Author's Note: UGH. I am battling this fic. It is not cooperating. Thus, I have only this much after four days. I'm working on it. All right, here's your villain, here's your explanation. Kitty, thanks for the help -- I did my best. :P

Tigers118 - thanks! I always love getting thoughtful reviews. Yeah, Kitten doesn't come up much... but then, we don't see her with Daine in PotS either, really. I might address that in a future edition.

Note, people: in, um, Tyran *cough-Italian-cough*, _ci_ is pronounced "chee," and _gn_, "ny."

Help me out here: make it worthwhile and REVIEW. I consider it sort of pretentious to demand a certain number of reviews before updating (*snort* not that people would comply if I did), but I would REALLY appreciate a handful of decent reviews.

Thanks: to Melody. I just don't deserve her. And yes, her pen name is Dragon's Daughter. Check it out. (Maybe I could try demanding reviews for HER before I update.... *musing*)

Chapter 11

Daine whirled, bow raised, to see a man stepping out of the shadows with a similar weapon deeply arched and aimed at her heart. Now she saw that the tunnel he had been waiting in also led out of the cavern, running parallel -- for a short distance -- to the one she had taken. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, with the dark coloring and deep-set features of Tyra, and wore dark breeches and a cream-colored shirt. His handsome face was twisted in a sneer as he looked her over; Windracer glared at the man, claws digging into Daine's shoulder.

"So," he said coolly, "we meet at last." There was a manic gleam in his dark eyes as they bored into hers, a mixture of enmity and delight. The animals Daine had felt earlier -- lean, shaggy elkhounds, wolves, mountain wildcats -- now streamed out of the corridor behind him and settled around his feet, watching Daine impassively. She glanced at them and opened her magic, keeping her bow trained on the other wildmage, and forced herself to betray no emotion. The People's magic was still cloaked at the moment; she couldn't reach them. But it was clear that her foe had assembled them for one reason: battle. A formidable collection of muscle and agility, claws and teeth was present and, at the moment, at his beck and call. His self- assured posture was one of a man in a position of power over his opponent.

"The renowned Veralidaine Sarrasri," the man continued in his smooth, resonant tones, a trace of an accent shadowing his words, "once of Galla, daughter of Weiryn, Wildmage of Tortall." He smiled cruelly and let the wards on his magic fall; it and that of his People companions filled her senses, steely, cold, menacing. Sweat broke out on Daine's back and palms, and she gripped her bow tighter. For now, they were at a standoff, but that would change if he called in the hunters in his servitude. The man frowned as his gaze shifted to her shoulder, and his look turned to one of disgust. "And I see you've taken in my most *loyal* friend Windracer." His steely magic reached out towards Windracer like a grasping hand. In a reflex, Daine flushed the falcon with her own power, driving out the enemy; he retreated.

"He's not your friend," Daine told him, voice hard. "None of them are." Despite her obvious disadvantage in the situation, her hatred toward this man she'd just met -- in person -- surfaced, filling her with a burning fury. It took all the willpower she could muster not to loose her arrow on him, or to take on the form of a wolf and leap for his throat.

His eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, flicked from falcon to Wildmage and back again. The sadistic smiled returned. "Very nice, girl," he told her slowly. "They told me you were good, of course, but I'd never seen it myself. The times we made contact, before, you had little idea what it was you were dealing with." He took a step toward her.

"Stay where you are," she commanded, straining the bowstring back still farther. Her jaw clenched; she boiled with rage.

He stopped, and one dark eyebrow arched. "You, my dear, are in no position to give orders."

"Aren't I?" Her fingers trembled with anger. "I've got a bow on you."

His manic smiled faltered, then broadened. He let out a hearty laugh that made a chill race up her spine, not taking his eyes from her.

"Wherever are my manners?" he remarked pleasantly, making no move to take his bow sight from her. "Allow me to introduce myself. Lucio Savagni, once of Tyra." He inclined his head to one side. "Forgive my failure to bow; at the moment it seems the situation does not allow it." He nodded at her finely made ebony longbow, a gift from her father.

"Well." She met his gaze coolly. "You seem to know a good deal about *me*. So -- how is it that you came here, and that we ended up with each other at bowpoint?"

His glittering eyes laughed. "*That* will take some telling. Perhaps I should start at the beginning." He shifted his stance, as though to make himself more comfortable without lowering his bow. "I was born in Agnatti, in southern Tyra -- not far from the coast. My family are prominent silk merchants, highly respected; so it would have been a flaming scandal had anyone known that my *real* father is not my mother's husband."

He raised a sneering eyebrow. "I suppose you think quite *highly* of yourself, Sarrasri, being the daughter of a god." He smirked, visibly self- satisfied. "I suppose you think you're the only demigod between us...."

"No, actually, I've heard," Daine said coldly. "Windracer told me." She held her ground, defiantly unimpressed.

"Of course." He glanced at the falcon on Daine's shoulder, face tightening briefly, then returned his attention to Daine. His chin lifted slightly. "My father is the Hunter Cianto, a Tyran god of the hunt. Affiliated particularly with the eagle, he is recognized -- and emulated among his followers -- for his bloodthirsty and relentless pursuit of the quarry."

Daine stared. No wonder he sired this monster, she thought. This one's no friend to the People.

"To return to my story. When I was a young boy, another wildmage of Agnatti recognized my magic. His name was Viciendo. He was my teacher." Savagni's face twisted with loathing as though at a memory. "Oh, he was *quite* highly regarded in Agnatti. Throughout the realm, even. He was a decent wildmage -- quite well educated -- and someone to deal with animals was greatly appreciated by many. But as I grew, as did my powers, it became clear that of the two of us, I was the stronger -- much as he desired to ignore the fact -- and that I was meant to be the greater.

"This too the old man denied. I had to act, in order to right matters. When I was twenty-two, I disposed of him. It helped to have the beasts at my command." He sneered.

Beasts? *That* was what he called the People?

"I had planned meticulously. All would have believed Viciendo died by accident had it not been for some street-rat who insisted on intruding upon the business of his betters. Somehow he escaped in condition to relay what he'd seen to others. My name went up on conscription, and I was forced to flee home. For a time, I was safe; I was able to live in the wild, at least, without threat. But this was no life for me, estranged from all human civilization. In my desperation, I became careless. Wandering into a country town, I was spotted by the local law enforcement, and seized. I was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder of my teacher.

"Fully aware of my powers, the penitentiary put me under careful guard," Savagni continued disdainfully. "I was eight years in that miserable hole before I was able to overcome my guard and -- again with the help of animals -- secure my escape." He smiled coldly. "They *do* come in handy, don't they?"

She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled. She *had* to keep a cool head; she knew that this was likely only the beginning of attempts at provoking her -- they were at a standoff, she reminded herself, and he might set the People on her.... Discreetly, she loosened her bow slightly, so as to reduce the temptation to fire. For the moment, she wanted to hear Savagni's story -- to try and understand him, fathom his twisted mind.

The other wildmage was still speaking. "Unfortunately, the law redoubled their efforts after my escape. They kept me on the run for a year or two, traveling throughout the country. It was not pleasant. Finally, I was able to persuade a young farmer to aid me across the border, out of Tyran knowledge and jurisdiction. After fleeing the country, I -- at length -- found a suitable refuge. Can you guess, my dear, what that was?"

"Ravenpeak," she said flatly.

He nodded. "Precisely. You can understand how convenient it was -- I came as a poor Tyran immigrant, fleeing poverty and hardship in my home country -- disguising my education, my background...." He smiled slowly. "My skills. I needed to lay low for a while, given my recent exploits. Happily, there are few, as you know, who are cognizant of wild magic. My lord kindly employed me in the stables, and I rose to become the highest authority and most regarded expert thereof."

Maybe it was listening to his oily words, or staring into his crazed, glittering dark eyes for so long: her head began to pound again, and the dimly lit cavern swayed before her eyes. No, not now, she thought, willing her vertigo to settle. She *couldn't* weaken now, in front of her enemy....

"But you can understand, Sarrasri, that this would hardly suit me. After all, just why had I murdered my foolish, presumptuous old instructor, consequently enduring a decade of misery, being imprisoned, hunted, driven from my homeland? So that I, Lucio Savagni, could become the greatest wildmage in the world -- as well I should. So here I was, employed on a fief where none knew of my magic, preparing to unleash my power upon Tortall, and in the dazzling brilliance it would cast, to stride forward and claim the position I had sought all my life. But this, my dear, is where *you* came in."

She narrowed her eyes, fighting her dizziness and not yielding an iota.

"You see, Sarrasri, in my time at Ravenpeak I heard a great deal about you -- the maiden who spoke to animals, healed them, took their shapes. Tortall's Wildmage, love of the great Numair Salmalín, and in *excellent* favor with the Crown. Herein was the obstacle to my goal: you. Tortall already had a resident wildmage."

Daine prickled defensively at his words, preparing herself for battle.

"But your removal was not completely beyond my reach. More difficult than had been the case with old Viciendo, certainly, as you, being a demigoddess, are comparable to my own power. My advantage? I knew this. *You* had no knowledge of an equal. With cunning, you could be overcome. And cunning is no weakness of mine.

"So I called in a flock of hurroks at hand and had them harass the fief convincingly. Which, of course, brought you and Salmalín down here, what with the urgency of the situation." He sneered again, dark eyes glittering under the thick, dark hair that curled over his forehead. "It must have been *quite* a shock to witness hurroks whose presence was closed off to you. A similar working cloaked my own magic; you must understand, my advantage lay largely in your ignorance of my presence. Of course, you did breach my wards once, on the East Tower --" disgust showed on the man's face -- "when you probed one of the hurroks. I'm afraid I was a bit careless. But once out in the plains -- alone, happily -- a taste of my magic drew you nearer, and into the claws of my hurroks." He shrugged contemptuously. "A shame you made it back."

His words swirled around in her head. Sweat beaded her forehead now, crawling down perilously close to her eyes. Fleetingly she wondered if Savagni could read her mind, if they were connected as she was to the People. She tried to push back the panic and focus. How long had he been telling his story? He seemed nearly done. And was she imagining it, or was a feeling of power building in the dank air of the cave?

"The remainder of my flock, as well, failed to take you today, thanks to Salmalín. I speculated that showing you my reinforcements would call him back to Ravenpeak." The wildmage shook his head as though amused. "All I have heard of you has been demonstrated. You truly are too honorable for your own good, the both of you. But now...." He smiled broadly.

"Don't you see, Sarrasri?" he continued. "That is what detained you from true greatness, from true power. Wild magic is an element of nature, and in that very trait it is greater than any Gifted magecraft. You, unfortunately, have failed to deploy your magic to your own benefit; that is, not as you could have. A wildmage of our caliber... could make himself ruler of Tortall. Possibly of the world...." His dark eyes flickered. "Given, that is, a lack of competitors." Again, that slow, crazed smile. "And so we have reached the heart of the matter."