mages; she knew his loyalty to his friends, and his unrelenting vengeance to those who made him an enemy. His speech mannerisms, unconscious habits, unspoken communion -- all inscribed on her heart. But sometimes, even the man she loved seemed an enigma to her. Or, more likely, she was puzzled by a matter that concerned *her*. How could she stand outside and investigate the issue when she herself was on the receiving end? Life's mysteries, it seemed, would never cease to confound her. Sometimes she felt sixteen again, just discovering the world in so many ways.

"Why does love have to be so complicated?" she'd asked Cloud more than once.

It doesn't, the mare had informed her. You humans just make it that way.

Now, she could only resolve to talk it over with Numair later. The issue had reared its head more than once, and would take more than a single talk to conquer. At the moment, they had other quite weighty matters on their hands, given Daine's discoveries in the mountains.

They rode out of Ravenpeak three days after her return, well-rested and -supplied. The plan was to find the cave where Daine had felt that strange power earlier; beyond that, they knew little of what to expect. Not only had they been unable to identify the magical force, but it eluded all forms of investigation. Daine still couldn't sense it, any more than she could the hurroks (who had not made another appearance since the encounter in the plains) -- as before, when it had only come into her awareness once out in the plains. Numair, simply for want of wild magic, could know nothing first-hand of the situation. All he could do in the mission was help where he could, speculate with Daine, and -- most importantly, or so he thought -- protect her.

What she *could* do was find her way back to where she'd encountered the magical source. Not that there was any guarantee it would still be there, but it was the next logical step of investigation, a valid move to find answers. Magical forces often left residue, or other signs of their properties. But again, wild magic was just that -- and as mages, they could only look at the evidence at hand and see what they could make of it. So far, they had seen so little that all they could say was that there was *something* around Ravenpeak that wielded a form of wild magic. Its power extended to hurroks; it had both controlled them and cloaked their magical presence, apparently to blind Daine from them.

They crossed the sun-drenched plain in a comfortable silence. Since their not-quite quarrel on the balcony, no more had been said of the subject, and Numair had made no comment as to any issues of risks or injury. Now, they had reverted to the usual contentment at each other's company, though laced -- as it often was -- with the impending threat of their mission. They reached the mountain range by noon, and stopped to rest and eat in a cave that protruded slightly from the mountainside; a gently sloping ledge overhead formed the roof, then arching down on either side to form the walls. After a quick noon meal they simply sat in the shade of the cave on their blankets, resting. Each kept to his own thoughts for several minutes.

"A copper for your thoughts," Numair said at length.

Daine, who was sitting against the stone wall, drew her gaze from the roof of the cave to the mage seated across from her. Thinking about what he'd just said, her lips twisted into a rueful half-smile.

He raised his eyebrows. "That pleasant?" he asked dryly. "Perhaps I should raise the stakes."

"Don't bother."

He stood and crossed over to her, taking a seat on her left. She drew a breath and released it heavily, gaze fixed stubbornly on her knees.

"Magelet...." A large but gentle hand on her cheek; he turned her face to him. Still she averted her gaze. "Daine," he said softly. "Talk to me."

Reluctantly she met his eyes; they were pleading and intent on hers. She bit her lip, suddenly blinking back tears. "If you can't tell," she said bitterly, voice cracking a bit, "I'm scared."

His dark eyes didn't waver.

"I don't *know* anything about what I'm up against here," she continued in a rush. "All I know is that it's strong, and it knows a lot about *me*, and it doesn't mean me well. Because the hurroks attacked me on orders -- I could sense that, just for a moment. And you know what else? I can't think of a single reason why they would *want* to attack Ravenpeak. Did you notice -- they didn't actually carry off much for themselves? They just did a lot of damage. For profit...?" She shook her head grimly. "It's not normal. Nothing's normal. But here I am, the Wildmage, and everyone expects *me* to understand everything. And fix this whole mess." She turned away, trembling slightly. The past few days had seemed to pass in a heartbeat. How had she gotten herself into all this? Here she was, heading off to confront -- something, whatever it was.

"Daine. Listen to me." His voice was gentle but insistent.

"What?" she snapped, hands curling into fists at her sides.

He was undeterred by her hostility. "You're being irrational," he told her patiently. "Who says you're expected to solve everything so suddenly? The mystery we're to investigate is an intricate one indeed, and will require extensive and lengthy inquiry and contemplation. The process will be neither easy nor entirely safe" -- his face darkened briefly -- "and *no one* underestimates that, Daine. They can't expect you to arrive and resolve the situation instantly, regardless of your power and skill -- which remain both undisputed." His authoritative tone allowed for little argument. "Besides, Daine, don't minimize what you *have* accomplished. Look at all you've done for Ravenpeak. How many lives would have been lost if not for you?"

She was silent, jaw clenched.

"Magelet, I *know* how you feel. Remember the raiders' attack on Pirate's swoop, eleven years ago?"

She would never forget -- and the fear and overwhelming expectations he had revealed to her, only her, still burned vividly in her mind. Fighting an assemblage of Carthaki mages, most Masters and up, all magic at Pirate's Swoop held down by the enemy's dampeners, everyone had looked to him for a rescue.

She sighed and scrubbed her face with her hands. She was tempted simply to submit to the comfort of his words, as always -- but that was what irked her. This always seemed to happen -- she came to him with her woes, and he soothed them. It wasn't as if the responses he offered *did* reduce her struggles. Would she be forever running to the comfort of his arms, seeking asylum from her troubles? Would she always be a *child* to him? Frustration clouded her mind.

That's not fair, protested a voice in her head. He's right, more often than not. You should at least listen to him.

She clenched her teeth, vexed. She didn't *know* what she thought, or wanted. In the midst of everything she'd lost sight of her own standpoint. She felt frustrated, needled, irritable, and she couldn't even explain why.

She pulled away from Numair and surged to her feet, restless with the whirlwind of thoughts surging through her head. Everything was piling up, smothering her. She had completely lost control of everything --

A single thought shone through the storm. *Control*. She had none here, against an enemy who seemed to peer at her as though through a magnifying glass, studying her: it knew what she was and what she could do, it knew her magic, it had *searched* her mind. And she was helpless; it had disabled her against the very threat it presented -- the hurroks. It wasn't fair!

She had to laugh bitterly at the childish protest in her head. No, that wasn't it. It was just as she'd thought first: control. Hers was crippled just now -- her power, her knowledge -- and she didn't like it. That was what bothered her.

"Selene was right," she said suddenly, whirling back to face Numair, who had been critically watching her pacings. "About power. We do get rather addicted to it, don't we? After all, my magic makes up the greater part of what I call myself -- it *is* me. Right now it's being turned on its ears, and that's driving me mad." Her lip curled, almost savagely. "And I can't blame anyone but myself." She finished in a hoarse whisper.

Numair said nothing, watching her from his seat against the stone wall.

She took a deep breath, running her hands over her face. So it had taken her eight years of professional magic to realize this, eight years for it to really hit her. This, then, was part of the price for the position she'd taken. Wild magic -- it was so unwieldy, so uncontrollable. She remembered well what Numair had taught her in her earliest lessons: "Wild magic has been known to act without the cooperation of the bearer." That she couldn't deny. Was it her *choice* to infect the People's innocence, to unveil the humans' world to them? Was it her choice for the People to follow her anywhere, even to their deaths? And now.... She'd all but staked her life on her magic. Now, things were not going neatly as she would have liked; they were bending far out of their expected paths. And the divergence's effect on her was disturbing. What would it be like for her if her magic was corrupted? Killed? Gone?

He released a slow breath, eyes closed, then opened them and faced her squarely. He looked tired, beaten. "Daine...." he began simply.

She shook her head, features tense as though with pain. "Listen, we'd best get going," she said tersely. That, at least, would give them something useful to do. She crouched and began to stuff their supplies back in the packs --

Then stopped abruptly. Her head snapped up and she stared out the cave entrance, scanning the plains without, but she saw nothing -- even with raptor eyes -- but waving yellow grass and ripples of heat rising from the sun-beaten earth.

There had been the tiniest disturbance in her magic, like a harp string lightly plucked or a small pebble dropped into a pond.

"Daine? What is it?" (It occurred to her that Numair was saying this a great deal in their time at Ravenpeak. This was how it was: she was the one in touch with the magic; he could only ask what she saw or sensed.)

She frowned, tingles racing through her body. Something was not right. "I don't know," she answered truthfully, still staring out the cave entrance. She had the foreboding -- again -- that there was a menace present; not merely in these mountains or the lands around Ravenpeak, but *here*, by this very cave, watching them. "Stay here," she ordered absently. Before he could protest, she grabbed her bow, slung her quiver over her shoulder, and headed towards the mouth of the cave.

Just inside the stone ledge, she drew an arrow from her quiver and set it to the string. Glancing back at Numair, she saw that he had obeyed, and was watching her with a mixture of bewilderment and fear. Turning back to the plains below the arch of a sweet azure sky, she stepped out into the sunlight.