Fayrey: Where are you studying? I did my Literature degree at Sheffield Uni in England. Thank you for your comments, they are very helpful. I'm probably no supposed to like fluff either, but I like it so much I write it! Narm's Briton: I've been too busy writing this to read. I have just bought Trudi Canavan's latest, so shall see what that's like. Celuna Cirrus: Thank you. I enjoyed writing that chapter. Daine's Daughter: Thank you, your compliment meant a lot. Dolphin Dreamer: Fanfic used to do that to me so much. Now I copy stuff before I press the send key, just in case. Thank you for what you said, it made my feel warm and fuzzy! I enjoyed writing that chapter, possibly the most so far. JadeViper08: I hope you got the timeline. I use it quite a lot, although I still get things wrong! Thank you for your review and your PM – good to know you liked it! Silverlake: Girls' nights are needed sometimes, even by mediaeval women! Boys' night coming up! Lady Tonks of Wolf's Rock: Thank you, I hope my writing skills are improving. There will be a bit more drama in Imbolc, but I'm intending a quiet Ostara. Goldeneyedwildmage: You are so on the right lines. You'll find out who in part III! Bitterosemary: I've got quite into writing these short stories now. It's giving me lots of practise at story structure and seriously doing some damage to my creative thinking. It's going to end up being eight stories in four weeks, with full plot, characterisation etc and I'm drained already. I know what I'm doing through to Midsummer, or there abouts, and an idea for a last long story hit me this afternoon, although I'm not sure when to set it. (Pre, post or very post RotG.) Sonnet Lacewing: Thank you. The day I feel impressed with myself will be the day that I give up, though. I'm a perfectionist, like someone else reading this! And it can never be too good.

A/N: Again, got the idea for the ritual from the net, will forward the link if anyone wants it. It was quite hard to find the men's one, so I hope its okay.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to TP as usual, except the ones I've made up, and they belong to the elf who plays in my head. Seriously.

Imbolc Part II

Chapter 2 – It's a Man's World

Numair Salmalin watched with some regret as Daine rode away towards the Tower, the morning sunlight catching her smoky brown curls and making it shine. It was tradition, he knew, for the women to perform certain rituals without the men present, Imbolc being a festival that was very much focused on females, rather than males, celebrating the goddess as being the maiden, before she conceived a child at Ostara. He would be without her tonight, a rare occurrence since the previous summer when the immortals' war had finished, and he wasn't relishing the notion of being in bed on his own having become used to her presence. Still, he could not give that fact away to George or Sarge, who would no doubt ridicule him if they knew.

He wandered back into Pirate's Swoop, where the other men were sitting in the large lounge, feasting on a breakfast that would most likely fill them until supper time, Maud had cooked that much. George passed him a plateful, although Numair found that he did not have his usual appetite.

"Eat up, lad," George told him quietly. "Ye'll see her tomorrow. It's not like she's Alanna, ye know, going off not knowing when she'll be back."

Numair smiled a little forlornly at the older man. He sometimes forgot how good George was at reading people, which was what made him so indispensable at his job as the king's assistant spymaster. "I know," he forced a cheerier smile onto his face. "And there is something to be said for a night away once in a while."

George grinned. "But the key is to not let them know that," he kept his voice low as Alanna was approaching.

"What was that, Laddybuck?" His wife asked, her eyes blazing with humour. "Are you telling Numair how much you'll miss me tonight?"

George gave his wife his most flirtatious smile. "Of course. I was describing how my heart would be pining for ye so much I would not be able to sleep."

Alanna looked at him disbelievingly. "Your heart will be too soaked in that dreadful ale you've been brewing to do any pining!"

George laughed. "Aha, my lady, but each sip will be drunk in your honour, as I recall memories of your sweet lips…" Alanna batted him over the head with a nearby cushion. "Fine!" George held his hands up in surrender. "I won't miss ye or think of ye at all!" This earned him another wallop from the cushion, before he caught hold of it and placed it back on the chair.

The four women left Pirate's Swoop an hour after Daine, taking what seemed enough clothing to last them for a week rather than two nights. Numair watched as they left, Jonathan, George and Sarge assisting in making sure that Mangle was loaded well with the luggage and that Alanna had the bags that Daine had asked her to bring. When they had eventually left, the four men sat down in the large sitting room that was well heated by the roaring fire in the hearth. A peaceful atmosphere encompassed them and George handed out glasses of ale to each of them.

"To the maiden Goddess!" He toasted, lifting his glass. The others repeated the toast, before Jonathan added, "And a peaceful evening." Causing laughter to fill the room.

Jonathan had brought one of the cooks from the kitchen with them, a tall man who had just been employed by the palace, and he chose now to show off his skills, bring an array of delicacies into the room and placing them down on the table. All were foods of the festival, including poppyseed cakes that Numair adored, being one of the few things that his mother had baked.

"That was mighty good timing!" George called to the chef as he brought another platter of food in. "Wait until the second the women have departed and then bring out this. A man after my own heart!"

Ersaid smiled, he was a man of few words, and returned to the kitchens.

The day seemed to go by quickly; after eating they gathered the children, Kally being the eldest, as both Thom and Roald were engaged in their studies at the palace and had not been given leave to celebrate the holiday with their families, they took a walk out to the sea, Numair hunting for any unusual stones that had been washed up by the sea. It was an activity that was tied to Imbolc, to go hunting for stones to be used in the coming year.

By evening, once the children had settled down in the old nursery, looked after by Maud, the men were quite tired, draping themselves over the cushioned chairs in the main sitting room once more. Ersaid had continued to bring food out throughout the day, and even Numair had developed something of a stomach that was more that it's usual flat state. Thankfully Daine wasn't there to poke at it.

George began to hand out more tankards of beer, happy in the knowledge that Alanna would not be there to scold him about being too merry if he drank a fair bit of it. He was aware that his home contained a few people that Tortall's enemies would like to attack in some way, but was comfortable in the knowledge that he had enough security around the place to protect the king and his children should any one tried anything.

The evening was spent around the large banqueting table in the hall only used for occasions such as these. Ersaid produced a magnificent meal, filled with succulent joints of meat coated in sauces that George was certain he'd never tried before. Plenty of his ale was consumed, going well with the conversation about jousting bouts and duelling. The talked remained on manly themes until they set on the second barrel of ale, when Sarge, who was obviously missing Onua and desperately trying to hide it as discreetly as he could after seven tankards, asked Numair if he could open up a speech spell so he could talk to the horse mistress.

Jonathan laughed as he overheard Sarge, drawing George's attention to the huge man who was taking up most of the large chair nearest the fire. "Is this the first time you and Onua have spent the night apart since you got together?" The king asked, curious. Onua and Sarge were both private people and not much was known about their relationship.

"It is," Sarge replied in his deep voice. "It seems strange without her."

Jon smiled and took another gulp of his ale. "I felt like that with Thayet for a while."

George looked serious. "It's like that when Alanna goes away, especially when I don't know how long she'll be. But it's a fact of life. If ye were together all the time you'd be bored of each other's company after a year, or less. She'll be glad ta see you tomorrow."

Sarge gave his deep laugh. "Oh, I'm sure she will, who wouldn't?" He jested, pouring himself dome more from the barrel.

Numair sat thoughtfully on his chair. "I could open up a speech spell to her, if you really wanted," he offered, "But I'd hear everything you said."

Sarge shook his head. "Thank you. I should leave it. It is only a night and it won't kill us to not speak to each other for a while. Are you not going to check with Daine if everything's alright?"

Numair shook his head. "If I was to, she'd feel that I didn't trust her in the Tower. She still hasn't properly accepted that it's her home too. I need to give her some time there on her own so she can adjust the place to her liking."

George nodded his approval. "It's the first home that's truly hers. I know she had her room in the palace from when she first came, but that's not the same as having somewhere away from where ye work as well."

The conversation continued until the clock began to chime midnight, by which time Jonathan had drank himself into oblivion and fallen asleep on the chair. It had been far from the raucous affair that the woman had predicted, although they had gotten through enough of George's ale, a smoked beer known as wobblybock, a name that was rather difficult to pronounce after a few glasses of it.

Numair retired to bed, lighting some of the candles that Maud had placed in the windows as he went upstairs. He had noticed her putting the bowls of grain and milk out for the Great Mother and smiled at her remembrance. Numair enjoyed this festival, although he felt separated from it sometimes as much of it was carried out by the women. Still, though, he knew that Daine would enjoy it and that was the main thing.

He changed into a nightshirt, feeling quite strange when he got into bed. He was used to not wearing anything in bed, but it seemed strange to do that if Daine wasn't there with him, and he knew he would be cold without her being there. He drifted into sleep, his thoughts filled with visions of his love, keeping him company as he waited for the morrow when he would see her again.

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Numair was woken by the smell of Ersaid cooking breakfast. His room was directly above the kitchens and he realised that Daine must have left the window open a crook as the aroma drifted in, pleasantly making him think of wonderful food. He got up drowsily, not sure if it was George's ale of the quantity of food he had eaten the day before that was making him eel so sluggish. Dressing quickly with the intentions to have a bath after breakfast, he went downstairs, armed with a bottle of his hangover cure, which he was sure that Jonathan at least would require.

George was already down there, bright and breezy as usual and tucking into the plate of food the chef had handed him. He merely nodded to Numair rather than interrupt his chewing, although once Numair saw the plate of food that had been made for him, he realised that he wouldn't be speaking for a while afterwards either.

They had prepared the large corn doll two days earlier, the children helping Daine and Thayet to weave it. Now the doll had been placed outside that morning in preparation for the short ritual that the men would carry out in honour of Imbolc and the coming of spring. The doll was there for them to whisper any negative thoughts to, once the ceremony began it would be burnt, along with those thoughts and the remains of winter. After the fire was lit, another ceremony would be performed, a very old, traditional one that Numair remembered seeing his father take part in years earlier, when Numair was just a boy and drink had not yet over taken the man.

He saw Sarge outside going up to the large effigy and look solemnly at it. He knew that Sarge took the sabbats seriously and gave a great deal of importance to them. His knowledge of them was on a par with Thayet's, who was doing her best to study the old ways faithfully.

Alanna's father, Myles of Olau had arrived shortly before Numair had awaked in order to lead the proceedings. His wife Eleni was with him, having been with some of her family the evening before and leading a ceremony there. Now she would take charge of the rest of the proceedings at Pirate's Swoop before moving with them over to the Tower in the afternoon. Numair greeted Myles happily, having great respect for the man who had acted as the role of father to the Lioness for many years and had proved to be a great asset to the court in his role of Spymaster. George greeted him joyfully, letting the older man embrace him, before hugging his mother. His two children rushed around them, also pleased to see their relatives, associating their grandparents with the fun things that their parents were reluctant to let them do, like paint on the kitchen table, or stay up late and tell stories.

By mid-morning all were up and about, although Jonathan had sipped a fair amount of Numair's hangover tonic before he looked as if he would be capable of doing anything other than standing up. Myles had organised them in to what they were going to be doing, reminding George of the ritual, which he appeared to have forgotten. By this time, each of them, including any of the men who were working at Pirate's Swoop had told the doll their deeds.

Myles led them out side, the day was cold but clear, although there were thick, grey clouds to the north west of them that were telling tales of snow that afternoon. He lit the doll, creating a small bon fire that licked at the corn and wheat, cultivating large tongues of flames, burning away any negativity and any shreds of winter.

They stood around the fire in height order; Sarge the tallest of the men stood at the northern most point of the fire, with Numair next to him in a clockwise direction. Myles stood on the other side of Sarge in the last position. Myles passed a wand of corn husks to Sarge, who proceeded to remove one of the husks and threw it into the fire, a look of concentration on his face as he tried to give his own energy to the wand that was wrapped beneath the husks. He then passed it on to Numair, who performed the same rite; and so on it went around the circle. After Sarge had passed the wand he moved around the fire so that he was at the most southern point, Numair followed him, standing behind him, and the next person in height did the same once they had thrown the husk into the blaze.

They made a chain, facing inwards, so that Numair was almost facing Sarge, someone else who was next to Sarge was almost facing him, and linked hands. Myles then walked to the end of the double line and paused while the other men began to softly chant, "Winter remain, winter remain!" Myles, taking the role of the sun god, began to break through the path of hands toward the fire. As each man's hands were broken apart, their chant changed to that of "Spring return." When Myles had reached the fire, the other men began to follow him in line towards Pirate's Swoop where he then knocked on the door, which Eleni opened, allowing them in to honour the maiden goddess.

Myles took the now husk-less wand to the basket that had been padded with white silk, with a corn doll lay on top, and placed it in it. Him and Eleni quietly said the remainder of the words that were meant to awaken the maiden goddess form her winter slumber and bring the spring back to the earth.

Once the ceremony had finished food was handed out, again deliciously prepared and mainly dairy based, thus celebrating the lactating cows and sheep that were a symbol of Imbolc. Pirate's Swoop seemed very calm and still, having none of the rush and pace of the palace. Numair had just settled down at a table, watching Eleni pack some items to take over to the Tower where their festivities would continue when he heard a sudden noise coming from the kitchens. Standing up he headed towards it, wondering if Ersaid had dropped the pans or something of that nature.

He entered the kitchens, puzzled as to why no one was about. Staying as silent as he could, he edged further in, his suspicions growing. He glanced a familiar face and speedily and quietly edged out of the kitchen, heading for George who was engaged in conversation with Alianne and Lianne about eating too much chocolate.

George automatically spotted the look of concern on Numair's face and silenced the small girls with a look.

"What is it?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

"We have an old friend back," Numair told him, maintaining the quiet tones. "I've spotted three of Lord Synthia's pet mages in the kitchens."

George's expression was a looked of stunned amazement, followed by an epiphany. "The cook, Ersaid… I thought his skills were a little familiar."

"He's Synthia's old chef," Numair completed. "I'm surprised he's not tried to poison us."

"He's more sense than that. We need to get the kids out with Maud and Ma," George said. "We should have left an hour and a half ago to get to your place. I'll have a quick word with Ma and she'll get them on their way. You let Jon and Sarge know. I warned Jon that he needed to let me vet his new employees!"

Numair moved swiftly, his years spent as a player mage coming into use as he began to speak to each of the men left in the building, discreetly letting them know that someone was obviously planning on taking them by surprise.

He saw the children ride off, accompanied by Eleni and Maud, and felt thankful that they were on there way. For a moment he considered the possibility of sending a message to Alanna about the situation, but knew that the mages that Synthia had employed were gifted enough to be able to pick up on the use of his gift and possibly intercept the message and therefore become informed that their presence was known. He contented himself by prudently checking their gifts, masking his own so they wouldn't become aware of him. He could have tried to mask the speech spell, but that would have been difficult and any slip of concentration would have alerted them to what he was doing.

George whispered to him to move outside. "We have my men stationed out there also. I would quite like it if my house was still standing at the end too, otherwise Alanna will never allow me to have another occasion like this when she is not present, and if you get involved in a mage fight, then the curtains would be gone for sure!"

Numair smiled, appreciating George's humour in the situation. "Any idea why they're here?"

George shrugged. "Attack on Jonathan most likely, or on Alanna's home and family. Synthia was more that peeved that she caught him. She'll be annoyed that she's missing this."

"I'm not sure that Synthia's actually here," Numair shared. "I think it's just the mages, although I suspect there will be some other men out in the forest."

George nodded his agreement. "I have men too, remember, we certainly won't be caught short."

Numair waited for George to move over toward Jonathan and slipped back into the building, intending to find the mages and hopefully hinder them or at least find out more about them before they attempted to attack. He imagined that they wanted to take a holding over Pirate's Swoop, and then bargain with the king to grant Synthia his lands back. Numair knew that this wasn't going to happen.

In the distance he heard the village bell toil three past noon, and realised that Daine would be wondering where they were. He heard a quiet noise coming from the room above him and began to head up toward it, knowing that no one should be up there.

Walking into what was Alianne's bedroom he saw the back of a tall, well built man with longish hair like his own. The stranger turned around to face him, his hand pointed out with a curse on his lips ready to fly at Numair.

Numair merely said two short words and the man stood as still as stone and would continue to do so for at least the next two hours, until the coclicleum spell wore off. He knew that the other two mages would be aware that he had discovered their presence and would probably seek to find him. Shutting off his other senses he focused on their whereabouts, discovering one still in the kitchens and another outside, lurking in a bush not three strides away from Jonathan.

Knowing that the king could take care of himself against a mage that was not exceptionally gifted or well trained, and also had the skills of a fairly decent knight, he proceeded to head for the man in the kitchen. Creeping down the flight of stairs that led closest to that area he could hear the man chanting an incantation to block anyone else from entering. Obviously he had been too involved in his mischief to have noticed Numair's gift being used.

Numair did not particularly agree with attacking someone while they were unaware, so he coughed politely, startling the man who turned round and face the black robe mage with a look of shock on his face that quickly phased into an unpleasant grin.

"I was hoping you would be here," the man grinned. "Lord Synthia said you would be a good one to injure." The man let a ray of mustard yellow gift stem from his hand. Numair blocked it easily, feeling slight pain as the shot of magic hit is skin, stinging like a nettle.

He diverted the magic back, and, holding that spell, drummed up another, that sewed the mage up into a soft, malleable substance that was impossible to break out without the assistance of the mage who had created it. To be extra nice, Numair had made sure that the yellow gift was encased, so its prisoner was now dancing about the room as he was continuously stung by his own spell. Numair left him to it, hearing shout from outside that were suggesting that Synthia's men had attacked.

He ran out of the building, whispering a spell as he did to make sure that the second mage's incantation hadn't taken hold. He could see George in battle with two men, having disarmed them both and now using their weapons against them. George's face wore quite a broad smile, and Numair suspected that the ex-King of the Rogue was in fact enjoying himself.

There were fewer people than he thought there would have been, whether or not George's army of men that he employed for such situations like this had seen them off, he didn't know, but the enemy who were outside with them were low in number, which was only to their advantage.

He heard Sarge's fist make contact with Ersaid's face and saw the chef fall to the ground like a felled tree, knocked unconscious by the blow. Sarge sent him a grin, calling out words that Numair couldn't hear over all the rabble.

"There's one more mage!" Sarge repeated in his large bellow that he used to frighten trainees with. "He went down there!" He pointed to the path that led into the forest around the other side of Pirate's Swoop from the sea.

Numair wondered if he should chase after the mage, or stay and help. He quickly figures that it would be more profitable to take down the final mage; the one he knew had fed him drugs while he had been captured by Lord Synthia. The other two mages had been knew to him, but the one trying to escape had been the one he'd recognised in the kitchens earlier.

He went after him; his long legs that had made him feel so gangly as a teenager now aiding him in swiftly catching up with his target.

Although he knew that this man had no where near the power or Inar Hadensra or Tristan Staghorn, he still felt wary of him. He had the psychological advantage of having harmed Numair before, and Numair knew he would consider him an easy victory.

The older mage stopped and turned round once he realised he was being followed, laughing when he saw Numair.

"What do you think you're going to do?" He lifted up his hand and through his gift, strangling Numair so he felt he had a noose around his neck. Numair drew from his magic and fought the spell off.

"You got lucky last time," he said threateningly, blasting back with a jet of his blacj gift, knocking the man over onto his back.

The man stood up. "Do you remember my name?" He asked Numair.

"Zerik Trenden," Numair replied, not sure why that was so important when they were about to attempt to kill each other. "Why?" Numair dodge a blast from Zerik, letting it hit an elm and setting fire to it.

"Because you're so arrogant I doubted you'd remember," Zerik taunted. Numair knew he was trying the oldest trick in the book by trying to make him angry and burn up all his energy by making one giant and badly thought out attempt at turning him to a cinder, and therefore becoming and therefore making it very easy for him to be slain. He threw a few more gentle curses and spells at the other mage, ones he knew that Alanna's Thom could deflect in his sleep, but instead of sending them slowly, he sent them as rapidly as he could manage without straining himself.

Zarik began to get irritated. He couldn't send anything back as he was too busy attempting to deflect the irksome spells that Numair was attacking him with. Gradually he began to let his defences drop in order to send something back at Numair. The small spells began to take effect; Zarik began to lose feeling in his foot, he was unable to clasp his hand and he felt his throat burn dry. Numair saw that he was becoming more and more exasperated. He lamely threw a fire spell at the tall mage, but missed, directing it straight into a pool of water. Numair sent s few more spells that he had used as tricks while at school. Zerik's eyes began to roll into the back of his head and his tongue became so large that it had to hang outside of his mouth.

Numair paused at the sight. It was not funny or amusing and he felt a little ashamed. Covering him in the same malleable coating he had used on the mage in the kitchen he released all the other spells, checking that the mage had not suffered any long term damage, and then sent a paralysing curse, that would temporarily knock Zarik out, until one of George's men could return and take him down into the cells.

Feeling slightly guilty, as if he had misused his powers Numair headed back to the courtyard where he had left the rest of his friends. In the distance he saw Daine and Thayet racing towards them on their mounts. Starting to run he sped to the scene to see Lord Synthia and several more men attacking. Sarge seemed to be taking on a group of five, two of the horses joining in by using their hooves to aid Sarge in any way they could. George, whose face showed signs of having met a knife in a bad way, was dealing with a large, stock built man who was also armed with a pair of knives, although Numair had no doubt that George carried more weapons than that on him in his sleep. Jonathan had pulled out his sword and was now engaged in combat with Synthia and Numair became alarmed. Jon was good with a sword; he had trained as knight after all, and hadn't been spared any of the rigour of it simply because he was king.

He debated what to do as he saw the women draw up closer and Buri dismount and join in with Sarge. Onua had drawn her bow and was aiming it at a group of twelve men who were now approaching from the forest where Numair had come from. He realised that if they got any closer they would be severely short of men. Using a word of power, he created a hole in the ground to open and take them into it. It wasn't a word like he had used on Tristan Staghorn; this one was repairable and would merely keep them contained until they were ready to fish them out later. He grinned at Daine who was close enough now to see his expression. She was firing away into the distance where Numair saw a group of stormwings flying over to meet them and he doubted that they had been friends with Rikash Moonsword, given the obscenities that were oozing form their mouths. Onua was aiming with her and Numair sent a little something to their arrows that would certainly shorten the life of any targets that they hit. He could feel his energy ebbing from him; the barrage of spells he had aimed at Zerik had tired him and he knew he couldn't face another battle.

He focused in on Jonathan and Synthia. Neither had given any and he could see the sweat gleaming on both their brows. Jonathan still duelled regularly with Alanna and Raoul when he was around, and evidence of that was showing and he appeared to have the upper hand over Synthia, who was obviously not used to dealing with people of a high calibre. His attention was briefly caught by Sarge who yelled a war cry as he banged the heads together of two of the men he had been tangling with, thus having knocked unconscious all of them, with the help of Buri.

His celebration was short lived, as a spilt second later a blood curdling cry from Thayet echoed through the air, silencing all. Numair looked towards her and saw the woman remove her sword from the back of a man who had been about to stab her husband. Numair took the opportunity to throw once last spell at Synthia, numbing him and resulting in him falling as if he were made of stone. Jonathan looked socked and deathly white, while Thayet merely stood there, a look on her face that combined disgust with victory, reminding everyone of her heritage and making them thankful that Jonathan had married a woman who had more to her that looks and pretty dresses, and took the vow to defend her lord and country to the letter.

Daine strode over to him, the stormwings that had survived her and Onua's onslaught of arrows and other birds having fled the area as soon as Synthia had been frozen. She put her hand into his and squeezed in hard. "Why can't we have normal, unexciting festivals like most people?" She asked, as George's guards escorted a new collection of prisoners into their cells.

"Because we're not ordinary people, I suppose," he smiled at her, noticing Thayet and Jonathan wrapping their arms around each other out of the corner of his eye.

"Which reminds me," Daine began, her heart still beating rapidly in her chest as she tried to take her mind off what had just occurred. "You have some explaining to do."

Numair looked puzzled. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean," he answered, a little worried about what they may have been talking about the previous night.

"Who exactly was the man who lived in the Tower before you, and how were you related to him?" She asked, averting her eyes as the body of the man Thayet had killed was carried past her.

"That might be a long story," Numair answered, before entering Pirate's Swoop.

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