Chapter Three: Bets and Unicorns

"Oi! Alanna!"

Sir Alanna of Pirates Swoop and Olau, vanquisher of evil, bringer of the Dominion Jewel, and hand of the Goddess, looked warily at the grinning K'mir in her doorway. "Yes, Onua?"

"Pay up."

"Oh?"

Onua groaned. "Alanna," she said, "you owe me. Ten gold Nobles as soon as you can get them. Which is now." The horse trainer walked fully into the room, very close, and stood over her friend. She wasn't a tall woman, but when near Alanna, she still managed to loom. As she loomed, Onua watched a strange, slow smile spread over the Kings Champion's face.

"So, we were right."

Onua nodded. "I never doubted it, you know. Got any coins on you? I'm a busy woman"

"You have a one track mind, Onua Chamtong."

"So my mother always said."

"Hmph."

"She also told me that procrastination never got one anywhere," said Onua, grinning. "Get on with it, Lady Knight."

Alanna sighed, and--with rather bad grace--tossed a small leather bag in Onua's direction, glaring as the dark haired woman draped herself over the nearest chair.

"My day," said Onua, "is complete."

"At my expense" Alanna muttered, tone caustic. "Anyway--I thought you said you were a busy woman."

"That was a lie."

"Obviously. Now, you owe me. How did you get it out of him?"

Numair had thought he was frightened when Daine had fallen off the needle, but that was nothing--nothing--to how he felt now.

Slowly, counting to seven and back again, with closed eyes; he released Perin's collar--ignoring his whimper of relief. When he did speak, it was with a clenched jaw through gritted teeth. "Mr. Redfern," he said. "As much as I loathe to admit it, you are the only one with half reliable information on my student's whereabouts. What happened to her, if you please, and where is she?"

Perin shuddered. "K-k-killer…killer unicorns," he managed, watching Numair carefully. "At least twenty of the things! Gave me the fright of my life, and, we-ell--"

"Well?"

"I ran."

Another count of seven.

It's going to be all right; I can stay calm. It's going to be all right; I can stay calm, It's going to be all right--I don't want to stay calm, damnit!

"Without Daine."

"That prudish little bastard can fend for herself." Perin, who had survival instinct enough to run from carnivorous immortals but little else, rubbed his scratched arms, scowling. "She can't expect to lead a man on like that and--" large hands closed on his collar again. Perin had to wheeze.

"Go." Numair spoke in a voice that was perfectly level, cold, and calm. With beautiful enunciation. Perin didn't want to hear it again. "Now."

Within seconds, Perin was out of reach down an elaborately carved path, followed by an errand-boy.

The atmosphere in Alanna's room was getting quite festive, with the fire poked up and stories of a certain mutual friend's romantic embarrassments flowing freely between them. It might have seemed out of character to any onlooker, who would expect the King's Champion to be permanently armoured in both metal and temper; but everyone needs an afternoon off, once in a while.

"Doesn't it…bother you sometimes?" Onua looked thoughtfully into the fire, chin on her hand.

Alanna yawned companionably. "What bothers me?"

"Numair…and Daine."

"Why should it?" Alanna asked. "It's up to them, after all. You're not concerned about the a--"

"No, the age difference isn't the problem, it's just…" Onua looked pained, "Numair's obsessive about her now, sure enough, and mostly I really like the idea, but what's going to happen in a year, or two, even? Think seriously, that's the longest he's ever managed to stay with a woman and, well, I don't want to see them getting hurt. Daine might think she's wise to the world, but she's an innocent little idealist, really. So young."

"Well," said Alanna, calmly. "I think you're undervaluing both of them."

"But it's true. They've written bloody songs about--"

"Numair's Lovers," Alanna grinned, and hummed a snatch of the offending work. "I know all that, and I still think you should give them the benefit of the doubt. You were the one who first said they looked sweet together, I recall." Irritation flickered in her purple eyes. "Just let things take their course," she leaned across and patted Onua on the knee. "And stop fretting to me about them!"

The K'mir flushed, and her knuckles whitened as her hands curled into fists. Alanna was a wonderful friend, an a better champion, but she'd been married too long and too well to have any true empathy with her when it came to matters such as these.

Of course, Onua would never dream of saying that aloud.

Kerry was a small boy. He was a small boy who ran errands. Kerry was so small in--both size and influence--that he didn't even have a servant's livery to call his own. He could just run--quick and well. Well enough to earn a few coppers from those too rich and too lazy to deliver their own messages. Almost well enough to avoid the heavy hand that landed on his shoulder, as he neared the Noble's Wing.

"Where'd'ye think ye're off to, then?"

Kerry flashed a conspiratorial grin at the older boy, while trying to think of a quick escape. Running errands was a tough business in the Palace. Nobles were only willing to give out a few of their precious coppers to anyone, and competition was fierce. "The Lioness's room, en't I," Kerry told the truth happily, knowing this particular urchin's aversion to all things unnatural. "Got a message from that mad Mage, Sal'mlin. 'Bout some other mad Mage."

The other boy shuddered. "Thought 'e could jus'…yeh know…Magic hisself to other folks?

Kerry shrugged, and slipped out of his captor's grip. "Dunno. Prob'ly 'cause 'e's a lazy git like the rest of 'em." With a last grin, he did what he did best. Run. Leaving the furious older boy to pick on some other unfortunate.

The errand-boy's "Mad Mage" stood alone in the courtyard, staring at the trees.

She's in there, he thought. She's in there, and I can't do a thing. Not on my own.

He'd done the logical thing: he'd kept control; he'd asked for help. Now he had to wait for it.

Slowly, his eyes moved from the trees to his hands. His fingers curled. I could clear it all. The thought was tantalising. Clear them all. Then I could find her.

He knew he couldn't.

Shakith: Seer. Mithros: Protector. Just… let her live. Just this once. I promise; I'll never lose her again.

Triumphant, Kerry darted through the servants' corridors in the Noble's Wing, searching for the turn-off that led to the Lioness's palace rooms. The way was crowded, and the boy often had to dodge under or around legs much larger than his own--once crashing headlong into old Timon, which he knew would earn him a severe talking-to if he were ever caught. Unconcerned over this fate, he moved confidently over the flagstones, darting through tapestried doorways and snatching glimpses of the gentry in all their finery as they strolled through the wider, brighter, and decidedly cleaner corridors that made up the main building. In record time, he reached the room.

And stopped.

Kerry could see, through the tiny crack between door and floor, the pretty, warm light that meant there was a fire burning in the grate. She was in. Potential coppers or no, he didn't feel half so grand about his message now.

If the King's Champion's temper was formidable in reality, it was petrifying in rumour. And Kerry had just remembered it. Visions of fire and slaughter, violet eyes and his own white face rose before his eyes.

Trickster, curse me! What's to do?

Alanna glared at the door. Someone was knocking on it. At least, she thought someone was knocking on it. The sound was so faint, so hesitant and nervous, that it seemed more like someone was knocking with their finger, for fear their hand would break. "Either come in or go away," she said, irritated.

The door opened. First a crack and then--at Alanna's glare--fully. Revealing a tiny boy who looked about seven years old (he was really eleven) with scruffy brown hair and a pair of panic-stricken grey eyes. His mouth was a perfect 'o' with fright.

Onua sighed. "Yes?" she'd never been very patient with people looking like frightened rabbits at her.

The boy, with a visible effort, found his voice. "Me-message from Master Sal'mlin, 'Orse Mistress Onua," he muttered. "Fer s-s-sir…lady…? 'Er knightliness…ship--?"

"--It's a case of either/or, lad!" Alanna tried to put an end to his suffering. "If you've got something to say, say it."

"M-m-master Sal'mlin's respects…um…ma'am," 'he asks if yeh could meet him at the Sou' Courtyard. It's a…" desperate under the glare of a legend, Kerry struggled on. "A matter of urgency."

Alanna looked at the boy, wondering whether the word 'urgency' was a part of his vocabulary that was fully understood. "Master Salmalìn didn't happen to tell you what this 'urgent matter' is, did he?"

"Somfing about danger an' stupid clerks' an' Vera…dai…the Wildmage, ma'am," the boy answered. "I en't sure 'bout the rest of it. 'E seemed awful shook up." Kerry was rapidly regaining confidence in front of his audience, and Onua, recognising the signs (she'd had a brother like that at his age) pressed two coppers from her winnings into his palm.

"Thank you, Mr…what's your name, lad?"

"Just Kerry, 'Orse Mistress," the boy clutched at his treasure, happily. "Kerry Livensson."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Livensson," Onua said gently, and indicated the door.

Kerry fled.

Time passed, slowly. Endless minute upon endless minute dripped down and by the pacing, dark-haired man. People passing through the courtyard kept to the edges, trying to keep their eyes averted but inevitably drawn towards him. Flickerings, both of light and the absence of it, could be seen around him. The air hummed; even the stones seemed to shrink away.

"Stop it, dolt! You're scaring people."

Numair whirled around, coat flapping, and glared, white-faced, at the speaker. "You took your time."

"Actually, we took a very short time." Onua came up on Numair's other side, making him jump.

"What's happened?" Alanna looked up at the man, quizzically. "That excitable mouse of an errand-boy told us something about Daine. At least," she amended, waspishly, "We think he did."

Numair's response was fast, concise and full of vitriol. The two women listening almost felt sorry for Mr. Redfern. If their friend carried out his threats to the letter then anyone who spoke about the dead boring clerk would have to insert a very significant comma.

At that moment, however, all three were more focused on the dark, dripping forest, and what it contained.

They split up, Onua running for the Provost.

The girl from Snowsdale was being hunted, again.

"Dai-aine!" Purple fire blazed its way through green and brown.

"Daine!" Branches tore at the beautiful but thin fabric of a black coat. Dark, frantic eyes were half closed against twigs that scratched his face.

"Daine!" A third voice had taken up the call. Loud, and used to command. In between the calls, anyone listening could hear a K'miri prayer.

"Daine!" A fourth: a harsh voice, but its rasp did nothing to diminish its power. Silver strands of the Lord Provosts hair was added to the hunters' trail.

"Daine?"

"Da-a-aine!"

"Daaaaaaaaaine!"

"Veralidaine!"

The voices echo, each becoming more frantic, more numerous. The second hunter's voice can be heard the most of all--choked with tears that don't leave his eyes. "Oh, Gods…were is she?"

Flight.

Flight. Yes. Flight is safe. Can't fight. Too big; too powerful--prey does not fight predator. This is Law. Must flee. Save self. Keep People safe. Away! Away from danger.

From danger.

Terror.

Fear.

Blood.

Pain.

Pain. Blood.

So much…

Death.

Fear freezes even the strongest of minds.

Daine fainted.

Later she would look back on the incident and curse herself for not shapeshifting, but, right then, Daine wasn't looking at anything.

Ivory gleamed in the sunlight, as unicorns bent their heads.

Alanna reached her first, the purple fire of her magic had illuminated the iron-grey of the Immortals' hides, dapping it eerily. It had found matching glints in their predator's eyes, and blinded them. So it was almost too simple for the mage to change her light into heat.

She had to cover her ears against the screams.

Next came Onua, with the Provost close behind. They ignored the unicorns, and focused on the girl, who was rapidly disappearing under an onslaught of foxes and cats, geckos, birds and countless other animals. They were all frantic for their human, and worried about the spreading pool of blood.

So were the others. Alanna pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring squawks of protest and the sharp sting of claws against her skin. When she got close enough to Daine to survey the damage she bit her lip. "We'll need to get her to the Healers' Wing," she said calmly. "She's been…gored a bit."

Eventually, the drama ended. True, it had taken the combined efforts of Alanna, the Provost and Onua to peel a terrified Numair away from Daine's unconscious body. And, true again, it had then the combined efforts of these three plus Duke Baird, four junior healers, the Steward and one very-much-intrigued Kerry Livensson to forcibly remove him from the Healers wing. But everything was calm enough now. The chief Healer had let Numair back into Daine's room, after half-an-hour or so. He was sitting by her head now, his hand over hers, and completely oblivious to a whole new branch of palace-gossip which a certain errand-boy had happily spread from wall to wall.

Daine stirred, and muttered something. Her face was hot, and there was a horrible trail of stitches down the inside of her right arm. There were other such trails, mercifully hidden, but Numair couldn't get the thought of a shocking, bright red gash across her stomach out of his mind.

Well, Duke Baird says she'll be all right, and if he isn't a good healer, then who is?

He squeezed the girl's hand.

You'll be fine soon, Magelet.

Daine jerked her hand away as if she'd been stung. "Don' touch me. Don' you say things like that about my Ma. They en't true! I know they en't, Conal Almensra, and you're no man if you say they are."

It went on, and on. Numair could only stare in horror as his student relived through battles fought long ago, with people who had long since left her for dead. By the time Daine had collapsed back on her pillows, he had learned far more than he wanted to about what Conal Almensra had been saying about the girl's Ma. When he'd tried to wake her up, she'd burst into tears, saying that it wasn't true. It wasn't.

Numair, white-faced, jerked to his feet, and moved at a run towards Duke Baird's office. By the time Alanna arrived to check on her friend, she could hear the argument from across the hall.

Oh, bugger.

They'd need to get the heavies in again.