A/n: Thank-you to all my reviewers, yet again! Now, I KNOW it was very random of me, but at least it made you guys pay attention. Ellabelle, don't worry; Niko won't be a main character… But one of them will be! Cythera/Raoul is ok? Good, good. And to whoever asked, no, Jon isn't going to be unattached.

Alanna was sitting up now, settled in a threadbare armchair with her head on her shoulder. She was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally; she had literally no energy, no Gift, and her face was covered with the staining trails of bitter tears shed over her brother. She was seated by the bedside of one of the 'new arrivals', a girl about her own age with huge, blue eyes, rich chestnut hair and a nose so tiny it should have been illegal. Alanna raised a weary hand to rub her own nose wistfully. The girl was wearing a simple tan gown, but Alanna was not deceived; the material was rich. She, and the other seven of her companions, they were mysteries. All they could tell was that they had magic, strong magic-or so Numair said, anyway.  Her mind drifted back to the conversation she had had with the tall man that morning, when she had done her crying. She had wanted to get her mind off things, but Duke Baird, trying to coddle her, had insisted she could not get up. Alanna grinned ruefully. Even being carried from that room to this had tired her. Duke Baird probably had a point. So now she was assigned to watching the other invalids for any signs of life. They were fascinating. There were four adults and four children. Aly was most interested in the children.

I shouldn't call them children, Alanna thought, grinning, they must be only a year or so younger then me. But she could not help it; the four looked so vulnerable, unconscious, that Alanna found it impossible to think of them as equals. Her eyes strayed to the Big black man and girl they had captivated her for quite a while. Their skin was so dark… Of course, Alanna knew there were people like that, but seeing one, actually seeing one, was different. And the girl had a metal hand, which was just too odd. Alanna was dying for one of them to wake up, so she could plague them with questions, but she amused herself by trying to decide which was stranger; the black girl's hand, or the boy's. The black girl had a metal hand-magical metal, no less-but the boy had moving vine tattoos. They grew. Alanna decided they had to take the prize.

She was absorbed in her next competition- who had the stranger eyes, herself or Niklaren- when hers caught a movement out of their corners. Her head swerved around and down, it's former weariness forgotten. The girl with the blue eyes and the rich gown was stirring, very slightly.  Alanna placed a hand on her forehead, trying to reach her with her own Gift-then stopped and swayed, realising she didn't have any. And another week till she got it back!

She didn't have to worry; the girl sat up of her own accord, bolt upright. She glanced around her, Alanna hiding a grin. Definitely a noble, she decided, wit ha look like that.

The girl seemed to notice Alanna at last. She grinned, rather shakily.

"Oh. I've gone mad at last."

Her voice was rather nice, really; quite melodious. Alanna decided she liked the strange noble.

"No more then the rest of us, though that's not saying much." The redhead replied, with a slight chuckle. The noble smiled faintly in reply, only to knock of Alanna's grin completely with her next statement.

"My name's Sandrilene fa Toren, and trust me, you don't want to hear the titles."

Alanna blinked. "Try me," She challenged. The girl couldn't exactly be royal, with a simple gown like that. This would be amusi…

The girl cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. "You asked for it," She warned, eyes sparkling and full of vitality. Her voice seemed to change, and she began rallying off a list of titles.

"I am Sandrilene fa Toren, daughter of Count Mattin fer Toren and his countess, Amiliane fa Landreg. I am the great-niece of his grace, Duke Vedris, supreme ruler of the realm of Emelan, and first cousin to her Most Imperial Highness, Empress Berenene of the Namornese Empire. Third in line to the throne of Emelan, fifth in line to the throne of Namorn, the third cousin of his Majesty the king of Capchen…"

She trailed away, flushed, leaning back. "Do you want me to continue?" She asked, one eyebrow raised.

Alanna went bright pink. "Uh, that'll do, thank you." She mumbled. Sandry flashed her teeth cheerily.

"Good, because I've forgotten the rest. Anyway, call me Sandry."

"Aly. Short for Alanna."

Sandry smiled appreciatively. "Nice name." Looking around her again, she continued in a rather mild voice,


"Would you mind terribly telling me where on the circle sea I AM?"

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