Chapter Four ~ A New Escort
The merchants, drivers, and servants were stopping for the night, setting up camp while others went off to hunt for food. The girls around her age were gathering around a fire, laughing and talking. Alanna knew she should go with them too, but she didn't feel very sociable just now.
A girl she had talked to for brief minutes on their trip caught her eye and waved to her. Come join us, she mouthed to Alanna. Alanna smiled wearily and slid off her horse. She patted the mare's nose softly before mouthing back, later.
She unsaddled the horse and threw a horse blanket over the mare. She patted it again before going off to join the merchant girls; she knew Starfall wouldn't leave.
"Mel! Come sit," the girl said, motioning the ground next to her. The others watched her every move with curiosity, while she stared back coldly; still not used to being around so many people.
"Sorry," she said politely, declining. "I think I'll retire early tonight." This was not true at all, but she had enough of these merchants to last a whole lifetime. She turned and walked quickly the large carriage-cart assigned to her, in which her belongings were kept along with a makeshift bed. The guests of higher status would sleep in these in case the caravan had to stop somewhere without an inn; in cases such as this.
She entered the trailer-like carriage and saw that the make-shift bed had already been set up by a servant. She closed the door behind her as she she made flames appear and shooed them to their places burning on the candles. Her trunks and chests were pushed up against the bed while Yamani-style table held candles in it's holder. There was just enough room to move about, and even that was a bit of a struggle.
Making sure to bolt the latch on the door, she then pulled off her wig and unpinned her hair, letting it fall unbound, to her waist.
She had given up trying to maintain her illusion-spell on her eyes long ago--after the stable boy incident---it took too much concentration when she had other things to attend to, plus there were mages traveling with the merchants; they might be able to spot illusions. This way though, she had to keep her eyes peeled to the ground, avoiding gazes the whole day. Of course, someone was bound to notice her violet eyes sometime, and she gave up on that not long after she had tried it, too.
She took out the Opal and Amethyst and inserted them on their depressions on the chests. Once opened, Alanna pulled out a tight, dark green shirt, so dark it seemed black, with matching breeches. She discarded her itchy and uncomfortable merchants' daughter's dress onto the bed; trading them for the soft, silky freedom of the dark clothing. She tied a veil over her face and unbound hair, scanning the room again.
Grabbing her sash, she secured the Opal onto it, and slipped the purple stone onto the the necklace. She pulled on her boots and transferred a few more weapons onto herself. At last she was ready. With a small flick from her mind, the candles went out. Content with what she saw, she opened the door and slipped out.
At first, she wanted to take her Starfall for a ride, but changed her mind when she was reminded that the mare had had traveled far that day. Instead, she made her way to the darkness of the forest surrounding the clearing.
Alanna let out a sigh and leaned against the big boulder behind her, closing her eyes and enjoying the stillness. The soft rays of moonlight shone through the dense canopy of trees; piercing every opening there was, and making eerie shapes out of the many shadows in the woods. Darkness surrounded her, along with silence...
She sat up quickly, eyes open and alert. The forest was not suppose to be completely quiet, not even at night--especially not at night. There always was some animal rustling or moving about, but there was none now. Even with a caravan camping near this part, there should be at least some moment. She strained her ears, attempting to pick up tiny sounds she might have missed, but no, there were none.
That was not a good sign--it could only mean a few things, and most of them didn't apply to this situation. She stood up, her closely fitted clothing betrayed not a sound. Treading carefully, she walked towards the deepest part of the silence, throwing out a net of magic as she did, searching for the root of the problem. All she felt was the soft humming of old magic, and broke her net--it was wasting her Gift anyway.
A whisper, she whirled around, but nothing. Maybe it was just her assassin nerves working overtime. She relaxed a bit, maybe the animals just never came to this part, after all, hadn't she felt the vibration of old magic?
Something cold and sharp pressed against her throat, and she froze, cursing herself. Someone had sneaked up to her when she had dropped her guard, and now she was cornered with a knife on her throat.
"Don't move, unless ye want ye throat slit," her captor growled.
"Do you always kill unwary travelers in the forest?" she asked softly, taking a warning tone. Both hands were twisted behind her, but even at that angle, she could reach on of her many daggers.
The man scowled. "A woman, eh? What be ye doin', walkin' 'bout the forest, alone, in the dead of night, away from ye company's"
"What makes you so sure that I came with the caravan?" she retorted. "What if I'm an assassin out to get blood?"
He laughed. "An assassin doesn' sit around enjoying ta moonlight."
"Of course they do," Alanna replied slowly; this man was too sure of himself, well, she would show him. Straining her arm a little bit more, she managed to reach the handle of a weapon. Carefully, she pulling it out. Just to make sure he didn't notice, she distracted him with conversation. "And I should ask the same of you: why sulk about in the forest, near a poorly defended campsite of merchants with a group of moping bandits?"
The knife was pushed harder against her throat. "Watch ye tongue, missy. Ye won't be sayin' much once ye dead."
There, she had it! With a quick movement, her dagger bit into her captor's left hand, the one holding her, cutting down into his flesh. His grip slackened and she moved out of his knife's way. "Ye--" he sputtered.
Alanna rotated her dagger playfully, catching the moonlight on it's well-polished and sharp blade, making it flash in the moonlight. "I'm what?" she asked coldly.
"Ye-ye just," he stuttered, then looked down at his wounded hand. Using his other one, he put it to his lips and gave a shrill whistle.
Alanna's eyes gleamed with fury, how could she forget that there were others? Quickly, before the others arrived, she did a low kick, unbalancing the man, making him fall with a crash.
Before she had any more time to react, there was a rustling of bushes and undergrowth, and at least a dozen men poured into the dark niche; all dressed in black. She stood up, a dagger in both hands, and crouched into a fighting position.
The first charged at her, a sword in hand. Alanna cursed her bad luck--of everything, her swordsmanship wasn't the best, in fact you could say she was plain bad at it; that and the other fact of which she had no teacher whose expertise was in this skill. And then, there was also the disappointing problem of which she had brought no sword.
She ducked just in time to avoid being cut in half by the man's blade. Instinct and habit reacting, both daggers left her hand in succession to lodge themselves into her opponent's chest. He fell with a load ground, crashing to the ground.
There was no time to watch what happened to him--even though Alanna was sure he couldn't be anything but dead--for more men attacked her in union. She cursed aloud this time, startling the men and making them pause. That gave her just enough time to slip out of the clearing into the shadows of the trees; she avoided any unnecessary fights when she could.
It wasn't long before she heard the rogues crashing through bushes, close in pursuit. Thinking quickly, she saw a low-hanging branch and flipped herself onto it. From there, she pulled herself to the next limb until she was invisible to anyone on the ground-- hidden by thick masses of leaves--but could see clearly.
Two men appeared within her line of vision. One was tall and lean, with his brown hair cut short; the other also tall and muscular, with gray streaked hair and a frown etched permanently on his scarred face.
"She's disappeared, yer Majesty," the older man said to the other, who was clearly in charge, despite his youth--but Majesty? Alanna was sure this wasn't the King.
"She has to be here somewhere, she has to. I still can't believe she killed Rikter--he was our best swordsman." The young man looked around, and Alanna thought his gaze seemed to linger longer on her hiding spot.
"She used trickery, that's what, t'was no fair fight, she had them throwing daggers. If she wasn't a devious lil' slut, she might'er be as good as you, George," the gray-haired man growled.
The one called George chuckled. "Take it easy Grayson--and don't go calling her all those fancy names, she might be able to here you," he paused to glance sideways at the tree Alanna was watching from. "I admit though, it wasn't a fair fight."
"I should say so--"
"No," George interrupted. "It wasn't fair for her. She was outnumbered, that and she didn't have a sword. And from what I've heard, she wasn't doing anything when Marek got her."
Grayson scowled. "Yer too nice, Majesty, don't let the younglings 'ear you talkin' like that--they'd think ye weak."
George chuckled again. "I doubt that. After all, haven't I kept the throne and rogues in order all these years?"
"That ye have."
There was a lapse of silence, then Grayson said, "Yer Sight?"
George nodded, and she heard Grayson suck in his breath. "Ye know, but--"
Alanna drew back, surprised. He had known she was there all along! Scowling, and knowing she was doing something foolish, she jumped down from the tree, landing softly on the dirt, her back to both men.
She turned and stood up slowly, dusting her hands and brushing off her breeches. She crossed her arms, "No more games."
George grinned and gave a small, making bow. "Lady." He pulled out a dagger, in it's ornate sheath, and laid it on the ground. "A truce?"
Alanna pulled her favorite dagger from it's place--without the sheath, and raised it.
Grayson's hands went immediately to the short sword buckled at his side. Alanna looked at him skeptically and tilted her head, amused. "Are you always thinking that someone's trying to kill? I was merely saluting your Rogue, that's all."
"Salute 'im then," Grayson growled, still ready to draw the weapon at a moment's notice.
Alanna shook her head, then saluted George. But as she did, her weapon sliced dangerously close to his large nose. He didn't flinch.
Grayson drew his sword, and swung it towards her neck. She parried it with her dagger, holding it away.
"Stop it Grayson," the Rogue ordered. "She was only testing me, like I did her."
Grayson scowled again, but did as he was told. George then turned to Alanna, "How'd you guess? About me being who I am?"
Alanna snorted. "If you think I'm that dumb--"
"Of course not, Hunter," George interjected. Grayson frowned, puzzled.
Alanna stared at him, then dropped her eyes to look at the ground. "So you guessed, too, how?"
"If you think I'm that dumb--" George started and grinned when she glared at him for using her words. "There were rumors already," he informed her. "I merely made an educated guess--after all, only an assassin could look, sound, and do what you did."
She took back her dagger and replaced it into it's sheath. She looked from Grayson to George, then tuned and walked away.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Now just wait a minute, who said anything about you leaving?"
She turned around and glared. "Let go," she demanded icily. Her tolerance had never been long, and she was at it's end by now. Even if this man hadn't been all that bad, it didn't mean he was worth any more time, either.
"Don't look at me like that, it makes me shake in my breeches," he instructed her and was rewarded with a scowl for his tries. "Don't think me as rude--or as stupid--as to pass on escorting someone as interesting as you to Corus--that is where you're going, is it not?"
Done with that chapter! She meets George in here, I hope your satisfied...at least until the next chapter. Please Review before you go, and here are the questions (there's a lot this time):
Question: Is she gonna meet the great Corus branch of thieves and assassins, or just jump straight into killing Jon?
Answer: I think this chapter answers at least half of that question, sorry, but I can't answer the rest of it until later (yes, I know the answer, but I can't ell you without giving away at least some of the plot.
Question: Who wants Jon dead? Roger? Wasn't he in Carthak at the time of the Sweating Sickness? So, does Alanna know him or of him?
Answer: I can't really answer this one, but, yes, Roger was in Carthak at the time of the Sweating Sickness. You'll learn more about this and him in the later chapters.
Question: Does Alanna met George? And what happens? It seems to me that George has more 'morals' than Alanna does - Does this result in conflict or do they become friends?
Answer: This chapter has answered a fair bit of this, I'd think. lol.
Question: Is the horse that Alanna bought the horse that George bought for Alan?
Answer: hehe. This chapter answers that, too. No, it's not the same horse, cuz Moonlight wouldn't be in Carthak 7 years after Alanna should have gotten it from George.
Question: What Happens when Alanna mets Jon?
Answer: Now I really can't anser this one without giving away my whole plot.
Question: Whose this Terrin guy? Did you make him up or is he in the books but gave Alanna a fake name? Why does he want the prince dead?
Answer: Uh, more hard ones to answer...Terrin is, um, I'll explain in later chapters. And he wasn't the Prince dead because...well, I'll explain that later, too. And, yes, I made him up.