"What is it?" asked a tall man, dressed in a shirt pulled hastily over tanned skin. "what happened here?"
Another man came over at a swift walk. He, too, was tall, with the graying skin of one lacking sleep. As he approached, Ty registered blue eyes of sapphire tones and a small, black beard, one matching a mane of black hair, slick and shining. Jonathon. Uh oh.
Ty kept absolutely still. The entire kingdom knew of the magic of the king, who was also the Voice for the Bazhir. The panther froze. Go, she told it. Go quietly, for he can sense you. It drew back carefully.
"Jon, what are you doing here?" asked the first man, now identified as Raoul, commander of the king's own. She could have been able to tell even without seeing him; all of his men were coming over at a run, crying out his name and asking for instruction. He raised a hand level with his face behind him, signaling a halt.
"Raoul, call Alanna up from the Swoop," he said quietly. "Or, better yet, leave her be and call Numair. I can feel magic tingling in the air, but I cant place where. He can do this better than I can."
"What of Daine?" Raoul asked. "Do you think she will be needed?"
The left side of the king's mouth moved upward slightly. "There's a feline on the loose here," he said. "If you don't bring her, she'll have my head on a platter for breakfast."