Chapter 21 – Sorry I haven't updated in like, forever. I just haven't had
the motivation, or the ideas, but they started flowing again. This chapter
is all about Numair. This is another kind of in-between chapter. Hope you
like it. Thanks for all the reviews. I have over a hundred and am just
amazed. You all rock! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or places in this story, they belong to Tamora Pierce.
Numair strode quickly down the halls of the palace. Everywhere, left and right, were commoners who had come to take refuge in the palace. Cots lined the sides of every corridor he passed through. Children ran underfoot, climbing over beds and trunks and crawling through adults legs, making the cramped living space into a game while their red faced mothers gave chase.
There was hardly room to walk with all the belongings strewn about. The black robe wondered briefly how people could be expected to tell what belonged to whom as he carefully picked his way through the mess.
As he entered the corridor that led to the room where his family lived while they stayed at the palace, he found that his wing was much clearer. In fact, this hallway didn't have a single cot.
"I suppose that the stuffier nobles made sure that the 'filthy common folk' didn't come anyway where near their rooms," he muttered to himself. Daine and Numair shared a corridor with some of the wealthiest, most important, conservative nobles in the realm. Numair supposed that Jon had done this on purpose. Both the black robe and the wild mage were common born and Numair suspect that their placement in this wing was Jon's silent way of telling the conservatives that he was in charge and he could make any changes he liked.
The only other people in the corridor were a small group young men, supporting among them a rather full looking sack.
"G'day Milord," one said, tipping his cap and flashing a grin that was short a few teeth.
"Hello," Numair said politely as he passed by, other thoughts shuffling through his mind.
It was not until he reached his rooms that he realized the oddness of it all. Three poor looking men in the wealthiest wing of the palace lugging a very full looking sack. He could have sworn he saw something looking suspiciously like a silver candlestick poking out of the top. Numair shook his head as he unlocked the door leading to his rooms. To his relief, the rooms were untouched. Not for the first time, he was glad he had decided to spell his doors with the strongest antitheft spell he knew. Numair and Daine didn't have much in the way of valuables, but he shuddered to think of the trouble that might arise if the thieves got their hands on some of what was in his workshop.
"Rogues," he thought, "I'll have to tell Jon if I see him again. If he doesn't send someone out here to keep watch, thieves will pick this place clean." It was funny how the possibility of his never getting the chance to tell the king just slipped into the thought. Until that moment, he had never even pondered the possibility. Normally, before facing off with a tough opponent, he tried to keep his mind clear of any such thoughts, keep himself distracted, so that when the time came for a battle, he could focus. This time, however, his distraction of choice was across the ocean in the Copper Isles.
Promptly he made his way to his workshop. Mentally, he ran through a list of anything he might need. Chief among these was an extra supply of his gift. His gift felt fully replenished after his long rest, but Numair wasn't going to take any risks. Haddensra's powers and abilities were now a dangerous unknown and he wanted to be ready for anything. Draining himself before Haddensra was dealt with spelt death for him.
Opening one of his many draws, he pulled out a black opal pendant. It was easily the most valuable thing he owned, financially and magically. Even he, who was financially secure, would never have been able to afford such a trinket, but it was a gift from Maura of Dunlath for his part in helping her deal with her treasonous family. Opals could be spelled to store extra supplies of a person's gift, and Numair had filled this chestnut sized stone with as much as he could manage. He slipped the pendant over his head and felt it buzzing with power as it settled against his chest.
Next, he made his way over to the wardrobe and pulled out one of the midnight black robes that were an indicate of his rank. The robe would prove stifling and bothersome on such a hot day, but he knew he would appreciate it later on. Not only was the robe good for the intimidation of an enemy mage, but it also was covered in strong protection spells.
He turned to leave, but something red caught his eye first. Sitting innocently on his desk was a large, blood-red ruby. Slowly, almost cautiously, he picked it up. Almost fourteen years ago he had taken the ruby from Inar Haddensra in their last meeting. Or at least, he had thought it would be their last meeting. He turned the stone slightly in his hand, allowing it to catch the sunlight and reflect it onto the walls. Hesitantly, he slipped it into his breeches pocket. He wasn't sure if it would come in handy, but he doubted that it could hurt him.
Finally, he made one last stop in the bedroom he and Daine shared. He spotted the item he was looking for on his wife's night table. The small square of cloth was covered in dirt, sweat, and white powder that looked suspiciously like bird droppings. It was the handkerchief that Daine had used the day before she left. He slipped it into the pocket of his shirt. If she were here, Numair knew that Daine would laugh at his antics and call it a lover's token. And that was just what it was. She also probably would have insisted that I take a clean one, he thought with a grin, but he liked this one just the way it was.
Numair ran through his mental list one last time and found that he had done everything he needed to do. Quietly, he slipped out of his room, taking a breath to steel himself. As he turned back to lock the rooms, the nameplate on the door stopped him. The oldest letters read his own name, Numair Salmalin. Underneath it in slightly younger lettering was the name Veralidaine Sarrasri. Finally, newly added on the very bottom, was their daughter's name, Sarralyn Salmalin. Numair laughed silently to himself. His mental list had been inadequate. He had still forgotten to do one thing, get a good-luck kiss from his daughter.
Numair found her with Tkaa and Kit down in the stables. Numair and Daine had learned from many sleepless nights filled with their daughter's wails that the only thing that calmed her was being around animals. Numair had come to know all the stable hands well from the nights he spent trying to get Sara to sleep.
Tkaa seemed to be showing Kit some sort of new whistle that made a bucket of water freeze. Kitten was deep in concentration, so Tkaa noticed him first.
"Numair! Alanna told me you were awake, how are you feeling?" the basilisk said in way of greeting.
"As fine as can be expected," Numair answered seriously, shaking the immortal's scaled hand.
"Yes," Tkaa replied, "I have also heard that Haddensra is back. Do you plan to deal with him?"
"Yes," said Numair, then in a more cheerful voice he continued, "I was hoping to see how Sara is doing. Where is she?"
Tkaa pointed his long tail at the stall next to the one in which they sat. Numair looked into the stall to find that it belonged to Cloud, Daine's mountain pony. Sitting under her, clutching onto her foreleg with a giggle was Sara. Most parents would have been worried to see their baby daughter under the belly of a full-grown pony, but Sara wasn't just any little girl. Instead of worrying, Numair just smiled.
"Hello Cloud," Numair said with a smirk to the long time friend of his wife.
Cloud snorted in replied. Delicately, she bent her head down and gripped the back of Sara's shirt in her teeth. She pulled the delighted baby off her leg and lifted her into her father's waiting arms.
"Thanks," he said to the pony, to his daughter he said, "Why hello there stranger," He carried her back into the stall were Kitten and Tkaa were sitting, Cloud following right behind him. Kitten looked up for the first time and whistled cheerfully.
He sat down on a pile of hay, content for the moment to just hold her. Sara, on the other hand, seemed more interested in a butterfly, which had made its way into the stall and was perched delicately on the feed trough.
"What's this?" he asked her in mock seriousness, "No time for your old man?" Sara's gray eyes met his own with a mischievous smile. He flashed her a grin of his own.
"Gods all help your mother and I when you grow up," he said. He leaned down and kissed her lovingly on the forehead before laying her down in between the butterfly and Kit.
Numair stood up and dusted of his breeches.
"Will you inform Thom of Pirate's Swoop that I have awoken and that he has passed his ordeal of Sorcery?" Numair asked Tkaa, "The boy will need some rest, no doubt."
The immortal nodded.
"Well, wish me luck," Numair said lightly to Tkaa.
"Good luck, my friend," Tkaa said
Numair turned to leave. As he left the stall, a small voice rang cheerfully in his mind.
- Luck -
The black robe turned around so fast that he startled Cloud.
He looked at Tkaa questioningly. In response the immortal shook his head.
"It seems," the basilisk said happily, "That Skysong has learned another trick." He picked up the dragonette, "You surprise me again and again. You truly are much more advanced that other dragons of your age. Most don't learn mind speech until they are at least two centuries old."
- Luck! - Kit said again to please them.
"Daine would be very happy," Numair told her and an unmistakably smug look appeared on the dragon's face. "See you in a little bit," he said to all of them and made his way out of the stall.
So? I know, a little short...Review and let me know what you think. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or places in this story, they belong to Tamora Pierce.
Numair strode quickly down the halls of the palace. Everywhere, left and right, were commoners who had come to take refuge in the palace. Cots lined the sides of every corridor he passed through. Children ran underfoot, climbing over beds and trunks and crawling through adults legs, making the cramped living space into a game while their red faced mothers gave chase.
There was hardly room to walk with all the belongings strewn about. The black robe wondered briefly how people could be expected to tell what belonged to whom as he carefully picked his way through the mess.
As he entered the corridor that led to the room where his family lived while they stayed at the palace, he found that his wing was much clearer. In fact, this hallway didn't have a single cot.
"I suppose that the stuffier nobles made sure that the 'filthy common folk' didn't come anyway where near their rooms," he muttered to himself. Daine and Numair shared a corridor with some of the wealthiest, most important, conservative nobles in the realm. Numair supposed that Jon had done this on purpose. Both the black robe and the wild mage were common born and Numair suspect that their placement in this wing was Jon's silent way of telling the conservatives that he was in charge and he could make any changes he liked.
The only other people in the corridor were a small group young men, supporting among them a rather full looking sack.
"G'day Milord," one said, tipping his cap and flashing a grin that was short a few teeth.
"Hello," Numair said politely as he passed by, other thoughts shuffling through his mind.
It was not until he reached his rooms that he realized the oddness of it all. Three poor looking men in the wealthiest wing of the palace lugging a very full looking sack. He could have sworn he saw something looking suspiciously like a silver candlestick poking out of the top. Numair shook his head as he unlocked the door leading to his rooms. To his relief, the rooms were untouched. Not for the first time, he was glad he had decided to spell his doors with the strongest antitheft spell he knew. Numair and Daine didn't have much in the way of valuables, but he shuddered to think of the trouble that might arise if the thieves got their hands on some of what was in his workshop.
"Rogues," he thought, "I'll have to tell Jon if I see him again. If he doesn't send someone out here to keep watch, thieves will pick this place clean." It was funny how the possibility of his never getting the chance to tell the king just slipped into the thought. Until that moment, he had never even pondered the possibility. Normally, before facing off with a tough opponent, he tried to keep his mind clear of any such thoughts, keep himself distracted, so that when the time came for a battle, he could focus. This time, however, his distraction of choice was across the ocean in the Copper Isles.
Promptly he made his way to his workshop. Mentally, he ran through a list of anything he might need. Chief among these was an extra supply of his gift. His gift felt fully replenished after his long rest, but Numair wasn't going to take any risks. Haddensra's powers and abilities were now a dangerous unknown and he wanted to be ready for anything. Draining himself before Haddensra was dealt with spelt death for him.
Opening one of his many draws, he pulled out a black opal pendant. It was easily the most valuable thing he owned, financially and magically. Even he, who was financially secure, would never have been able to afford such a trinket, but it was a gift from Maura of Dunlath for his part in helping her deal with her treasonous family. Opals could be spelled to store extra supplies of a person's gift, and Numair had filled this chestnut sized stone with as much as he could manage. He slipped the pendant over his head and felt it buzzing with power as it settled against his chest.
Next, he made his way over to the wardrobe and pulled out one of the midnight black robes that were an indicate of his rank. The robe would prove stifling and bothersome on such a hot day, but he knew he would appreciate it later on. Not only was the robe good for the intimidation of an enemy mage, but it also was covered in strong protection spells.
He turned to leave, but something red caught his eye first. Sitting innocently on his desk was a large, blood-red ruby. Slowly, almost cautiously, he picked it up. Almost fourteen years ago he had taken the ruby from Inar Haddensra in their last meeting. Or at least, he had thought it would be their last meeting. He turned the stone slightly in his hand, allowing it to catch the sunlight and reflect it onto the walls. Hesitantly, he slipped it into his breeches pocket. He wasn't sure if it would come in handy, but he doubted that it could hurt him.
Finally, he made one last stop in the bedroom he and Daine shared. He spotted the item he was looking for on his wife's night table. The small square of cloth was covered in dirt, sweat, and white powder that looked suspiciously like bird droppings. It was the handkerchief that Daine had used the day before she left. He slipped it into the pocket of his shirt. If she were here, Numair knew that Daine would laugh at his antics and call it a lover's token. And that was just what it was. She also probably would have insisted that I take a clean one, he thought with a grin, but he liked this one just the way it was.
Numair ran through his mental list one last time and found that he had done everything he needed to do. Quietly, he slipped out of his room, taking a breath to steel himself. As he turned back to lock the rooms, the nameplate on the door stopped him. The oldest letters read his own name, Numair Salmalin. Underneath it in slightly younger lettering was the name Veralidaine Sarrasri. Finally, newly added on the very bottom, was their daughter's name, Sarralyn Salmalin. Numair laughed silently to himself. His mental list had been inadequate. He had still forgotten to do one thing, get a good-luck kiss from his daughter.
Numair found her with Tkaa and Kit down in the stables. Numair and Daine had learned from many sleepless nights filled with their daughter's wails that the only thing that calmed her was being around animals. Numair had come to know all the stable hands well from the nights he spent trying to get Sara to sleep.
Tkaa seemed to be showing Kit some sort of new whistle that made a bucket of water freeze. Kitten was deep in concentration, so Tkaa noticed him first.
"Numair! Alanna told me you were awake, how are you feeling?" the basilisk said in way of greeting.
"As fine as can be expected," Numair answered seriously, shaking the immortal's scaled hand.
"Yes," Tkaa replied, "I have also heard that Haddensra is back. Do you plan to deal with him?"
"Yes," said Numair, then in a more cheerful voice he continued, "I was hoping to see how Sara is doing. Where is she?"
Tkaa pointed his long tail at the stall next to the one in which they sat. Numair looked into the stall to find that it belonged to Cloud, Daine's mountain pony. Sitting under her, clutching onto her foreleg with a giggle was Sara. Most parents would have been worried to see their baby daughter under the belly of a full-grown pony, but Sara wasn't just any little girl. Instead of worrying, Numair just smiled.
"Hello Cloud," Numair said with a smirk to the long time friend of his wife.
Cloud snorted in replied. Delicately, she bent her head down and gripped the back of Sara's shirt in her teeth. She pulled the delighted baby off her leg and lifted her into her father's waiting arms.
"Thanks," he said to the pony, to his daughter he said, "Why hello there stranger," He carried her back into the stall were Kitten and Tkaa were sitting, Cloud following right behind him. Kitten looked up for the first time and whistled cheerfully.
He sat down on a pile of hay, content for the moment to just hold her. Sara, on the other hand, seemed more interested in a butterfly, which had made its way into the stall and was perched delicately on the feed trough.
"What's this?" he asked her in mock seriousness, "No time for your old man?" Sara's gray eyes met his own with a mischievous smile. He flashed her a grin of his own.
"Gods all help your mother and I when you grow up," he said. He leaned down and kissed her lovingly on the forehead before laying her down in between the butterfly and Kit.
Numair stood up and dusted of his breeches.
"Will you inform Thom of Pirate's Swoop that I have awoken and that he has passed his ordeal of Sorcery?" Numair asked Tkaa, "The boy will need some rest, no doubt."
The immortal nodded.
"Well, wish me luck," Numair said lightly to Tkaa.
"Good luck, my friend," Tkaa said
Numair turned to leave. As he left the stall, a small voice rang cheerfully in his mind.
- Luck -
The black robe turned around so fast that he startled Cloud.
He looked at Tkaa questioningly. In response the immortal shook his head.
"It seems," the basilisk said happily, "That Skysong has learned another trick." He picked up the dragonette, "You surprise me again and again. You truly are much more advanced that other dragons of your age. Most don't learn mind speech until they are at least two centuries old."
- Luck! - Kit said again to please them.
"Daine would be very happy," Numair told her and an unmistakably smug look appeared on the dragon's face. "See you in a little bit," he said to all of them and made his way out of the stall.
So? I know, a little short...Review and let me know what you think. Thanks!