Ok, sorry this took so long, and I hope you haven't got bored waiting, but I had a few problems with everything and got sidetracks. Sorry!!!
…
Down in the lower reaches of Corus, the city was fast asleep and dreaming. The cobbled streets which rung with talk and laughter during the day were filled with empty silence. It was not a time of day to be out.
In the shadow of the old Dancing Dove inn, a young man stood, playing with his dagger and whistling cheerfully into the gloom. It was a strange, lonely sound in the rich darkness, that seemed to belong to another place, like an arrow the young man sent casting off into the darkness, and listening like a blind man for its strike.
He was often seen at this place, this young man. Many of the girls living in the surrounding houses had fallen for the sly smile and the deep green eyes, and been startled when they woke not by a warm man, but a purse of coins and a note of apology. He was lithe, and smooth, and graceful, but not as a lovable horse is. He was like a cheetah: smooth, and dangerous.
The young man stopped his whistling to spit into the alleyway next to the Dove. He closed his eyes and arched his back briefly to straighten his stiff neck.
'Come on, my love,' he whispered. 'It's not right to keep a dead man waiting.'
The whispered words fell like dead leaves to the floor.
…
Alanna was not in the best of tempers as she rode out the palace stables that morning. It was early, and she had missed her usual leisurely breakfast, and the strenuous workout that often followed it. Moonlight was fractious, pulling at the bit and refusing Alanna's control. And a cold spring breeze had come whistling through in the night, making the red tulips wilt and shiver.
Buri winked at her as she passed through the outer gate.
'Up early, lady lioness?'
Alanna could not help smiling at the tough guard, muffled and wrapped up as she was against the cold.
'Yes, sadly, Buri. No sleep for the wicked. Though if that's the case, why does George get to sleep in for the Mother knows how long?'
Buri bared her white teeth as she raised the gate.
'Enjoy your morning, Lady Lioness.'
Alanna trotted through, and out into sleeping Corus.
…
He heard the beats of the hooves from where he waited by the inn, even though she was a good hundred feet away. The morning carried noise better than any wind or messenger, and he straightened up quickly to go and meet her. One hand rested briefly on the dagger at his belt, and a thin smile crossed his face.
He moved silently, like a panther, creeping over the stones. His booted feet knew every tile and step of Corus. His tread was like an assassin: menacing and silent. Even in the darkness, he knew his way across the floor, and he knew where he and the rider would meet.
Alanna spurred Moonlight onward as they entered the lower quarters. Since the battle against Claw three years ago, she and George had been unwelcome in the lower quarters, though when they returned to their old haunts in their old dress, no one fought against their right to look around. But Alanna knew what would happen if she tried to use her friendships, or to pull rank.
She could feel that something was wrong. It was like the feeling in the woods, of someone watching you, and it raised hairs on the back of her neck. She kicked Moonlight briefly in the sides and speeded her up. Her eyes raked the empty streets. She knew they were there somewhere…
And almost as if they could feel her eyes, a figure stepped out from the dark alley, right into Moonlight's path.
The horse reared in shock, and her hooves rang against the stones. Alanna tried to pull her down, shushing and calming, but the horse would not be quieted. It was not until the figure raised a hand that the filly finally came to the ground.
Shaking with rage and fright, Alanna dismounted to confront the figure.
'What do you mean by this? Stepping out like that and scaring my horse! We could both have killed!'
The figure said nothing. In the darkness, she could not make out the face. Then he spoke, in a quiet voice.
'Are you the lioness?'
Alanna felt a buzz of annoyance. She was not in the mood to exchange pleasantries with a drunk peasant.
'Yes, and I'm on official lioness business. So would you like to get off the road?'
In the darkness, she could just see the glint of teeth, as though he were smiling. Then, with a sudden movement, the figure flicked his cloak back and she found that she could see him.
It was an old mage trick, light conjuring, and one that took little skill or effort. But somehow, seeing him by the light he held in his cupped hands, he seemed to grow and tower above her. In the red light emanating from between his fingers, she could see all of him: his long, catlike stance, his sharp cut face, his dark hair. But the part of him that caught her, that seemed familiar, was his deep, green eyes…
'Your eyes…' she whispered.
The man laughed, and there was a note of madness in his laughter.
'Something wrong, my love?'
A flood of fear filled her. She leapt back into Moonlight's saddle and kicked her into a gallop, sending her careering down the road like a juggernaut. Her auburn hair escaped from where she had bound it and flew round her head like a flock of crazed birds. And she could hear him laughing behind her, laughing all the time…
It was a good few miles before Alanna recovered her senses enough to pull Moonlight up to a walk, to climb off and stroke and sooth her. Looking back over the shoulder at the empty road, she gave a shudder of disgust. And in that disgust was fear.
After a few moments of panic, she took Moonlight's reigns in her hands and tried to get her bearings. When Jonathon had given her instructions last night – before he went of to BED, she thought bitterly – he had given her a detailed plan of the way to go – landmarks, etc. But in the semi-darkness, she knew she had lost her way.
Reaching inside, she sent a wave of purple mage fire over the darkness, and in the brief flash of light she saw a stunted tree leaning up into the horizon. In her memory, she remembered Jon saying something about a whole orchard of stunted apple trees that were used for cider brewing.
'Well,' she murmured. 'It's not like we can get any more lost.'
Encouraging the exhausted Moonlight and cursing Jonathon, she set off towards the orchard.
It took near on an hour to reach the orchard, and when she did she was sadly disappointed. The way Jonathon had described the route it had seemed short and somewhat pointless: but from here the cairn where she would meet the Shang Warrior was across the valley and through a whole woodland of twisted, stunted, creepy trees.
'Oh Lady,' Alanna mumbled. Moonlight whickered, and she hugged her briefly. 'Come on, girl, let's give it a go.'
As they travelled through the silent woodlands, Alanna found herself running over a list of things that she hated. Cold was one: dark was most definitely another. And trees, she decided, looking around at the stunted, creepy shapes around her. She really hated trees.
The darkness seemed to press in as they sunk into the woodlands, squeezing the air out of Alanna's body. She could feel Moonlight shivering, and carefully smoothed her main. In front of them, thicker forest loomed, before the steep rise up to the far side of the valley, where the moon hung silver bright against a black sky. A shiver of fear and longing ran down her spine. She wished she could be in the full glare of that moonlight!
A sudden movement in the bushes made her whip round, sending her cloak flashing behind her as her sword flew from its sheath. Her eyes raked the thick bands of black trunks that surrounded her: they flicked over the dark gaps between the trees and the thin threads of silver that reflected the moonlight. She could hear her own and Moonlight's harsh breathing, and her heart pounding in her ears…
Suddenly she was flying forward and her face was in the dust. With a cry of pain and shock, she rolled over and tried to grapple with her opponent. They were smaller than her: even in the darkness she could feel that, and she began to use tricks that George had taught her when she was trying to beat Ralon. The other figure yelled, and she buried her knees on his stomach and prepared to hit down…
'What in the name of Shang is going on?!'
Alanna felt a sharp pain in her back, and looked up to find a young woman staring at her in disbelief, digging a sword into her spine. The girl was tall and slim, and she looked as though she could use the blade she was holding.
'Get up,' the girl hissed. 'And move away.'
Alanna stood, dropping her sword and straightening up. The girl was holding a torch, and in its light she could see that the figure she had been fighting was little more than a dwarf. The little man was standing now, shaking out his tunic. The woman handed him the torch.
'What do you mean by attacking my servant?'
Alanna's anger boiled over.
'I didn't attack him!' she yelled. 'He attacked me!' The girl glanced at the dwarf, who lowered his eyes, and shook her head. She slowly lowered the sword.
'I'm sorry to frighten you, my lady.'
But Alanna was to far gone to be so easily placated. She raised herself to her full small height and narrowed her eyebrows.
'I don't know what the hell you're doing out here. Prince Jonathon's put a ban on this whole area for three days. There's a great warrior coming through, and if your…your…servant had attacked him, then he'd have been made mincemeat of!'
The dwarf and girl exchanged another glance. Then the girl leant forward. Her eyes were glinting.
'Tell me more about this warrior.'
Alanna looked the girl straight in the eyes and sneered.
'He's the only warrior to be able to fight a dragon and win. He's a master of Shang art, more powerful than even Duke Roger himself. He's…what are you laughing at?'
The girl was laughing. She was laughing so hard that there were tears streaming down her face. Reaching out her hand, she gripped Alanna around the chin with strong, supple fingers.
'Forget your delusions about the Shang Falcon, pretty lady.' She brought her face up so it was touching Alanna's.
'Because you are looking right at her.'