A/N: I have some sort of an idea for a one shot fic, but I don't want to write it cause I'd destroy it, so if you're interested, visit my bio page and the challenge will be up there. I hope at least one person does it!
Thank you to all who reviewed, I'm not on my computer so I can't personally address you...I'm sorry.
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In the early afternoon, Numair sat along with the other Tortallans in the conference room, again the peace talks were to commence. His thoughts wandered to Daine (a place they had been lingering a lot lately), he hadn't seen her yet that morning although she had left a note in the common room saying that she was checking on the Emperors birds. Numair wished he could be with her now instead of sitting in the unbearable heat with grumpy old men.
These talks were getting them nowhere, and amusing fantasies of the different aged ambassadors yelling and shaking their walking sticks at each other flickered through his mind. Now that would be memorable.
Once he got these admittedly childish images out of his head and moved on to thinking about uninteresting international bonds, Numair's former best friend dramatically entered the room.
Even with his braids their natural brown color, and this clothing much more practical than the evening wear, Emperor Ozorne had the precise quality of one who took much pride in their appearance.
The low hum of conversation died as Ozorne took his place at the head of the room. Painted eyes swept across the crowd, pleased with the attention given.
"Good afternoon, guests. We are afraid that some bad news has befallen us and our company." Ozorne held up a small piece of parchment in his left hand. "This was found in the aviary earlier today."
Numair couldn't help but notice how pleased Ozorne seemed by this bad news.
"It is from the Tortallan delegate, Veralidaine Sarrasri."
Numair's heart began to thud quickly in his throat. Something had happened to Daine, why else would Ozorne announce bad news and look so happy?
Ozorne paused to give a dramatic affect before continuing. "She states in this brief letter here, that she has run into the city, and gives hints at conspiracy against us." Ozorne's eyes looked over to where the Tortallan delegates were seated. "Perhaps there is some explanation?"
Silence coated over them like a thick, wool blanket. No one said anything; there was nothing that could be said, except for-
"Impossible," it was one of the older Gallan ambassadors that spoke first. "I've met this young woman. She is very gracious and would not go gallivanting about the city like an animal, wreaking havoc. This cannot be true." Others throughout the room murmured their agreement.
Despite the circumstances, Numair found room to be amused at the irony in what the Elder had just said. Ozorne, however, looked less than pleased. A stench of annoyance crossed his features before he artfully cleared them to look almost somber.
"We were very surprised as well, Lord Underwood, but it is clearly written and signed by her hand."
At his signal, a slave bowed over to Ozorne. Ozorne handed the parchment to the slave, pointing to Lord Underwood who had expressed his doubt. The slave then passed the letter to the Gallan who, after studying it for a long moment, handed it to those next to him.
"Forgive me, your Imperial Highness, for questioning," he bowed.
The Tortallans sunk lower in their chairs at his words. The letter was now being passed to those delegates from Tyra. Slowly, person-by-person, Tortalls allies were being turned against them. Quiet, rushed discussions were beginning among the ambassadors, making the Tortallans feel even more alienated.
The letter finally made its way over to Alanna, who took it and reluctantly looked it over. After seeing the ever-growing look of despair on her face, Numair knew that they were in extreme trouble. Alanna handed it to Gareth the Elder on her right, and then looked around the room for some sign of comfort. She met Numair's gaze and held it as a silent understanding was passed between them.
The letter contained exactly what Ozorne said it did, but still it was so unlike Daine. As Numair watched Alanna, he felt anger replace his fear. This was done to frame them and end the peace talks, and there was no doubt in his mind that Daine had not written the letter.
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Members of the Imperial Guard dressed in maroon kilts with gold washed armor, formed a box surrounding the Tortallans, escorting them to a ferry that would take them to their boat. Numair walked towards the back of the group radiating anger. He was a stormy cloud on a sunny day, with his black robe billowing out behind him, his lips tight and eyes as sharp as knives, he was a powerful image. Harailt, who walked next to him, did not seem deterred by this, and grabbed on to Numair's arm, talking quickly to the much taller man.
"Numair, you mustn't do anything foolish. Wait until we get back to the boat where we can meet and decide what to do from there. We are all just as upset, we must at least give a look of cooperation." Harailt paused to take a few breaths then continued, "You cannot take on all these guards by yourself. Even if you are a black robed mage, they will catch you and I don't think Ozorne will be as forgiving a second time. We've already lost one of our number, do not make us loose another." Harailt stopped talking as they reached the water line.
Numair slightly registered what Harailt had said, but his thoughts were more focused on Ozorne's dungeons. Numair had been there once, and it was not something he wanted for himself or any of his friends. The thought of Daine being kept in them gave him fantasies of horrible ways to kill Ozorne.
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Once on the boat, the Tortallans crammed into a small cabin to discuss their next move. No one spoke in the beginning, all at a loss for words. Thoughts rushed through Numair's head, images of the letter being passed around, of seeing Daine the night before; it all lead him to one conclusion.
"We must find Daine." There was no question in Numair's voice, just solemn certainty.
"Impossible, our duty is to return home and warn the king." Lord Martin was obviously not happy with this situation.
"She's one of ours," it was Alanna who spoke. Numair was glad someone agreed with him. "That letter's a forgery – it must be. He's keeping her somewhere, and using it as a pretext to end the talks and declare war."
Numair listened to the conversation with one ear, still thinking about what had to be done to find his student.
Duke Gareth answered Alanna. "We cannot prove that, my child. Neither can we help Daine; we must warn the country. As it is, Tortall will stand alone against him. By announcing it before the foreign ambassadors, he made certain they believed his proof that Daine conspires against him. As far as our allies are concerned, we caused the talks to fail."
Numair was done with sitting here and wasting time. He spoke up, "You can warn Tortall, then, and the King. I won't leave without her."
"We never should have brought that child," again Lord Martin spoke. Numair thought of correcting his use of the word 'child', but held his tongue. "I knew it would be trouble." He stood and walked to the door, demanding that it let him through.
Once he had left, Lindhall, who had joined them, turned to Numair. "Arram, there is more at stake than any girl, even this one." Numair felt anger well up in him again at his former teachers words. Why did everyone insist upon calling her 'just some girl'? She was Daine; Daine who had saved them all countless times. She was just as important, if not more important, than everyone else in the room.
Linhall went on, "The information passed to you – contacts, new routes for the slave underground, conspirators' names – it must go North, now, before the borders are closed by war." Numair knew all of this, but somehow after the disappearance of Daine, it all seemed less urgent. The only thing that mattered was finding Daine and making sure that she was alright. "We may have to get the prince out in a hurry if the emperor begins to suspect him, and the only way to do it safely is to have all prepared on your end."
Numair shook his head. "I don't care. Someone else can take the information to the kind."
Alanna wheeled around and slammed both fists into the wall in a sudden act of anger. "I hate not doing something! I hate it! I want to go back there and –"
She was interrupted by the resurrected bird, Bone, who had landed on her shoulder in an act of comfort. "Go away, you old Bone," she whispered through her tears.
Numair sympathized with Alanna. He wanted action, and he wanted it now. He wanted to find Ozorne and blast him to shreds, showing him how much he had learned since they had parted. He wanted revenge, but most of all, he wanted Daine. He wanted to hold his student and protect her from any oncoming evil that this Gods cursed country presented. When he had first heard that Daine was gone, a shock went through him like a current of pain. Now that he was numbing to that feeling, he realized how much she meant to him. He would die if it meant her happiness.
"You cannot, my dear." Duke Gareth felt for Alanna. "We are going to war. Your place is at home with the king and his armies."
Alanna turned toward the wall to hide her tears.
The duke turned to Numair. "Numair, if you choose to remain, I cannot stop you – you are too great a mage. Please think, then. The emperor is mad, but not stupid –", Numair scoffed internally at this, "– he knows you wouldn't leave Daine here. My concern is that he has planned for just that eventuality."
Numair looked over at Linhall, who, it seemed, was thinking along the same lines. "I'm aware of the danger, Your Grace. I have taken precautions. They may be enough. Ozorne has trouble believing in his heart that anyone else has more of the Gift than he does, even when his mind knows there are more powerful mages. I can use that to fool him. As for the knowledge of the prince's conspiracy –"
"Give it to me," Alanna said. Numair was glad she had offered. He was planning on suggesting a much worse alternative. "It's the least I can do."
Numair looked at the duke for permission, and it was given with a tired nod. He placed his fingers on Alanna's temples; black fire sparkled at their connection. Images and pieces of information ran quickly through his mind and out of his fingertips into Alanna.
Once this was done, they both opened their eyes to an empty room. The others had left them to get ready for the trip back.
Alanna turned and looked at Numair straight in the eye. "Numair, what are you planning on doing? It's dangerous for you here."
Numair returned her gaze. "I know. It's dangerous for Daine too. Once I get her back, we'll leave as fast as can be arranged."
Despite his words of confidence, Alanna noticed a trace of fear flash through his eyes as he sat down on the bunk nearest him.
"I'm worried, Alanna. What if Ozorne has done something to her...what if I don't make it in time? What if there is nothing I can do?" As he asked these questions his voice continually got softer. "I'll never forgive myself –"
"Numair," Alanna sat beside him. "I'm worried too. We do what we can, and no one can ask more of us. Daine is capable of taking care of herself; you of all people should know this. You taught her well." She hesitated, then continued, "She means a lot to you."
Numair put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. Quietly he responded, "She is everything, Alanna."
Alanna rubbed his back in comfort, then stood. "Good luck."
She left the room silently, leaving Numair to his tortured thoughts.