Chapter Nine ~ Letter from a Goatherd's Bastard
"Oh. You're that--" Raoul started.
Gary groaned loudly. "Don't talk so loud--you know, that cure would be helpful right now."
Alanna gave them a mock-sweet smile and walked over to them slowly, leather heeled boots clicking against the stone floor--Terrin hadn't brought her special boots. "Would you mind fetching some water?" she asked the blue-eyed man in a whisper. He blinked back at her before the shock wore off. "I-I--"
"Of course he will, won't you Jon?" Gary prodded. "She needs it for the hangover cure." He nodded slowly before heading back out the door, supposedly to get some water.
Alanna pulled out a leather-wrapped bundle from somewhere and sifted through it. She pulled out a small tablet and tossed it at Raoul, knowing that Gary wouldn't have been able to catch it. "Give that to him, he can chew it to relieve the pain momentarily until I can get it heated."
Raoul shrugged and walked over to his friend, handing him the tablet slowly, not sure if it--or she--could be trusted. "It's not poison or anything," Alanna muttered under her breath. "I'm going to go wash my hands in the fountain," she told them and slipped out.
Gary chewed it slowly, pushing it around his mouth, trying to make the honey-sweetness last longer before he swallowed. Like she said, his headache faded until it was at least bearable. "Hmm?" He just realized that someone had asked him a question. He raised his head and saw that Jon had returned with a pitcher of water.
"I asked you what she doing in your room."
He shrugged. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "She just seemed to appear inside and asked me something about healers and told me off for drinking too much."
Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Weren't you the least bit suspicious? I mean this girl you've just met on the street just pops into your room wearing all black. She could be a thief or even an assassin."
"I was suspicious--painfully so, but then so was my headache. She offered to make me a cure because she was a healer--"
"Talking about me?" she stepped inside. She looked glanced in the direction of Jonathan before turning her back on them and walking over the the fireplace. She ran her hands over a log, and purple flames jumped onto it, resuming the natural orange-red color as she pulled away.
"You have the Gift!" Jonathan accused.
"Maybe," she replied coolly. "But then so do you--if my guess is correct, which I find it usually is. It doesn't tell much about you--or me for that matter." She turned to Raoul. "I thought you were going to do introductions."
Raoul smiled sheepishly, looking a bit abashed. "Jon, meet...Hunter. And this is Jon."
Jonathan looked her over a second time. Wisps of her copper hair were escaping a thick, tight braid, and her startling violet eyes gave hint that she wanted to be left alone, but at the same seemed to want company. She was short--shorter than him by almost a head and a half. She wore a set of black silk clothes, with the exception of her boots, which was made of worn brown leather. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was glaring at him.
"Did you know it's not polite to stare?" her tone showed clearly that she was not one to be messed with. She brushed past him to take the pitcher of water his was still holding.
Gary's hangover effects were beginning to return, but they were forgotten as he tried to keep from snorting with laughter. Who would have thought Jon would be ordered around by a short woman in to fetch and carry? He wondered what others would think of the Prince holding a pitcher of water and being scolded, or what she would think if she knew that it was the Prince she was talking to.
She walked across the room and raised her eyes to Jon again. "You forgot the pot."
He frowned. "What pot? You didn't ask for that."
"Well, I'm asking for it now."
"And who are you to be demanding so much?" he shot back, clearly irritated.
"Who do you think I am? You guess is as good as anyone else's, and I couldn't care more for your opinion. I don't even know why I'm helping your friend in the first place," she countered.
Jonathan straightened and regained a figure of his natural commanding aura. "My opinion should count, as the Prince, and I'm giving you an order to tell what you are doing in the palace."
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes widened and she smirked. "The Prince?" she asked in a disbelief. "I should have thought..."
"Yes, and I'd like to know who you are."
"And I'd be less likely to tell you than I would a pig," she replied prudishly. "Perhaps I'm a priestess of the Mother visiting...or maybe I'm really an assassin as you so generously dubbed me earlier." She gaze fell on a bowl on the bed stand beside Gary--whose hangover was returning in full force--and walked over to retrieve it. She poured half the water contained in the pitcher into the bowl and swept her bundle out again. Her hands darted through it before pulling out a smaller sack, this she dumped into the water before proceeding to kneel beside the fire's hearth.
A sound of annoyance escaped her lips as she realized there was no way for her to actually heat the water. She let out a exasperated sigh and pulled back: the bowl was floating in midair above the crackling flames. It was blocked from view as she moved in front of it. Her hands worked nimbly as she added more herbs from the pouches and did other things obscured from the three's sight.
There was silence as the water came to a boil, whereas she plucked it the blistering bowl off it's invisible perch and almost dropped in onto the desk. She shook her hands out and turned to face Gary. "Drink it as soon as it's cooled," she instructed deftly. Scooping up her possessions, she calmly left the room. As she passed Jon she paused. "We'll meet again. Though next time you won't enjoy it half as much as you did this time."
After she had left, he rolled his eyes. "Like I enjoyed it at all this time," he muttered. Her words were soon forgotten and pushed back to a dark corner of his mind.
"Is it ready yet?" Gary prompted through gritted teeth. "My headaches back."
Raoul went to get the bowl, but Jonathan raised an arm to stop him. "Are you sure it's safe? I mean she just came and left like that."
Gary groaned again. "Just give me it. If she wanted to kill me, wouldn't the tablet have done so?" He grabbed the bowl in his hands and blew. His tongue darted out and licked the surface. He shuddered. "Bitter." He quickly drained it, shuddering as he did. "It's almost as bitter Duke Baird's remedies." He set the bowl aside and leaned back, letting out a sigh of contentment. "So much better. Whatever it is, it works miracles for hangovers."
"You think we could get her to cook up some more for us in case you get drunk again?" Raoul wondered.
"Don't count on it," Jonathan intervened tartly.
"Aw, come on Jon. Don't be like that, she helped us, didn't she?"
"She was also in the palace when she wasn't suppose to be, and she evaded all our questions. Don't you two have ant suspicions? I mean, of the fact other than she calls herself 'Hunter'?"
"Well, I suspect that you're too suspicious," Gary replied over-cheerfully. "And maybe she's just one of those people who seek attention, doing whatever. But who cares, her hangover cure is a miracle worker."
Alanna ran last night's happenings through her head again. It was so strange, one minute she was enraged over her employer and the next she was cooking up a hangover cure that she hadn't used since that time in Carthak when a man had tried to drown himself with wine. He could hardly see straight when he woke up alone on the bar top, and without anything to ease it, had gone on something like a rampage. She was the only one around, as the barkeeper had wisely left through a back door. So naturally, he attacked her, until she...'fixed' the problem and sent him off to the local healer. From then on, she had made sure to keep a packet of emergency herbs in case something similar occurred.
But why did she help him? She honestly didn't know, was she really getting soft? After all, he was a complete stranger and the friend of a the soon-to-be-dead Prince. Now she bristled at her so called employer, who had commanded her not to even try to kill him until she received orders through Terrin. Just who did he think he was? Her job could have been done the moment that idiotic Prince let out that he was the Prince. But no, she had to wait for the beck and call of the master.
She pulled out a knife and slammed it on the table in front of her, the blade embedded itself in the softwood. The innkeeper wouldn't be happy, but then she wasn't happy either.
"Temper, Hunter. Never a good thing, and the innkeeper won't be pleased about the table," a certain someone voice her thoughts.
She swung around on her chair. "Do you know that when a door's locked, it means that the person inside does not want to be bothered? And if you know my temper, you'd better get out before I do something I might regret later--not that I will regret it, of course."
"Do you ever wonder why we repeat this scene every time we meet?" he questioned lightly.
"No, I don't--you just insist on intruding, so I insist on defending. It's simple."
"I expected so. You disappeared last night, where did you go?"
Alanna shrugged. "I was wondering the same thing. What happened between you two? The prince could have been dead by the time you finished talking."
Terrin smirked. "What? Missed me?"
She snorted. "You wish."
He eyed her movements suspiciously as she tugged the knife out of the wood. When she didn't move to do anything, he relaxed his guard visibly. "Actually, I don't. And so as to satisfy your curiosity, you're to go to the palace--"
Alanna had stopped him by holding the knife up to his neck and twisting his hand behind his back. "If that sentence just so happens to end with the words 'lady', 'maid', 'mage', 'healer' or anything like that, you will find yourself dead before you're through."
"Doesn't give me many options, does it? So I guess I'll just have to..." Quickly, he brought his other hand up to grab her wrist, twisting it until he heard the sharp intake of breath that indicated she was in pain. The knife clattered to the ground and he flipped it to jump into his free hand while pushing her against the wall. He transferred the knife to his boots while she was still in shock from banging against the wall.
In this moment, she recovered and tried to slam her knee into his face; he artfully dodged it and stood up, grabbing her arms and slamming them up above her head and holding them in place with one hand.
"You--"
He moved his free hand to cover her mouth. "Was that an insult? I don't want to hear it. And don't try to kick, I can see it coming." Gently, he let his hand shift off her mouth.
"I'll insult to all I want," she hissed when he removed his hand. "Now let me go!"
"Not if you're acting like this, no. I suppose I'll just have to let you talk, but you know, this is actually a comfortable position," he told her ironically.
"You are Gods-cursed bastard with absolutely--" He silenced her this time by sliding his mouth over hers.
When he finally pulled away, she was breathless. Her lips were searing with fluid fire, and she wouldn't have been able to stand if he hadn't wrapped his hands around her waist to support her during the kiss. "You're a-a--" she croaked indefinitely.
Terrin threw her a grin. "You'll have a long time to think about what I am, there's no need to hurry. I just thought you might have wanted to practice being my betrothed for when we go to the palace."
"Your mother must have left your father for a boar," she croaked.
"Perhaps she did, but very sorry to interrupt you from telling my history, all the same. I think I'm going to take my leave now, it's getting late." He freed her and walked serenely out the door.
Alanna sank to her knees and let her head tilt back against the wall. She was a fool to let her guard slip around him, as she so often did. Like she did last night at the palace, like she did just now. He had been playing with her, she should have known. That's two knives I've lost to him--my favorite included, she remembered. Right now, what she really wanted to do was kill someone--preferably Terrin, but that was close to impossible. He was better than her in most things, even if she wouldn't admit it. In fact, she wondered if he had any flaws.
Oh yes, the fact that he's an crazed goatherd's bastard doesn't seem to help, either, she thought glumly. Something whistled past her, missing her by an inch, embedding itself into the wall. She saw that it was one of her knives, pinning a piece of paper--a letter--to the wall.
She stood up and retrieved it, replacing the knife in its empty place in her boot. She opened the letter, smoothing it out on her thigh before reading it. She paled visibly as she did.
Hunter,
Find someone--or somewhere--from which you can study the learnings required by the noble ladies of Tortall. I know you don't know any, for all you're a noble by birth. For in two month's time you're to meet me at Fief Riverswarth, west of Lake Tirragen. Our employer will send you the monies needed to outfit yourself for our excursion. Just find the hostler dressed in Conté livery at the stables near the South Gate. And when getting clothes, keep to lighter colors--just not so much black.
As I hinted before, we are to enter the palace pretending to be a betrothed couple traveling to Corus before the wedding. Why we need to do this, I am still not sure, as our 'employer' did not discuss it thoroughly with me. I share your opinion in which it would be much easier to sneak in the palace and...
But he has informed me that we are to follow through with his plan to stay on the safe side. Of course you visiting the Prince and his friend's at midnight was unplanned and might upset the plot on the whole. I am leaving to arrange other things, do not do anything rash while I'm gone.
And one last thing: your name. You cannot be called Hunter if you are to play along as my betrothed. No, you can't refuse to cooperate as you have already agreed to work under our 'employer'. I was thinking that you should take the name 'Alanna', after the late Lord Alan's daughter and the deceased Page Thom's twin sister. She disappeared after a strange and rumored incident in which she was supposedly sent to Carthak. You certainly look the part, for Page Thom was said to have had the same hair and eyes. Description's on his sister's looks are unconfirmed, as Trebond's servants won't talk, so you will fit in nicely. Find out all you can about Fief Trebond, I can pull strings and contracts to work this out.
Don't stay angry for too long, it won't due for the one to be mad at one's betrothed--even if it's just play-acting. Remember that this is play-acting with lives on the line. Burn the letter.
Terrin.
Alanna dropped the letter onto the ground, stepping over it to sit on the bed. Was it just a coincidence Terrin decided to use her real name as her 'play' name? Did he really know? And if the letter was all true--as she knew it was--she would have to face him again and act as his betrothed. Her hands tightened into fists as she fumed over everything.
Then a sly smile crossed her face as an idea came to mind. She picked up the letter and re-read it and made sure she memorized every word of it's content. Once finished, she threw into the fireplace, lighting it with flames and turning it to ash. She was going to see George.
The only problem was that she didn't know where he was.
Notice how Alanna so pointedly refused to think about the kiss and refrained from even treating it like it even happened, which, of course, it did. So...how did you like the chapter? More Jon, and more Terrin...Terrin's kiss was sudden, I didn't even know he was going to do that until I was writing it...okay, maybe I planned it a few paragraphs before. But does this satisfy you all for now?
But anyway, there was amazingly, no questions. I must have scared everyone last time...that or you're learning patience! Now all I have to do is learn that, too.
And all you who want more interaction with Jon...he's in the next chapter. And as for those of you who want George...he's in the next chapter, too. In fact, just about everybody is in the next chapter, except Terrin (sorry?)...but maybe he'll pop up again. But I'm just warning you all (even if you're happy about it), the next chapter will be very long; titled Play-Acting.
~Reaya