This isn't an especially long chapter, but I've spent a lot of time thinking about it and where this story is going to go next, rethinking my plans, drafting and rewriting, and eventually going back to my original plan with only a few minor changes. Maybe I worry too much.

Thanks to Raiseth (on SV) for beta-reading for me. Much appreciated!

An Unwelcome Surprise

Only a few miles away from the Claes Manor, the small town of Hartshorne had a few shops that mostly catered for the needs of the local people and passing travelers; these didn't usually include members of the nobility, so there wasn't much available for purchase other than peasant handicrafts, farm implements, and scratchy woolen clothes. Nevertheless, Katarina insisted on going there to 'buy a gift for Sienna.'

That morning, instead of putting on a pretty dress like she usually did, she had dressed very plainly, in hardwearing riding leathers, which Anne had hitherto been unaware that she owned. She had donned a hooded cloak and tied her hair back, which gave her a severe appearance that seemed incompatible with her normally sunny disposition. Furthermore, she seemed preoccupied, as if she were plotting something.

Anne regarded her uneasily, for a few moments, before suggesting, "Why don't we travel to Duskendale instead? It's a much larger town, so you'd be more likely to find something suitable there."

"But that will take hours!" Katarina shook her head, tossing her new ponytail from side to side. "I… um, I don't want to leave her for that long."

"No, of course not," said Anne, feeling a little ashamed. She should have realized that, as Katarina had spent most of the previous day fretting by her best friend's bedside, she wouldn't want to travel too far away from her. "But I suspect you're going to be disappointed by what Hartshorne has to offer."

A complicated expression crossed Katarina's face. "We'll see about that."

Anne thought Katarina was acting strangely, but she didn't dare say anything. No matter how close she was to her– inappropriately close, some might say – there would always be a barrier between them. If she said something to offend her young mistress, it could be more than her job was worth. And so, she dithered, unsure of how to express her concerns.

Would she be answered, if she asked what was going on? Would she be listened to, if she spoke openly and honestly? She didn't know for sure. Less than a week ago, Katarina had said to her, "I like to think of you as if you were my older sister." But that had been after midnight, when Sienna's illness was discovered and she was in need of comfort. Those words didn't mean anything, not really. It was possible that they had already been forgotten.

Or maybe not. Katarina was stubborn. She had been an arrogant and snobby little girl, who had made a determined effort to change her ways and was now growing up to become a lovely young woman, but her streak of stubbornness remained constant. Sometimes, she wouldn't listen to anyone else; it seemed as if she needed to make mistakes in order to learn from them. However, because of the horrible consequences of some of her past mistakes, such as when she'd visited Maggy the Frog and demanded to have her fortune told, Anne felt that she would be remiss in her duties as Katarina's personal maid if she didn't make a concerted effort to prevent her from doing anything foolhardy or dangerous.

This shopping trip seemed like a harmless activity that would, she hoped, distract her mistress from worrying about Sienna for a few hours. She could see no reason why it wouldn't be safe – and anyway, they would have two house guards with them, just in case it wasn't. It should be fine.

"I'm sure we will," she said, at last, giving up.

"Yes, let's go," said Katarina, taking her hand and leading her to where their horses were being saddled and made ready.

The house guards who had been assigned to go with them were as unalike as it was possible for two such men to be. One of them was called 'Puddingfoot' and had no other name that he would admit to. He was a former bandit, a member of the group that had been recruited by Katarina on her way back from visiting Maggy the Frog: an aging gray-haired man with sagging jowls and a vivid scar across his face. The other man was named Dray. He was relatively young, broad-shouldered and clean-cut: a younger son from one of several well-bred freeholding families from which the Claes family tended to recruit most of their guards and trusted servants.

There was no easy camaraderie between the two men. They didn't seem to like each other very much. But that didn't matter so long as they were willing to set aside their differences and work together to protect the Duke's daughter, as they had been assigned to do. They rode in silence, on either side of their little group, with Anne and Katarina in the center.

It took less than an hour to reach Hartshorne at a normal walking pace, by which time Katarina was restless and impatient. Still, she had an oddly purposeful look on her face as she stalked about the simple village shops, as if she already knew what she wanted. Anne was curious as to what that was. However, before she could find out, she was accosted by someone she vaguely recognized: a grizzled middle-aged man with a sly, rat-like look about him.

"Anne Sherry! You're here!" he cried, grinning at her. "So good to see you!"

"Good day to you," she replied, racking her brains in an effort to remember when she'd seen him before. She was sure she knew him, but didn't know where from. Had he been to the Claes Manor? Or had she met him on one of her evenings off? There was something overly familiar about his manner, which made her feel vaguely uncomfortable; it reminded her of the amorous young men whose attentions she'd occasionally had to politely-but-firmly decline, and he was much older than her. Old enough to be her father. Certainly old enough to know better. "I'm sorry, but I have a bad memory and I can't recall–"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm just glad to see you out and about," he replied, taking a step forward. For a moment, Anne was afraid that he would try to embrace her. But then he noticed the two guards who were keeping a watchful eye on her and Katarina. "Never mind." He turned on his heel and began to walk away. "I'll be seeing you."

Anne watched until he was out of sight. She didn't say that she'd rather not see him again. She didn't say anything at all.

Puddingfoot approached her, gestured to where her unknown acquaintance had been, and asked, "Anything we need to worry about?"

"I'm not sure," Anne admitted. "I don't know who he is or remember anything about him."

"Some nights are like that," said Puddingfoot with a smirk.

Anne didn't bother to dignify that with a reply. Instead, she joined Katarina by the shop counter and was surprised to see her buying a heavy fur-lined coat.

"Is that something you think Sienna would want?" she asked, skeptically.

"Perhaps not," Katarina admitted. "It's warm, though."

"You have plenty of warm clothes at home," Anne reminded her.

For a moment, the shopkeeper looked worried that he might be cheated out of a potential sale, but Katarina calmed his nerves by saying, "Yes, but… I want this."

Anne gazed doubtfully at the drab and rumpled coat; but she was used to Katarina's whims, so she smiled and said, "And is there anything else you want?"

"Um, while we're here, I should get something for Sienna as well," said Katarina, glancing wildly around. "Give me a few minutes."

"Take as long as you need to," said Anne, in a reassuring voice; she had given up trying to understand her mistress's strange behavior.

However, although Katarina spent several minutes examining the sparse display of goods that were available for purchase, in the nearby shops and all around the marketplace, she couldn't seem to find what she was looking for; she was growing increasingly fidgety and agitated.

"What's the matter?" asked Anne.

Katarina hesitated, looking panic-stricken. "Anne… may I talk to you privately, for a few moments, please?" she asked, in a small voice.

By this time, having considered her mistress's age, relative innocence, and the fact that she'd not yet started menstruating – until now? – Anne had a fairly good idea of what was wrong with her. She pulled her to one side, smiled kindly, and said, "Don't fret. It's perfectly normal, honestly."

"Um. Really?"

"Oh, yes," Anne assured her. "It's a sign that you're becoming a woman."

"That can't be true!" Katarina protested.

"But it is. I was around your age when it first happened to me."

Katarina stared at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "H-how often do the gods send you such visions?" she asked, in a tremulous voice.

At last, Anne realized that they were talking at cross-purposes. "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood. I thought…" She sighed and shook her head. "Never mind. What do you want to talk about?"

"Last night, I had a dream – a dream sent to me by the Old Gods – and they showed me where I can find a light mage who can heal Sienna," said Katarina, all in a rush. "So, I thought… um, I have to find her as soon as possible, so…" Her voice trailed off into silence.

Anne stared exasperatedly at her. "So, you decided that you'd fabricate an excuse to leave the manor on horseback – and then, later on, you'd persuade me to come with you, is that it?"

"Actually, I was hoping I could give you the slip," Katarina admitted.

"Even worse," said Anne, in tones of icy disapproval. "I hope you realize how foolish you've been."

"But… if I don't do something, Sienna is going to die!"

"You had good intentions. But your plan could easily have led to disaster. If you'd got lost somewhere along the road – if you'd been attacked or had an accident – you could have died. And then we'd never have found out what had happened to you," said Anne, wearily scraping a hand over her eyes. "That dream you had last night… How do you know it wasn't just a dream?"

"It seemed so real," said Katarina. "It was as if I was perched upon a mountaintop and I could see for hundreds of miles. There was a path laid out for me to follow, leading me to where the light mage lives. I can still see it, even now." She gazed into the distance, at something beyond the horizon, as if there wasn't a huddle of wattle-and-daub houses blocking her field of vision. "That's where I need to go."

"You should have told your father. If it means so much to you, I'm sure he would have been willing to take you there."

Katarina's face was downcast. "Perhaps," she muttered. "But I suspect that it would have taken too long."

"How long?" asked Anne. "In your dream, where did you find the light mage?"

"Um…" There was a lengthy hesitation.

Anne raised a warning eyebrow. "Katarina…?"

"In the Vale of Arryn," Katarina confessed, at last.

"That's over a hundred miles away! Did you really mean to go there on your own?"

"If I must."

Anne paused, carefully considering what she would say next. She suspected that it would ruin her relationship with Katarina, but she felt duty bound to say it anyway. It was the right and proper thing to do. "I can't allow you to do that. I must insist that you come home with me, immediately." She beckoned to the two house guards; they had been standing a respectful distance away, keeping an eye on the horses, and she didn't know if they'd overheard the conversation or not.

"You insist? You won't allow it?" Katarina sneered, looking more like a spoiled brat than she had in years. "You're just a servant! What makes you think I do anything because you allow it?"

"It's my duty to keep you safe. Even if you don't like it, that's what I'm going to do."

"But Sienna will die!"

"Her survival is in the hands of the gods," said Anne. "You won't help her by running off into the wilderness and getting yourself killed." Her voice trembled. She hated arguing with Katarina. "Please… let's go home and put this silliness behind us.

A mutinous expression took over Katarina's face; she looked as if she was about to scream and protest and give vent to her rage.

Anne was filled with trepidation about what her wayward mistress might do next, but she was resolute. Turning to the nearest of the two guards – which happened to be Dray – she favored him with a polite smile and said, "Help Lady Katarina get back onto her horse, if you please. We must return to the Claes Manor within the hour."

He nodded, glanced at Katarina, and began the process of gently-but-firmly ushering her over to where her horse was waiting.

Katarina subsided. The anger on her face was replaced with shame and remorse, as if she already regretted some of the things she'd said only a few moments ago. While she and her companions mounted their horses, while they led her away from Hartshorne, and for the first couple of miles while they rode back the same way they'd come, she was a meek and passive presence. It was as if she knew she'd been beaten.

Of course, Anne didn't believe it. Not even for a moment. She'd never known Katarina to accept defeat easily.

Roughly halfway between Hartshorne and the Claes Manor, she was surprised to see that the road ahead was blocked by a fallen tree: an ancient, crumbling hulk, so rotted and encrusted with fungus that it was impossible to tell what kind of tree it had once been; that she would have assumed had been blown down by the merest breeze, if not for the fact that three disreputable-looking men were crouched behind it, with weapons in their hands and evil intent showing on their faces.

"Surrender!" cried their apparent leader, a middle-aged man with a rat-like countenance. "We don't want to have to kill you!"

Anne recognized him as the man who'd greeted her and been so happy to see her in Hartshorne. More than that, she remembered where she'd seen him before. She gasped and cried out, "I know you! You work for my father!"

"That's right!" He put on a gloating smile. "We're here to take you home."

Dray and Puddingfoot had moved forward, getting ready to shield Katarina and Anne with their lives, but they looked uneasy; they must have realized that if a fight broke out it could easily lead to their deaths and that of their precious charge. When they heard this interaction between Anne and her father's henchman, they hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

"Is that all you want?" asked Dray, a suspicious edge in his voice. "Couldn't we have avoided all this?" He indicated the fallen tree with one outstretched hand.

The rat-faced man didn't answer. His smile only widened.

"I mean, hasn't her father ever heard of sending a letter?" Puddingfoot tried. "Or a carriage to pick her up, if he wanted to be fancy?"

"I reckon we'll need more than that," said the rat-faced man, with a nod in Katarina's direction. "Insurance, you know."

The next few moments were an explosion of violence and confusion. Afterwards, Anne struggled to piece together the evidence of her own eyes: she'd seen what had happened, but in her memory it was so shrouded in smoke, terror, and cacophonous noise that she could barely make sense of it.

Did Dray's hand drift too close to his sword hilt? Or did one of the ruffians decide that further words were unnecessary and take the opportunity to shoot first? Either way, the young guardsman was shot through the chest. He tumbled from his horse with a spray of blood and a strangled cry.

Puddingfoot spurred his horse forward, over the narrowest part of the rotted trunk, drawing his sword as he did so, and managed to slash one of the ruffians through the neck. As the gurgling corpse collapsed into the mud, he tried to wheel around so he could strike again, but then – Anne was never quite sure what happened next or even if she witnessed it at all – he was shot at least twice, his grip loosened sufficiently that he dropped his weapon, and then he was dragged from his horse and beaten to death.

By then, Anne and Katarina had turned to flee. They hoped that if they could make it back to Hartshorne, they would be safe: surely there were some local strongmen to whom they could appeal for protection until Duke Claes sent out a search party to find them. However, before they could get that far, they were intercepted by two more thuggish-looking men, on horseback, who emerged from one of the side paths ahead of them.

Katarina let out a shriek of mingled fear, rage, and frustration. Then, recklessly, she urged her horse onwards, past the man who was trying to intercept her. He was too slow to react; he must have assumed that merely threatening her would be enough to stop her from going any further.

When he chased after her, he was surprised when a mound of earth suddenly appeared in front of his horse's forefeet, causing it to stumble and fall headlong. In the ensuing crash, the horse was grievously hurt and its rider's right leg was crushed under its bulk. His screams were piteous to hear. But Katarina was already gone, off and away down the road, blissfully ignorant of what had happened behind her.

The other mounted ruffian was stricken with indecision: should he chase after Katarina and make sure that she didn't get away? If he tried, would she dispatch him as easily as she had his associate? In which case, wouldn't it be better if he stayed back to make sure that Anne didn't run away as well?

Anne made his decision for him. She turned her horse as if to suggest how she might escape down the side path from which the two men had emerged, and said, "Let her go." Pressing her hands together, she gave him a beseeching look. "Please. I'm the one you want."

He scowled at her, spat on the ground, and exclaimed, "Seven hells! What a shambles!"

Several moments later, he was joined by the two other surviving members of his little group, including the man that Anne had recognized as one of her father's henchmen. By this time, Katarina was out of sight, but none of them seemed overly worried about that. They were more concerned with the fallen horse, which had continued to thrash about in its panic, doing further damage to itself and its former rider. One of the ruffians aimed his pistol at the horse's head, directly between its wide and anguished eyes, and pulled the trigger, killing it instantly. Then, he turned his attention to the wounded man who'd been riding it, who was still half-buried under its corpse.

"H-help me," said the wounded man, in between agonized gasps and moans. "P-please help me!"

The rat-faced man nodded, pulled a bottle of some murky substance out of his pocket, uncorked it, and handed it to the wounded man. "Drink up."

"Oh… th-thank you." The wounded man drank gratefully, but the bottle was taken off him a few moments later. He made feeble protests and was horrified when he found himself staring down the barrel of the same pistol that had euthanized his horse. "N-no! Please, no!"

"Sorry, but you knew the risks before we set out," said the rat-faced man. "Besides, you'd only slow us down."

Again, the trigger was pulled. Another life ended. Anne tried not to look.

"He was killed by your little lady," said the ruffian who was standing guard over her. "How's that make you feel?"

Anne wanted to protest that it had been an accident, that Katarina surely hadn't meant for her magical molehill to have such a devastating effect, that even if she'd intended to cause such harm her actions were more than justifiable as self-defense, and anyway the wounded man needn't have died if their leader hadn't finished him off, but she was so overcome with horror that she couldn't say anything. She couldn't make a sound.

Two of the ruffians attempted to conceal the dead bodies by the simple expedient of rolling them into the undergrowth. Then, they shifted the rotten tree trunk so that it was no longer blocking the road. One of them was sent to 'fetch the horses' while the other – the rat-faced man – came over to where Anne was obediently sitting and waiting, despite the fact that her anxious horse was twitching and pawing the ground; she could only hope that her presence and softly rubbing its shoulders was soothing it somewhat.

"At least we got what we came for," said the rat-faced man, grinning at her.

"How… how do you expect to get away with this?" asked Anne, finding her voice at last.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Way I see it, we already have."

"Sooner or later, Duke Claes will find out what happened here," she warned. "You attacked his daughter, killed his guards, and…" She hesitated. The breath caught in her throat. "You're kidnapping me."

"Only because you didn't obey your father." He sniffed contemptuously. "This is all your fault, you realize?"

Instead of answering him, she persisted, "Don't you think the Duke will want justice for what you've done?"

"That's for your father to worry about. I just do what I'm told. And so should you," said the rat-faced man.

Meanwhile, one of the other ruffians, the man who had been assigned to guard Anne while his associates cleared away the evidence of the recent skirmish, had a worried look about him. "The Claes girl escaped," he pointed out. "I imagine she'll be back home soon enough and then…" He sighed and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "If the Duke's men catch up, it'll be the gallows for all of us."

"They won't," the rat-faced man assured him, supremely confident. "Trust me, everything's going to plan."

The other man didn't appear to have been convinced, but he merely nodded and stopped talking after that.

"What's going to happen to me?" asked Anne, gazing up through the treetops at the sky above, as if she were addressing the gods themselves.

"Haven't you been paying attention? Stupid woman," jeered the rat-faced man. "You're going to marry old Walder Frey. See, your father has a lot of debts he needs to pay."

At the prospect of getting married to that repulsive old man, Anne began to sink into despair. She felt as if she was stuck in a nightmare she might never wake up from. "I see," she said, faintly.

Even when she was surrounded by enemies and facing a fate worse than death, Anne hoped for the best. She hoped that Katarina would be sensible and return home as quickly as possible – or find somewhere to hide until she could link up with her father's men who would, of course, be looking for her before the day was out.

But, at the same time, she was afraid. She feared that Katarina would seize this opportunity to embark upon a mad quest that would take her away, on a journey of more than a hundred miles, searching for a light mage she had only ever seen in a dream. Anything might happen to her along the way and no one from her grieving family would ever know.

Fear and hope vied for supremacy in Anne's mind. Try as she might, she couldn't hold out much hope for long.

Author's Notes:
'Puddingfoot' is the actual name of an extremely minor character from ASoIaF, a member of the Brotherhood Without Banners. In this fic, he must have been a member of the group of bandits that Katarina persuaded to join her father's employ in the first chapter.

While I've been watching HameFura, it has occasionally occurred to me that Katarina's earth magic, even if it looks unimpressive, could be quite deadly under the right circumstances. If you've read the above chapter, you'll know what I mean.

So, is this still a comedy fic? I hope so, but I should warn you that some of the characters will be forced into scary situations, there will be tension and drama, and there may be an ongoing shortage of jokes. Comedy and tragedy go together: they are a pair of masks, after all.