Okay guys...this is my first time doing this, so feel free (in fact, please) read and review - I'm more than open to criticism. Although if you like it, I don't mind hearing that either. : ) FYI: I started this story a year ago, but forgot about it, and am unable to access the account I created it under (dainesarrasrisalmalin) – I'm not plagiarizing the first paragraphs.
You should know that this is D/N, in an AU that picks up at the end of Emperor Mage, and disregards ROTG (which I like very much, but just didn't want to deal with while doing this). There will be fluff, but it may be a long and painful road to get there.
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Disclaimer: This is the part where I tell you that Tamora Pierce is responsible for the wonderful books, characters, and imaginative landscapes I'm painting on, and that I'm not making any money. So all credit to her, and please call off the lawyers. I'm really not worth suing, as I can barely afford bus fare to the courthouse.
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"I got mad."
"Magelet, that's the biggest understatement I've ever heard." Numair Salmalin wrapped strong arms tighter around his student, long fingers digging around her shoulder blades, and fought the urge to bury his face in the smoky brown curls hanging undone and wild around her neck. She chuckled, almost imperceptibly, and squirmed slightly in his embrace, although her battered fingers still clutched the front of his shirt.
"Numair, I do still have to breathe," she teased, quietly. He flushed, and let his hands fall to his sides, hoping the crowd of bystanders hadn't heard, hadn't noticed more in his face and hands than the relief of a teacher and friend. He kept his dark eyes resolutely on her face, not daring to contemplate the sight of his cloak wrapped loosely around her unclothed body.
Alanna stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Daine and hugging her briefly before shepherding her off in the direction of the Tortallan fleet. Numair's gaze followed her receding figure, dwarfed in the black folds of his cloak, and he didn't notice his old friend and teacher, Lindhall Reed, moving to his side until his voice sounded in his ear.
"She tore down a palace for you."
Numair started, and then glared at his friend. "Ozorne tried to kill her, Lindhall, or keep her here as his slave, or Gods know what - " He realized the rising pitch of his voice and took a steadying breath, deliberately forcing his fists to uncurl before continuing. " - she's my student."
"You love her."
"And she's still my student, and she's only fifteen. She deserves someone younger. She thinks of me as her teacher, Lindhall, and as a friend."
The older man smiled indulgently, patting his former student on the back. "Of course, Arram. Of course..."
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Daine leaned against the railing of the Tortallan ship, and watched the approaching coastline. The sea lapped against the narrow beach abutting granite cliffs topped with the lush deciduous foliage she had come to associate with her adopted land, and the battlements of Alanna's home, Pirates' Swoop, beckoned invitingly. She was relieved that she and Numair would be disembarking with Alanna, and continuing by land to Corus, rather than accompanying the rest of the delegation directly to the capital. Numair, faced with the choice of more queasy time at sea or the jostling of horseback, had opted for the lesser indignity, as well as the opportunity to stop at his tower.
She smiled crookedly. Despite the teasing she subjected him to, Numair's finicky nature sometimes proved convenient. While more than ready to quit Carthak, she did not relish the scrutiny she was sure to receive upon her return to the capital. And even though Tortallan court manners were lax compared to the stifling protocol and byzantine scheming of the Carthaki empire, her peasant origins and sensibilities left a lingering awkwardness that even Numair's suave, assured presence at her side could not completely erase.
She shivered slightly, pulling her tunic down over chilly hands, and breathed deeply. She should be close enough to shore, she thought, to contact the People. This, too, would be a relief – after the conditions she'd encountered in Carthak, she longed for the easy connection and relative tranquility she would encounter here. She opened her mind and cast out the copper threads of her wild magic, letting the chatter of the People filter into her mind, crisp and fresh, unencumbered by suspicion and intrigue.
The low tones of the great fishes (who were not really fishes, but mammals, Numair's voice reminded her) emerged first, lounging with their young off the coast a safe distance from the ship. She greeted them, smiling to herself at the lingering memory of her teacher patiently explaining the taxonomic distinctions between animal classes, and was soon engaged in a rambling, languid conversation about calf-rearing, water temperature, and kelp.
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Numair swung his long legs over the edge of his bunk, and braced himself to rise. Just then, the ship shifted, and his stomach roiled anew. He cursed floridly. While his arcane powers afforded him familiarity with many behaviors most would consider uncanny, he remained convinced that the laws of nature (and his stomach) stood in firm opposition to sea travel. It was unnatural, and thoroughly unpleasant.
The mage waited warily a second, and tried again. This time, he lurched to his feet and made his way to the door of his cabin. He emerged above deck and stopped, hands braced on the sides of the hatch, to take a deep breath of fresh air. The coast was in sight, and the air seemed colder, cleaner somehow.
He spotted Daine leaning against the bow, facing away from him, towards the Tortallan coastline, and reflected that she must be relieved to be almost back. He had spent half his life in Carthak, and had found his return disturbing; he could only imagine what she had felt, especially after what Ozorne had tried to do to her. His face darkened at the thought, and he had to make a conscious effort to subdue the rage that his former friend's actions inspired. She was safe, and they were going home: that was what mattered.
Numair stayed in place, watching his student and friend. She seemed absorbed, and as he probed with his Gift, he noted the characteristic copper aura of her wild magic. She was probably catching up with the People. He leaned against the wall, and considered the young woman. She had shed the dresses she had worn to placate the scruples of their Carthaki hosts, and wore a simple tunic and breeches that accentuated her slim form. Her smoky curls were tied back, out of the way. Her bearing was more relaxed than it had been since they had left Tortall; she leaned casually against the railing, shoulders back, head slightly tilted, and as he watched, lost in thought, lifted one booted foot to balance on the other and rub the back of her knee.
He smiled. While he had certainly secretly enjoyed seeing Daine in her dresses and "silly finery" as she had called it (enjoyed it more than was strictly proper for a teacher to feel about his student, chided a voice in the back of his head), she had been undeniably uncomfortable. She was back in her natural habitat, the habitat in which he had come to realize that he loved her.
Numair sighed, and tried simultaneously to banish those thoughts from his head and to judge the distance between ship and shore. He would be glad to place foot on solid Tortallan ground again.