(OK I know you don't really want to hear from me anymore, but I am really sorry that it has taken so long in updating. However this chapter became the bane of my existence for the entire winter break. First there was writers block then the characters decided to completely flip out and do things all on their own that I did not want them to do!!! It was incredibly distressing to say the least.
Alright if you don't like this chapter or what I am trying to do tell me, but nicely otherwise I will completely discount it in a fit of pique and credit it to the senders ravings while on a caffeine deprivation. So thank you and read on. )
Disclaimer: By now you should know which characters are mine and which are Tamora Pierce's. So mine are mine hers are hers.
Arram rested his head against his door. It was hard and somehow soothing to him. Sarra was right; there was no guarantee that magic had brought her here. Therefore, it would be almost impossible to find the perpetrator. He sighed and traced one darker vein in the wood with a long finger. A slow smile crossed his face as he thought. What good is the Gift if it cannot solve an important question? It should not take much to find a person if there is something to attach the spell to; if he had a focus he could find him. Yes, it would exhaust him that way, but he thought it was worth it. Sarra thought he was strong and smart enough to help her. She had faith in him, maybe it was time he had faith in himself.
Arram slid into his creaking desk chair and lit the lamp in front of him. The soft yellow light spilled over his hands as he scrawled various ideas over several different papers. Time passed almost without him noticing until he was finally satisfied with the product of his efforts and the horizon was touched with soft gold and pink petals of light. It was a variation of the spell that required a focus, but because he did not have anything of the person he had changed it so that all he needed for the spell to work was a thought. After all, there were only three people in all of Carthak that even knew about Sarra – himself, Ozorne, and the kidnapper. The spell was created to look through the person's memories until it found one with Sarra in it. Hopefully he would have enough power left to find the person then, but he would not count on it.
He leaned back in his chair until all his weight was supported by the two back legs. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he looked over his final spell one last time. Then he ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced at all of the tangles. As he turned his head scanning the room for a comb or brush, he caught sight of the pale light making the dew on the grass sparkle. He sat for a moment trying to discern how much time had passed and shook his head slowly. He stumbled over to his bed and pulled the covers over his head. He had not even bothered to undress; he still had his shoes on. The last coherent thought that flitted through his reasoning was pride in his first useful accomplishment.
As dawn clawed her way through the dark sky, Emperor Ozorne watched as a slave shut the elaborate doors behind his guest. Marlon Salor bowed deeply in front of his emperor and smiled. His soft green eyes blazed through the cloudy shadows of the small study with a delighted excitement. His skin was a dusky gold; his mother was a black woman from a very far south peninsula. Marlon waited for his friend to speak before he told him his good news. As he expected, he did not have long to wait. "Marlon," he drawled, "you seem pleased. Is what you have to tell me as pleasing as finding a possible alliance already in the grasp of Arram Draper?"
"Most assuredly, Ozorne. All the lords along the southern coast have agreed to your requests. The only person capable of standing in the way is Professor Ablejiah."
He watched as Ozorne contemplated his statement. He pressed the tips of his fingers together and shut his eyes for a few moments. Finally his eyes snapped open again, their fire leaping and burning in his eagerness. "Then dispose of the obstacle, Marlon, before it becomes a nuisance," he decided with the hint of a small smile lingering around the corners of his lips.
"Of course. And what about Draper? Are we still waiting to make our move with him, or shall I find someone to finish him along with Ablejiah?"
"No, Draper may still have a purpose for us. He is getting stronger, but he has no idea. No, he poses no immediate threat to us, but we shall watch him. After all, he would be a valuable asset behind the throne if we can break him of the habit of thinking."
"Yes, but what if he does realize what is going on?"
"You do not need to worry about that. As I said before, if we can get the girl, Sarra, to join us she will keep him too busy to notice much of anything."
"She is that pretty, is she?" Marlon leered.
"Do you not have somewhere you need to be, Marlon?" Ozorne asked with a clear dismissal in his voice. Marlon nodded and turned with a gesture at the mute in the corner. He bowed and assured his friend from the doorway, "Do not worry, I already have the perfect person in mind for tonight's job. It shall be done properly." Then he spun out the room in a whirlwind of midnight blue and deepest green.
Numair shuddered out of sleep and leaned over to check on Daine. He brushed a curl away from her face and looked out into the night. He had not slept very long. The embers were still warm, so he probably only rested an hour or two. Like a dark shadow he slipped out into the starlit darkness and plunged his head under the cold stream water.
He gasped as he pulled himself out of the icy emptiness. Water streamed from his hair and face. As his head cleared he rang out his hair and shook himself almost like a dog. His hair slapped his face and stuck to his skin in frozen, black tendrils. He stood up completely straight and breathed deeply of the night air, ripe with the scents of wilderness. After his brief rest and the dip in the cold water, he felt rejuvenated enough to begin work again, but he could not bring himself to walk back inside the cave. How many nights like this had he shared with Daine? Simple nights where they just watched the stars and savored the moment knowing that soon they would be called back to reality and away from the constant peace of the night sky.
He tilted his head back and looked directly into the face of the moon. Once, Daine had told him a tale from her childhood about two lovers. They had married but they could not be completely happy because she knew that her husband was hiding something from her. He forbade her to leave the house at night when he went out and never to touch the wooden chest by the door. One day she looked anyway while he slept and found all the faces of the moon shining from the bottom of the cedar chest. He woke knowing that she had broken her promise, but he was not angry. In fact he had been almost relieved. He was cursed to never tell his secret, he was the moon. She did not want to leave him, even though he offered to let her go home. She wanted to stay and therefore, he gave her the waning nights and he took the waxing phases. Together they shared the full moon and rested on the New Moon. They were together forever, watching over other lovers as they stole through the moonlit paths, searching for each other.
He looked over his shoulder and stared into the yawning black mouth of the cave. He nodded gently to himself, but he could not force himself to move. It was hard to watch her lying prone in the cold and dark where sunlight never completely showed. His hair fell around his eyes and shoulders, and he drew it back into a thick, somewhat wild horsetail. His eyes blazed as an idea struck him; Daine loved being outside with the wild and the People. Unfortunately she was incapable of walking out to it, so he would bring her out himself. If nothing else, the fresh air would be good. He smiled slightly and trotted back to see her. He was like a little boy with a great idea that he could not wait to tell. All he wanted right now was to see her, hold her, and hear her voice.
Daine clutched at the cream colored sheets and crushed her pillow against her face. Her forehead was creased in worry lines and beaded with sweat. Dreams pelted her from every direction; some so realistic she was sure they were real. She twisted and turned on her soft bed. Her every muscle strained against invisible barriers, and she fell again into clouded nightmares undiluted by the softening fog of sleep.
A writhing, continuously moving shape seeped from the ground in front of her. It snarled in barely controlled rage and hissed through what appeared to resemble a mouth, "You shall not continue to escape me, girl. You are nothing. I am everywhere; I am human too. A simple time and location difference will not save you from me. No one disobeys me!" She shrieked. Claw-like arms snatched out at Daine, making her retreat in horrified terror. Revulsion made the bile rise in her throat and the empty black surroundings spin. She reached for safety and found nothingness, emptiness.
Uusoae smiled in a rakish grin. She almost purred, "No matter. After a while, all those spells, charms, and potions your mage man plied you with will wear off. They are a dratted nuisance; perhaps for his interference I shall have him disposed of as well. And if you are here, you are not in there. The war shall rage without you; your master mage will begin a broken despairing man. He shall fall; Tortall shall fall along with all humanity. Even the gods will be powerless before me! What a shame you shall miss it, is it not?" She faded with an assured cackle, and with a wave of her morphing hand, Daine went spiraling into her own borrowed bed once again.
Whimpering, Daine sat up and pulled the thin blankets around her quaking and trembling body. She pressed a weak hand against her hot and sweaty forehead. She stifled a sob; Uusoae was right. The war would not stop and wait for her to return to it. Numair would have to choose either to remain with her in the Divine Realms or leave her there to battle in the last step of the chess game. If he remained, the war was all but lost. Yet, if he returned, he would be distracted and nervous without her there to calm him. He would be terrified for her alone in the Divine Realms unable to care for herself.
Before she knew it, she had leapt from bed and was grasping for clothes. Realizing the Carthaki slaves had only equipped her with Carthaki clothes, she sighed and sat back onto the bed. She had no idea how to properly wear the flamboyant layers and veils Carthaki women wrapped themselves in. She looked out the only window she had in the tiny room. Dawn shone palely between purple clouds, and she decided to do her best with the clothes. No one would likely see her at this time of day anyway. She sighed again and went to shut the window. She had left it open for any friendly nighttime visitors from the People, but none had come. They had probably decided against it when her dreams had started. The bed sheets were twisted and tangled in knots in a testament of her uneasy sleep.
Finally, she was decent enough to step from her room. She slipped out the door and into the shadows. She was determined to walk in the gardens; she needed to clear her thoughts. All she could think of was Numair. The way his eyes softened when he was happy; the way he walked like the world was watching him. She loved the way he lost himself in arcane details no one else could possibly know. She even loved the way he terrified offenders of the crown with his dark eyes flashing and black hair whipping around. He was imposing with his black Gift streaming from his open hands and his entire height stretched until his opponent was forced to strain to see his face. None of it could stop Uusoae. None of it would be enough to save them from the fate that awaited them in the hands of Chaos. He would be nothing against her. There was nothing to save him; no one to save him.
Almost immediately she stopped and spun on her heel. The gardens would leave her to circle these thoughts until they engulfed her. She needed to talk even if it was about something completely unrelated to her own anguish. Arram would listen. After all, if he was anything like his future self he would want to listen. He would want to help. The ground seemed to disappear under her feet. Soon she found herself face to face with his door. She felt pathetically unsure suddenly. What if he was still asleep? After all it was only dawn. Many people slept past sunrise, particularly scholars. They had no need to rise with the sun.
She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. There was no response. Instead of knocking louder or calling to him, she twisted the door knob. She did not want anyone to see or hear her. Inside his rooms, Daine crept close to his bed. She smiled at his lanky figure sprawled across the bed. He looked peaceful, despite the shoes still laced to his feet. She hid a smile behind a hand and called, "Arram – Arram, it's me, Sarra. Wake up, Arram!"
He sprang forward like he had been slapped across the face. Wild eyed and somewhat dazed he peered through his tangle of hair to find the voice that had awoken him. When he saw Daine he relaxed and sighed as he leaned back far enough to make himself more comfortable. "Sarra, what are you doing here? It can't be past dawn." Then he noticed how she was dressed. Even in his sleep deprived fog he had to fight to keep the smile and laugh from leaping from his throat. He had never seen anything quite so funny; she glared at him asking him what was so funny with her eyes and her clothes twisted, backward, or just awkward. Finally he just could not refrain any longer and it slipped out.
After he could breathe again and control himself from his laughing fit he realized Sarra was curled up at the foot of the bed laughing along with him. He shook his head and moved closer to her. "You know this is completely backward," he stated with a hand gesture at the billowy, yet clinging over robe. "Do you mind if I help?" he asked in a strained voice as the laughter threatened to rip free again.
Daine barely managed to shake her head as she swallowed the last of her laughing fit. She knew she needed help, yet as Arram took the cloth in his fingers to readjust and untwist it she was not sure it was a good idea to let him be the one to help with this particular problem. He moved closer to her in order to untie the thin belt that rested low on her hips to hold the emerald green outer robe closed. She wanted to yell at him; demand what he was doing, but she could not make her voice work. His fingers were strong as they undid the bronze dyed leather and held her waist. She looked slowly up into his face. His velvet brown eyes were less velveteen now and more black. They seemed to hold something she had not seen there before, and they burned with an odd flame that reminded her of some of the hunter People. He was closer than before, or she might have been closer to him than before. His hands rested completely on her waist now. She could feel his breath against her cheek and smell the faint citrus scent about him. She shivered slightly; she was falling into those eyes.
They were the same eyes she had seen everyday for years with Numair. Arram was more of Numair than she had originally thought. Thinking of Numair made the pit of her stomach knot and clench. The spell of his eyes was almost immediately broken as she blinked and saw an image of Numair standing weak and defiant in the back of her eyelids. He was drained of magic, she had seen him look that way before, and he was not alone. A man stood before him and raised his arms slowly with a satisfied sneer. He called an inaudible word and red flames wrapped around his broken and drained figure. Numair screamed in agony and despair as the flames burned through his every fiber. She watched as he crumpled lifeless to the ground and his opponent crowed his silent triumph to the skies. Now she was shaking for reasons other than Arram. Thankfully, one of her sandals slipped from her foot and fell with a clatter to the floor. Arram jerked slightly and grinned then bent to pick it up. Daine blushed and looked away from him. She was too confused for this now. Why did he have to be so damned sweet and kind and everything that was so important in Numair! Why did she have to be away from Numair in the first place? She missed him; she did not want him to die. Yet, she feared it was the only possible outcome of the war, and it broke her heart.