CHAPTER 13: Friends

Alanna blinked drowsily at the ceiling. It was very boring, all black and smooth. She groaned and rolled over. Every muscle in her body screamed. She glanced to her side, where Jonathan was also coming to. She watched, smiling wryly, as he moaned and dragged himself to his knees. On spotting her, he tried a small smile. "That was interesting."

"Tell me about it," she agreed and struggled to stand. He beat her to it and then helped her up before stumbling over to where Lightning lay, its tip blackened.

"It's still warm," Jonathan gasped in wonder.

A thorough inspection showed the sword unharmed, as the blackened point disappeared with a vigorous rubbing, and Alanna sheathed it with pride.

Jonathan laughed lightly. "Come on. Let's get out of here." Leaning on each other for support, they stumbled out of the City, where they could breathe clean, light air.

The horses, tethered to a large boulder, waited patiently for their riders. Their wet saddles betrayed an earlier rainfall. Alanna frowned. Now that she thought about it, she dimly remembered thunder booming while they were in the temple.

"I don't think we have time to head back to Persopolis," Jonathan remarked. "It's already dusk."

"Wow," she breathed. "It didn't seem like we were in there for that long. There's an oasis over there." She flopped her hand in the general eastern direction.

Jonathan nodded. "Let's go."

It took less than a half hour to reach the oasis. That time, though, was more than enough for the day's events to catch up to them. Numbly, they tied their mounts near a lush spot of grass before collapsing under a tree to stare silently up at the darkening sky.

Finally, Alanna couldn't take the silence anymore. "I like your horse," she commented abruptly.

Jonathan laughed. "I can only thank you for that. I saw you riding Moonlight last year and asked Stefan Groomsman where you had gotten her, and he gave me directions to George Cooper, who brought me straight to Darkness. And then it was love at first sight—but you know all about that kind of thing, I suppose, with Moonlight, who is, by the way, an amazing mount."

"You honor me, Your Highness."

"I wish you'd stop doing that," he sighed.

"Doing what?"

"Calling me 'Your Highness.' It's very annoying. My name is Jonathan. 'Jon' is even better."

She ran her fingers through her hair, hesitating. "People would talk," she murmured.

"I suppose that would be different than usual?"

"Squires Alexander and Francis would not approve."

"Alex and Francis are driving me crazy about you," he spat. "They still seem to think you're Thom. But you're not! I admit, I thought you were before that one dinner, and so did Gary. Raoul was the only one sure about you the whole time. But then we really heard you talk, and gods help us, you weren't Thom! But Alex and Francis—they're getting on my nerves. They just don't get it—you're laughing. Why are you laughing?"

Alanna had to catch her breath from her giggles before replying, "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that. I feel the whole city of Corus was out against any and all Trebonds after Thom lived there. It was just too crazy. It's great to know that you guys don't think that anymore."

"Oh, when you come back to Corus, you'll find that a lot of that has changed," Jonathan hurriedly assured her. "Everyone still thinks you're really unusual, but the whole Thom thing has almost totally died off. All except—" He stopped and turned onto his side to face her. "All except Ralon of Malven," he murmured.

"Oh, no, Your High—Jon, I really don't want to talk about him," she protested. "I've managed to forget all about him—"

"Well he hasn't forgotten about you. It's only a matter of time before he kills you."

"How did you find out about this?" she demanded. "Does the whole palace know?"

"No. Gary was good enough to make us swear we wouldn't talk."

"'Us'? Who else knows?"

"Raoul. He reported to his uncle, Ralon's knight master."

"And?" she groaned.

Jonathan paused. "Alanna, there's something you have to understand. Lady Rowanna's father is very conservative and does not think very highly of you or Thom. He—he—he didn't exactly believe Raoul, or, at least, he didn't react to the news. In fact, he told Raoul to forget about it, unless it happens again. The problem was that there wasn't any proof. You were gone, and you hadn't said anything, and no one had seen any marks. Alanna, if you would just say it happened—"

"No," Alanna replied flatly. "There isn't any proof anymore. The marks are gone. Besides, Ralon won't be abusive to his own wife."

"People thought Ralon wouldn't hit a woman. But he attacked you just because you're Thom's sister. What do you think he won't do to Thom's sister's friend?"

"Your—Jon, listen to me. There's nothing I can do about it anymore. If it happens again, I'll say something about it, I promise."

Jon sighed. "You're very stubborn, you know."

"I know."

Silence reigned for a good number of minutes before Jonathan finally murmured, "Alanna, I want to ask you about the Ysandir."

Alanna, who had been on verge of nodding off, rapidly blinked the sleep from her eyes. "I'm listening."

"They mentioned your alternate... life. They said it was the one you should be... living right now. What was that?"

Alanna had been wondering the same thing. She shook her head. "I have my ideas, but it kind of ties in with other things."

"Like what?"

How could she tell the Prince that she had had plans to go against his father's law and disguise as a boy to become a knight? "Er... listen, Jon: this is hard."

"Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

She grumbled something and then, buying time, hoisted herself half off the ground to lean against their tree. "Well... you have to promise not to tell."

"You have my word."

Then, piece by piece, she slowly confessed her former dream to become a knight. When she had finished, Jon was laughing.

"Wow! Father would have thrown a tantrum when he found out! That would have been great, though, training with you. I've seen you fight, and I've seen pages fight—Mithros, Alanna, you would have beat us all!"

Alanna laughed easily. "You flatter me, Jonathan."

"And she said you would have succeeded! And that... you'd kill my father's worst enemy? I wonder who that is. Well, I fully entrust you with that one. And you'd become my father's Champion. That's a bit tricky. Even if my father did let you keep your shield—which he'd have to, if you had passed the Ordeal—I don't see him letting you be the King's Champion. Uncle Gareth is the King's Champion! And then..."

Alanna wondered if Jon could feel the heat from her blush. She knew by the way his voice trailed off that he hadn't forgotten what came next either. She wished she knew what was going on in his head just then.

"Do you think that part was true?" he asked casually. "About you and me?"

"No," she said flatly and then winced at the harshness in her voice.

"No?" Jonathan echoed as he sat up to lean against the tree too. It was impossible to read his voice.

"I have no interest in men, Jonathan, and I can't imagine myself in anyone's bed while trying to earn my shield. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to go bathe in that watering hole over there. You should get to sleep. We have a lecture from Martin to look forward to tomorrow."

As she rose, though, Jonathan caught her hand. She resisted the urge to jerk it free. Her heart was beating like a hammer in an anvil, and all she wanted just then was something cold to splash over her burning face.

"Then why do you think she said it?" he whispered.

"To unnerve us. It's harder to fight with those thoughts running through your head."

"I wasn't unnerved. And you fought fine."

Why couldn't he express some emotion in that voice of his? "I was unnerved," she told him firmly. "I was terribly unnerved." And then, not caring if it was rude or not, she tugged her hand from his. She wondered if he had felt how it was trembling.

As she walked away from him and towards the pond, she tried unsuccessfully to ignore the eyes drilling into her back.

---

The first thing Alanna noticed when she and Jon returned the next day was how the Bazhir completely avoided her. When she finally asked Ali about it, he explained softly, "The Bazhir have been suffering from the curse of the Nameless Ones for centuries, Alanna. Since the time of the Old Ones, we have waited with legends and prophecies and expectations for someone to help us. And now, two children—two northern children, and one of them a girl—came and helped us. Yesterday at noon, when everyone was worrying about you two, we felt it when you freed us. Every Bazhir in the entire world felt it. Alanna, you saved us. We knew the Burning-Brightly One personally!"

"I'm not the Burning-Brightly One!" she protested in alarm.

"You try telling them that. Every one of our legends that mentions the defeat of the Nameless Ones stresses the part about the two victors being the Burning-Brightly One and the Night One. Take a look at yourself and the Prince. The Bazhir aren't stupid. They can figure things out, even if you can't."

When she met with Jon to endure Martin's long and boring lecture, she was stunned. Jon's black hair was the perfect replica of a lightless night, and her own hair could have been a cackling fire without wood. Ali was right. Everyone was right. She was the Burning-Brightly One. Jon was the Night One. They were fulfillments of legends.

After the speech that had ended with the punishment of all freetime for the next two weeks being given up to Martin, they left his office to find Raoul and Gareth waiting for them.

"Oh, hello, my lords!" Alanna greeted in surprise.

"Oh, why, hello, Alanna, dearest," Raoul mimicked a lady's higher voice terribly. "My, isn't the weather simply gorgeous?"

"Oh come on," she protested his imitation. "What was that for?"

"You're so upright, Alanna!" Gareth cried. "Relax. It's not like we're going to bite your head off for not saying 'please,' you know. How often do you think we say 'please'?"

"Erm—"

"Exactly," Jon butted in positively. "We don't—not around each other."

Alanna was confused. So they wanted her to be bad? "My Lord Gareth—" she began worriedly.

"Alanna!" he cried exasperatedly. "You don't get it! My name is Gary!"

Then it dawned on her: they wanted her to be informal and treat them like she did her convent friends. She frowned. She was being offered quite a few noblemen's informal names.

"Gary," he repeated, "or 'Hey You.' But none of this 'my Lord Gareth' stuff. I feel starched enough as it is."

"Oh but my lords—"

"That's it!" Gareth cried. "I ban you from saying 'my lords' until you call me 'Gary.'"

Alanna sighed. The were not going to give up. "Fine. Gary—" she cut herself off with a wince and shook her head. "Are you sure? I'm Alanna of Trebond, Thom's sister, strange demon Gift-aholic girl, no less. And you want me to call you 'Gary'?"

Gareth laughed and slung his arms around her and Jon's shoulders. "Alanna, you just got my cousin out of the deepest shit Uusoae could get him into. If I could ask anyone to call me 'Gary,' it'd be you."

Alanna ducked her head. "You overestimate me."

"Nonsense. You survived, didn't you? I can't be called 'my Lord Gareth' by someone who fights by my cousin's side and therefore my side, can I? We're friends—aren't we?" He stopped in his tracks to peer down at her. "Aren't we?" he repeated.

Alanna hesitated, and then glanced up at him. "I'd like that," she murmured.

"Great," he cried jovially. "Then friends it is! And my name is?"

She paused and then announced clearly, "Gary."

"Good. Now what's his name?" he asked, jerking his chin at Raoul.

When Alanna didn't reply immediately, Jon ordered simply, "Raoul, smack her."

With a yelp, Alanna leaped forward and away from Raoul's heavy hand, but a laughing Gary caught her around the waist as Raoul torturingly ruffled her hair. Alanna laughed and swatted him away.

"Fine then!" she surrendered. "Raoul!"

"Very good!" Gary congratulated. "And just in time, too. We're here."

"Here" was in front of Alanna's room. Trying not to show her unhappiness about leaving her new friends, she stepped away from them and towards her door.

"Get ready for lunch quickly, and we'll go eat together," Gary ordered.

She smiled. Without mentioning how the servants would talk, she obeyed.