Chapter Ten ~ Poison Frenzy

She stood in front of a small, yet bustling in with a worn, wooden sign declaring it the Dancing Dove. She looked behind her, finding her young guide had disappeared, and shivered as the autumn wind picked up, billowing her skirts around her legs. She pushed open the door and blinked in the sight. The smoke was so thick that she could hardly see through, and the sounds of the men and women having fun was deafening. She guessed they were probably all rogues.

Someone grabbed her from behind, forcing her into their lap. She twisted out of his arms and pushed herself out of his way, upending his chair so he crashed to the ground. She smirked. Usually she didn't like making scenes, but sometimes there were exceptions. This was one of them.

The man sputtered as he choked on the beer he had been drinking before she had brought him crashing down. "Why you little--" he had to stop to dodge a fourscore of knives raining down on him.

She looked disdainfully at him and shot glares to the crowd which had gathered. She caught familiar hazel eyes watching her. She signaled for him to wait and turned back to the man cowering on the floor, expecting more knives. "Don't try that," was all she told them, her icy tone told the rest.

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"You don't mean it!"

"I do, every single word. Can you get it or do I have to ask someone else?"

George shook his head. "You're out of your mind, lass. I would do many things for a friend, but poison?"

"So I'm considered a 'friend' to you now?" Alanna arched an eyebrow. "I'm not a friend. Never a friend," she continued, her tone more aloft and cold than it had ever been. She showed him her palm, on which a dagger sat, the light making it shine.

"Friends." She drew out the word, accenting each syllable until she stretched it misshapen. "Friends, would hesitate to kill you; I would not. Friends and Caring will hurt you." She took the dagger and carved a crooked line in the table.

"Alright, then. Not a friend, but I still couldn't—no, wouldn't—get you what you're askin' for. If I wanted to, you'd've had it already. And," he added. "I need to know what you want it for."

She pulled out several of her weapons, laying them unsheathed on the table. Each sharpened blade gleamed as it caught the dim light, scattering it across the rooms, leaving little rays playing over the walls and ceilings. She flexed the fingers on her right hand, using her other to prop her chin. She looked at him, her violet eyes bright, acidic and distant all at the same time. "What do you think I want it for?"

"Not to kill someone? I'd've thought you'd have more honor than that!"

"What does the King of Thieves know about honor?"

"Plenty," was the reply. "Ever heard of the Code of the Rogue?"

The curves of her mouth snaked into a mocking smile. "Are you imposing on me the fact that I have no honor?"

George sighed. "You said you needed two things, what's the other?"

She sobered, a look of uncertainty crossed her face. Hesitantly, she began. "I need someone—a priestess, if possible—to help me, with…some things."

He tried to act attentive, but George couldn't keep all his amusement from showing. "To think I never'd've thought to live to the day when see you ask for help. From me, no less."

"Don't push it," she muttered. "Well?"

The Rogue was smiling openly now. "I think it's time you've meet my mother." A look of horror, surprise, and rage crossed her face. "Don't worry," he assured her quickly. "It's not that."

"But your mother?"

"Yes. You know, the woman who birthed me? I have one, too, no matter what everyone thinks. I'm just worried you don't."

She let the second comment slide, brushing aside any mention of Trebond and her past. "You know I didn't mean that," she growled.

"I know very well what you meant. My mother's a healer—and was a priestess of the Goddess before that. You can trust her where you can't with me."

"Since when did I trust anybody?"

"True, but I'm trusting you to pretend. Now come on." He stood up from his table, eyeing her weapons. She shrugged and scooped them up, where they disappeared from her hands. "We're going to go upstairs."

"Why? You're mother lives there?"

"No, she's a tad disappointed I went into Rogue, and would never live at the 'Dove. I just don't want to go through the crowd, not with all the ruckus you caused comin'. There's more than one way out most places—but you know that already."

"George Cooper, are you teasing me? Because you do know that that could cost you your life."

He chuckled. "I like my life, thank you very much."

George led her out through window on the second floor to the stables. Inside, he pointed at a stall hosting her own horse. "You left her with Grayson and never picked her up," he explained. He whistled up a small stable boy, who looked oddly familiar. "Ready the lady's horse," the Rogue instructed. The boy scurried to obey.

Then it dawned on her. That was the same stable boy from Pearlmouth...but what was he doing here? She leaned against the wall, pondering over this while the stable boy obliviously did what he was told.

In a few minutes, he turned to her. "Ye horse be ready, ma'm." He looked up at her face, his eyes widening. "Ye-ye-ye here?"

She smiled wryly. "I was going to ask you the same question. How'd you come here?"

"T'was him—the man you were speakin' with afor's. He found me aft'a you left, he brough me 'ere. George said 'e'd take me and 'e did! 'e said I've been good with ta 'orses." He beamed, it was clear that he was happy now. She nodded and turned to George, who had been listening intently.

"You know Terrin?" she asked.

"Of course, he's a man of many connections. I fancied it was him you might be seeing—he mentioned as much."

"Me, seeing him? I don't remember that happening. He's just trailing me and showing up at the most annoying times, I'd like to poison him sometime."

"So it was for him?"

"Hmm?"

"The poison you were asking for," he clarified.

She shrugged and stepped into the stall, she took the lead reins and led the mare out. The stable boy rushed over and tugged her skirt. "I'm suppose ta do that, ma'm," he said gravely. She gave him a absent-minded smile and a pat, handing over the horse.

"What's his name?" she asked George once he was out of hearing distance.

"Why ask me? He's right over there." He pointed. When she scowled, he answered. "Accordin' to him, he's called Pek." He walked out, pausing only to call over his shoulder. "Are you comin' or not? It looks like it might rain if we dawdle any longer." Alanna didn't bother to reply. She mounted Starfall beside George's own chestnut mare.

They rode to the Street of Willows, stopping in front of gate marked with a wooden cup, circled once in red and once in brown—a healer's sign. George dismounted and unlocked the gate. He motioned for her to ride into the courtyard, led his horse in behind her and then closed the gate.

George's mother came to the door of the house. She was a tall woman, with her son's twinkling hazel eyes and and air of command. Only a single streak of white in her chestnut hair revealed her to be a little more than middle-aged. She looked from George, then to Alanna, and smiled. "Come on in, it's cold out there."

Alanna stepped down from the horse, looking around curiously. "Give her to the man; that's what he's here for," George told her. She shrugged and surrendered the reins.

She was ushered into a small, neat room. Healing plants of all kinds hung from the rafters, giving room a fragrant smell. Alanna recognized more than a few from her studies at the University. A small wooden table covered with a clean sheet sat in the room's corner.

"Do sit, it's been pretty long since George brought a visitor as exotic as you. George, you sit, too." Mistress Cooper folded her hands neatly into her lap.

"This is..." he tailed off as he realized he didn't know the name of the young woman sitting beside him. His mother raised an eyebrow.

Alanna wavered before making up her mind to tell them her name. After all, it was not like it was going to be kept secret for ever. "Alanna," she finished. George looked at her oddly but didn't say anything. "I wanted someone to help me with...some things, and George said you could help."

"It depends on your problem, but if George think I can help, then I probably can. What are these things you want me to help you with?"

Alanna turned to George and stared at him, indicating his dismissal. Mistress Cooper followed her gaze and smiled at her son. "Maybe you should go, you wouldn't want to be around when we start talking about women's things," she said. George gave a them a knowing smile and left. "He's a good boy, even though he's crooked. What was it, then?"

"Well..." she stopped. Standing up, she walked over to the door, jerking it open. She stuck her head out, catching sight of George's retreating back. "George!"

Mistress Cooper laughed. "I see you know his habits pretty well. Have you been with him long?"

Alanna shut the door. "Hmm? No, not very, but you can expect all men to act like that." She muttered something under her breath and closed her eyes, drawing out her Gift from inside.

"You must be a pretty good mage," the woman commented. Purple light now walled in the room.

Alanna shrugged and sat down again. "I picked up a few things here and there," she replied. Not a complete lie; she didn't really pay too much attention to the mages teaching at the University. Most of what they spoke about where theories and predictions, so she went ahead and ignored it all, choosing only to learn the more useful of the spells taught. "George told me you used to be a priestess," she began carefully, looking up to confirm this.

The healer nodded. "Yes, he told you the truth."

"I was wondering if you could help me outfit myself as a lady and teach me what things I need to know, but don't."

Mistress Cooper looked amused. "Why such a request?"

Alanna bit her lip. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked cautiously. "Don't tell George, or anyone."

"Of course."

She took a deep breath. "What George doesn't know—what no one in Tortall knows anymore—is that I was really born Alanna of Trebond. George didn't even know my name until earlier, when I told you. My twin brother was Thom, he died when we where twelve, at the palace. I lived in Carthak, studying at the University. I was there until a few months ago, after that, I came here. I wasn't very social there, and Carthaki Etiquette differs from Tortallan and so I didn't learn much there. But I'm to go to the palace with...my betrothed." She had to keep herself from wincing at the word.

"I see. So you want me to help you with what you should know. Does your betrothed know about your history?"

"Some—enough, I guess." She was grateful that the Healer didn't ask too many pressing questions.

Mistress Cooper studied the girl carefully. She could tell the girl didn't tell the complete story; she had secrets that she was going to keep at all costs. "I can help," she said slowly. "Do you have enough money? A noble lady is a very expensive creature."

"Money's not a problem. Do I need to pay you anything?"

"Of course not, I'd gladly help a friend of George's anyway. Do you still want my help?"

Alanna hesitated before nodding.

"Come back tomorrow, and we can start."

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"How'd it go?"

"Fine," she replied tartly while saddling the mare.

"Why the bad mood?" George continued, leaning nonchalantly against the stable wall..

"Aren't I always in a bad mood?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then you don't need me to answer." She mounted and nudged the horse to a walk.

George followed, walking in step. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere you're not coming. Can you open the gate?" When he did, she gave him an impish smile. "Thank you," she said in her mocking tone and rode through without so much of a good-bye.

Navigating to the main streets was easy, but trying to go against the dense crowd was another matter. She gave up after being almost pulled off her horse (not that the person who did it got away unscathed, either) and chose to walk. She led Starfall into the nearest stable and paid to keep her there for the rest of the week, giving a few gold nobles to the stable boy to exercise her daily and headed back out.

It took her over an hour to get to the South Gate. Added to that was the time needed to actually find the stables and the hostlers in it. By the time she arrived at the inn where she was staying the sun had already set. She juggled the bag of nobles in her hand, thinking.

She was doing that too much lately...thinking. There used to be a time when she was emotionless—or at least close to that—but now she seemed to be actually feeling attachments to those she spoke to. She sighed and closed her eyes.

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They were standing in a cheerful looking shop; brightly colored bolts of exotic materials adorned the walls and racks. A couple of stools stood in the center of the room, placed expertly in front of tall mirrors. The seamstress was a plump woman with a fake, but bright smile, and seemed always to have a look of agitation on her face while being attended by the shop girl, who stuck her nose up in the air when they had entered. Mistress Cooper nodded a greeting and was greeted with equal brightness.

"Welcome! I see you've brought me another customer."

"That I have. Alanna, this is Mistress Mida"

"What does she need? A dress to please a young man? A riding gown? A new skirt for her birthday, perhaps? Or maybe 'tis ye who needs one." The seamstress hovered around them expectantly.

"I'm not sure about her birthday, but yes, she needs a riding outfit. Perhaps several. You see, we need to outfit her with a whole set; she's going to go to the palace."

The shop girl goggled, suddenly not acting the snob. The seamstress nodded and waved them over to the back room where tea, cushions and table waited. "Ye all just take a seat, we've got to talk this out if it's a big purchase. 'ena, go fetch the cups, we've got business to discuss."

The shop girl stared for a moment, but did as she was told. She was back in a few minutes with blue inlaid teacups and plates of cake. She placed them in front of each, including herself, and took a seat. This seamstress was clearly a prosperous one. "Now, when do ye want as all ready?"

Mistress Cooper looked to Alanna. She thought for a moment. "Two months, sent to Fief Rivenswarth."

Mistress Mida nodded again. "With my weavers and seamstress's it shouldn't be as that long." She waddled over to the shelf set in the far corner of the wall and pulled out several books. She laid them on the table in front of Alanna and Mistress Cooper. "These are dress designs as ye can choose from, I can assure ye that they're the newest fashion."

Terrin had sent her another letter, giving her even more detail on the various things—like telling her to keep up with fashion—which had fanned her temper yet again. Mistress Cooper had to brew up a strong soothing tea to coax her into a better frame of mind before they began after she found out the number of dresses and accessories and manners she needed to get and learn in two months. She also warned her that they might be spending most of the week at a seamstress's shop. Not even ten minutes in the shop and it was already coming true. She vowed that she was going to get that poison to Terrin before the two months were up.

She stared blankly at the books. Mistress Cooper reached over and took one, opening it and flipping through the pages. She motioned for Alanna to do the same. Alanna diffidently opened one and Mistress Mida jumped to her side at once. She browsed through the pages, not really seeing them while the seamstress pointed out certain facts and styles. She nodded for her questions absently.

An hour or two later, they had come up with enough styles that Alanna felt could satisfy the whole of the Eastern Lands. Her head was all jumbled. Wasn't this the reason she had not wanted to go to the convent for? She became an assassin expecting never to have to enter the world of the simpering court ladies, and look how much good it had done her. She yawned and stretched, earning a disapproving look from Mistress Cooper.

Mistress Mida saw and smiled again, pulling them out to look at materials. Alanna let them take over completely this time as she tried to stifle another yawn. She was told to get on the stool while they measured her, expecting it to take long. But to her surprise, it was soon over and she was excused to go do what she willed.

"Alanna! You can go get some lunch while we talk." She sat up with a jerk and stood up quickly. "It's past lunch time, so you can go find someplace to eat. Just be sure to come back here within an hour or so," George's mother decided.

Alanna just nodded, she was only too glad escape. She was surprised when she looked up and found herself staring up at young man. He was slim and about half a head taller than her, with dark eyes and skin. He leaned against the inn's doorway in a cat-like stance. She blinked and straightened, jerking back to attention.

"Alanna, I presume?"

She frowned, how did he know her name? She was pretty sure she'd never seen him in her life. "Maybe I am, but that doesn't give you permission to express any interest in me," she retorted frostily.

"I see I've caught you in a bad mood," he responded.

She rolled her eyes. "What to you want? I don't have all day."

He nodded jerked a finger at the inn. "Step inside and we can talk over lunch. Unlike you, I have time."

She scowled, but entered. He led her upstairs and into a private suite complete with tables, food, and two chairs. "You were expecting me," Alanna mused aloud.

"That may be so. Sit."

She ignored him and tugged out two of her throwing knives. "Give me two reasons why you shouldn't be dead right now."

He smiled. "You were employed to kill the Prince, I don't believe I was a part of the contract."

She flipped one of the knifes into the air and sent the other one hurling at the door. There was a sharp intake of breath and both turned in time to see a maid listening beside the door. Her eyes flashing with anticipation, she vaulted out the room and caught the maid before she could flee.

"She's going to have to die, you know. It's a pity."

She turned around and glared at the man. "I am perfectly aware of that," she replied. Cocking her head she commented, "The body will be a problem, though."

The maid fainted and she jumped back. The cat-like man caught the dropped maid and carried her into the room. She followed, closing and locking the door behind her. "You or me?" she asked.

"You're the assassin," he replied.

She shrugged and pulled the knife out of the door. She walked over to the bedside, standing over the unconscious body. Suddenly, she felt herself go rigid. Composing herself, she looked from the man to the maid; she couldn't kill someone innocent, it wasn't the maid's fault that she was there at the wrong time. "It would be a waste, you know. If there was a silencing spell, she wouldn't be able to talk. I need a maid to complete my guise, why go out of the way to find one when we have one here?"

"First off, there's no silencing spell."

"I can cast one, it's not very hard."

"The Gift?"

"Maybe," she twirled the weapon in her hand and drew out her Gift. The maid glowed purple, then opened her eyes, a look of horror on her face as she stared at the knife. "Don't worry," Alanna told her. "I won't kill you. Just don't repeat what you heard and you'll be fine."

"You're threatening her? So you're spell didn't work?"

"Of course it worked," she snapped. "I'm just warning her, that's all. If she says it she dies, how else will she know if I don't tell her?"

He looked at her skeptically and shook his head. "You," he instructed the maid. "Tell your master that you won't be able to work here anymore and return immediately."

The girl nodded and hurried off.

Alanna gave a wry grin. "Now, how about lunch?"

"You're a lot more trouble than you're worth," he muttered.

"I'm so glad you've noticed."

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"Where have you been?" Mistress Cooper demanded when she returned to the shop. That's three hours you've been gone, and we still have a lot to do."

She didn't wait for Alanna say her excuses, instead, pointing at the door and pulling her out.

Over the next few weeks, she was taught how to do most of the things she needed to know to pass for her stay at the palace. One of the dresses arrived from Mistress Mida, and Mistress Cooper made her parade around her house in it. They bought enough ornaments and jewelry needed to outfit the entire population of women in Corus (or so Alanna felt) and went shopping enough that Alanna never wanted to step into the streets again. She also received a note from her employer and two from the cat-like man she had met, telling her the maid had been secured to work under her when she arrived. She didn't have time to visit the 'Dove, and therefore never caught sight of George.

Everything was done in a frenzy, and she expected to give out any moment.

The only good that had come from this was the poison she had bought at an apothecary when Mistress Cooper wasn't looking. Now she could kill Terrin, and the anonymous man, and her employer.

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Okay, I lied. This chapter was not called play-acting, that's the next chapter. And yes, Terrin will be in there. I didn't know so many of you like him (okay, maybe I had hints, but....)

I had a very hectic time writing this chapter and I hope it'll scrape through. Alanna doesn't seem in character (well, for this story, anyway) when she's with Mistress Cooper, but how would you feel going shopping 24/7. Wait, some of us like that. Instead, how do you think Alanna would feel?

But anyway, this time I'm sure the next chapter will be Play-Acting and will contain the following: Terrin, Alanna meeting Jon, Fief Riverswarth, the maid, the employer (you should know who he is by now), the anonymous man (you know him too. The descriptions told everything, and I don't care if he was ooc) and more. *sigh*

~Reaya