The swarthy man paced the fire nervously, concern glinting in his dark eyes. "You're sure?" he pressed a third time.

She nodded, not a trace of her exasperation visible as she watched him prowl like a panther before her. She idly fiddled with a lock of blonde hair, hoping he'd calm down soon. At first, they had gotten on well, forming plans, before abandoning them half-way through, realising that they'd never get that much flour. But he'd begun to get more and more impatient, dismissing his task as 'babysitting', no matter how important the baby was. He was restless for action, and the arms of his loved one. Being Master Enfell, babysitter extraordinaire, didn't suit him nearly as well as being Master Salmalín, renowned black-robe mage. She was edgy as well, constantly thinking about how Kalasin was faring. But it did them no good, and so she hoped this… fidgety attitude would be abandoned soon.

Her hopes were in vain. "I have to go to her," he said immediately, and made for the door.

She blocked his exit, well-bred distaste flickering briefly over her otherwise expressionless face. "Master Enfell, all due respect, but I fear that you will do more harm than good, and I will not thank you for deserting me."

"I can't stay!" the mage exclaimed, running a hand through his hair.

She was immovable, chin upturned, light-coloured hair sliding from her face. "You must," she said firmly, in the tone of one who expected to be obeyed without question.

Only, he was not used to obeying, at least not her. When he wanted his own way, he expected to get it. He turned eyes that burned with scorn and fury on her. "You wouldn't understand," Numair hissed scathingly.

Anger flashed in her own eyes at the disdainful tone, and she stiffened. When she spoke, her voice was clipped and icy and the fire was removed, or hidden, from her eyes. "I beg to differ."

The black robe was about to shove past her regardless, when she continued, in the same frosty accent, "Master Enfell, I command you to stay. Furthermore, if you escape, I will either have you imprisoned, or magicked to my side." Her eyes dared him to disobey.

Passing up the challenge, he submitted to her order, grumbling about the unfairness of it all as he sat. "What do you propose we do now?"

*


Daine pressed her fingers to her lips, not entirely sure whether they were going to turn up or down, as he turned on his little helper. She watched quietly, knowing that one less to fight against might tip the scales in their favour, especially one such as her... That didn't stop the swell of guilt in her stomach. Her freedom, her life, hung by a knife's edge. The girl she might have condemned to death was a traitor. She had betrayed all that Daine held dear. Didn't that mean she deserved to die?

No. She'd been acting on Ozorne's orders, that was all. Daine herself knew how persuasive the old Emperor could be.

She heard the clank of beads from his braided hair as the man drew closer, watched the girl's eyes widen in fright, and tightened her mouth. She had to save herself, if only to warn the others of the danger. At least now she had bought Tortall some time.

The impostor's panicked breathing was now the only sound in the room. "You…" She inhaled deeply, evidently struggling to collect her thoughts. "You believe her over me? She killed you!" Daine flinched. This was not what she'd planned. "I'm getting you the throne of Tortall," the girl reminded him. "How can you think that I would betray you now?"

"Because you want it for yourself," Daine snapped, before she could think. The girl shot an irritated look in her direction, and then focused her attention on Ozorne once more.

The former Emperor looked thoughtful. "And those are all very valid points," he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now, the question is, what am I going to do with you?"

The false Kalasin smirked, and turned to Daine. In the next second, everything seemed to have faded out of existence.

*

Alanna impatiently brushed her vibrant hair from her eyes. She slid her sword away, adjusted her footing, and thrust forward quickly, aiming for her opponent's heart. She dodged an imaginary swipe at her side, and stumbled, foot catching on a loose rock, and tripped over, throwing her hands out to take most of the fall. She then proceeded to sneeze several times, and glanced up for their source, blinking threads of fiery hair out of her eyes.

"Great Mother," she breathed reverently.

The dark-haired Goddess wore an almost frown – or what would have been termed one, in a less immortal being. "You deserted your post," she pointed out, in her voice not suited to mortal ears.

The Lioness turned her face away, embarrassed, and resisted the temptation to clamp her hands over her ears so she wouldn't have to listen. "It was necessary. How can I serve, when-"

"I thought I needn't worry about the other side of things," the Goddess sighed. "But now I find that you-" She stopped herself, emerald eyes as unreadable as always.

Alanna hung her head, slightly ashamed. "They can do without me," she insisted.

A derisive snort came from behind her. A young man leant against the wall, one foot picked up, the flat resting on the brickwork. "
This is my protection?" Aside from his company, he was unremarkable. His ash brown hair was untidy and in need of cutting, and his eyes were sky blue. His face might have been pleasant had distaste not been written into his expression. It wasn't unheard of for the Goddess to favour boys, but what did Alanna have to do with it?

What might have been annoyance flickered over the immortal's face. "Yes."

Alanna staggered to her feet. Her amethyst eyes flicked to examine the Goddess, and hardened on the boy. "What?" she croaked.

The stranger sneered at her. "Some Champion," he muttered. "Wanders off when the fancy takes her."

The Lioness clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. "Don't make assumptions of me, boy," she hissed dangerously. She was not a force to be reckoned with.

He thrust her a bored look, taking his foot off the wall. "I will do what I want."

Alanna scowled at him, remembering her company before she made a retort straight from a soldier's mouth. Not that it would probably be unfamiliar language to him; his clothes were torn and of cheap material, and he walked shoeless. A commoner, to be sure, a status that did not match his tone of voice. Her eyes narrowed speculatively.

"Alanna, I have a task for you," the Goddess said gently. Alanna turned her face eagerly towards the Goddess. She needed a task, her feet were getting itchy around the Swoop, much as she loved it. "I need you to get Josua to the palace in Corus."

The boy who was apparently called Josua fixed her with contemptuous blue eyes, raising an eyebrow in an almost challenging way. It was not, however, her he addressed. "Is she up to it?"

Tortall's Champion's lip curled. "Of course I am!" she snarled indignantly. "I can easily get a brat to the palace."

Josua said nothing, merely lifting his other eyebrow in response. Alanna's renowned temper was rising and she breathed calmly, or, rather, as calmly as she could manage. She could teach him a lesson or two about respecting elders on their journey. She shook her head, realising she was beginning to think like her Mithran teachers.

"Secretly," the immortal continued. "You can't let anybody see him, or you. Do you understand?"

Secretly? A dim sense of foreboding stirred in Alanna's stomach, and she fixed the Goddess with a questioning look.

It was Josua who answered. His disdainful tone was gone, replaced by… She struggled to find a suitable substitute, and came up with – sorrow?  "Tortall's been invaded."

*


Thayet the Peerless, Queen of Tortall, was afraid. She hadn't had cause to be scared in a long time, and she hated herself for showing such weakness. She glanced over at Buri, and shuddered. Fear lay behind Buri's brown gaze, too, no matter how hard the woman tried to hide it.

Indeed, they both had good reason to be terrified. Nothing of this magnitude could ever have been anticipated, possibly not by ten Seers. If it had been, they had neglected to inform their Queen of it.

Her beautiful, precious daughter was most likely dead. The half-Kmir breathed in shakily, holding back the tears. How could they have been duped like that? How could the gods have allowed it?

She rubbed her temples tiredly. Always so tired lately. Sleep beckoned to her, invited her with wide, welcoming arms. It would be nice to sleep, she thought idly. So nice to just lay down and rest. Dream through this whole nightmare. Reluctantly, she shook herself out of sleep's longed-for grip. She had a country to protect. A country which was already falling into chaos.

Buri crept closer to her Queen, and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll be all right," she whispered.

Thayet flinched at the human contact, and glared at her friend. "Don't lie to me," she hissed back. "How can it?"

The Commander withdrew slightly, disliking Thayet's tone, but understanding that she was in pain, even though she couldn't empathise. "I don't know," she replied truthfully. "Maybe Numair..."

"Is dead?" Thayet supplied helpfully. "Maybe they're all dead. Jon, Daine, Numair, that Gallan king that vanished-" Her voice broke slightly on the last name, but she forced it out anyway - "Kally. Maybe they're all with the Black God."

Determination flooded Buri's face. She wasn't succumbing to the aching despair that ate at her Queen.  "Alanna, then."

Thayet laughed harshly, a hollow, empty sound that frightened Buri more than the suggestion of death. "Oh, yes, the mighty Lioness, who storms off whenever she gets offended. She's a wonderful Champion, have I ever told you that? Simply legendary! Such loyalty must surely be unsurpassed anywhere. It's truly admirable."

Buri brushed off the sarcasm. "You're not going to let him take over." It was a statement, an order. The familiarity touched a smile to Thayet's lips. Nobody had ordered her around for years. Come to think of it, the last person to have issued her an order was probably Buri herself. "We'll get your country back." Her eyes were fierce, and she clamped a hand to her sword.

Thayet briefly wondered what comfort these warrior women found in weapons, and wished she had been able to continue fighting with the Riders. Buri's view of the world was how she viewed battle. Life had to be planned, otherwise something would go awry. Difficulties were only for overcoming, for making a person stronger. Right now, Thayet could use that perspective. Right now, Tortall could use it.

"I won't let him take over," she said, tasting the words. She smiled slowly. "I won't let him take over."