Dislaimer: I am not responsible for the creation of these characters (except the ones you don't recognize). I am responsible for manipulating them into my story. Laughs evilly.

And now………..

Chapter Six – Sparring

Varice looked delighted. "You have changed so much, Arram," she gushed. "I knew you were possibly the most powerful mage in the world but I didn't know you could use a sword as well. Can I watch?" Alanna looked murderous.

"Sword practice with the Lioness is far too humiliating for any man to want an audience, especially me." Numair tried to smile. It was a difficult feat when he considered the anger flashing from Alanna's eyes. But it did the trick. Her anger seemed to soften a little and she chuckled.

Hoping to further lighten her temper, Numair continued, "Dare I ask how many pieces I will be losing from this lesson, and from where?" There was some truth in this. His abysmal first attempts to learn, back when he first came to work for Jonathan of Conte, had left him one of his most spectacular scars.

Alanna smiled now, although the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. It was at moments like these that Numair could see how she came to earn the nickname "Lioness". She currently had the demeanor of an irritated cat. He could imagine her as one, tail thumping, striking out with a big paw to stop the source of her annoyance. He felt it best to submit to whatever lecture she had in store for him now. It also occurred to him that Alanna had not taken to Varice. He was not sure why that was, but it seemed inadvisable to leave one in the other's company for long. "I'm really not hungry, Alanna. But some exercise will probably be beneficial. Would you like to go now?"

She didn't bother replying. She just turned on her heel and led the way to the exercise area. It occurred to Numair that maybe she was too angry to speak. She had been forced to keep her temper in check during hours of delegate prattle. He supposed he couldn't blame her.

The room they had been given for workouts was large and mostly bare of furniture. It had four wooden benches on each wall that looked as if they had been borrowed from a garden. Several types of weapons were displayed here along with a target and fencing dummy. They moved into the room and simultaneously flicked their magics to the four corners to ward the place. Amused by the irony, they both smiled fleetingly and then turned more serious. Alanna removed her personal sword and sheath from her belt and set them aside. She then picked up two curved swords that were choice weapons in this country. She tossed one to Numair, and motioned for him to take the fighting stance she had taught him. Without a word he sent black fire with white sparks over each of them. It was what he had devised to use instead of padding during the long practice sessions he had spent with Alanna.

At six feet five inches, Numair was a daunting figure. His muscular build had been enhanced by workouts like this over the time in service to the King. He had more than a foot of height over his red-headed companion. A stranger may have expected Numair to have the upper hand. But that would only be true if the stranger hadn't heard of Alanna. Even the fact that he had lived for some time in Carthak and had seen these type of blades before did not give him an advantage. The truth was he had never so much as picked up a sword before Alanna began teaching him seven years ago. He tried to get the feel for the sword but figured it was a waste of time. Alanna shouted, "Begin!" and she started to circle in for her first attack.

Numair could not practice with Alanna without remembering back to the first lesson. He had foolishly thought it unfair for a man to fight a woman. That notion landed him on his backside with a blade at his throat in a little less than thirty seconds. Alanna was short, but used every inch of her frame as a finally honed weapon. Her sword seemed part of her. Numair had only recently begun to feel at home in his own body. His tendency toward absent-mindedness left him to trip over his own feet far too often. Alanna was a fine teacher, hammering in her lessons with the point of her blade. She told him that he couldn't win with defense. The best he could hope for that way was to wear his opponent down and there wasn't much hope of wearing her down. Numair had learned to block, crescent cut, down-sweep, and under-cut well enough to take on most knights. But he had never bested Alanna even once. It was pretty much guaranteed that she would win and the best he could hope for was not to be too humiliated in the process.

Alanna's first strike was hard. Though he blocked it, the two swords rang together like a gong. Numair felt the vibrations pulse through his arm. Alanna was probably more angry at him right now than she had ever been. "Do you remember what we're in Carthak for?" she asked curtly.

Numair lunged back out of the way and switched hands before taking his first strike. It was a move Alanna had taught him. It might catch another opponent off-guard but not her. "Peace," he answered simply as he brought the sword in. She blocked it easily and with one fluid motion brought the sword underneath. He blocked it late and felt the magic shield shudder – a part of the spell designed to let him know he would be bleeding now if it weren't there.

"So why would you do something to so anger our host that he spends the entire morning glaring at you, instead of focusing on peace?" She spat the words at him and picked up her pace. The pressure of her anger was palpable. Numair was now working so hard to keep up that he couldn't have answered, even if he had some defense for his actions. "And didn't you promise Jon that you would protect Daine? This is not protection, Numair. You might just as well have painted a target on her back!"

Pass after pass Alanna and Numair fought, not speaking. Numair felt sweat pouring down his face from the effort. Twice more the energy field shimmered and he thought about the cuts that Alanna might have inflicted. A sudden kick to the knee took Numair to the ground and he felt, rather than saw Alanna's blade come up under his chin. He dropped the magic shield and she pulled back instantly before blood was drawn. "What in the Black God's name are you doing?"

Calmly, he replied, "I figured if you wanted my blood that badly I probably shouldn't stand in your way -- not that I'm standing."

Breathing heavily and cursing loudly, Alanna stumbled back. "I could've killed you."

"I would have deserved it," he replied simply. He looked up into her eyes apologetically, thinking again of the danger he had put Daine in by being foolish.

She offered him a hand and pulled him up. "You figured out that I talked to Daine. And you know from what she said this morning that she saw you attack Ozorne." These were not questions. "What in Mithros' name got into you?"

It was then that Numair noticed a mouse running across the floor and Alanna started to step back. "No!" Numair shouted. Black fire held Alanna in place while a smaller thread of black fire plucked the creature from beneath her and lifted it to Numair's hand.

"Wha –" Alanna began once she was released.

"You almost stepped on him." He petted the mouse who was cowering in his large palm. "He might be a friend of Daine's. When her friends die it hurts her -- physically."

A smile tugged at the corners of Alanna's lips and then her hand fluttered to her mouth. She wore a look of dawning comprehension, but of what Numair could not imagine. "Let's sit," she commanded. Numair bent and dropped his hand to the floor so the mouse could run away. Then he followed.

Sitting on the same bench where she had left her weapon, Alanna motioned for Numair to sit beside her. There seemed to be softness in her eyes now as she searched his face for something. He had never seen this side of her. It was – motherly. He supposed her children had seen her this way many times and probably George. But he was unsure why he was seeing it now. It left him uneasy. He thought to himself that he preferred angry Alanna. At least then he knew what to expect. "Help me understand," she said softly and she fixed her eyes on him with such a sympathetic stare that he did the last thing he wanted to. He cried.

Though only a few tears escaped, he was angry with himself for showing weakness. Numair turned his face away and said, "It was a stupid dream, a – a nightmare. I had a nightmare that unsettled me enough that I began to believe it was true. And instead of using my brain I ran off to protect her and made an ass of myself."

Alanna chuckled softly and Numair turned back to her pleadingly, "Please don't laugh at me. It's bad enough that I don't understand what's wrong with me. I'm not myself here. It's this place, I think…"

Alanna wore a knowing smile but was not being very forthcoming. "I was not laughing at you. It was amusing that I walked in here thinking you'd made an ass of yourself and you went and said it for me." She had that look again – that gentle searching look. "Soon enough, you'll figure out what's wrong with you. It's not something someone else can tell you."

"Don't be cryptic. I have enough conundrums to sort without adding to them."

"Sorry, that's the best you're going to get from me." She appeared to be trying not to laugh. "Tell me about this nightmare."

So Numair told her. He never mentioned the prior dream but described the horror that he had awakened to and told her that he had never had a nightmare that vivid before. He could even remember a musky smell that he had not recognized earlier.

Alanna made the sign against evil reflexively. "I think I might have acted a little crazy in the same circumstance," she said finally. "But now we have a problem. You let him know she's your weakness and that makes him all the more likely to target her. So what now?"

Numair sighed heavily and tugged on his long nose. "Gods! The only thing I can think to do is to try and place myself between her and him as much as possible. And she's going to hate me for it."

Alanna wore that knowing smile again, "I doubt that very much."

There was a long silence before Numair spoke again. "If this plays out like I fear, we're going to dread our decision to come here. The way I figure it, I will be very lucky to get out of Carthak alive this time, though, I did come prepared for one or two of the more negative possibilities."

More business-like now, Alanna seemed to be contemplating the situation. Her eyes narrowed in focus, an expression Numair had seen many times before Alanna pulled a brilliant strategy out of thin air. This time, however, no real strategy came. "We have to hope for the best," she said. "Ozorne may realize that a war is undesireable. But there is life after the talks to consider. What if he turns right around and sends a spy after her?"

Numair shuddered at the thought. "Are you sure you don't want to just take my throat out now?" He was mostly joking. Alanna's eyes flashed irritation. Numair thought, There's the Alanna we know and love.

"I will do my best to keep an eye on Daine. I did warn her not to forget who Kaddar is. They seem to be – friendly. But she promised." Alanna chuckled.

"What?"

"I was just thinking of her response. Daine said she can't forget who Kaddar is because of all the jewelry he wears. You know Daine. She's practical and unimpressed by too much glitter."

Numair felt rather strange when he realized he was looking at the rings on his own hands. Dressed up for court, he tended to haul out all his jewels. He wondered if this was yet another thing Daine disliked about him. He also wondered if he shouldn't reevaluate how much like Ozorne he wanted to be. Interchangeable.

Alanna interrupted his musings with, "Speaking of remembering who people are, what on earth are you doing with that blond idiot? Do you realize your room smells so much like her I felt like peeking under the bed?"

Numair tried not to smile over the venomous way she'd said "blond idiot." Looking Alanna straight in the eye he said, "Things are not always what they seem, Alanna. You of all people should know that."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I believe you seemed like a boy for quite some time in your youth. Isn't that right?"

Alanna looked thoughtful and said finally, "I don't want to know what you do in your free time." She shook her head and silence fell again.

"That's what Daine thinks, isn't it. But I did not bed Varice."

"Daine is dear to you, isn't she?" She looked at him coyly.

"Yes. As she is to you, John, Thayet, Onua, Raoul, George, the list goes on and on. She got offered what – six homes after the battle at Pirate's Swoop? As you stated, I swore to protect her. And she is my closest friend right now. Not many people would put up with my love of books or my endless lists." He smiled. So did Alanna. Numair also thought about the secrets they shared. Taking a deep breath, he realized there was something more Alanna needed to know. "Alanna, I need to tell you something. Please understand this was a confidence, but I have to break it for Daine's protection."

"Alright."

Numair told her about how Daine's family was killed and the barrier he had built in Daine's mind to protect her from losing herself. "It's all a little hard to imagine, isn't it? Daine is such a gentle soul. Only grief over someone she loves that deeply could drive her to such ferocity." He stood and paced a little. "Anyway, if Ozorne were to succeed in killing me, her barrier would evaporate and she could lose herself in the nearest herd of ponies the very next time she reaches for her magic. The barrier needs other magic to reinforce it. That is something you could do. Maybe you could even do it without telling her. I don't want her to know that I think I might not make it out of here. There's no reason to scare her."

There was that annoyingly soft expression again. "I think you underestimate how strong Daine is." She patted his hand. "Don't worry, I'll do what I can for Daine the next time I help her with her hair."

"And please, never, ever tell her about my nightmare."

"You don't think she should know what terrifies you the most?" she asked with an innocent expression.

"No, I don't think she should know that I'm afraid I will fail to protect her," he answered darkly. "What kind of teacher cannot protect his student?"

"The human kind," she said simply. She reattached her sword. Both of them drew the magic warding from the corners of the room, and walked out. Their friendship had grown in that room, though it would be months before Numair knew how much.