Chapter Sixteen - A Silent Truce
She would have laughed out loud if her hand wasn't covering her mouth. But then again, if her hand wasn't covering her mouth, a lot of partially digested food might spew out. As it was, she only just made it out of the room and to the wash bowl in time to throw up before nausea overwhelmed her and she emptied the contents of the previous meal, glad she hadn't eaten much that morning. She was also extremely grateful that no one she knew in Carthak saw her in such a state. Or anyone at all, for that matter.
Surprisingly, no one had followed her out of the room. For this she was also extremely grateful, probably more so than anyone could have guessed. It was another of her weak points she hadn't previously acknowledged. She had never really healed infected wounds like that, just a few cuts. Even on the rare occasions when she willingly healed, she'd never gone near ulcerous gashes. Only those who were raging with fever ever had themselves tended by her. Maybe it was because her unconscious knew she'd well up with guilt every time she saw someone like that, as she often caused similar wounds on her victims. And now the irony of healing something she had caused was almost overpowering.
She paused her thoughts and stripped off the blood-stained gown and slipped into a plainer lilac one. A hovering maid quickly took both bowl and dress to dispose of. Taking a seat by the window, she stared out onto the grounds below. A group of young men talked loudly to each other, laughing at some shared joke. If Thom hadn't tried to fight off a sickness not his own, he might still have been here. He might have been standing there with them. An unwanted tear trickled down her cheek.
You better suck that up. Someone's coming. A black shadow appeared and disappeared at the doorway. "Thanks for the warning," she remarked dryly after it. "What would I ever do without you?"
"Lady Alanna?"
She whirled around to face the person she least wanted to see. "Highness," she replied tersely, noticeably leaving out the usual 'your' before the title.
He studied her face, a frown marking his puzzlement. Seeing the tear-streak, he paused, considering his next words carefully. "If it bothered you so much, why did you heal me?" he asked. "And what is it you have against me anyway?" He braced himself in preparation for a scolding.
He wasn't disappointed. A shadow crossed her face and her eyes flashed violently. "What I have against you," she repeated, as if savoring the taste of the words on her tongue. "Against you," she said a third time. "For being alive while my brother is in his grave—it was only because of him in the first place that you're standing there. You should be dead, along with everyone in this damn place. And you know, I never heard from him at all in the span of time he was here. But then again, I didn't hear from anyone else, either. He lived for twelve years—twelve! And the last of his years he spent doing what he despised most. And at the end, he gave up his life for you. You! The heartless bastard who thinks too highly of himself to care about anyone else.
"Do you think I'm here on my own free will? Do you think that I'd have no feelings about this after my family died? I spent years wondering what happened to him after his death. No one bothered to inform me that my twin had died—no, I had to find out myself through a slave. One would think that the royal family of this be-damned country would be more gracious than they have been to someone who saved the heir, don't you? No, you haven't even mentioned his name." Her rant slowed, her voice fading away as if she'd only just realized what she had screamed aloud in the face of the Prince.
She glared up defiantly at him, expecting fury on his face. Instead, she found a considering kind of puzzlement.
"You're really strange, you know," he began quietly. "You sound less upset about this than you did when protesting against healing me and Gary. You're so withdrawn, almost melancholy. It's like you only show emotion to Terrin or us when we particularly annoy you. It's like all your other expressions are an act, concealing some hidden motive. Its like you're only here to complete some mandatory task and then you'll disappear forever." He paused as a strange expression rippled across her face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
She flinched internally. His comments had hit right on the target. Was she really that easy to see through? Her old masters would kill her for this. She opened her mouth to reply, but he had more to say. "I admit that you confuse me. I suspect you confuse everyone." He regarded her searchingly. "Tell me, what exactly were you doing out on the street so Gary and Raoul found you near the, uh, inn? And that other time...in the middle of the night."
This time her flinch showed through. Never mind about her masters and her fellow assassins killing her, she might as well kill herself. It seemed she had underestimated the prey, something she had never expected to do. But then again, this was her first full-length job. All her previous ones usually fell into the category of breaking, entering, and killing. It was strange to think that she had tried, and will have to, kill this person stripping her plan apart. Studying him, she found loopholes in his usually irritating handsome demeanor. His brow was knitted together in confusion and thought. His skin had taken on a rosy flare, tingeing his cheeks a bright pink. His coal black hair was mussed and dark bags appeared under his eyes. His mouth was scrutinized into an unconscious pout. She almost laughed aloud at his resemblance to a rat who had once kept her company as a roommate in the hole which she had lived after she had stolen away from the University. A sly smile appeared on her lip; suddenly everything seemed amusing and less serious. "You should be more careful of making enemies that are less than honorable," she muttered.
He frowned. "Are you saying that you're less than honorable?"
Her amusement grew. "Perhaps."
He gave her a discerning glance and shrugged. "Then I'm guessing you find me even less honorable than yourself."
"Hmm...I really haven't thought much of your honor. I was thinking more along the lines of how you ended up Prince."
"What?"
She smirked. "With looks like a rat, I mean. Terrin's the fish, and Alex is a dog—no, more a cat, I suppose. Which would make Raoul the dog and Gary the, um, drunk." She cocked her head to the side. "But when looked at this way, one could say that you resemble some sort of pig." His mouth opened and closed in shock. "Wait...now you resemble the fish."
He raised both hands, as if in surrender. "Stop," he commanded. "I thought you were angry at me. Or are you just changing the subject to avoid my question?"
"Let's just call it a hobby, okay? If you were locked up in a convent for half your life, then you'd understand."
His frown deepened. "But I thought you were in Carthak most of your life."
Oops. She had to practice this whole lying thing. "I was, but I had to attend convent-like lessons," she amended lamely. Her gaze shifted over to his hair, suddenly finding the disarray of matted hair extremely interesting.
He noticed her stare and moved his hand to try to smooth his tousled hair. He remembered her previous comment. "How exactly do I look like a rat?"
A small giggle escaped her. "You just do. That white really doesn't go with you all that well."
His hand immediately left his hair to finger his tunic. "It doesn't?"
"No, it doesn't," she confirmed. "And the black boots don't go with it, either. You should try matching it with a sandy brown color next time," she informed him, knowing fully that brown boots looked horrendous with that shade of white. But this was so much more fun than brooding. Plus, it had been so long since she could tease anyone as gullible as him. Now that I think about it, Thom always fell for these things too. She stopped. "Oh." She had almost forgotten in the midst of her amusement.
Jonathan looked up from his inspection of his boots. "Is there something else wrong?" he asked her tartly. He really disliked being criticized about his clothes and looks. Especially when he knew he was pretty much a mess.
"I want to ask you something. About my brother." After a quick argument with her pride, she had decided to ask.
He straightened and blinked, caught by surprised. He never really expected her to reply without mocking him. "He was...quiet. I didn't really talk to him, except once. It was over a fight with this other boy—Malven. They hadn't gotten along and there was a fight on the first day. Thom had done something to him with his Gift. We intervened, but Thom got angry at us for doing so. I didn't communicate with him after that. In fact, I suppose we resented each other after that. It's beyond me why he decided to save my life at the cost of his own, though.
"He never mentioned you in front of us. We only found out that he had any siblings after his death, when we inquired at Fief Trebond. No one knew where you had gone and Lord Trebond, I mean, your father was already too far gone at that time." It was only after it had left his mouth that he had realized the second meaning which could be found in his last sentence. "I mean he was sick in bed—I didn't mean any disrespect..." He stopped, noticing that she had been staring. "...or...anything."
The stare wasn't a cold one—but it didn't contain any warmth either. It was like she was watching him unconsciously. Suddenly her eyes refocused and she frowned at him. "No," she replied evenly. "Lord Alan lost it when we were born. He was always ill. But tell me about his cousin of yours."
It was Jonathan's turn frown. Why would she want to know about Roger all of a sudden? And why did she refer to her father so distantly? "Well, his mother died giving birth to him."
"Like mine," she breathed so softly that it was inaudible.
"What?" She shook her head, motioning for him to go on. "Well, there's not much to tell other than the fact that he's Duke and a really powerful sorcerer." He shrugged. "You should try visiting him yourself."
She nodded, and to his surprise, smiled. "I think I will." She stood up to leave, but paused at the doorway. "By the way, you have some unshapely food particles hanging at the side of your mouth," she informed him and ducked out.
Jonathan raised his hand to brush the imaginary food away, before remembering that he hadn't eaten anything that day. He sighed. At least there was less tension between them now.
Terrin gnawed the side of his cheek. It had taken him long enough to realize what he wanted, or had not wanted, to do but even longer to actually decide to do something about it. Alanna was talking to Jon without threatening to kill him—even if the raised voice did sound awfully suspicious—and Raoul was now happily winning money off Gary from a recent bet. It was choice enough time.
He excused himself with a small nod and headed out the room. Passing Alanna's open door, he peaked in. The two were calmly conversing—or rather, Jon was talking and shooting nervous looks towards the assassin while she stared at him without actually seeing him. Terrin chuckled quietly to himself and moved on.
A small black cat appeared in front of him, its tail twitching in beckon. Alanna's cat, he thought, deciding to follow.
An hour later he was still moving. After passing the same fountain twice, he was now sure that he was really lost. And to think I had to choose now of all times to get lost. I should have known that cat was just like its mistress. Shaking his head, he settled on the rim of the large fountain and stared up at the cloudy sky, glad for a reason to put it off a bit longer.
For once in her life, Alanna was nervous. No, that didn't describe it near enough. She was really and extremely nervous, with butterflies doing loops in her stomach. She didn't know why, but her intuition did not want her to meet the Prince's cousin at all. Stopping in the middle of the dimly lit hall, she breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm her rattled nerves.
After ten of them, she gave up and continued on her way. Pulling a maid aside for directions, she finally reached the door that she had been informed would lead to the sorcerer. She paled as she stared at it. Now she knew why she had been so nervous, sort of, anyway. There is no reason for me to be giddy about meeting this employer, she reconciled herself. He's human and just like every other person you've worked for. But he wants you to kill a prince, a small half of her thought. Yeah? Someone else wants me to kill a Black Robe Mage, that same Prince, and whatever heir Carthak had to the throne that week, she responded. She shook her head and frowned. Arguing with herself was not the best thing to do just now.
She rapped gently on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again and received the same reply. Not wanting to return to her room, where she suspected Terrin might be waiting, he rested her hand on the knob and turned. As expected, it didn't move. Slipping a thin pick from her sleeve, she slid it into the lock. It glowed, turning hot in her hand. She dropped contact just in time as the wire melted.
She scowled, determined not to be stopped. Pulling a thread from her Gift, she prodded the lock carefully. A strong force slammed into her, sending her hurtling into the hallway wall across.
Definitely a sorcerer's door, she confirmed moodily. Massaging her back, she approached the door again, her curiosity hooked.
You might want to be more careful. Faithful appeared at her foot and sat, not caring that he was grooming in what was the middle of hallway outside a Duke's door, watching as an assassin magically tried to pick his lock.
"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, once again."
I do try.
Alanna rolled her eyes and replaced her hand on the knob. Closing her eyes, she reached a bit deeper into the pool of light that was her magic. Choosing a point, she began feeding it out of her palm and into the lock, using sheer power to overflow that of the present spell's. The oppressing force pushed against her again, but this time she pushed back, shoving a large amount of purple light to the pressing orange one. The spell broke and the lock clicked open.
"Well, that was a bit easier than what I'd imagined."
Don't get cocky, her cat reprimanded and slinked in ahead of her, tail raised.
She sighed and walked in after it. A large suite opened up in front of her. A bed. Desk. Papers and inkwells aplenty. Basically, nothing out of ordinary. She was disappointed after going through all that just to find an ordinary room like any other. Albeit one with a lot of extra papers and ink.
She sat down glumly on the bed, covering a yawn. "I'm tired," she mumbled to her cat.
The creature ignored her and hopped onto the near desk. If you were smart, or awake enough, you might have thought to look through these papers.
She snorted, but made no move to get up. "And what am I going to find there? 'Plans to kill Prince and Heir?' I'm not even entirely sure that he's my employer yet. Besides," she added, dropping her voice, "I'm not sure—"
A sound at the door shut her up. She cursed inwardly as a shiver crept up her spine.
"I wasn't expecting any visitors," a voice remarked, amusement showing in his tone. Sadistic? Maybe.
She turned around, knowing what to expect. From the small glances at him she had seen at the few social events Terrin had forced her to, she had already known that the Duke was a very handsome man. She studied him carefully. His black-brown hair rippled with light cast from the flickering torch behind him. Tall and muscular, he looked the part of a well-toned fighter. Riveting blue eyes caught her gaze and a small smile crept onto his perfect, full lips.
Yes, a very handsome man. Like his cousin the Prince. She frowned, wondering why she would think of him at a time like this. Oh yes, this is the man that wants me to kill him.
"I wasn't expecting any visitors," the Duke repeated again. He regarded her carefully from head to toe. Another shiver crept up her spine.
"Your Grace," she greeted wryly, sweeping a sharp curtsy. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."
"So as I can see." He closed the door quietly behind him. "So, Hunter was it?"
Her eyes flickered to the door and back to his face. "And what is it to you?" she questioned, feeling the need to say something.
"To me? Everything," he replied with a cold smile. "If I remembered correctly, I sent a certain mercenary to Carthak to find this assassin. Yes, I heard he was prone to disobeying and surprising his employers, who oft more than not also ended up dead, but the assignment I had in mind would be worth it. Seldom did I think that he would turn out a she."
"You only made the same mistake as everyone else."
"Yes," he contemplated slowly. "But I am not everyone else." He hefted himself onto his now empty desk, Faithful having left as soon as he entered. "You see, it has come to my attention that you have a certain...enthusiasm for taking the life of the said victim. Why is that?"
"My secrets are my own," she responded, eyes narrowed. "I don't see why that would concern you as long as I get the job done."
"Of course, but you disobeyed the other night, did you not? Going after the Prince like that alerted him that he has a killer on his heals."
She shrugged. "There is no reason to be concerned as long as I get the job done," she repeated in monotone.
The smile returned to the Duke's lips. Definitely sadistic, she confirmed. "I have doubts, my dear, that you will ever complete the task to its fullest."
Her eyes glassed over and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Why is that?" she snapped, more sharply than intended.
"Because Terrin, too, is having doubts. I suppose Alex holds a few now as well, with you in the picture. What do you think of Tortall, Alanna of Trebond? Was it as you remembered it so long ago?"
She paled, but tried to regain what little foothold she had in the conversation. "It will do you no good to reveal me, as it is already the part I play," she scoffed, slightly nervous.
"True," he responded slowly. "I will not reveal you, as you will not reveal me. Our intentions are similar, even if we hope to accomplish different tasks. While this is so, you will not carry on the task. Tortall might have rekindled the feeling you pushed down as an assassin," he told her. "And the only way to put them aside again is leave, Hunter." He stood up and opened the door. "But before that, I suggest you complete your job and prove my doubts wrong...before I decide to brush you aside, too."
"I don't plan on ignoring the assignment. I hate the Prince plain and clear and your doubts are as little mattered as dust. Even if you have no need of me, there are others after the same target as you." A flicker of surprise ran across his eyes, but the sadistic smile crept up again. "I plan on following this path, seeing as I've a reputation to keep."
"You do that, then."
She brushed coldly by him and into the hallway, not looking back. Someone bumped into her. "You again."
"Where did you come from? The last time I checked, you were conversing with the Prince."
"Leave me alone," she snapped and continued on her way.
Terrin shrugged and approached the door. Surprisingly, it was unlocked.
It's done!. I'm so happy. It's done! Chapter 16 is done and over with. Yay! It's a couple of months late, but it's finally done! *lets out breath* The first half was a pain in the butt to right, and I was on the verge of deleting it to start from scratch. But I didn't and decided to continue it anyway. Aren't you happy? I am. Since it's spring break, I might be able to get another chapter out within the week!
Question: When do you think Alanna's going to start liking anyone at all?
Answer: I like the phrasing on this one, so I'll answer it, along with a bit of added information. I've remapped the story and resorted my priorities and I think they'll be about 25 or so chapters in the story, give or take some. Don't take my word for it, though. So romance is just around the corner.
Question: Why doesn't Jon and the others suspect Alanna?
Answer: I love these questions. For one thing, they do, or rather, Jon does. A lot. But he's keeping things quiet for Terrin's sake, and maybe even his own. You see, being a Prince makes too much attention tedious at times, even if its at the risk of one's life. Heh.
Question: I'm wondering - for chapters 15-17 I have not gotten a notification. Is this purposely or not?
Answer: Oops. I forgot my mailing list for those chapters. I promise I won't forget again...hopefully. Maybe everyone on the Mailing List will get a special gift, or something...
Question: How did Alanna get to Carthak? Did she and Thom ever even try the switch?
Answer: Yes, they tried to switch. Alanna made the mistake of telling Coram a bit too close to home...So Lord Alan got mad and shipped her off to Carthak. Don't ask why, it's for plot purposes, you see.
Question: Is the sword Terrin gave Alanna something like Lightning? Or the dark blade from the Great Southern Desert, when the original Alanna was with the Bazhir?
Answer: It's actually just a normal sword.
Question: What does the black Opal and purple stone have to do with the story?
Answer: I added those in for a plot device in the first few chapters, but now I totally forgot what I was going to use them for...I guess they can stay to add a bit of mystery to the story.
Question: Is this a A/J story, A/G story, or is Alanna going with Terrin?
Answer: ...erm...
There, I answered six out of seven. Aren't you proud? Maybe not, but still.