I hate to say this since I dislike hearing it from other authors, but because I haven't finished Trickster's Queen I'm probably taking some liberties with canon related to it. Spoilers for TQ, of course, some of which I learned from the Dove/Sheroes; if I got something wrong here, forgive me and call it semi-AU. ;)
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June 5: a single soul dwelling in two bodies, feat. Aly Crow and Taybur Sibigat
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Dovasary kept her voice light and teasing as she requested Taybur to find her spymistress ("Perhaps you will be treated to a reprise of your cat-and-mouse games"), but her dark, sharp eyes revealed her deep unease. Nawat Crow, wrestling with his newborn triplets (something for which Taybur did not for an instant envy him), lifted his head to direct a concerned glance at the guardsman before a tiny hand yanked his earlobe and his attention downward again.
The search didn't take long, something that caused Taybur a twinge of disappointment. The discovery of pale light flickering from beneath Aly's workroom door drew a wry smile from him, and he strode purposely to the door. He didn't falter when she failed to respond to his heavy knock, but when she still hadn't given any indication of hearing him after he called out her name, he gently pushed open the wooden door.
Once inside, he paused, his brows snapping together in surprise. He hadn't realized from outside the room how harsh the light actually was; the candles had burned down so that they now resembled flames treading the hot liquid wax in their bowls. In their wan light he could perceive the lean shape of Aly crouched on the floor, with at least seven different maps strewn around her. At first Taybur thought that the maps bore dark ink blotches, but as he drew closer he realized that they were darkings – at least twenty of them – sprawled lazily over the thick sheets of parchment. More darkings adorned her neck and wrists like jewelry; a moment earlier he had assumed that she was wearing bangles constructed of shiny obsidian, most likely given to her by her crow mate.
She was slumped against a cushion, but her eyes were, as always, bright and alert. Their light seemed to grow upon recognizing him, and her full lips spread into a grin. "Well, hello there, Taybur."
He inclined his head. "Good evening, Aly. I was sent by the Queen to retrieve you. Everyone is waiting for you in the dining room."
She put a hand to her forehead in an overdramatic motion; surprisingly, the darkings didn't quiver at the sudden movement. "Dear me, I am feeling a bit faint. I'll have to apologize for postponing everyone's dinner."
"Queen Dovasary requested that I bring you in for dessert," he corrected quietly.
Her hazel eyes didn't falter; to his surprise, she laughed, though it sounded strained. "This work of mine!" she exclaimed, pushing herself to her feet with a hand that shook. His mouth went dry. Never in all of their interactions, their playful but always loaded pursuits and evasions, had he seen her shake; neither when he had brought Dunevon's frail corpse from the child king's ruined ship.
She continued jovially, "A spymaster's work requires total attention and commitment. Little things like food can't deter me from my, literally, god-granted job."
He frowned. "Now that you mention it, you've missed all of the meals that I have attended." And I'll bet that the ones I haven't been at you haven't either. He drew her to him, noting how cold her fingers were.
"Taybur, I was kidding," she chided gently before fluttering her eyelashes at him. "However, I am terribly flattered that you're worried about me."
"Stop," he ordered sternly. At such close proximity he could see the fine lines that already creased her soft skin, the eyes rimmed with red and smudged with purple. "Aly, you're making yourself unwell with all of this attention to your work."
Her eyes had hardened, but her grin remained. "Taybur," she said, parroting the slow, deliberate tone of his voice, "as spymistress I have to have eyes and ears everywhere and be available to receive all of the necessary information."
"As I understand it, you were able to do that during the rebellion while monitoring and leading several other groups," he retorted, remembering the small darking he had discovered in Dunevon's bedchamber.
"You don't know how I managed everything," she shot back; her tone was sliding away from its former jocularity.
"No, I don't." Impulsively, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over a scab on her ever-protruding lower lip. Recognition flashed in his eyes; to her credit, she made no reaction as he shoved aside her long red hair. Thin white scars crossed over her earlobe; she bore the same marks on the other ear.
Ysul had explained to Taybur the creation of darkings as the Tortallan basilisk had imparted to him. They had been formed from the blood of an enemy of Tortall and so acted as extensions of him: when created from the blood of corresponding spots on his body, they had literally acted as his eyes and ears. Due to their creator's death and their years in the Realms of the Gods, however, the original creatures had developed free thinking and therefore separated themselves from of his control.
The original creatures . . . He recalled being introduced to only about ten of these dark blobs. Taybur grabbed Aly's wrist; for the first time since he had entered the room, her face darkened, and she tugged her arm away. He twisted her arm behind her enough to immobilize her – she panted in frustration – and lifted her wrist to his face. The darkings clung to her skin like leeches, but he pried them off; they slithered away to nest in her hair, but Aly didn't notice. Her eyes, appearing almost entirely green, were fixed on the same spot his were.
"Aly," he breathed. He was so surprised that he loosened his grip on her wrist. She jerked away from him, the fingers of her other hand instinctively covering the spidery scars on her wrist.
"You don't understand everything that I have to do," she snapped at his calm but accusatory gaze. The darkings slipped themselves around her thin wrist again, crooning soothingly. "My work requires constant surveillance –"
"But there are safe ways to go about spying," he interrupted. She had enough wherewithal to fix him with an impudent look, and he sighed. "Safer," he corrected himself. "This is not healthy."
"But . . . I have to be everywhere," she whispered, her voice cracking on her last word.
"Then be with your husband, Aly," he gently told her. "With your children."
She looked up at him with large, liquid eyes, and, slowly, her lower lip began to tremble. He had no words to offer; all he could do was enfold her in his arms and will his body not to adopt her trembling.
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Do I understand the concept of darkings correctly? I seem to remember from ITRotG that Ozorne cut his ears and lips, if not also other places, and formed the blood from each spot into a specific set of darkings. That way, they were his eyes and ears. If I'm wrong/missing something, please let me know.
