A/N: I'm using a different computer than I normally do and I'm having some formatting problems. I'm so sorry please bear with me!

Chapter 5: the Healer

Ludov Redensra scowled at his mother's cotton clad back as she disappeared into the kitchen. He was twelve years old, for the Crooked God's sake- he could do as he liked! There was absolutely no good reason for him to stay and work at the boardinghouse that night. It was winter. In Galla. The only people who stayed longer than mealtimes at his family's boardinghouse this time of year were local drunks too afraid to face their wives until the next morning.

Ludov sighed and resumed sweeping the oak floor, imagining all the fun his friends were having at the dog fights that night without him.

Nothing interesting ever happened!

Then the front door burst open and a tall man dressed in black rushed into the room. Snow from outside swirled wildly around him, contrasting sharply with the inky color of his clothes and with the darkness of the night. In his arms he carried a large human-shaped bundle wrapped in what Ludov assumed to be the mysterious man's cloak. The boy inched closer, craning his neck in morbid curiosity... a woman. Well, it was a woman at any rate. She didn't seem to be breathing and she was covered with so much blood that it seemed impossible that she could be alive.

The man rounded on him, dark eyes desperate. This woman, he said hurriedly. this woman needs a healer! Frightened by the tone of the man's voice, Ludov stared at him, not answering. Did you hear what I said? he shouted. Where can I find help?

The manor, the boy finally squeaked. Whitehall Manor on the edge of town. M'Lord's son's taken ill- every healer for miles around is there.

Numair nodded, his options racing through his head. What choice did he have? I'll need more blankets, he said to the sandy haired boy holding the broom. I've got to keep her warm till we reach help.

Lady Beatrice Glavensra of Whitehall stormed down the corridor, muttering irritably to herself. It is a poor household indeed that doesn't even have enough servants to answer the front door! The whole manor was a joke- the tapestries were faded, and the roofs leaked during bad weather! Beatrice didn't know how much longer she could go on like this- she was royalty after all! Her fourth cousin on her mother's side had married the niece's stepbrother of a lesser prince if Tyra! Honestly, didn't breeding count for anything these days?

Whoever was on the opposite side of the heavy door continued to pound loudly even as Beatrice pulled it open. But her narrowed eyes and sour face softened considerably once she glimpsed the man who stood on the steps outside.

Come in, dear stranger! she said, honey dripping from her high voice. Come in out of the cold.

Numair stepped over the threshold and gestured with his head toward the bundle of furs he carried in his arms. My, er- sister, he said hurriedly. she was attacked. Please, I was told there were healers here who could help her.

Beatrice glanced down at the face of the woman the handsome stranger clutched in his arms and recoiled in disgust at the sight. Of course, she said, stepping back. follow me.

The Lady of the manor escorted Numair to the north wing of the building where Daine was pried from his worried arms by a fat, red-nosed hedgewitch who took the girl into a sickroom and shut the door, leaving the mage out in the hall with Beatrice. I took the liberty of having some hot tea brought up. she said, gesturing to the two steaming cups a servant was currently placing on a low table. Beatrice eyed the serving girl sharply, gave her an order, and she scurried back into the dining room to continue working. the Lady said, gesturing to the space next to her on the bench where she was seated. you must be frozen.

Numair sank into the seat offered but elected to bury his face in his hands rather than take the hot mug.

Beatrice used the opportunity to observe the mage openly. He was tall, nearly six and a half feet by her guess, with powerful looking limbs- and though his face was covered by hands boasting long, strong fingers- she remembered defined cheekbones and a full mouth, despite the worry lines that creased his forehead and the raw emotion swirling in his eyes.

She lightly placed one pale hand on the man's thigh. Not really a gesture of comfort- but less intimate than the touches that would come later, she thought with a smile.

Forgive me, Numair said, her unexpected touch rousing him from his thoughts. My name is Salmalin. I'm the Master Mage in Residence at the Royal Palace in Tortall.

Royal Palace? the woman beside him burst out, then blushed furiously and batted her eyelashes. What a pleasure, Master Salmalin.

Numair nodded his head, then turned back to face the door of the sickroom Daine had disappeared into. Unwilling to be forgotten, Beatrice began to move the hand on his thigh, her fingers trailing suggestively over his wool breeches. You must be so worried for your sister, she cooed. But you really can't do her any good sitting here making yourself sick. Numair turned back to the Lady, half understanding her words. We really ought to get you out of those wet clothes...

She was coming on to him. And pretty brazenly at that. Numair looked at the woman sitting next to him on the bench. She wasn't bad looking- not by any means. Pale skin, blue eyes, straw-colored hair. The small lines at the corners of her eyes betrayed her age, and her breasts rose and fell conspicuously in her low cut dress as her breathing quickened.

Had he found himself in this situation three days ago, Numair would have had that woman on her back with her legs in the air in a minute flat. But now... now the very idea chilled him to the bone. The realization of who he'd become over the last few years suddenly hit him. The womanizing, the drinking, the anger. He'd let pain overtake the man he once was- let his vices and his sadness control his behavior.

Numair rose to his feet and stepped away from Lady Beatrice. Is the Lord of the manor at home? he asked pointedly. I'd like to pay my respects.

Beatrice did not take kindly to refusals. she spat. You're all so lacking in manners! she stood and began to walk haughtily away from the mage. My husband is still in the dining room, receiving some other guests from Tortall. Perhaps you know them, she said scathingly. They're a party led by an appalling woman whose gone and named herself after a beast!

The Lioness?

Beatrice stood openmouthed and furious as Numair took off excitedly down the hall where the serving girl had disappeared earlier.

Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau finally stood up from her seat at Lord Glavensra's humble but welcoming table and stretched. I'm off to bed, she said regretfully. Thank you so much for your hospitality tonight, Peter. Your generosity has turned what could have been a disaster into a real pleasure. My men and I won't forget it.

The portly, cheery faced old man stood and clasped the lady knight's hand. Think nothing of it, my dear. Anytime I can be of service-

But his words were interrupted as Numair opened the door and entered.

the redhead smiled broadly and went to embrace the mage. What are you still doing in Galla? I thought you'd be nearly back to Corus by now!

I was delayed. Alanna, please, I need your help! There's a girl- she's been wounded very badly.

Daine felt as though her flesh was melting off of her bones. She had become so cold that her body had gone beyond freezing and felt as if it were on fire. Her skin screamed where the hands of the healers prodded her, but her head hurt so that she couldn't remember how to open her mouth to tell them to stop.

Then the fire in her skin died and the ringing in her ears was silenced. Daine's eyes fluttered open briefly to glimpse sparkling purple light. She began to breathe more evenly as the pain lessened and she dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke again, sunlight was streaming through the frosty windowpane. She rose up on her elbows to discover that she lay in a bed covered in soft white linens, and there was a small woman with red hair snoring away in an armchair beside the bed.

Daine shifted on the mattress and the creak of the springs woke the woman in the chair, her lashes opening to reveal startling eyes of amethyst. She smiled warmly. Daine, right? she yawned. Feeling better?

Daine nodded, too confused to answer.

I'm Alanna, by the by. the lady knight continued as she stood up and stretched. Please excuse me for a minute, I didn't' realize I'd fallen asleep and I'd better go have a word with Lord Glavensra. she squeezed the younger woman's hand gently. I'm so glad to see you're better. I'll send Numair right in.

Daine watched Alanna slip through the door, and heard muffled voices outside in the hall. Numair? Who on earth... not that mage? There was no way- but then didn't she remember his voice from last night? Could it really be-

He thoughts were cut off when he quietly entered the room.

Numair avoided her puzzled gaze, though he couldn't keep the relief from his eyes or voice when he saw that Daine was awake and alive. You're all right, he breathed. I was worried... I'd thought I was too late.

Daine blinked. I thought he hated me? You brought me here? she asked, her voice still shaky. What happened to the bandits? They took me to their camp... me and Russet... she trailed off and looked around the room expectantly, searching for the wolf.

the Numair began, his eyes finally on her. I'm sorry... she was dead by the time I made it to their camp.

She fell back against the pillows, remembering. She'd heard Russet snarling and howling- then she'd heard the men laughing maliciously.

And the bandits? she asked, her voice hollow.



she said coldly.

Numair walked out into the yard surrounding the manor's stables where Alanna and a handful of knights of the King's Own were saddling their mounts, preparing to leave.

How's our patient? she asked, moving towards her tall friend as he approached.

Hard to say, he said quietly. She's been through a lot.

Alanna nodded thoughtfully. Have you asked her again about coming to Tortall? I mean, I know she's just woken up and all, but we'll make better time if we set off sooner rather than later.

he answered. I mean, I haven't asked her again. he paused and looked at her. he ventured. I don't suppose... She rolled her eyes good naturally and set off across the yard.

Finish up with my mount and get two more horses ready for you and the girl. she called over her shoulder, her bright armor flashing in the morning sun.