It was still early, early enough for the birds to still be snuggled in their nests, anticipating the hour upon which they could search for food. However, not all of the occupants in Tortall were asleep. In the center of the palace, in the King's study were placed his most trusted advisors. "It is war, then," said Duke Gareth, "there is no choice, Tusaine has marched on the Drell Valley. One could have hoped that the meetings we had months ago would have avoided this, but Jemis and Hamial are determined I suppose."
"Unfortunately," King Roald said, "this seems to be the case." He sighed, "I have always wished to be the peacekeeper, but we are now at war. Roger, what think you?"
Roger squirmed; he had hoped that his presence at this meeting would have been forgotten, as war wasn't his specialty. Deception, now, that was his cup of tea, such as it was. He looked down at his notes, to bide his time while he thought of something insightful to say.
He was saved by the sound of a heated discussion outside involving at least two of the guards assigned to bar any unwelcome guests from the King's Study. "Who could that be?" he asked, well aware of the time, and the probability of someone else in the palace to be awake and about at this hour. No one answered his question, as a moment later it was a moot point. The figure that burst through the door had the red hair of his apprentice, and Roger could have very well kissed her at this moment. Hopefully there was an emergency that only he could solve, and that would be his escape from this meeting.
Alanna nary paused for a breath before she spoke, "We have a problem," she said, her face panicked in a way that Roger had not seen before. She slid closer to his chair, "A big, massive problem, a problem to end all problems." Her hands flew around as she spoke, making her look like a baby bird that was trying to fly for the first time. The idea amused Roger, but he knew that if he showed any sort of humor in the situation then Alanna would just get angry and he would never learn what the 'problem to end all problems' was.
The Lord Provost obviously not as amused as Roger by Alanna's hand motions, spoke up then "How did you learn of Tusaine's plans, Lady, that would be fairly impressive, as no one in this room knew about the war-plans until about an hour ago." The Provost looked through his glasses at her, instantly suspicious.
Alanna whipped around, for the first time since she burst into the room did she actually take notice of where she was and who she was in the room with. She immediately felt self conscious in nothing more than a scanty nightdress and a pair of silk slippers. Her brow furrowed, as if she was thinking far to hard about something.
Roger took that moment to speak, because as much as he liked watching Alanna's face redden to match her hair, he was more interested in getting out of the room and out of the war plans. "Alanna, you were saying a problem to end all problems . . ."
Alanna spun again to look at him, a distant, distracted look on her face, "Yes, um, there, is . . ." she trailed off, "wait, did he say there's a war?"
"War-plans, actually," the Duke explained. "However, you have a problem to end all problems."
Alanna was still distracted by the idea of war, thoughts running through her head when she answered, "The Emperor of Carthak is dead. Poison." Still thinking, she barely registered the gasps about the room, as the men were taken by surprise at the news, none of them could believe that the leader of such a mighty nation could be felled by such easy means. They started to ask her questions, none of which she answered, until finally she murmured something.
Everyone fell silent, and consulted with each other, as not one of them knew what she had said. Finally Duke Gareth said something, "Child what did you say?"
Alanna looked up from the design on the carpet that she had been staring at. "Nikoli Rayden is in Tusaine, isn't he?"
Comprehension dawned in Roger's eyes, "Damn. We need to be there."
Alanna looked him straight in the eye and countered, "I need to be there." She began to pace, "I will, of course, send our regards to the Emperor Mage-elect, and start packing." She faced Roger again, "Actually, we'll need to be light, I'll get the servants to start packing. Will you need your Hallium text, it's awfully hard to pack." As she paced, she started to talk quicker, "of course I will need the bellum gaudium, but probably not the Dragon Codex . . ." she trailed off. "Um. When's the call to muster? There are so many choices. When are we riding out?"
The Duke, still highly amused with the whole situation, smiled, "three days."
Alanna stopped short. "three days! I should have started a week ago." She made her way to the door.
"Wait."
Alanna paused and turned to face the King.
King Roald placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "I am not sure that I approve of a young lady entering a war, especially a war which I am ultimately responsible for. Even if she may be," he looked at his nephew, and said the next word difficultly, "needed."
Alanna stood in the middle of the room, astonished, as if she had never thought that the King would object. She spoke clearly and slowly, like she was explaining a complex idea to a child, "Your Majesty, I am intimately familiar with battle. I am a war mage."
"Be that as it may, Lady Alanna," the King said in a condescending manner, "I have found that school lesions are poor preparation for a practical application. Men will die, and I will do my best not to cause any women to die as well. You will stay here, I am sure that your . . ." he pondered for a moment, before he spat out, "Master, will be able to handle anything Ryanden-man will be able to conjure."
"Nikoli Rayden, Your Majesty, and with all due respect, for as grand as my," she sneered, "Master is he is not a war mage.
"And as for 'practical applications,' war mage duels are always fatal. So my school lessons have quite prepared me for anything that I should experience in the River Drell."
"Always fatal?" Duke Gareth questioned. "There is never a draw, or a practice match?"
Alanna stood straighter, put her shoulders back and clasped her hands behind her, as if answering a question in class. "With great power comes even greater responsibility. As with any magic, for every action there is a counter-action. In war magic, as the body expends the energy needed to complete the spells, it desires something to fill the void. The body develops," she paused, "kanan-na, blood lust.
"The Victor quite literally, feeds, on the life force of the Loser, in the form of blood. The Dance is not complete without it. Likiri Mantuta, often considered the master of war mages, drank the blood of his three hundred-sixty-two victims with a touch of brandy. Apparently the mixture has a more calming effect. Zela Pulva, a master in her own right, and the daughter of a prominent tribal chief in the south of what we now call Carthak, would leave the torso intact, so that she could sip directly from the losers heart. She kept them near her bed as a sign of her skill." She pursed her lips, "I am not as flashy."
Alanna paused for a moment, as if she was about to say something else, thought better of it, and made her way out the door.
The King sat back in his chair and drew a ragged look at his nephew. "Your apprentice," he said when he found his voice.
"Scares you?" Roger finished for him. "She scares me too."
A/n: it has been a long time, no? I just couldn't get a chapter together that seemed . . . appropriate. By the way, in the words of Hedgewitchery (whose story Scientist King, while outside of my personal tastes, is actually quite tasty (like pistachio ice-cream) I am playing the timeline both loose and fast. I just couldn't make myself care enough to look up the spellings of Ain's brothers. I simply doesn't bother me. . . As always, I have strayed too far from characters, and the character of Alanna's magic – but we all are already so far into my imaginary Tamora Pierce based land that we ought to push ourselves over the edge . . . rambling now. Done. Hoped you liked it.
Mara
