Author's Note (Apology): Sorry, sorry, SORRY for forgetting that I was going to re-post this story. Senior year taking 4 AP EXAMS caught up with me, and I did very little writing, and subsequently forgot to post this. Well, now that I am officially done with high school (well, tomorrow, anyway) I will get this sucker posted and begin writing again. I know I mentioned a Miache and Zefrem story before, and I think that may soon be a reality. Keep checking in! Feedback is always appreciated.
Chapter Six: Trouble on the Horizon
"Try again."
Caelin's fists unconsciously clenched as she stared angrily into Numair's uncompromising eyes. He had been saying those same words for the past three hours, but Caelin still hadn't been able to call up lightning. Every time she made an attempt, pictures of the men she'd slain passed in front of her eyes, and she immediately slammed a shield around her magic. It didn't matter that she was only trying to call lightning onto a piece of metal that would absorb the heat harmlessly if she succeeded; she couldn't do what Numair was asking of her. Her patience snapped.
"I can't, all right? I just can't. I know you think I'm going to be a powerful mage, but maybe I just won't be able to call lightning. I can do plenty of other useful things. I hardly see why this is so important." Her blue eyes were the color of frozen ice and sparked dangerously as she glared at her teacher.
Instead of his usual patient remark, irritation spread across Numair's face, transforming his normally pleasant visage into something almost fearful. "It is important. Whether or not you overcome your silly fears may affect the fate of the entire kingdom. If you stopped being so selfish and looked around you, you'd notice that things are not perfect in Tortall. Some of us are gravely worried, and all you can do is throw a juvenile temper tantrum. Fine then, stop trying." When Caelin only gaped at Numair in wonder and fear, he sighed and closed his eyes. "I can't work with you anymore today. Just go, and be back here tomorrow. We'll try again."
Trembling in contrition and worry, Caelin stood up and walked quietly out of Numair's workroom. Daine was seated on the couch in the main room with a bat in her lap, worry in her eyes. Caelin could tell she wanted to ask about the fight she had overheard, but Caelin silenced her with a sharp nod of her head. Gloom descended on Caelin like a blanket as she headed back to her rooms. In the few weeks she had been working with him, Numair had never lost his temper. Never. When she couldn't accomplish something, he simply explained to her in gentle terms why he needed her to keep trying, helped her understand what she was doing wrong, and eventually, she succeeded. This was the first time she could remember that he had raised his voice. It scared her.
It wasn't just Numair, either. For the past few weeks, a growing sense of worry had pervaded the palace. Important officials walked around with frowns on their faces. Knights returned from the field looking haggard and worried. The monarchs themselves had lines of stress on their faces that hadn't been noticeable a few weeks before. The worst part of it all, Caelin decided, was that no one would talk about what was happening. It was as if everyone who knew anything had taken a vow of silence on the matter.
Caelin reached her room with the intention of taking a hot bath and relaxing for the rest of the afternoon when a voice hailed her from down the hall. A small smile appeared on her face as Liam ran up, his black hair messy as usual and his eyes a clear blue. "Hey, I thought you had lessons today."
"I did," Caelin replied glumly, leaning against her door in defeat. "I couldn't call lightning-again-and I lost my temper. Numair started yelling and kicked me out. I suppose I deserve it, but Numair's never acted that way before! He kept going on about the kingdom needing my Gift, and some sort of trouble. I wish I knew what was wrong."
Liam's eyes mysteriously shifted to a slate-gray, and a nervous expression appeared on his face. "You know what's wrong, don't you?" Caelin accused, feeling slightly put out. Now even her friends were keeping secrets from her.
"I do know, but I'm not about to tell you." At Caelin's glare, he cringed and continued, "We're not supposed to talk about it; only specific people know what's really going on anyway. I only have a vague idea, and I don't want you to worry about things you can't control."
"I've been hearing that a lot lately, and I don't like it any better coming from you than from anyone else. Anything that threatens Tortall threatens me, especially when the trouble has something to do with me, even if nobody will tell me why it has something to do with me." Liam's expression remained closed, although she could detect a hint of compassion in their gray depths. She sighed in exasperation and decided to drop the topic. "There's no use fighting with you when you're in one of these moods. Was there something you wanted?"
"Oh yeah," Liam replied with a grin, his eyes changing back to a clear, sparkling green. She could always tell what kind of mood he was in, depending on his eyes. Black when he was angry, gray when he was being mysterious or hiding something, blue for extreme emotion, and green...Caelin felt her cheeks turn red. Apparently, Liam's eyes were only green when he was around her; at least, according to Lianne, Aremin, and Orrin. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a ride, since you have time now. I know I promised to teach you, and I finally have an evening free."
Caelin smiled, elation spreading across her face. She'd been looking forward to the promised outing with the prince for several weeks, but they were rarely free at the same time, and if they were, it was never for long enough. Also, the warm winter temperatures had taken a three-week plunge, leaving riding out of the question. Only in the last few days had the temperatures warmed up enough to allow for outdoor activities. "Of course I want to! Let me just change into a different tunic and I'll be ready to go."
Five minutes later, Caelin joined Liam as they walked to the stables, her blue mage's tunic replaced by a plain gray tunic she used for dirty work. On the way to the stable, Caelin watched Liam out of the corner of her eye and reflected on what she knew about the prince. He was the second prince, and second in line for the throne. He was seventeen, and would turn eighteen in a few weeks. Along with Aremin and Orrin, as soon as winter melted into spring, he would undergo the Ordeal of Knighthood. Liam was an expert in Shang tactics, as evidenced in the Midwinter Tournament, and had been named after Liam Ironarm, the dragon of Shang, who had saved King Jonathan's life on the day of his coronation. According to those that had known Liam Ironarm, Prince Liam shared several characteristics with the deceased Shang Dragon, including eyes that changed color depending on their owner's mood.
Underneath his usually calm and collected front, Caelin had learned that Liam was a very passionate person. He believed in the realm, chivalry, and in true love. He had an affinity for history, and was often in the library reading old manuscripts. He had no tolerance for the intrigues of court, and was most content when he was accomplishing something. His worst fear was to be helpless. He was a loyal friend, and prone to mischief when around certain noble boys and one royal sister.
"I have a surprise for you," Liam said once they'd reached the stable. He indicated a large stall, and Caelin peered inside with growing excitement at a black mare with a white star. She wasn't small, but she was exquisitely built, with long legs and delicate lines that spoke of many years of refined breeding. Even Caelin, who admittedly knew little about horses, could tell that the mare was a treasure. "This is Diamond. She was my first horse, a daughter of Alanna's old war stallion. She doesn't get out much, especially now that I'm away so much of the time, so I thought she'd be perfect for you to learn on. She's calm for a beginner, but once you're ready to move up, she'll move right on with you. She loves to jump, too, and I know that's what you wanted to learn." It was a small fantasy of Caelin's, but ever since she had seen a member of the Third Company take his gelding over a course of obstacles, she'd yearned to feel that flying sensation.
"Thank you Liam," Caelin said, walking over to the stall to pet the mare's nose gently. Liam helped her tack Diamond up, since she'd forgotten most of what she'd learned from Dom and the men of the King's Own. Liam had just started tacking up his own horse, a chestnut gelding, when a servant trotted into the barn.
"Your highness, Sir Raoul has need of you. He asked me to have you wait in the library for him."
Liam sighed in annoyance and ran a hand through his dark hair. "It figures, when we finally get some time alone something comes up." The scowl on his face did nothing to mar its handsomeness, but his eyes were black with frustration. "Do you want me to have Stefan untack Diamond, or do you want to ride by yourself? You could go around the stable yard a few times; I'm sure Diamond will be fine for you."
"I'll ride by myself for a while, I have nothing better to do. I'll see you later, I suppose," Caelin finally answered before Liam strode out of the stable. Even though she would have preferred to ride with Liam, she wasn't about to back down, despite a vague sense of worry niggling at the back of her mind.
Caelin led Diamond out of her stall and towards the stable yard. She was about to step outside when the mild worry developed into outright panic. Cold sweat dripped down her back, her muscles knotted, and worst of all, she had no reason why. The air had the same feeling of impeding disaster it had before a violent lightning storm. Without warning, what felt like a stifling black blanket dropped over her head.
Blackness. Smothering, clinging, capturing.
She reached for her Gift desperately, trying to repel the stifling cloud.
Grabbing, sucking, ripping.
It was gone, as if she were completely Giftless.
Let me go!
Fear. Pain. No escape.
She knew no more.
A splash of shockingly cold water brought Caelin out of the black pit she had been lost in for hours. The icy water did nothing to help her muscles, which after being locked in place for hours, were stiff and painful. She opened her eyes reluctantly, peeling them open little by little. The sunlight was excruciatingly brilliant after the extreme blackness. Once her eyes had adjusted to the light, she craned her head around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was lying on rock-hard ground in front of a gradually dying campfire. On the horizon, the brilliant colors of the sunrise were rapidly diminishing, leaving in their place a solid gray wall. All around her, soldiers packed food and tents into bags, which were then stowed on the backs of various horses. Every movement was quiet and orderly, the result of an impeccably ordered schedule and firm discipline.
"So, you're awake. Here." Caelin blinked as a man who had previously gone un-seen thrust a loaf of bread at her. She didn't have time to worry if the bread was poisoned or not; she was ravenously hungry and her stomach was clenching repeatedly from going so long without food. Caelin ate the entire loaf before her she began to feel satisfied. She wiped the crumbs from her face and looked at the man closely. He was probably around forty, in good shape for someone of middling age, and had the shrewd, cautious face of a first class warrior. His steel-gray hair was short, cropped close in a fighter's cut, and his face and arms were lined with old scars, although his muscles were still strong and powerful looking. Although every man in the group was well equipped with weapons and armor, the man in front of her had the best of both. He had to be the leader.
"Who are you?" She asked, trying her best not to curl up in fear. One of her first lessons had been, 'show no fear. If the enemy sees that you're helpless, they'll exploit you. Even if you're shaking in your boots, don't give them the satisfaction of knowing it!'
"We're a mercenary troop, hired to capture a potentially dangerous mage." The man's face eased and his eyes twinkled, improving his looks a hundred-fold. "Although I have to say, we've never been paid so much for such an easy kidnapping job."
It wouldn't have been so easy if you hadn't leached my Gift, Caelin thought angrily, disliking the humor in the man's voice. A swift check assured her that although she should have replenished her magic from its theft earlier, not a drop was left. Something was draining her Gift as soon as it tried to replenish itself.
"Who hired you?"
"Do you really think I'll tell you if you ask politely? Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough."
"Where are we going?" Asking annoying questions was probably not the best way to get on the captain's good side, but she had to come up with some way to stall for time; that was the second rule they had learned.
'It doesn't do us, your rescuers, any good if the enemy gets away from us quickly. Fake being sick or hurt, ask annoying questions, pretend to be impossibly clumsy, I don't really care what you do, as long as you make them fight for every second on the road with you.'
A smile spread broadly across the man's face. "Someone's taught you well, youngling, but I won't stand for delays. As soon as the camp's packed, we leave. And don't pretend you're injured or somesuch, I can tell you're as fit as any youngling."
Perhaps you'd like being knocked in the head and suffocated, and then we can see how you're feeling.
"Can I at least know who my kidnapper is?" Caelin finally asked, trying her best not to scowl sullenly. She definitely didn't want to get on this man's bad side; he would make a dangerous enemy.
"Learmon Birdseye at your service, but you can just call me Lear." He paused when one of the men whistled. "All right then. Up you go." Without a word of warning, Lear grabbed Caelin and swung her up onto the back of a chestnut gelding with a mean eye, ignoring her indignant squeak of protest. "Don't you try to get this lad to go anywhere without the rest of the troop, or he'll throw you off and break both your arms. He's trained well."
Caelin nodded her agreement and watched as the men of the troop mounted their horses and set a fast pace. True to Lear's words, her horse kept close to the other horses, and pinned his ears in warning if she tried to turn him away from the group. Luckily, the horse had a smooth and easy gait; otherwise she would have fallen off long ago. As the troop rode on, she realized that they were riding in uninhabited land. Half way through the day, they passed by a small hut, but it was completely deserted, and had obviously already been robbed of all useful possessions. Caelin wished she had been able to go on some of the page's outings; then at least she would have some idea where she was. Her lack of knowledge of the Tortallan countryside did her no help in the situation she found herself in.
The troop didn't stop for the remainder of the day. When they finally pulled to a halt during the last minutes of the day, Caelin sagged on top of her horse. Riding took enough out of her normally without trying to work with an integral part of herself missing. Throughout the day, she had become aware of the fact that the constant draining of her Gift was having an adverse affect on her. Caelin was grateful when one of the men helped her dismount and gave her a chunk of bread and water. Except for the guards placed in carefully spaced intervals around the camp, as soon as they had eaten, the men slipped into their bedrolls and fell asleep. There was none of the joking and camaraderie in Lear's troop that had existed in Dom's company. These men were here for one reason, and one reason only; money.
Caelin envied them. Despite her fatigue and the monstrous lump on her head, she couldn't sleep. She had forgotten what it was like to sleep on the ground with only a small pad to take away the hardness of packed earth and rocks. Even if she could have gotten comfortable, loneliness and worry preyed on her mind. Why had these men been sent to capture her, a barely trained mage with no political standing? If Tortall's enemies (she assumed whoever Lear's troop was working for was an enemy of Tortall, since she didn't have any enemies to speak of) wanted to strike a blow magically against the kingdom, they would have done much better stealing away Daine or Numair, who were key players in the defense of the kingdom. Her Gift was untrained and volatile, just as likely to turn on its owner than it was its target.
Caelin shifted onto her back and looked up at the cloudy sky. The air felt heavy and damp, fog swirling to cover the area around the camp. Even the light of the stars and moon were blocked out, swathing the camp in complete darkness. She couldn't tell without her magic, but she suspected that the dismal conditions were the work of a weather mage. The fog probably had magical dampeners to handicap anyone with the Gift. Caelin remembered fondly the lesson Numair had spent explaining dampeners and their uses; he had used the siege of Pirate's Swoop as an example. Caelin sighed. More than ever, she wished her last lesson with Numair had gone better. If she never saw him again, she wished her last experience with the kind mage had been a more pleasant one.
Despite the many worries Caelin had flitting through her head, eventually she slipped into a disturbed sleep, filled with vague images and voices she didn't recognize. When one of the soldiers shook her awake in the morning, she felt even worse than she had the morning before. Even food and water did little to shake the sense of exhaustion that permeated her bones. After only a few hours of riding, Caelin was shaking out of sheer weariness. Lear didn't seem to notice that Caelin was slumping in her horse's saddle; either that, or he didn't care. The troop continued its rapid pace until sunset again.
That evening, Caelin tried to refuse the food, and ended up having her nose held until she opened her mouth to eat. Her sleep was again filled with troubling images. The same routine persisted for several days, and Caelin began to lose track of exactly how long the troop had been on the road. It must have been about a week, but her brain felt foggy and useless. Her strength couldn't return with her Gift still being sucked out of her the minute it returned, and now she was reduced to being tied onto her horse and fed by hand.
Worse than the physical and mental exhaustion was the feeling of hopelessness that Caelin couldn't squelch. No matter how hard anyone searched, they would never find her because of the dampeners surrounding the troop. Even if someone happened to wander right into their path (which was unlikely, sense Lear kept to broken, wild territory and had a sixth sense when it came to avoiding unwanted visitors) they would be dead before they had time to react. Resistance was futile, and that knowledge broke Caelin almost as much as the poisonous leeching of her magic.
On the night that marked her sixth in captivity (although she didn't know it), when all of the men except the guards had fallen asleep, something heavy dropped down from the clouded sky and landed on her stomach. Feathers brushed her face, talons gripped her arms, and a familiar beak grabbed her ear. "Baron?" She croaked, wondering if she was having another dream-delusion. They were common enough. "What are you doing here?"
The beak clamped down on her ear like an iron pincer, warning her to remain quiet. Did you really think I wouldn't be able to find you? A voice whispered in her mind, strange and familiar at the same time. Now that I know where you are, I can tell the others. They should be able to reach you by dawn. Be ready.
Caelin had no time to ponder the fact that Baron, who she sometimes forgot was even an immortal, had just spoken to her. He tightened his beak once more on her ear before taking off as quickly as he had arrived. The throbbing in her ear convinced her clouded mind that it hadn't dreamed up the visit. Baron's reassurance helped Caelin get the first bit of real sleep she had gotten since her captivity, and re-kindled the spirit that had been hiding since her capture.
It was mid-afternoon before anything happened, but when it did, events moved rapidly. In her weakened state, everything seemed to merge into a series of blurry scenes out of a picture book.
A cry. A magnificent bird from tales, sweeping down and sowing confusion.
Fog rolling, mist lifting. The sun.
Cries. The crash of metal upon metal. Red.
Cursing. Surrender.
Out of the mists of her vision, Caelin recognized Daine and Numair coming over to the horse. Perhaps it was her delirious state, or maybe the realization that rescue had finally arrived, but the only words Caelin could think of as her rescuers approached were, "Why didn't you tell me Baron could talk?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Caelin reeled from her perch on the horse's back and fainted.
"Stop that," Caelin muttered, discreetly sucking on her thumb, which was a bright, cherry red and swelling rapidly from being on the receiving end of Baron's temper. Luckily, everyone in the large conference room was too busy looking serious and talking to their companions to notice.
I'm bored. If I had known recruiting help for your rescue would entail so much dithering by the old ones, I would have taken care of it myself.
"You're just a spoiled bird, that's what you are," Caelin muttered back, still not used to the concept of talking out loud to a bird that spoke only in her mind, "and you have an entirely inflated opinion of your own self worth." Baron huffed in indignation and turned his tail feathers to her, trying his best to ignore her. Normally, Caelin would have tried to jolly him back into a good mood, but she had too many worries on her mind.
It had been two weeks since her rescue from Lear's mercenary troop, two weeks of gradual recovery and trying to understand exactly what had happened to her. Now, some of the most important people in the realm had been called together to discuss what the kidnapping meant to Tortall. Caelin didn't understand why such a big deal was being made over her, especially since she had recovered from the ordeal well enough, but every one of her protests had gone unheard. As soon as Duke Baird had pronounced her fit enough to withstand a long conference, the king had called for a meeting.
The least he could have done was arrive to his own meeting on time, Caelin thought acerbically, shifting in her cushioned seat in a futile effort to get comfortable. To keep from falling asleep, she surveyed the room and its occupants. Sitting at the main table were the older knights and officials, including Dukes Baird and Gareth the Elder, Gareth the Younger, Sir Myles of Olau, Sir Alanna of Trebond, Sir Raoul of Goldenlake, and a few others Caelin didn't recognize. Sir Keladry of Mindelan sat with Sir Cleon of Kennan in the far corner, looking almost as out of place in the meeting as Caelin felt. Caelin had an idea that the knight would rather be out doing something than sitting in a meeting.
Numair and Daine were off in another corner with Lindhall Reed, whispering quietly together. Every once in a while, their eyes would flash up in her direction, and she pretended not to notice that they were talking about her. Their emotional shows of relief when she woke up after the leeching spell had been disabled, especially Numair's, had eased Caelin's worries more than they would ever know. Now, if only they would tell her why they were so worried, she would feel much better.
She and Baron occupied the third corner, sitting quietly and trying not to attract attention.
"Sorry I'm late, everyone," a deep voice called out, drawing Caelin's attention to the door. King Jonathan walked into the room wearing a frazzled expression on his face and immediately sat in the chair left open for him with a sigh. His shoulders slumped dejectedly and his blue eyes were filled with worry. Caelin wondered where Queen Thayet was, but her question was soon answered as he continued, "I apologize for the wait, but I was helping Thayet organize the third rider group. There's been another one."
Indistinct murmurs swept across the room, and although Caelin didn't know what had happened, she gathered from the looks of distress on the faces around her that it wasn't something good. "We just got the messenger from the village a few minutes ago. Luckily, only a few casualties this time, just the direct family, thank Mithros. Thayet is taking the troop to see if she can find any traces."
"And why would they leave traces? When have these bloodsuckers ever left any convenient traces for us to follow?" Sir Raoul demanded pointedly.
"Well, you all know Thayet, she's determined this time will be different. It would have been more trouble than it's worth to try and keep her here when her mind's set on something. So. Let's get down to business. For those of you that are just arriving from patrol," the king inclined his head towards Keladry, Cleon, Alanna, and some of the other knights, "we've begun to notice a pattern in these kidnappings." Caelin stifled a gasp. She wasn't the only one that had been taken?
"At first, the popular theory was that one of the slaveholding countries was hiring mercenaries to capture children to be used as slaves; remember, in the south, people of our descent are considered rare and valuable merchandise. It seemed unlikely, since the slaveholding countries have never gone to such extreme means to acquire slaves, particularly with magic. Gary's made a few inquiries about the stolen children, so he knows more than I do. Gary?"
Gareth the Younger stood up and cleared his throat. Caelin had never met the Prime Minister, but he was a tall, middle-aged man with chestnut hair that was only beginning to gray and a face that had laughter lines throughout. Now, though, he was perfectly solemn as he said, "There are a few details that are common in all of the children that have been stolen. One, they're all relatively poor and of low social status. Two, most have no family or only a few living family members. Three, every single child that has been stolen has the Gift."
Surprised murmurs broke out around the room as everyone tried to process the new information. Caelin felt a grim sort of hatred to whoever was going around stealing children. She had no doubt that not every kidnapping troop was as decent as Lear's mercenaries, and whispered a silent prayer to the Mother to protect the missing children. "What about Caelin?" Numair was now standing, his face white, which made his mane of black hair stand out all the more. "She certainly isn't low on the social status anymore, and there were obviously quite a few people that noticed her absence. Why did they try to take her?"
"It's my opinion that the slaughter at Harowyn was the first documented attempt by our enemy to steal a young person with the Gift. Caelin, did it seem to you as if the soldiers were saving you for some other purpose?"
Caelin cleared her throat as the king turned his eyes to her, and hoped her voice would remain natural. "Well, your highness, at the time I thought the soldiers just forgot about me, but I don't see how they could have, since I was being held by a large group of them. Maybe they were saving me for something else. But why did they try to come get me again? It seems to me that stealing anyone from the palace is a risk."
"Probably because magically speaking, you're the most talented youngling in the kingdom," Numair pointed out bluntly. "Whoever is gathering up our Gifted young ones knows that you have the most power, so he sent a more experienced troop of soldiers to try and nab you, and used advanced magic to throw the balance in their favor. They knew the risk of such an attempt, but obviously believed it you were a worthy cause."
"Exactly," Jonathan concurred as Caelin tried to organize her thoughts. "There are two questions that need to be asked, which is why you are all here. First, we need to know who our enemy is, and second, we need to know why they seem to have a need for so much magical power. It can't be a good reason, whatever it is."
"I agree," Alanna said, standing up. Although the King's Champion was short, the force of her presence more than made up for her lack of height. "This is unacceptable, and needs to be dealt with as soon as possible. We should consider who our enemies are, and what they stand to gain from stealing our children."
"The second question is easy to answer; whoever it is seems to be in dire need of magical power, so they take children with the Gift and steal it away from them. Bastards." Daine's eyes were furious, and Caelin wondered if she was remembering the state of near-death Caelin had been in when Daine had found her young friend.
"So back to the first question. Who are Tortall's enemies?" Jon counted the list out on his fingers. "The rebel groups in Carthak. Scanra. Tusaine is a wild card; we'll know more once the question of King Ain's succession is solved. The Copper Isles-oh drat, I forgot about them. With everything that's been going on, I forgot that the ambassadors would be arriving soon." A panicked look appeared on the king's face. "We need to start preparing for their arrival!"
Almost everyone in the room laughed, and Gary said, "Jon, as much as I know you hate to think so, the palace does not revolve around you. The servants have been preparing for the visit for weeks; months, even. Thayet certainly has been organizing things. All you need to do is look imposing when they arrive and say something polite. You can handle that, right?"
The king laughed and nodded. However, his expression soon sobered. "Most of you will be staying here for the arrival of the Copper Isles party. What I want you to do is instruct all of the other knights to keep an ear out for information. Tell them to look into every kidnapping case, even if it turns out to be unrelated. Myles, I trust you and George will be very busy soon. Be careful. Daine, Numair, keep me informed if you sense any unnatural magic in the kingdom. For the rest of us, who will all soon be knee-deep in diplomatic manure, we'll just have to try and come up with a few theories based on what we know. Now go on, I'm sure you all have things you need to do."
The men and women in the meeting room dispersed rapidly, most probably headed off to begin working on their assigned tasks. The king remained sitting at the desk, a deeply worried expression on his face. Caelin paused, gathered her courage and her phoenix, and headed over to the king. When it appeared that he didn't notice her, Caelin cleared her throat. Immediately the dark head looked up and the king smiled tiredly. "Caelin, I didn't even notice you there. How are you feeling? Any side affects from your ordeal?"
"No, highness," she replied, sitting down when he motioned to the seat across the table from him. "I think I'm almost completely back to normal. Numair broke the leaching spell, so my magic is completely back, which is really why I felt so horrible in the first place. He says I can start lessons tomorrow. But that's not why I'm here. I was just wondering, since no one told me before, if Lear and his men are still alive. I wasn't really conscious when the battle took place."
The king frowned, but he listened to Caelin's question without interruption. "Actually, he is. Some of the men were killed in the fighting, but most of them were only wounded, including the captain. Why?"
"Has anyone questioned him to find out who hired him? It might give us some clues."
"Yes, it was one of the first things we did once we got back to the palace. However, the good captain didn't seem inclined to tell us anything, and I will never use torture on anyone to get information."
"Did you try offering money for your information? Lear is a mercenary, your highness, and if you paid him well enough, I think he would give information. That's the only reason he was involved in this whole mess anyway. He's not really loyal to whoever hired him, I could tell from the way he talked to me."
The king was quiet for a moment as he thought about her words, and then he smiled at Caelin, dropping ten years from his face. "You know, I didn't even think about that. It just might work. Now if that's all, I should really get back to signing papers." He sighed again, and said in a hopelessly pathetic voice, "I really hate paperwork."
Caelin smiled at her king, bowed, and exited the meeting room. Even though nothing much had been done to solve the mystery of the kidnappings, investigations were moving forward, and Caelin knew that eventually a solution would be found.