Chapter Thirteen ~ New Prospects

Alanna sat rigidly against the headboard of the bed, petting her new pet absent-mindedly with one hand while holding a glass of red wine in the other, brooding over untouchable subjects. Thom was dead, she knew that, accepted it. No, not accepted. If she accepted it, she wouldn't still be thinking about it. So why didn't she accept it?

You know, if you keep thinking like that, you're going to end up drinking the wine you poisoned.

Alanna shot a look at the cat, whose comments where still disturbing, if not surprising. After numerous and unsuccessful times of trying to convince herself that she was hallucinating from the tediousness of this place, she had finally just accepted that the cat talked--well, almost anyway. She learned it was better just to listen and accept rather than argue with herself and the cat.

"That's nice to know; now scat," she snapped. Like always, he ignored the comment, but at least he didn't talk anymore. She returned to her thoughts-or tried to anyway.

"What's on your mind?" a deep, rich voice asked. "You look fit to kill."

"You use that term so lightly," she replied sarcastically, "and don't you think it's the perfect term to apply to an assassin? I do." She was irate and not in the best of moods.

"No, it's not a very good term, is it? Let me try a better one," Terrin replied evenly while she glowered at him. "You know, now you look as if you just found out that you were marrying the Prince and trying to take out your anger on me."

The sip of wine Alanna had taken while trying to calm her anger came spurting out, sprinkling the spotless white silk tunic with stains. He wrinkled his nose, a habit he had whenever someone dirtied his clothes or possessions. "Did you have to do that? I just had it cleaned."

"I feel so sorry..." Alanna muttered.

He smirked. "Glad to know you care."

"...For the maid for the maid who will have to clean that," she finished. Wiping the remaining wine from her lips with the sleeve of her shirt, she looked up at him with her darkest glare. "Now, I hope I didn't just hear what I thought I heard. Would you be so polite as to repeat it?" she asked through gritted teeth.

He looked at her reproachfully, then leaned over and dabbed at her lips with his own sleeve. "You still have wine on it," he informed her. And don't say that I didn't help you when you spat that all over me. If my guess is correct, it was one of your poisoned samples." He flicked at a piece of invisible lint on his pants, giving him a look of careless casualness. "And it's not like you wouldn't look that was if the wedding happened."

"To you or to the Prince?" she quizzed, ignoring his earlier comments. Without waiting for a reply, she continued. "Of course if either of those weddings happen, you're invited to the funeral which should be scheduled on the same day. And you look like a fish."

Terrin raised his eyebrow. "Why, thank you," he answered as sincerely as he could. "It'll be the first wedding-funeral combination I would have been invited to." A pause. "Am I invited to the wedding, too, then?"

Alanna threw the glass-with the remaining wine-at him. Terrin ducked, his eyes laughing as he straightened. "I'll take that as a yes," he muttered darkly, trying to hide the fact that he was amused. "I am so sorry for the maid who will have to clean that up," he mocked and exited quickly before she had a chance to throw something else at him, or worse, muss up his clothes even more.

I told you so, her cat finished smugly for him, then jumped off the bed to follow Terrin out. Alanna stared after them both for some time after that. With a sigh, she decided to take a nap before her migraine worsened.

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Waking up feeling bored and restless, she decided to get out of the palace. She dug out a pair of cotton breeches and a light wool shirt, tugging them on quickly. She crossed the threshold of the door behind her just as fast, trying to avoid catching anyone's attentions as she made her way through the palace. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case.

"Where do you think you're going?" The dark young man lounged back against the wall, studying her face with careful anticipation. She was caught in the middle of an open courtyard. She recognized him as the one she had met before in the city. Her employer's errand boy, other than Terrin, that was.

The corner of Alanna's mouth twitched into a frown. "Since when did you become my mother?" she asked irritably.

"Do you always act like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're in a bad mood. Now, will you stop answering my questions with questions?"

"Why don't you stop asking questions, then?"

The man sighed and lifted his hands in defeat. "Okay, then. We'll try this again. Hello, Alanna. Where are you going this fine morning?"

Alanna raised an eyebrow, changing her laugh into a cough. "Out," she replied quickly.

"Talkative, aren't we?"

"Well, it's not exactly morning, is it? The sun's setting."

He chuckled. "No it isn't, but where exactly are you going?"

"Out; I told you that already." She turned her back on him and took a step away.

"You've been associating with the Prince lately, haven't you?" he spoke up suddenly.

She froze in mid-step and turned on one foot, eyes glinting angrily. Walking back to him, she crossed her arms under her breast. "How do you know that?" she snapped. "And what is it to you?"

"I know, because I do," he replied in a monotone voice. "I just thought I'd let you know he isn't pleased." He smiled, showing teeth.

"How lovely," she replied with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Now being used by you as well as Terrin, the phrase has been overused. It's so nice to know that he has his dog spying on me as well as his fish. And since you know my name so well, let me ask you something. What would yours be? Is it Dog or something else? You seem to like follow your master's every command...or am I just not seeing this right?" Insulting comments were one of the talents she'd picked up from Terrin.

"Very funny," he replied dryly. "For something that doesn't concern you, I hate dogs."

Alanna pretended to inspect a nail. "Name," she demanded.

"What about yours?" he shot back. "I know it's not Alanna."

She turned her chortle into an unsuccessful sigh. "It's close enough, if you must."

He twitched. "Alex, then."

She smiled and dusted her hands. "Well Alex, I'm not up to a conversation just now." With a series of flips, she alighted on the roof.

"Show off," she heard someone remark loudly. Turning her head slightly, she caught sight of Terrin coming up to stand beside Alex. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Have you just gotten immature, or are you actually flirting with him? a certain black cat wanted to know. It had been following her around so much, like a faithful dog, that she had actually decided upon impulse to name it Faithful. Or rather, him. I should have name him 'Annoyance' , Alanna thought irately and tried to get rid of him by quickening her step.

You know, you can't always ignore me, it continued. Not since I'm a messenger from the Gods.

She looked at it strangely. "Yes," she agreed. "And pigs can fly."

Maybe they can.

"It's no good talking to a cat, especially if they always insist on getting the last word," she muttered. Looking at Faithful, she was sure he had a smug look about him, if cats could look smug. "I hope you get lost on the streets-that or a thief decides you're actually worth stealing."

I wish the same to you.

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Rounding the corner into to stable yards, a small figure ran past her and almost collided. The small boy fell, but scrambled off and readied to begin his hurried progress across the yard. She held him back by the sleeve. "Watch where you're going next time, especially if you're going to run into people in bad moods."

"Me sorry, miss, but I'da sworn I sawed a black cats runned past 'ere with p'rple lamps!" He stared at his bare feet, fidgeting nervously.

It shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. "Pek," she realized.

He looked up at her through his large gray eyes. "Miss!" he exclaimed happily. "Ye comed back! I'd been waitin' fo'ever! Just like 'e said last time 'e comed. 'y lookin' fer G'orge?" He paused only momentarily before going on. "I can take ya to 'im, if ye wants, but 'e gots ot'er guests 'e's been lookin' aft'a, so we gots ta waits fer a bit." He took his grubby hands in her and pulled her along, words still streaming. "They'd been treatin' me'uns real goods-the man ye'd like'ta jabber w'th still visits me."

Alanna frowned, Terrin had been visiting George? And Pek? But why would he do that? Unless...

"Ye just'a need ta 'ock da door, miss'un. 'e's always in'a good mood when they visits." Alanna smiled faintly at him, and handed him a copper. He barely nodded his thanks before taking off again, most likely to spend his new earnings. She shook her head after him and raised her hand to knock on the door, finally realizing where she was. Before she could do anything, though, it swung open to admit a very red-faced young man.

"Gary."

He looked up and swayed on his feet. "You-uh, Lady Alanna," he said in a daze. "What are you doing here?" He was clearly drunk again.

"Gary!" someone called from inside. "Who're you talking to? Or is it just yourself?" Drunken laughter insured, making Alanna's eyebrow go up.

"I suppose you took it to your head that I would always come with a remedy every time you did this," she commented sardonically. "Who else is in there with you? I was told George was supposed to be here..."

"George? He's there." He paused. "I think. Or I think he left when it started...no, that was-I don't remember." He cocked his head and stared at her, and emitting a large yawn, swayed some more.

"I think you'd better sit down," Alanna murmured, grabbing the young but large man non-too-gently by the arm, trying to re-direct him inside and onto a stable chair. He stayed rooted to his spot; she scowled. "Gary, move it!" There was more laughter.

It took some effort on her part, but she finally got him to move out of the doorway, at least.

The sight of what lay beyond it was a different matter. George, on the down side, was not present. Someone else missing was Gary's friend, Raoul. Three rogues were Marek, Lightfingers, and the strange Grayson. They looked up at her with equal surprise as she viewed them. Marek and Lightfingers didn't stop conversing animatedly with the two men sitting across from them while doing this, though. Unfortunately, they were all drunk-with the exception of Grayson, who always seemed to be sober and scowling.

It was he who stood up and walked over, mistrust etched clearly on his scarred face. His sour expression seemed to be as much toward the younger men as well as her. "What d'ye think yer doin' 'ere?"

Ignoring him, Alanna continued to survey her surroundings. "Quite a party you have here-and it being a bit past noon, too. Don't you all usually know to reserve the rowdiness for later in the evening?"

"Not where it involves ye, no," he grumbled. "If it be a prostitutes' party ye'd be lookin' fer, on the streets and in 'er dark alley be the place."

"Sadly, that's not what I'm looking for," she said, giving a mocking sigh. "Of course, I'm in need of entertainment while I wait, and watching you bleed sound like a better past-time than brewing up remedies for hangovers these drunken oafs will be crying for." She twiddled a dagger to express her point to the further extent of her icy tone.

He snorted, but believed her. "I 'ope George decides te turn ye into the Provost, Rouge Code or no," he spat. She shrugged, juggling the knife from one hand to the other, playfully throwing them in the air, then catching them last minute. Looking her over, he found her to be dressed differently than the last time he'd seen her. Her sturdy brown cotton breeches and the wool shirt seemed to be ordinary, but the quality by which they seemed to be made where not. Neither was the fact that both where stainless and new. Suspicious, he studied her face.

The stubborn chin and lips marked her as strong-willed; but he already knew that. Her nose was not out of the ordinary, and her facial shape was common, but the striking copper hair framing it seemed unnatural with her eyes. Expressionless but a startling shade of violet, they made her all the more mysterious. It wasn't her looks and features (if you could see past the purple eyes and red hair) so much as the way she held and expressed herself that threw you when trying to dig deeper of her origins. She seemed to be harboring some big, dark secret. Most feelings were withheld from showing, other than a queer look that escaped her carefully blank mask of indifference of faked boredom. He couldn't quite put a finger on exactly what that look meant, though.

"I find that staring isn't quite as productive as other things," George remarked off-handedly from behind. Both turned towards him in anticipation, both trying to cover their uncertainty at being caught slightly off-guard.

"It took you long enough," Alanna said coldly.

George glanced around quickly from the other occupants of the room to Grayson, then back to her again. "I can explain," he huffed quickly.

She smirked.

He cocked his head and looked at her oddly. "I was actually talkin' to Grayson, if you don't mind." Alanna gave him a blank look. "Of course, if you'd just still me what you want," he amended, "I'd happily get it for you."

Alanna rolled her eyes and sat on the table despite the protests of its current occupants. A black cat jumped into her lap as she did, giving her a cat's smirk. I'm not moving, so don't waste your breath. And forget about talking to George, you shouldn't get into the habit. And there's more interesting news waiting.

"Oh really?" she replied saucily, forgetting that she was speaking aloud to a cat. "And just what would that be?"

George look taken back. "Are you alright, lass?"

"Fine, fine, never better," she replied, distracted. Faithful left her to trot over to Gary, who along with everyone else, was staring intently at whatever they were doing and pretending not to be listening. Of course, they all failed miserably at this. The cat jumped onto the table, startling its occupants and forcing them to look up. He turned around to make sure she was watching.

With another leap, he arrived at the ledge of an open window. Come on, we don't have all day.

Alanna shook her head, but followed. With practiced ease, she jumped out the window closely behind her strange new pet.

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She quickened her pace; the dratted cat had disappeared after the last turn, leaving her in the middle of a maze of streets. A stone moved, scraping the ground. She turned.

"Hello."

Three giant men dresses in coarse black cloth stood there, the center one was clearly their leader. All had black cloths covering the lower part of their faces; she could smell the reek of alcohol in their breaths. Their eyes seemed diluted and off-focus. The one who had spoken gave away a tired voice. All in all, it was a promising scene. She leaned against the wall and waited.

"We 'eard a rumor, our boss did, anyway. 'eard about some'un called the 'unter. A source told us it'd be ye." He paused many times while trying to say this. He was clearly having trouble talking, as told by the slurred words and unnatural tone of his voice.

"Correct. Who might you boss be?" Her tone automatically adapted to fit the situation. She had a pretty good guess at what this was already, so...

"'e thought ye might want'a know ye worked with'um afore. 'e says da Temple District, now."

"Hmm...did he give you any more instructions?" She moved her hand into position, she knew what to expect, even if they didn't. It always happened on a case like this.

He paused for a moment, thinking over his next words. It had puzzled him before, this last instruction, but he hadn't taxed his brain so much as to take the time to think over it word by word. "'e said to-ex'dermi'ate," he replied slowly, unable to get the exact word, "-ex'derm'nate those 'ho know." He looked expectantly at the woman, wondering if she could decipher the meaning. He frowned, why does she have that strange glint in her eye? he wondered. It was the last thought he had before a dagger sprouted from his chest and his eyes rolled upward.

His companions stared mute with horror from the body to the violet-eyed woman. It didn't look like she had moved at all, but instinct from living out on the streets told them to get out of there. They turned heel and ran.

Their pursuer was not far behind; she had been ready for this. It had been like this so many times before, she didn't even give a backwards glance at the dead man. Instead, her mind focused and dwelled on the experience of the chase. They knew the area better than she, giving them the advantage in that part, but they where also drunk.

It didn't take long for her to corner them. With a blank face, she moved in for the kill. Blood flowed, staining the bright steel blade a dark red.

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"I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

"Not at all," was the reply. "In fact, I'm surprised that they found you within the week." The voice was crisp and to the point. It belonged to a aristocratic man lounging in the shade of a large willow tree. He had light brown hair, which was beginning to gray, and murky green-gold eyes. For someone who was in his late forties, he moved with muscular grace uncommon in others his age. "I trust you've kept our confidences secret?"

"They're taken care of," she replied coolly. "What is it you want?"

"You're unsuitably impatient for an assassin, never mind one so young." The man stood up and walked towards her. "Come on, there are better places to talk. He led her past the Temple of the Mother Goddess, where armed warrior priestesses eyed them suspiciously. "Ignore them," he told her, as if reassuring a young child.

"I may be young," she pointed out to him tartly, "but I'm not that young. And I haven't come to be lectured by a wheezing old crime lord."

"My dear, that is not the way to talk to an old association that provided you with what you have now. Come on before I put your head on the stake and haul you back to Carthak." He nudged open a door with his metal-toed boots, revealing a worn marble steps leading underneath a temple. "We need a light, if you please. This place hasn't been used since the last decade when my brother used it."

She scowled, but obliged. A purple flame ignited, hovering above her palm and casting shadows outside the circle of light. "I'm expecting answers, and I better get them soon," she said pointedly.

"You will."

They descended in silence for the rest of the way before reaching a dim landing. Two fully armed guards blocked the door, scarred, but both well-learned in the fighting arts. They drew their weapons as she appeared, ready to prevent her from entering if she should try. The man appeared behind her and waved his hand wearily in dismissal. They stepped aside and opened the door, nodding approval for entrance.

"Ladies first."

"No, if there are traps, the men should always perish before the women," she replied.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I see you've learned not to take every comment with deadly seriousness. Pray tell who is responsible for this delightful change."

Alanna stared at him before throwing a kick, knowing very well that it would be blocked. It was. "Next time it's a knife." He raised an eyebrow but didn't reply. Instead, he chose to cross the threshold of the door, motioning for her to follow quickly.

The room on the other side was large and well-lit. Golden globes lined the wall, so bright they could trick one to think that he was outside. Large gold and red couches were arranged in a semi circle around a low glass surface supported by four columns of carved marble. The pillars themselves were carved intricately into strange spirit-like, wide-eyed women.

"Undines," he explained, following her gaze. "Nymphs who tend their respective areas. These are of the water variety. They are there purely for decoration and in no way to mock you. Sit."

"I may not have the most pleasant deposition, but I am not necessarily that bad," she voiced before taking a seat. "You are taking my time, and my patience is waning."

"I see you haven't forgotten your vocabulary from the University days," he remarked. "And I'm not trying to try your patience." He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A guard entered bearing a bulging bag. Expressionless, he placed it on the table and as left quietly as he had entered.

Alanna eyed it wearily, fully knowing what it held. "What is it for now?"

"The rest of the pay for killing our stupid friend Oaklam. I heard a rumor somewhere that he bribed you with jewels and begged for his life before finally realizing your gender?"

"I don't appreciate spies," was all Alanna replied.

He sighed. "I have another job for you; I want you to think about it-really think about it-before you answer."

"You should know that I'm on another job already, what with you and your spies." He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. "Then you also know that I've been bored to death and would be willing to take any job offered." It was her turn to sigh. "Just make sure whoever it is isn't as idiotic as your brother."

He chuckled. "If that's all you're worried about, it should be easy. I thought you'd enjoy this one, so I accepted my client's wager." Her eyes narrowed at the last word. "Don't worry; it's nothing major, since you're already on it." He put up a finger. "One, kill the heir of Tortall. Two," he raised a second finger, "get rid of a troublesome black-robe in training. Three," a third finger went up, "dispose of the current heir to Carthak as quickly and as discreetly as possible. What do you say?"

Alanna stared at him. "You've had some cracked clients before, but this time they've really gone over the edge. I say you're crazy...Who put you up to this?"

"Someone who wants power and would do anything to get it. Do you want the job?"

"Perhaps."

"Good, it's a lifetime assignment, so there's no rush. You've made me a hundred nobles richer, my dear, and I thank you for that."

"Wait, I never agreed to anything," she protested. "You-"

He stood up and regarded her carefully. "'Perhaps' is a word meaning 'yes' in my world; maybe being at court has dimmed your memory of us. You've taken the job, end of story. It's a new prospect, Alanna, have you ever thought what you'd do after you avenge your brother?" She was speechless. "That's what I thought. But don't think too much, it doesn't kill anyone other than you doing that."

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One wonders what's become of me. Unfortunately, I'm not dead. I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life takes forever when homework and school enters it. Kinda just saps the time away. But even more unfortunately, it's entered my head to put in yet another twist in the story. Any guesses at who the client is? The man is simply the crime lord who helps with Alanna's career in Carthak.

Questions? Answers? Comments?

Question: Is Terrin George or Thom or Damon?

Answer: What? Are you referring to my other fic? Damon doesn't exist in this one and Terrin is Terrin. George is George and Thom is dead...

Question: Where is The Main Characters?

Answer: Huh? What exactly are you referring to?

Question: Did Alanna Kill Jon? Did They Fall In Love? A/G Or A/J Or A/T Or A/G?

Answer: Uh...if you ask anyone else who reads this, I'm sure they could answer for you...*cough*

Question: Is Alanna and Jon going back to the black city soon?

Answer: I don't think that it'll happen in this story (it might), but I'm thinking more along the lines of a sequel...

Question: Is George going to appear again?

Answer: Briefly in this chapter, but of course!

~Reaya