DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Tamora Pierce. This time, even the concept doesn't belong to me. This chapter is a rehash of the the respective chapter in the book, basically (with very little variation and different words). It wasn't intentional.

Love is Blind

Chapter 3

The Goddess

A month and a half later, Alanna found herself revisiting that exact moment, when she realised she had caused her father's death.

It was not murder. All the same, she felt a pervasive sense of guilt. No matter whether it was intentional or not, it had been her fault. The knowledge was a burden that would not, could not, be relieved any time soon.

Alanna had been running an errand for Sir Myles. She was on the last leg, a half day's ride away from the city, but as the sky darkened, she knew there was no way she would be able to travel in the storm. Instead, she raced to find a niche—any niche—that she could temporarily shelter in.

Rain began to fall, in big, fat droplets. Alanna shivered and swore under her breath, shifting to make sure that Sir Myles' scroll was safely tucked away, in the secure place between her tunic and shirt, in its waterproof wrapping. It would be a disaster to return, having botched her mission by ruining a three hundred year old scroll because she couldn't look after it properly, and it had gotten wet!

Ideally, there would be a conveniently isolated hut, located in a strategic position. However, Alanna knew better than to expect this, so when she came across an old willow tree, thick with branches, she knew better than to pass it by. She dismounted. There was enough room to shelter both Alanna and Moonlight.

The sky was darkening quickly. She could almost smell the rain. Quickly, she unsaddled and tethered Moonlight, and went in search for firewood. Within moments, she had a competent little stack. After much swearing and cursing, there was a satisfactory, cosy fire burning.

As she nibbled on her dry rations, she smiled wryly as she thought back of her lessons with Coram, where he taught her how to survive in the wilderness. Back then; she had had aspirations to be a maiden warrior. Now, her dream was about to come true.

But it was funny how dreams never included the hardships. She had pictured herself fighting, but she could never have imagined the struggles, the blood and the horror. Dreams didn't cover the ache in your muscles, and the blood on your hands. Dreams didn't cover the very real possibility of death, just lurking a single sword-stroke away.

Suddenly, she sneezed. Her nose was itching. She looked up, alarmed. Whenever her nose itched, something supernatural was about to happen. She knew this from experience. The feeling in the clearing had changed. Shifting into a fighting stance, Alanna unsheathed Lightening.

She tensed as she heard a soft, muffled sound… she could have sworn it was a mew.

When a small black kitten trotted out from the darkness, Alanna put down her sword and laughed, shaking her head.

She slid back into a seated position on the ground. It came over to her, its tiny tail waving. It butted her knee, commanding her to pick it up. She obeyed, and stroked its head, marvelling at the cleanliness of its fur.

"It is a terrible night to be out," she told it, as she rummaged around for a spare blanket. "What is a nice little thing like you doing outdoors?" She lifted it up, to check its gender. It, as it turned out, as a he.

She placed him down, and then caught sight of his eyes. She gasped. "Great Merciful Mother!"

The kitten's eyes were bright amethyst, just like her own.

For a moment, thoughts roiled in her head, each more worrying than the last. But when the kitten butted at her knee again, and looked up at her plaintively, she laughed and shook her head. "I have purple eyes as well. See? I am no more supernatural than you are!"

With this said and done, she thoroughly checked over her new pet (just in case) and prepared to sleep. However, just as she was about to doze off, five sneezes hit her, again.

This time, when her eyes opened, a hooded stranger was standing right in front of her. She jumped up in alarm, her hand going instinctively for her sword. However, even as her hand brushed the hilt, she realised her folly. Just because the person had appeared out of nowhere gave her no right to attack her – or him.

"D'you need help?" she stuttered.

The stranger's voice was low, husky, and feminine. "I saw your fire through the trees," she said. "It is a cold night. I thought – hoped that I could borrow some warmth."

At Alanna's numb nod, the stranger threw back her hood, to reveal the tallest, and perhaps the most beautiful person Alanna had ever met. Her skin was the palest ivory, and her eyes were wide, thickly lashed, and piercingly emerald. Her hair fell in waves of ebony. Alanna swallowed. Her face was just a little bit too perfect to be real. She felt almost intimidated as the stranger settled down beside the fire with boneless grace.

Alanna sat as well, huddling beside the fire with her new pet on her lap. She was wordless. Her mind was reeling with confusion.

"It is rare for one so young to venture out alone in a place like this," the stranger said, after a moment. A small, enigmatic smile hovered on her lips. "There are tales of these parts, and of those who journey through them."

The kitten protested as Alanna's ministrations became a little too hard. Hastily, Alanna loosened her grasp. "I had no choice," she said, somewhat curtly. "Home is hours away. It would not have been fair on my horse, to press it through this storm."

The woman nodded. "You have come far, Alanna of Trebond," she said.

Alanna looked up, surprised at the recognition. She cursed each and every gossip in Tortall, lamenting at the extent of news had travelled, so much that a total stranger could recognise her for who she was.

She studied her shoes very carefully; wishing very much that the stranger would pick up the hint that she had no desire for conversation. However, if she had, the woman showed no inclination to cease talk.

"You will be a knight very soon, my daughter," she said. "Time is running short, and there are still many barriers for you to overcome."

Alanna kept her eyes on her shoes. "I'd rather not think about things that way," she said, bluntly. "When I reach the fence, I'll jump over it. Not before."

"But you must," the woman said, her tone rebuking. "You have much to accomplish in very little time. And nothing is certain. Nothing is ever certain. You could always fail."

Alanna looked up, and suddenly, she realised why the low, husky voice sounded so familiar. She recalled the Sweating Sickness that had stricken Corus, not so long ago. She remembered throwing vervain into the fire, and the voice, like the cry of bell bounds, that had spoken to her through the fire.

She stilled. "But that's not possible," she said, shaking her head insistently. "You cannot be…"

"Why not?" the Great Mother Goddess asked. "You must know by now that you are my Chosen. I would not visit you otherwise."

Alanna swallowed. "I didn't ask for this," she said.

The look in the Goddess's eyes was kind. "Our Chosen rarely do. You, in particular, ask for very little. But what assistance do you receive, my daughter? You have no mother to guide you, to ask for advice. The next few years will be important, in determining not only your future, but the future of many others."

The little black kitten mewled. Alanna suddenly realised he was at the other side of the fire, the traitor.

The Goddess picked him up. "She will be fine, small one," she said soothingly. "She is merely trying to overcome her fear."

Alanna's eyes snapped back to the Goddess's face. "I am not afraid," she said firmly. When the Goddess arched a brow, Alanna looked away. "Well, maybe I am, a little, but acknowledging it won't help me any, will it?"

The Mother's smile returned. "You generally learn your lessons well, my daughter, but you are disadvantaged by refusing to accept the truth."

Alanna was looking at her shoe once more. The pattern was ingrained in her mind.

"There are three fears you have not accept," the Mother said.

Alanna stiffened. She got up quickly, with a murmured excuse that she needed to fetch more wood for the fire. She returned a little time later, clutching an enormous bundle of sticks in her hands, but the Goddess was not deterred.

"The first," she continued, "is your fear for your Ordeal of Knighthood."

Alanna snapped a stick in half, and fed it to the fire. She said nothing.

It had been Midwinter not so long ago, but it would be years—if ever—until she could forget the look in Jonathan's eyes as he emerged from the chamber. They were almost blind, dark with some untold, fearsome knowledge. She remembered watching as the priests closed the doors, at the slit of darkness that lay inside. From thereafter, the Ordeal had become a very real thing to her. Four years did not seem like such a long time.

The Goddess nodded, as if she knew exactly what Alanna was thinking.

"It was as if something of him died in there." Alanna's voice was barely louder than a whisper. "And Gary, Raoul and Alex looked the same way. Jonathan… he…" She paused, trying to word her thoughts. It was painful. "He has nightmares sometimes," she continues. "He wakes up at night, screaming, but he can't tell me about the Ordeal, because he isn't allowed to. He isn't a weak person. They all weren't weak people… but if it affected him, wouldn't it be doubly worse for me?" She paused, and snapped another stick. The fire flared higher.

"I have nightmares sometimes, too," she confessed. "I know I can't scream, but I want to scream. I don't know what is inside there, but I know it is terrible." She sucked in a breath. "And I can't make a noise, because it would bring Jonathan over."

"Which would be disastrous, of course," the Goddess said. When Alanna reddened, she continued gently. "Would it be so terrible if he did come over, and offer you comfort?"

"I don't even want to begin to imagine," Alanna snapped. "The Court gossips would have a field day with that." She held her head high, her mouth stiff. "Our relationship isn't like that. Jon's decent, and I would never… he would never…"

"You fear love, my daughter," the Goddess murmured. "You fear Jonathan's love, the love of the Rogue, George Cooper. You even fear the love of Myles, who only wants to be your father. But what is it exactly that you are afraid of? Warmth? Trust? A man's touch?"

"I don't WANT a man's touch," Alanna almost yelled. Then immediately, she reddened even further. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to be disrespectful… it's just that… I…" She paused. She felt her hands touch her overheated cheeks. "I just want to be a warrior. I want to fight fights, win battles. Falling in love doesn't factor into anything. It isn't helpful. If anything, it's detrimental." She hastened to explain. "When you love someone… they expect you to give them love back. They want a part of you, to keep for themselves… and I just can't do that." She looked down. "Besides," she continued, in a more reasonable tone, "the conservatives will never accept it, especially if it's Jon. They'll say I'm using him, and it won't be good for either of us." She forced herself to look back into the direction of the Goddess. "So what is my third fear?" she asked awkwardly. "Might as well get this over with."

"Roger, Duke of Conte." The tone of the Goddess's voice had changed. There was now an almost perceptible threat in her voice.

Alanna's tongue responded before her mind did. "I'm NOT afraid of him," she declared. "I have no reason to be afraid of him… none at all… but I am." Memories flooded back. Roger's blue crystal flashing as he talked to the class about Persopolis. The funny ache in her head she had received, when he was testing her. Thom's letters, about how he was being watched.

And then, realisation hit. "I hate him," Alanna gasped. "I hate him!" It felt good to say it, after all that time. "There's something wrong about him. He's… evil."

The Mother nodded. "Very well," she said crisply. "And what will you do?"

"Stay alert," Alanna said, suddenly feeling tired. "Watch him all I can." She sighed. "George will help me. Thom will, too."

The Goddess smiled once more. "The first step to conquering your fears, my daughter, is to acknowledge them. Your fear for the Chamber of Ordeal will pass over time, as will your fear for love."

Alanna stiffened. "I won't change my mind," she said.

"Perhaps," the Goddess said, her voice amused. She extended her hand, and for a moment, Alanna thought she was trying to find something in the fire. When the hand emerged, unblemished, holding a red hot-coal, Alanna gasped. "Our time together draws to a close, my daughter." She proffered her hand. "Take this from my hand, my daughter."

Alanna eyed the coal dubiously. She seemed to be asking for a bit too much, even for a Goddess. However, she tentatively extended her own hand, and grasped the crystal. To her surprise, it was cold. Surprised, she almost dropped it.

She brought it up for closer examination. Inside its hard, crystal shell, the ember seemed as if it was still burning. There was a hole at the top, big enough for a small chain to pass through.

In her mortified curiosity, she had not realised that the Goddess had risen. It wasn't until the deity spoke, that Alanna looked up. "You will prevail, my daughter. The Chamber is only a room, albeit a magical one. When the time comes, you will enter it. Duke Roger is only a man, for all the sorcery he wields; he can be met and defeated. But you must learn to love, my daughter. The path you have been given is twisted and gnarled; love will ease it. Much depends on you, Alanna of Trebond. Failure is not an option."

Alanna's hand was tight around the ember. "I'll try not to," she said. Then, she remembered her manners. She jumped up. "And thank you."

The Goddess smiled one last time. "I cannot ask for more," she said. She looked down at the kitten, which now sat by Alanna's feet. "Guard her well, Small One."

As the kitten mewed, Alanna stared at it, hard. Was there more to her new pet than met the eye?

The Goddess stood. "Wear my token, be brave, and wary. Do not stray beyond your fire tonight, my daughter. Dangers lie near. I was not jesting when I said there are strange tales about this tree."

As Alanna kissed the immortal's hand, she felt an odd energy zap through her. Even when she shook herself, the feeling did not fade. "Fare well, my Mother."

"Fare well, my Daughter." The Goddess walked to Moonlight, and caressed and spoke to it for a moment, before stepping away. She raised her hand a final time to Alanna. But the next time Alanna blinked, she was gone.

Suddenly, Alanna felt very tired indeed. As she banked the fire, and cleared the grounds, she could barely keep her eyes open. Contemplation would have to wait until the next morning…

She unrolled her bedroll and wriggled in. "D'you snore?" she asked the kitten sleepily.

It replied it wouldn't, if she didn't.

By the time Alanna finished nodding, she was already fast asleep.

Alanna arrived back to the palace by noon the next day, after a contemplative journey back home. She threw herself back into her routine with vengeance.

That night, when she was feeding her new kitten dinner, she heard the murmur of voices in Jon's room, just before a knock on the door.

"Alanna, are you decent there?" Jon asked.

"I'm always decent," she called back. "Come in."

Opening the connecting door, Jon entered with Gary and Raoul.

Gary spoke. "We were thinking of going down to the Dancing Dove. We were wondering if you would like to…" His voice died away as he saw the cat. "Great Mithros! It's a cat! What are you doing with that fleabag?"

Alanna rose to her new pet's defence at once. "It isn't a fleabag. It is nice and clean," she said archly, stroking its back.

"I know a sorcerer's familiar when I see one," Jon said, amused, bending down to pet the kitten. "Do sorcerer's familiars have fleas?" His laughter stopped when he saw the kitten's purple eyes. "Goddess," he breathed, as his own sapphire-blue eyes widened. "Where did you find him? Is it a him?"

Alanna nodded.

Raoul and Gary were staring as well.

"What is his name?" Raoul whispered, his tone almost reverent.

"Well," Alanna said petulantly. "I haven't decided." Before the others could chip in with their suggestions, she hastily said, "But I do fancy 'Faithful'." She disengaged the kitten from Jon, and set it on her left shoulder. It was a spot they both liked.

Jon grinned. With a mock show of ceremony, he unsheathed his dagger. As if knighting a cat, he touched it gently on both shoulders. "I dub thee 'Faithful'," he said austerely. "Serve honourably and well."

Faithful, true to his name, followed Alanna everywhere. He had staked a spot in every single area. In the practice yards, it was the tiny patch of greenery on the left hand side, right on the sidelines. It was harder to sneak into the classes, but eventually, Faithful became a classroom regular.

Myles had no qualms with letting Faithful sit in his classes, claiming cats had every right for education. The Mithran priests, however, were harder to convince. It was eventually Faithful himself, not Alanna, that won them over. Often, during long, boring lectures, he would be seated at the front desk, being absently patted by the lecturer himself.

However, one class that Alanna forbade Faithful to attend was Duke Roger's class. She had no want for the Duke to find out about Faithful's abnormalities. During these periods, Faithful would be taken care of by other people. However, Alanna was only ever the one whom he allowed to carry him around on the shoulder.

But Faithful's meeting with Duke Roger was inevitable. It occurred one rainy May day, during one of the rare periods of true 'free time'. In the spirit of true laziness, Alex, Gary, Faithful and Alanna lounged around, watching Raoul and Jon play backgammon.

Then, Duke Roger came in.

"Alex," he said without preamble. "An important package has arrived for me in Port Caynn. I hate to ask a favour, but I cannot go myself, and you are the only I trust to retrieve it…"

Before he even finished, Alex was already standing and giving his acquiescence. "It would be my pleasure…"

He was interrupted by a painful yelp, from Alanna. "You blasted cat! Let go of me!" Faithful had pounced onto her shoulder, his claws bare. He was growling, his fur was bristling and his back was arched.

"Stop it," Alanna muttered to him desperately, through gritted teeth. Duke Roger was watching.

"This must be your new pet," he said, coming forward.

"Yes," Alanna said, wincing as she disengaged Faithful from her shoulder. "He's normally not like this," she said, trying her best to avert Faithful's head, so that Roger wouldn't glimpse the eyes.

However, it was futile. "Unusual eyes," he commented. "I've just come from the kennels, Alanna," he said. "Perhaps your pet can smell dogs on me. Then again, I have never liked… cats."

The pause gave Alanna a chill. She knew it was too late to do anything. Roger had probably already made a fairly accurate guess as to Faithful's origins.

"Must be the dogs, sir," she said airily. "Dogs and Faithful never got along," she said.

It was a blatant lie. They both knew it, but mutually accepted it.

The sorcerer nodded to Alex. They left together.

The moment they left, Alanna picked Faithful up and delivered a scalding lecture on Etiquette (much to the other's amusement). By the time she finished her long-winded, exaggerated speech, the others were laughing, Faithful was purring, and all was forgotten—she hoped.

However, that very night, a messenger departed the Dancing Dove, with a very important message to Master Thom, concerning a certain smiling gentlemen, and a purple-eyed cat.

A/N: I know this sounds very familiar, but it was unavoidable. I did reword everything (almost everything. The Duke Roger scene was very hard to write, and I stole snippets. About 95 percent of this is rephrased.) I'll try to avoid this in the future, but it does tie-in with the plot.

Thank you to the reviewers: Chopstix, HuntressDiana, Reaya, Forget-me-not, Von, White-wolf, Tomato Beatles Fan.