Chapter Fourteen ~ The Gilded Edge
Two heirs and a black-robe. Why do I have to get a conscience now of all time? Granted, one of them I know; one I might know, and the last one...I don't really care, do I? The black cat trotted silently beside her, claws hitting the ground with small clicks. She pursed her lips. "Can you stop doing that? It's irritating."
It stopped and turned its head towards her, staring with large violent eyes which mirrored her own. Can you stop brooding? It's annoying.
Alanna opened her mouth indignantly to reply, but her pet's gaze propelled her to close it again. "Stupid cat," she muttered under her breath as soon as he had turned away. She quickened her steps; the sky was darkening already, after all, winter was coming. Remembering this fact, she shivered. Cold was one of her weak points, and as much as dark suited her...it just wasn't the same if it was cold. Maybe Carthak was better.
The wind was tousling the 'Dove's sign about as she stepped discreetly inside. She still needed to talk to George.
He was there, sitting at his table...with Gary. "What are you still doing here?" she snapped.
Both men looked up at her in surprise. "W-wha'?" Gary blubbered, apparently still drunk. He had cushioned his head on his arms, lolling about dizzily.
She turned her glare on George. "Why isn't he in bed? You should know better than to leave him here where he's still drinking!" She paused and lowered her voice. "Why is he here? Do you know him?"
The Rogue blinked. "I know him," he replied evenly. "The question is how you know him."
She sputtered, remembering that George did not know about her palace expedition. "That doesn't concern you," she muttered darkly. "What does, though, is the fact that he," she jabbed a finger at the offending personage, "is here."
"Lass, I think we'd better talk this out in a private place. We'll bring Gary so you can attend to him." He looked from Gary to Alanna, then back--a strange expression was traced on his face. "Solom! We need a quiet room where we're not to be bothered." The barman nodded and led them upstairs. George pulled Gary along, as the young knight was incapable of walking straight.
It wasn't until they were in the room, with Gary strewn on the bed and George observing them both strangely again; that the realization at what the thief was hinting at hit her. She clenched her fist. "Things are not like that."
He gave a small smile. "No? Then you'd better do some explainin' to me."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I could, but I don't find that idea extremely attractive."
He stared at her, then sighed. "I supposed not, but it can't hurt a man to try, eh? At least tell me what he is to you."
She snorted. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She moved her braid out of her face, moving to a more comfortable position. When she looked up, he was still watching her in disbelief. It was her turn to sigh. "Don't believe me, fine. He's a relation of someone I need to..." She stretched out the last word, dragging out the meaning with a quick outward flick of her wrist.
George's eyes widened and he looked over at the figure now snoring on the bed. He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. "He's nobleman," he said flatly.
"I know." Her eyes met his in a hard stare, daring him to say something to rebuke her.
At the end, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This friend you say...think on it, Alanna. Some of us kill for money because we have to; others kill it for the joy of feeling their victims' terror and blood. Don't kill without reason--"
"Oh, there's a reason," she interrupted, tone coated with ice. A very good reason. She walked over to the window, throwing it open. "I don't suppose you'd help me with it anymore, though." She took out a sealed packet and threw it behind her. George caught it. "It's for him when he wakes up, for the hangover. He should know about it. Make it as you would a tea...its extra strong, so don't you be sipping at it. And don't worry, there is no poison." With that, she left.
"You're in a bad mood again," Terrin remarked as she entered her room. He was curled up on the bed, eyes skimming the words of a leather-bound volume without reading it. She could tell by the way he flipped through the pages quickly, handfuls at a time.
She sighed. "Try something different next time, please," she muttered and dropped onto the ground at the foot of the bed. Wearily, she pulled out the small trunk placed underneath it. Fumbling around her neck, she revealed the amethyst necklace and tugged at the jewel. The chain snapped, dropping into her waiting palm. She slipped it into its slot in the wood. The mechanisms clicked open.
She picked up the small chest, set it to rest on the dresser top and flipped open the lid. A variety of vials and packets lay neatly near the top. These she took out and arranged carefully on the smooth wooden surface before extracting her favorite dagger from her body and laid it to rest beside them.
Brushing aside the many herb packs, she drew open an embroidered black velvet sachet and dumped its content onto the table. The jewels flooded out into a small pile. The bag itself was let fluttering to the ground.
She cocked her head in the general direction of the mercenary. "Terrin."
The bed let out a small squeak as the weight on it was lifted. She heard noiseless footsteps approach her; a small breath of air fluttered strands of hair near her left ear. "Whatever you're going to do, don't regret it."
"I won't."
She heard the same phantom steps leave her side. She tugged at the ball dense ball tightly woven magic inside her, letting it flow up to her hand.
Terrin watched through the crack of door he had left open, leaning against the wall in resolute silence. He watched her run her fingers over vials, turning the air soft violet hue. The lids popped of silently, scattering across the floor. She picked up the dagger and turned it until the last shaft of light the receding sun caught its gilded edge, gleaming off into a pool of rainbows. Her hand dropped out of his line of vision; he heard a small thud.
He closed the door quickly and silently. Did this mean she was disobeying orders? She had been moody lately; but never as much as this. He wondered where she had been off to. And not for the first time, he was left staring blankly at the mystery of the Hunter.
Shaking his head, Terrin tugged on a tunic and picking up a few throwing knives for good measure, tugged open the door, steeping into the hallway. He left the guests wings for the one reserved for the royal family and their relatives. And from the obvious, the monarchs didn't have many.
He rapped sharply on a door. "Who is it?" a smooth voice asked.
Terrin didn't answer. Instead, he touched the handle lightly, feeling a tingle against on the flesh of his palms. He turned, the door opened. "Alex?" the duke asked. He looked up from the work on his desk. "No, Terrin. Come in." He pointed at the chair set against the wall; it was lined with white and cushioned with a gold-embroidered pillow. Under his breath, he muttered a spell. Orange light flared up around the walls.
Closing the door behind him, Terrin walked over to the desk, ignoring the request to sit. He licked his lips. "No, it's urgent."
The Conté Duke raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do tell me. Does it have something to do with our 'Hunter'?" Terrin gave a curt nod. "Good then; it should be interesting."
Alanna dipped the dagger in the red substance, coating the blade with it before tucking it carefully into a leather sheath. Clad in her black tunic, shirt, and breeches, she would blend in almost perfectly with the moonless night. She crept quietly along the outskirts of the palace walls, counting the window in her head. It would have been easier to travel from inside, but much harder to move around as her knowledge of the layout was not very spectacular.
She ran the conversation with the crime lord through her mind quickly. He had given her scant amounts of information about her victims, but it had been more than what Terrin had told her. She stopped to branch off her course into a small private courtyard, through which a door was accessible to the Royal Wing.
She pulled out a set of lock picking instruments, making quick work of the bolted and locked door. She snorted at the carelessness of the Tortallan royals, who hadn't even posted guards. In Carthak guards could be seen patrolling everything. And it was for nothing the emperors where all paranoid, not with assassination attempts on each one almost monthly. They didn't manage to kill the current one or his heir yet, but it was only a matter of time. A thought occurred to her that whoever sent those assassins could be the one that contacted her favorite crime lord to track her down for the job.
She smirked as she stepped inside. She took the nearest steps by twos to reach the second landing, and from what she had learned, the Prince's floor. Second door on the left, she remembered.
There were no guards yet again. She rested a hand on the handle, testing it to see if it was locked. It wasn't. She snorted lightly and pushed the door open softly, slipping inside. She checked the window--it was open, how careless of him. It would make for an easy escape. She walked over to the side of the bed.
"Delia?" a low voice murmured.
Alanna froze and cursed herself. She had forgotten to check if he was awake. She began to back way; there would be trouble. Her hand reached for the hidden dagger.
The figure on the bed sat up and squinted at her. "Delia, are you coming in or not, dear? Make up your mind."
She almost choked with the realization of whom and why the prince was up and waiting for. He's waiting for his mistress! Uh...I'm lucky she wasn't here before now. As it was, she couldn't help but let out a small cough.
"Who is this?" the Prince demanded. To her horror, he pushed the blankets aside and got out of bed. "Who are you? And what are you doing in my room?"
She knew she should have left long before, but the sight of the Prince's state of dress, or lack thereof, kept her glued to the place she stood. Which was why she didn't notice the when he had reached his sword. In fact, she didn't notice until she caught the gleam of the blade flash in the dim starlight shining through the window.
Her body reacted before her mind did, and the tip of her dagger was brought to brush the Prince's arm just as she skirted back to dodge the oncoming sword. She moved back, nearer to where she guessed the window was, careful to keep her face turned away and out of the light.
Had this been under different circumstances, she would have killed him then and there. But she hadn't been thinking, and instead, vaulted out the window. She landed and rolled quickly, her braid loosening from the coronet around her head to twine around her body. Leaves, twigs, and other debris stuck to her hair and clothes. As ironic as it was, her only thoughts were directed at the state of her cleanliness and at the amount of washing it would take to get her hair to satisfactory state of cleanness again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Prince looking out and calling for guards.
I tried, I really did. It's Thanksgiving, what can I say? (Mostly, I'm typing this to avoid the party downstairs). Of course when I post this, it won't be Thanksgiving anymore, will it. What do you think? The plot's still moving, and I twisted it again.
Questions & Answers stated below.
Question: And is her brother dead beyond retrieval?
Answer: Pretty much, yes. Sorry Thom *coughneverlikedhimmuchanywaycough*
Question: Or will this end as one of those...Alanna hates both guys n goes n have a life of her own based on isolation?
Answer: Hmm...that could be an idea. *wink* I haven't figured the pairing out myself yet. After all, I just found out today that Alanna was even going to try to kill Jon. *mutters about characters keeping secrets* Of course, there'd always be sequels if it /does/ end that way.
Question: And why exactly did she go to see George?
Answer: To ask him some questions, I think...of course, I don't think it worked out. Did it? *has a current case of memory loss*
Question: Will Alanna ever find out who sent the sickness that killed Thom?
Answer: Most likely, yes. It's part of the plot...I think. *blames memory loss*
Question: Will she [Alanna] ever go to get the Dominion Jewel in a sequel or whatever so they might not meet Thayet there for who will be Queen..?
Answer: I think I might understand this question. But I have no idea about the answer...
Question: I assume now that the black robe in training is Numair?
Answer: You might assume right, or you might assume wrong. It's not up to me, you know. I just avoid answering direct question. (I seem to be doing a lousy job today, though. I've answered at least three questions already)
Question: And was Gary too drunk to notice the episode where she pulled out knives and flipped them?
Answer: I'll explain that in the next chapter...if I remember. *scribbles down note*
Question: How come you update after such a long period of time?
Answer: The whole disappointing thing called life gets in the way. Plus I have an essay mom's demanding I write for the DAR contest (I won last year, so she promised me my very own scanner if I won this one, and then my own laptop if I win another one, and my English teacher discover my so-called "writing talent" and is after me to publish a book. See why I'm so busy? Not to mention all the projects from school) *sigh*
Question: And who is that secret man? A new character?
Answer: He's just the crime lord in Carthak. Oaklam's brother, I believe.
Question: And is she flirting with Alex?
Answer: Maybe. After all, I do support A/A.
Question: Have you read Tricksters Choice yet?
Answer: Yup, got the book weeks ago. Dashed my thoughts about Aly/Trickster. *pouts*
You guys are trying to kill me with questions, huh? I bet this is a conspiracy to get me to answer them. :p
~Reaya