Update A/N: sigh Just editing, not rewriting (I think you've got it by now).
A/N: Sorry! I said I'd have this up yesterday, but my computer crashed this weekend, so I couldn't post it. Please for give me.
I rushed the ending of this chapter a bit—I was going to have more interaction between the two characters, but I decided to leave it for the next chapter—which, by the way, I will have up in 36 to 48 hours.
Thanks for the reviews on 'Revelations'—I'm so glad it went over well. I have another idea for a one-shot—or maybe a short, two to three chapter fic—but I won't start it until next week, unless I get stuck on 'Ghosts'.
As I said, I'm going to post again within two days, and get chapter nine up by the end of the weekend—barring computer error or chipmunks taking over the world. Let's hope for the best, either way.
Disclaimer: I think you've got it—I don't own, I just borrow—and fantasize about owning. (Mmmm, Numair. Yum.)
Lingering Ghosts
Himura Seraphina
Chapter 7) Dusk
Once beyond Snowsdale, Daine shifted into the form of red-tailed hawk. Falcons were built for speed, covering large distances and diving from great heights to capture prey. For scouting though, which required covering an area thoroughly rather than quickly, she preferred a hawk's form, built perfectly for circling and gliding.
Scouting was never routine, but it was familiar; over the years, this was what she most often contributed to whatever fighting force she worked with. Systematically, she quartered the area around Snowsdale, seeking anything out of the ordinary, or anything that the Riders on the ground might not find.
She crossed the paths of all of the 7th Group at various times, all of whom looked up at the familiar sight of a hawk circling them, waving when she dipped slightly to let them know it was her. The Riders, she knew, were not only scouting, but familiarizing themselves with the territory they would likely be called to fight in; possible escape routes, hiding places, and convenient places for ambush were carefully noted and recorded.
Parts of the land she covered were familiar, as she had ranged far in her hunting and riding even as a girl. There was a slight hitch in her movements as she flew over the clearing where she had once watched sheep for her granda, and when she recognized the track she had taken when, mad with grief and her magic, she had followed the bandits who had killed her ma in the company of the pack. Inside her hawk-shape, Daine shivered lightly, setting aside the hazed memories, focusing on her task. When she returned to the village, she would be able to give greater details on some of the caves and ravines the Riders discovered, for the perspective of someone who saw them in all weathers and conditions. Some of the hunters and trappers in the village would be asked the same thing, a routine for the Riders in new territory, but they would only be questioned so much; while the party was here to educate as well as protect, they would keep their battle plans secret as more then one villager had proven to be a member of the bandits attacking their villages.
Two-leggers and their greed never ceased to amaze her.
It was the work of long hours to cover the entire area; even after she had completed her scouting, she remained in the air, circling the entire search area. As long as the scouting parties remained out, so would she. If any of the pairs encountered trouble, she could raise the alarm as effectively as any speaking spells or flares. It was late afternoon, with the sun already deepening to orange beyond the mountains, when they all returned to Snowsdale and the camp.
Daine shifted into the shape of a small finch, settling on Evin's shoulder while he took the reports of all of his Group, along with the maps they had made of each region. There were points of interest, and a pair who had scouted the northwestern sector of the search area had found a narrow track that was had seen far too much heavy use to be a game trail. There had been no overt signs of bandits, but there had been signs of their passing.
"Well, then, Horse Mistress, shall we?" He finally asked, bowing grandly as he gestured towards the town square. She cheeped with good humor as she was forced to cling to his tunic. Evin might be a Player and a flirt, but he was kind and compassionate—even if it was hidden under teasing words and playful gestures. She knew he was trying to distract her from any worries she had, and was grateful to only for his attempts, but his presence. The long hours of scouting had given her plenty of time to reflect, and she was still mulling over the thoughts tumbling in her head. Evin and his familiar, light-hearted presence was welcome.
With Daine still on her friend's shoulder, they entered the inn, only to find the common room full of villagers. The noise in the room paused for a heartbeat as everyone turned to see Evin, before returning, at a much softer volume; it wasn't hard to realize what—or who—they were talking about.
She wasn't about to cower behind Evin, or remain in a form small enough to be ignored. If Snowsdale wanted to talk about her, she'd at least make the talk interesting.
"Daine?" Evin questioned when she leapt off his shoulder, gliding down to the floor, taking her wolf-shape once more. Silence fell, and she ignored the slack-jawed stares and signs against the evil made against numerous chests, shaking herself furiously, before trotting across the room.
The party was at the same table as this morning, with the absence of Lena and Sir Relwyn, who were at the camp. Numair had obviously been in discussion with Cedwin and Marcus, and Buri, Raoul, and Conrik were gesturing towards the papers spread out before them, intent on whatever they were seeing. Buri looked up at the silence to see Evin and a timber wolf, and made a come-ahead gesture, obviously unconcerned with the predator. Cedwin and Marcus watched her intently, both nearly quivering with curiosity.
When Daine reached the group, several steps ahead of Evin, she gathered herself and leapt—resulting in a number of gasps and shouts throughout the room—shifting as she did so, until she landed gracefully on the table as a sleek tabby cat.
"Really, Daine," Numair sighed, "where has this taste for the dramatic come from?"
She flicked her tail at him, sitting herself down on the table, and blinked slowly. After a moment, he sighed again, this time in amusement, and ran a long finger down the back of her head and neck. Eyes slitted with pleasure, she purred, butting her head against his hand until he gave in and continued to stroke her.
"Incredible," Cedwin breathed, leaning down close to her. "Truly remarkable."
Daine liked Cedwin, truly, but she recognized the scholarly gleam in his eyes and knew, without care, she could end up under his examination and questioning all night. Briefly, she laid back her ears and, when he back off several inches in surprise, meowed once, authoritatively.
Cedwin blinked, then laughed warmly, abashed. "I am sorry, Mistress Daine, forgive me—I tend to get—involved—and forget my manners."
She relaxed, blinking at him once to show her forgiveness, before ignoring him and returning to enjoying Numair's gentle hand in her fur. She heard Numair laugh and Marcus inquire intently, "She takes on aspects of the animal form she takes?"
"My lord, she becomes the animal—with her human mind, but also with all of the instincts and abilities of whatever creature she takes the form of."
"Incredible," he echoed Cedwin's sentiment.
Buri sighed. "Gentlemen, Daine, if we could—we do have a task at hand. Daine, I need your report."
Reluctantly, Daine allowed Numair to stop petting her and stood up. Before she could move any further, she was scooped up into Numair's strong arms.
"I'll take her to her room—it's locked," he explained, moving away from the table and to the stairs. "A moment."
When they were out of sight, Daine rubbed firmly against him, stretching up to rub her face against his chin—as cats marked mates with scent.
"Stop that, sweet," he chuckled, reaching her door. He retrieved a key from his pocket, turning it in the lock, and the click of the lock was echoed by a flare of black and silver fire around the handle. "I spelled it, as well."
Inside, he closed the door firmly as she put herself back in her own body—and then drew her close to him.
"Buri'll kill us if we don't go back," she murmured, cuddling close.
"In a moment," he said, pressing his face to her hair with a sigh. "Are you alright?"
"Ummm, nothing terribly interesting happened."
"That wasn't what I meant, but it'll do for now." He leaned back, searching her eyes for any signs of distress. He must have found nothing, because he relaxed and kissed her softly. "We'll talk later."
"Ummm," she murmured again, rubbing her cheek against his shirt lazily.
He smiled. "You're not a cat anymore, magelet."
She scowled at him briefly, for form. "Speaking of cats, where's Kitten?"
"She went with Lena—much to the commander's confusion. I couldn't keep her in here all day, and she was far to interested in exploring the inn, so I let her go."
"Thank the Goddess—maybe she'll wear herself out." At Numair's wry expression she sighed. "Never mind—vain hope."
Numair kissed her again, lingering only a moment, before stepping back, causing her to shiver slightly. "Get dress, magelet, before Buri comes looking for us."
She shooed him out. "You go, or it'll cause talk."
He turned back at the door to smile at her, a warm expression of affection and love that always made her heart stagger for just an instant. "Hurry, sweet; the sooner we deal with business, the sooner we'll be finished with it."
She raised her eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh. "I thought you wanted to talk."
"I said later—I wasn't specific."
Laughing, she shoved him out the door.
A few minutes later she trotted down the steps and into the common room, heading directly for her friends. Buri and Raoul had already laid out the maps that Evin's Company had made that day, each sector overlapping the ones on either side, forming a completed and detailed map of a circle ten miles in diameter with Snowsdale at its center.
"The Riders are specifically trained in map-making," Buri was explaining to Marcus and Conrik. "The maps of Tortall have become increasingly accurate and detailed in the last few years, as King Jonathan replaces the older, outdated ones with maps drawn by the Riders. It's actually a secondary function of the Riders."
"And you trust the Riders to complete these maps?" Conrik asked seriously.
Buri eyed him sternly. "As I said, Riders are trained by the Crown in mapping—the Riders are not like militias, Sir Conrik, affiliated only by purpose and name. All Riders undergo the same, uniform training not only in Corus, but at the Palace. The training is intensive and demanding, and anyone who doesn't have the inclination or ability to do everything required of the Riders either washes out or is sent home. No Rider would submit lax or inaccurate reports or maps, even if they could get away with it."
"You must understand, Sir Conrik," Raoul interrupted, obviously giving Buri a chance to calm her temper—only slightly less infamous than the Lioness's, at least at the Palace. "That the Riders work, in all things, as a Group—each Rider is responsible for recording the territory their group is assigned to, and those records are submitted to their Commander, who then incorporates them all into maps—which are then updated, altered, and revised by the entire Group. If, as in some cases, the Commander is not the most proficient mapper in the group, then he assigns the task to the individual who is—Lena, I believe, gives that responsibility to Gretna, who comes from a line of painters and artists, and is exceptionally skilled."
"How much more accurate are these new maps, would you say, my lord?" Marcus asked intently.
"The previous maps, some of which were last commissioned during King Roald's reign, were accurate to within five miles in heavily populated areas, and in the wilder regions, to within eight miles—on average. The new ones are accurate, respectfully, to within a one-half and two miles—and are far more detailed, not only in respect to the human geography, but to the landscape of Tortall."
Daine smiled in pride for her adopted home, and the Riders, at hearing Raoul's facts, and at the surprised and eager look on Marcus's face. The clever baron was obviously impressed and deeply interested in this information, not only to Daine's pleasure, but to Buri and Evin's as well, who had great reason to have pride in the Rider's skills and contribution to their realm.
"Daine," Buri spotted her and motioned her over. "Come have a look, and give your report. Do you have anything to add to what Evin and the 7th saw?"
Able to set aside her simmering thoughts, stirred by long hours spent in—or rather, above—her former home, Daine settled in to do what she knew best—work.
There were long hours of discussion and reports, planning and speculation. Sir Conrik left for the camp at one point, and his college returned to join them. Lena showed up not long after Daine had, reporting the preparations that had been made in and around Snowsdale, and what was yet to be done. Numair had scryed, but only within an eight mile radius, and found nothing; tomorrow he would look further—when he wasn't trapped by Cedwin and Marcus, both eager to pick his mind for information. Vanel was nowhere to be seen, having elected to return to his father's keep that morning, to inform him of their arrival and, she presumed, to avail himself of the creature comforts and more 'civilized' company there.
Plans were laid; detailed ones for tomorrow and the next days, and more general ones for the days, and weeks, that followed. There was not only Snowsdale to consider, but the nearby villages of Greenwald and Rockvale, as well as the more remote farms and herds scattered throughout the area, all of whom were under threat of the bandits.
Food continued to be served and devoured, fueling men and women who had spent the day using magic and muscle, embroiled in politics and planning, though drink—at least the stronger ales and meads—flowed with more restraint. There could be no muddled thoughts or weak stomachs, tonight or in the morning. While not under attack, they were in a battle situation and, therefore, the Tortallians were to follow their training and remain, at all times, prepared and alert.
Each time food and drink appeared, the servers stayed far away from Daine, skirting away form her gaze and keeping a substantial distance between themselves and her form. Even immersed in work and discussion, she felt the heat of stares on her neck—some frightful, some upset, some enraged and resentful—and heard murmurs and whispers directed to her. Several times, Buri, Raoul, Evin, or Lena would hear something particular that caused them to react—a stiffening of muscles, a quiet twitch, a snort of disgust—and they would give her a serious look, a supportive smile, or an amused smile, all in equal support. Numair, discreetly, laid his hand on her knee under the table—and left it there. The warmth of his hand, the light pressure, and occasional gentle squeezes, centered and balanced her as much as her friends silent support and frustration on her behalf warmed her—and all of it, the villagers and their reactions, holding up her own head, and maintaining a calm mask in order to reassure her friends—was exhausting her. Tension thrummed in her neck and shoulders, a light headache built steadily in her temples, and her lip was sore from chewing it—or, rather, biting it. She had never been one to hold her tongue, and the tact required in order to act on Tortall's behalf, and to negotiate between two-leggers and immortals, had been hard-won.
"Daine?"
Daine's head came up in surprise at the voice from behind her. It was low and female, and not belonging to any of her friends, but that one of the villagers would address her seemed impossible.
Turning slightly, braced for anything, Daine looked up at a face very much from her past. The years had added a few lines, but she was mostly unchanged. There was a tentative look in the woman's eyes, matching the hesitation in her tone. She wrung her hands, strong and callused from years as a shepherd's wife, in front of her waist.
"It is you," she murmured. "Daine."
"Lori?"
A weak smile touched the older woman's face as she nodded. A contemporary of her ma's, Lori had been one of the only woman in the region who had sought Sarra out for anything other than medicines, one who had not seemed to think Sarra was after her husband or willing to corrupt her children.
"I'm not surprised y'don't recognize me right off," Lori went on. "It's been years."
"Yes—but you look the same," Daine answered automatically, her head swirling with memories—of Rand showing her how to pull a lamb when she was six, of helping Lori with her babies—the only children she'd been allowed around—of Lori slipping her an extra slice of bread before she rode home, only an hour before she found her family dead and her life shattered.
"I'd hardly know it was you—a woman grown, you are."
Lori smiled at her, less tentatively, with a hint of tears in the torchlight as she looked Daine up and down, much as she had each time Daine had visited her, exclaiming over the changes in her in the few months between visits. Suddenly, she blinked, and seemed to freeze, like a deer caught at dawn. Daine felt her heart ache, sure of rejection from this one friendly face, before she realized Lori was looking over her shoulder. Glancing back, Daine let out a sigh or relief, exasperation, and amusement.
Buri, Raoul, Evin, and Lena watched Lori closely, like cats at a mouse hole—waiting for a twitch, a blink out of place. Numair, however, looked far more like a wolf than a cat.
"It's alright, everyone—this is Lori Hyrdsman, a friend of my ma's. Goddess bless," she laughed, "you don't have to stand guard on me—I'm not a spring lamb."
Raoul seemed to back down, returning to his discussion with Marcus, who politely pretended nothing had happened. Buri also returned to her work, the diagrams she and Lena had been examining, though she watched Lori from the corner of her eye. Evin gave a charming grin, not at all apologetic, and Lena turned away, satisfied. Numair continued to watch Lori, though without the hunter's gleam in his eye.
Daine sighed. Lori relaxed slightly, a confused look on her face—and a wary eye on Numair. "Daine?"
"My friends are a little protective. This is Numair Salmalin, by the way, my teacher—he taught me to use my magic."
"How d'you do, Master Salmalin?" Lori curtsied slightly.
"Very well, Mistress Hyrdsman."
"Numair, be polite—Lori's a friend." She elbowed him sharply, which he ignored, and turned back to Lori, who watched the exchange with interest. "How's Rand?"
"He's well enough—we both worried about you," she said hurriedly. "We didn't know 'bout Sarra for days, and when we came to fetch you, they told us you'd run mad, but we didn't believe it. And then Hakkon tried to trick you so the hunters could put you down, and Rand was furious, but you got away, and then you disappeared. We didn't know—"
Her words had become rambling as tears began, and Daine felt her own rise. Only a few people in her life had cried for her, and she had thought they were all in Tortall. She grabbed Lori's hand.
"It's alright, Lori—I made it into Cría safe, and met up with Onua Chamtong of the Riders. That's how I got to the Palace—Onua needed help getting two strings of ponies back to the capital. I'm fine," she finished.
Lori nodded once, blinking away her tears. "Good, then, I'm glad."
Daine became aware how quiet the room had become as the villagers noticed that, not only had someone approached her, but was speaking to her with no sign of fear or censure. The need to protect rose swiftly.
"We should catch up," she said firmly. "Buri, do you need anything else from me?"
"Not tonight, I don't think."
"Come up with me, Lori, you can tell me about Rand and the littles—Cory must be nearly fifteen."
"Daine?" Numair asked quietly. She turned to him and smiled, reassuring him. He examined her face for a long moment, before nodding. Then he gazed at Lori and, after a pause, gave her a slight smile and a nod. Lori blinked at him as Daine stood.
"G'night all," she addressed the table, drawing Lori away and up the stairs, away from prying eyes, even as her farewell was echoed by her friends. At the stairs, she grinned at the slightly confused woman. "Don't you want to know how I came to be in such company?"
Lori smiled a bit, her eyes dazed as she was forced to reassess, and she Daine not as a child but as a woman and an equal. After a moment, her smile became fuller. "You've adventures to tell of, then?"
"I'm no bard, but I've some stories."
"Well, then, let's get on with it—Cory'll be fair upset if I don't bring him some tales of his cousin Daine."