Disclaimer: Most of the characters belong to Tamora Pierce and her various Tortallan series. I've commandeered them for my own amuzement.

Chapter 10 – Thieves

It was a solemn morning for the Tortallans. They put their dead to rest and followed the ancient rites to make sure they were well received by the Black God. No king could both care for his people and bury those who died in his name without feeling the loss; Jonathan of Conte was no exception. He kept mulling over the fact that the delegates from the Copper Isles behaved inappropriately to the messenger who explained that talks would not take place that morning. He was regretting ever inviting them for negotiations.

By the light of day the hurroks seemed surreal. It was as if a thief had come in the night to steal from them the light of people they cared for. Riders mourned the two that were lost and the country as a whole received them as heroes. It was comforting that their losses were not greater. But sending messengers to their families diminished that completely.

Jon decided he wanted the whole day for mourning. It was the least he could give to his people, and he felt the islanders should want the same. The more they insisted that they didn't, the angrier he felt. There were moments that he considered telling them to just leave. That would not be an appropriate decision for a king to make though and duty was something he always weighed. So he made arrangements to have a solemn dinner with their guests and promised to start the talks the following day.

He sat contemplating the reports of the day, including the one from Daine that had disturbed him the most. Her mice spies had reported that they were unable to enter the suites of the visitors. Obviously they were warded. The birds, however, had taken a peek from the windows and observed a fight where Lord Myren had attacked Lady Elyra. Master Tyrus had then used magic against Lord Myren, but had stood red-faced yelling at the woman. The birds' descriptions were so complete that he could figure out the players, but had no idea what the fight was about.

"Those m'st be heavy thoughts," he heard George's voice say.

Jon smiled. "Nonsense. You've always been able to sneak up on me. How are you, George?"

George flopped in a chair in the king's study and smiled crookedly, "Much better, now that I'm back with m'Lass."

Jon grinned. "George, has Alanna filled you in yet?"

"Mm-hmm. An' if it was me, I'd be a worryin' too. Somethin's up, that's for sure."

"And the theory about the dominion jewel?"

"Rings true ta' me. But it's one hell of a twisted plot if ya' can't figure whose doin' what for sure."

"It's maddening. If it wouldn't start a war, I'd just throw them all in the dungeon and keep them there until they come clean."

George chuckled. "Have faith. We'll figure 'em out and if they're up to somethin', my lass'll skewer 'em."

Jon laughed heartily. "You know George, it's good to have you around."

"I know!" he answered, eyes twinkling.

-------

While the Tortallans wasted time on their religious rites, Master Tyrus was creeping about. He used some stealth spells and an invisibility charm to search the castle. It was easier than it should have been. He was glad they had insisted on mourning, although he would be loathe to tell them.

Wherever the dominion jewel was, it was hidden well. He tried to scry for it. He tried to summon it (but that spell rarely worked anyway.) And he crept around the castle hunting it. It was possible that there were safes hidden in places he hadn't thought to look and it was a huge castle. He couldn't understand still why the king hadn't used it to fight the hurroks. A powerful tool like that was designed for such a fight.

Lord Myren was sitting in their common area stewing over a glass of brandy. He grinned with satisfaction at Tyrus. "You didn't find it did you?"

"No," Tyrus answered irritably. "But then I didn't really expect to. It cannot be that easy."

"It's good fer-r-r' you to be knocked do-w-w-w-wn a couple of notches. You're an ar-r-r-r-r-ogant ass-s-s-s." His speech was slightly slurred.

"I wouldn't have been forced to char you if you'd leave the woman be. Her face is part of the plan."

"It won't w-work. She's too s-s-stupid to do what we need."

"Well then, we'll kill her."

"She's-z-z been more trouble than she's worth all along. Now we've got that damned child of hers-z-z-z and no nanny. We oughtta' kill them both."

"Well, if she can't start getting his attention, maybe we will."

"I don't unders-s-s-tand this focus-s-s-s crap of yours."

"You don't have to. You've no gift and barely any brain. Leave the thinking to me."

Myren launched his brandy bottle at the mage, who deflected it with a little magic.

"Try anything like that again, Sir Myren," Tyrus said his name with disdain, "and I'll blow you up without a second thought."

------

It had been an emotionally draining morning for Daine. She had made her peace with Layne's death, or at least as much as she ever did. The truth was she barely knew the man. In some ways that made it harder. He didn't have many friends. He was known to the riders but seemed to have been more of a loner than most.

When Alanna suggested they do some target practice, Daine was all for it. She even managed to drag Numair along. She was determined to teach him to use a long bow. Once they were in the practice area Daine saw that several people had gathered there to expend some pent up anger. Someone had painted what was clearly a hurrok in the center of a target and Thayet, Buri and Onua were pelting it with arrows.

George sat on the fence, flirting with his wife from a distance. He kept making cat-calls and whistling each time she tried to turn her back to him. Daine giggled and smiled to Numair. It was like watching two teenagers in love, even though the two had been married for quite some time.

Numair strung his bow and knocked the arrow. Technically, he knew all of the academic part. He was a strong man and so pulling wasn't the problem. His aim was just terrible. When he did line up the arrow correctly, he would pull too hard and let the point slip. She was used to him hitting the outside rings of the target, but today he was worse than usual. She saw him miss the target entirely and he had to pull the arrow back with magic to keep from hitting someone.

"What's gotten into you today?" She walked a little closer and this arrow went even further off course.

"Sorry," he apologized, harried. She hefted an old trough and turned it upside down directly behind Numair. She could hear Onua laughing at her efforts. Climbing up behind Numair, she said, "Try another shot. I want to see as close as possible what you see." She was very close now and could smell spices, soap and clean clothes – the scent that was Numair.

He lined up to the target. His arrow was knocked properly and his stance was correct. She thought she saw him shaking a bit which didn't make sense. She could see his muscles beginning the pull. "Everything looks right," she said softly next to his ear. And suddenly he jerked the rest of his pull and the arrow flew practically sideways. It pelted toward George and he barely caught it in time with his magic.

George fell off the fence in surprise, laughing as he landed in the dirt. "Darlin' if you're gonna' breathe in his ear like that, it would be good if ya'd warn me first." Everybody laughed except Numair, who was blushing burgundy.

Daine was confused. "Am I that bad at teaching?"

"No, no," Numair answered, flustered. "I'm just distracted today and … I'm sorry Daine."

"Do you want to try one more?"

"Well I – okay." Still he looked hesitant. Daine wasn't positive, but he seemed to be staring a lot. Perhaps he hadn't had enough sleep.

"Then I'm going to stay up here, so you know," she warned him, thinking of George's words.

He put another arrow to string, carefully centering the point. He adjusted his stance. Daine watched every motion. "Okay, I see it now," she said. "You're getting ready to pull but you keep dropping this elbow. It needs to be a fluid motion." She reached to steady his arm and he ended up sending the arrow flying at the ground.

"I'm thinkin' it's a bad idea for you to stand behind him like this," she heard George say from directly behind her. "At least, while there's other people within a day's ride of ya'." He lifted Daine down.

George was giving the two of them the strangest look.

Numair wouldn't look up at all. Daine couldn't see his face anymore but heard him say to the ground, "That's alright. I'll try some other time. Sorry, Daine."

George started to say, "When did –"

But whatever he was going to say was cut off abruptly by Alanna. "Come on, laddybuck. Quit teasing the help."

Daine put her hands on her hips. "You wouldn't let me quit if it was my studies," she chided Numair.

"Actually, I can think of several occasions when I let you take a break," he shot back. He looked so nervous.

"I don't get you. You can do slight-of-hand stuff, but you can't do archery. That's fair strange."

"It's not the same at all. And I did have to practice frequently to do the slight-of-hand and the juggling. It's not the same motion to slide something into your own pocket or even someone else's pocket.."

"Oh!" Daine interrupted suddenly. "Oh! Sorry to interrupt Numair, but I've just figured out how to solve the spy problem."

Completely taken aback, Numair shook his head. "What – how –"

"Sorry, it's been hanging in the back of my mind all day. We need to get a spy into the warded rooms of our guests, right? Could you do the slight-of-hand trick with an animal? Say a mouse or a small lizard?"

Numair looked thoughtful. "If I can't, I'm sure George could."

Daine looked back to George who smiled and nodded.

"I'll go get a friend, then," she said excitedly. This was good. They would finally have some eyes and ears where they needed them.

------

George accepted a brown mouse from Daine. She had given it instructions and the tiny creature was happy to wait in his pocket with a small piece of cheese for company. The plan was to have Alanna introduce her husband to their guests and George would take care of the rest. The mouse would hide in their rooms, collect intelligence, and creep out when the door was opened again.

As Alanna lead George back up to the castle, he decided he was not going to be put off any more. "Lass, I think you've been holdin' out on me. And ya' know I hate to be the last to know the scuttlebutt."

Alanna laughed. "You're hardly the last. As usual, you're more observant than everyone else around you. Even the two we're talking about haven't figured it out. So it's best to leave it be for now."

"If you say so," he answered. But he looked skeptical.