Proof-read by Danaye.

Chapter 29

Dusk was at its peak when he stepped into the ally. Once his foot was on the other side of the gates of the capital of Tortall he noticed that there was a single man following him. After leaving the center of the market, while roaming the small streets, he noticed four additional men were on his trail.

He continued on as if nothing had happened and as if he hadn't noticed that when he reached the end of the alley, the group had added two more men.

He smiled grimly. To take down seven obviously trained men wasn't a problem and he had deliberately sought out this particular place — a hidden alley where he could do the fight.

As he turned, he happily flashed his straight teeth as the men stood in a half circle in front of him. They were all skilled fighters, but that wasn't what caught his attention — they had surrounded him. In front of him stood the seven men and now behind him, high up on a wall, two other men sat twisting their small, but most likely sharp knives in their hands.

Glancing to the sides, to the left and then to the right, he counted four more men on either side of the roof, ready to aid their comrades. Seven he could manage easily, but thirteen? The fight would be long and it would drain his powers before he could find a possible route to escape.

He had made another mistake. A mistake that might cost him his life.

One man, clearly a seasoned thief, took a step forward while turning a knife in his hand. "You are not welcome here," the thief's voice was brusque. "It's better if you turn around and leave, and never come back."

"And who says that?" Daniel asked while he unleashed two hidden knives from the strings that were wrapped around his wrists.

The thief smiled and revealed empty spaces where his teeth had been knocked out. "The king's order," he replied and took a step forward.

"I didn't know that your sort was on speaking terms with His Majesty King Jonathan." He knew, of course, that the man the thief was speaking of wasn't King Jonathan. It was the King of the Rogue.

Daniel made a mental list of the things he knew; the man was recently new on the throne and he held it in a tight grip, as if he was desperate. He also knew that these men before him were the Rogue's most trusted thieves. No, he corrected himself, assassins. The King of the Rogue was being serious about him not wanting him here in his city.

The thief took a step forth with a threatening posture. "You know perfectly well that King Jonathan doesn't control the streets of Corus," he said as his comrades moved slowly, encircling Daniel, "and His Majesty does not allow some lad to come here with one thing on his mind..." He let the rest of his sentence hang as something appeared in the palm of his hand.

Daniel smiled. He was intrigued by what the king must have told his men in order for them to face an opponent like himself: a skilled, deadly and extremely dangerous assassin. "And what is it that I'm supposed to have on my mind?" he asked as he released the knives that had been hidden in his sleeves, letting them fall into his palms.

The man in front of him eyed the two weapons. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the thief warned.

"Do you know who I am?" Daniel asked calmly, "Or what I'm here for?" He examined the men that had now surrounded him, giving them each a number for the order in which he would pass them over to the Black God.

"I don't care who you are," the thief to his right replied with a rough voice. "If his Majesty says, 'jump', we jump. Otherwise, he's going to be mad."

There were people were coming into the ally as the sun rose from its sleep, and Daniel realized that the thieves had attracted attention.

He couldn't do anything to prevent a bloodbath. He didn't mind his job, killing people by orders from his master, but he did mind having to kill innocent people who were neither involved nor going to hinder his further progress into the city. He did had a conscience after all.

"Well?" he asked and slipped his daggers away. The thieves had noticed the people and were moving with unease.

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Are you allowed to have spectators or shall we move this little assembly somewhere," he paused as a woman carrying a sleeping child on her hips moved into sight, "perhaps more private?"

The thief standing in front of him shook his head, "We do not answer for their stupidity. They should have stayed at home." He took one step forward. "We have our orders and we intend to obey them," he paused threateningly, "but our orders are to do this in quiet and they," he pointed towards the people that were gathering, "will not make that possible." He made a gesture and the thieves around him withdrew, showing signs that the trouble was over.

"Nothing to see here!" One of the thieves yelled from the roof. The crowd didn't seem to listen and Daniel used the opportunity to his advantage. With one quick movement he thew out his right hand and a dagger whistled though the air — nearly hitting the thief on the roof who ducked out of the way.

"That was stupid," the man in front of Daniel hissed, twisting something made of glass in his hand. The crowd that had moved forth fled the scene, some yelling for the Provost's Guard.

Daniel glanced to the item and blinked as light erupted from it. "Casting some useless spells?" he snorted and lied. He could see the strong mixture of black and violet colors mixing together and threw up a shield of protection around himself.

The thief smiled and looked down. "Oh, this?" he turned the glass in his hand that contained a blue liquid. "This isn't just anything. We came prepared."

Daniel nodded. "Indeed you did. Has your majesty told you where that," he pointed to the glass before he continued, "came from?"

He smiled when some frowns were exchanged between the men to his right and laughed out right as the realization hit him. "I see. His majesty didn't tell you that, that" he nodded to the glass, drawing forth the power from within himself, "is from the Black robed mage himself and has the signature of the Lioness?"

The thief looked down at the item he held in his hand before he lifted his head in pure denial. "I don't care where it's from. It's going to stop your progress into this city and when you awake, you'll find yourself on-board a ship to Carthak."

He lifted his hand which sparkled with his gift. "As you can see," he said calmly, "I don't intend to go anywhere. I have a task to do and you are not going to hinder it."

The thieves around him shifted uneasily, pulling out weapons they had had hidden in odd places. A man was ready to jump from the roof above Daniel, but he shifted to the left and the thief in front of him followed suit.

Daniel grinned. "Shall we dance or shall we fight?" he questioned and flipped his hand. The glowing sparkles flew through the air, splitting it. The man on the roof dropped and Daniel turned abruptly, spreading his fingers wide allowing his gift to seek the glass in the thief's hand.

His gift struck the hand, but didn't consume the glass, which had been his intention. He cursed as the glass dropped to the ground. If he was to go down, everyone near him should follow him suit.

Such as it was, he released everything within him and his surroundings exploded.

Numair woke to a hand touching his shoulder. Awakened, he found that his cheek was wet from the moistness of the dew. Blinking, he opened his eyes to find that dawn was beginning to settle and he was laying rather awkwardly due to a rock underneath him, tangled around a warm frame. He, however, was slightly cold.

Someone had wrapped a horse-cloth over them and it was keeping them warm while they laid on the soon-to-be frozen ground.

Curled around her, he just wanted to go back to where the dreams had filled his mind with beautiful feelings. Her body was warm, the hotness radiating through his black cloak. He released a breath of irritation while his mind tried to find a reason as to why someone would wake him up. Everyone knew that he was always in a grumpy mood in the mornings. His resentment towards being up early was equal to that of the Lioness.

"Go away," Numair whispered, wanting nothing but the body that was pressed closely to him. His left hand twined around it and drew it closer.

A soft chuckle filled the air, forcing his lovely haze of sleep away from him. He recognized it as one of his oldest friends and he allowed himself to twist closer. "Onua, it's too early. Please go away," he breathed as the scent of clean dirt, the smell of horses and musk filled his nostrils.

"No," came the response.

Lifting his head and turning it up, he looked directly into brown eyes, not as black as his own, but near enough. The smile that accompanied them made him growl loudly and frown — it was clearly too early to be awakened.

"I'm going back to sleep," he informed the woman squatting in front of him and laid his head casually down on the ground, intending to close his eyes again.

"When they said that some creatures had taken residence in the paddock, I only laughed my Riders off. However, when they told me that the animals were guarding the Black Robed mage and some girl, I nearly choked on my porridge. I can understand the elusive escaping to the outside you do when there are signs of shooting stars, but this," she paused as he looked at her with clear annoyance, "is complete stupidity."

"Shh," he hushed her while the person inside his arms only snuggled closer to him. "Who told you?" he demanded to know, his mind still overwhelmed by sleep and not realizing that she had already given him the answer to his question.

"Everyone, Numair – the servants and riders have spoken of nothing but this. It's the new gossip. I thought that you wished to keep her presence hushed, but I can see that you are not doing such a good job at that. Horses standing guard over you in a circle, not allowing anyone to come near here — someone even got bitten. That's not keeping anything quiet," Onua scolded and Numair only wanted to cover his ears.

"Served him or her well." He sighed lowly. Glancing up, he found that another pair of eyes were looking at him with something that resembled amusement. "Can't you women just stay away and let me sleep without interference?"

"Absolutely not," Alanna said, her voice about to crack with laughter.

Numair lifted his arm over his eyes, blocking out the sight of the two women. "Go away!" he told them again while turning onto his back, pulling Daine with him. She shifted only to bury her face into the nook between his shoulder and neck. Her lips were almost touching his skin, her breaths sending shivers down his spine.

"Numair," This was Alanna's voice and something in it forced him to lift his arm away.

Frowning and narrowing his eyes, he looked at her and searched her face. "Something is wrong," he concluded without further thought. He caught the small investigative glance from Onua and, when her eyes finally met his, he held her gaze. "Jealous?" He asked, wondering about the expression he had seen in her face.

She shook her head. "Not in the least, I was wondering why Jonathan hadn't done this 'arranged marriage' before and forced it on you." She smiled broadly as the woman in his arms stirred and let out a soft protesting sound which transformed into a low growling — it was clear that Daine was having some sort of bad dream. Onua continued, "It suits you."

"A compliment, Onua? I'm fully honored, but that doesn't mean that you or Alanna can be forgiven for disturbing my sleep," Numair growled while untangling himself from the warmth. Pushing himself away, Daine shifted further against him, slim fingers curling into his shirt under his cloak.

"You can always do the forgiving later," Alanna told him softly. He could clearly hear the impatience in her voice. "You are needed, as am I, and we don't have much time."

Still looking down, he tried to undo her fingers carefully as he sat almost resented that he was forced to leave her for a task he didn't yet know of. After placing her hand back on the fabric of the cloak she was wearing, he withdrew his hand and reached for her, brushing the hair back from her face with gentle fingers.

"Tell me what needs to be done." He spoke the words softly, not wanting to wake her.

The horses in the paddock stirred and shifted uneasily at the presence of the new strangers. The Queen's riders were beginning to enter the paddock as they found it safe to come near again.

It was Alanna who spoke, her words almost too low for him to hear. "We have a bit of a mess to tidy up."

"A mess?" Numair asked,keeping his voice low as well. He had to force his eyes away from Daine's sleeping frame to meet the violet eyes of his friend.

She nodded, "He knew that we had planned something and he somehow messed with the spell or amplified it." She paused as his stare burned into hers, demanding to know what had happened.

"I got message from Liam that half of his men were affected by the shock-wave of the spell. Some are lying unconscious, but they are fortunately alive. The houses around the alley have collapsed and people are still trapped inside. Buri has already ordered the Tenth Group to help the Provost's Guard. They are leaving as we speak."

"What about him?" Numair snapped, asking the question that burned on his lips. "Is he dead, alive or simply unconscious?"

"He's asleep for now, only the Goddess knows for how long. Liam has him tucked away in some room at one of his houses," Alanna told him soothingly.

Numair nodded, accepting that his moment with Daine was over. He was needed elsewhere. He shifted his eyes over to Onua and saw that she only nodded as if confirming his unspoken question. Rising from the ground, he spoke softly, "Please let her know that I'm sorry and that I didn't mean to leave her."

Onua reached up and squeezed his shoulder. His friend nodded. "She'll be safe with me."

Numair smiled, letting a finger touch Daine's cheek gently. "Oh, I nearly forgot," he locked eyes with the K'miri, "could you find some breeches for her and a plain shirt — something blue?"

"She didn't like the dresses?" Onua drawled, looking as startled as ever over the fact that she had spent hours picking out what she had imagined would be okay for the unknown girl to wear, and now...she paused as she saw the pleading in Numair's eyes. She sighed loudly. She should have known better than to think that a wild-mage would want fancy dresses. "I'll figure something out," she replied.

Alanna, who was standing nearby,spoke eagerly. "Are you done?" she asked while searching the surroundings around her, "I would like to get there before anything happens and we still need to find out where Raoul is informants tell me that he arrived late last night."

Her violet eyes were blazing in warning. "I seriously hope that he is , we'll have to deal with him acting like a bear all the way down to the Dancing Dove."

"Just like you," Numair retorted, scratching at an insect-bite on his neck.

The Lioness sighed and reached for Numair, who ducked at the approaching hand. "Come on, don't be a sissy," she scolded lightly. Shrugging, she turned away from him, but a small spark of violet flashed and hit him hard on his cheeks just to make her point.

"Alanna!" he yelled surprised and looked at her dumbfounded, "You don't usually heal at a distance?"

They were walking away from the paddock, their direction towards the barracks where the King's Own was accommodated. The dew still hung on every blade of the grass beneath their feet, making the edge of their cloaks wet.

Behind them, at the gates, the Tenth group of the Queen's Riders was mounting their horses. "No," the woman retorted, "but I need to keep that skill practiced or else I know a man who is going to scold me the next time I can't get it right." Alanna paused by the oak door that led inside the quarters of the King's Own.

"By the way, did you have any progress with her?" Alanna asked and pushed the door open, revealing a long corridor containing rooms on either sides. She gestured to the large glass-orbs lining the walls and they illuminated the dark corridor.

Usually the King's Own would be up and around by this time of the morning, but they had returned back late that night, bringing back criminals that were to be put to trial.

Alanna walked forward softly, trying not to wake any of the men. When Numair didn't answer, she turned and placed her hands on her hips, like a mother wanting know why her children had chosen to steal and eat the blueberry pie.

She searched his face and suddenly smiled. "You like her!" It was more like a conclusion than a mere question. Tilting her head to the side she asked, "Did you kiss her then?"

A shocked expression showed on Numair's features as he walked past her. "My dear Lioness, something that private shouldn't be spoken of where the walls might have ears."

They reached the door where Raoul was accommodated. "Oh, quit it, Numair. Everyone can see that you are taken with her. It's a good thing. Even Prince Roald thinks that she is lovely, and he usually keeps personal meanings to himself." She smiled up at him as she pounded on the door.

"GO Away!" a rough male voice yelled and Alanna's fist stopped midway.

She turned back to where Numair stood, poised in a position of a relaxed composure, leaning his shoulder against the wall. Her eyes flickered up and her eyebrows followed suit. "Did you and him," she jerked her head towards the oak-door, "have some sort of secret agreement to say these exact things in the mornings?"

Numair shook his head, lowering his chin towards his chest, his dark eyes questioning, "And that comes from you?"

Alanna pulled a face at him and turned back, about to lift her hand, but the door was pulled open with such a force that it dropped from its hinges.

"WHAT! Can't a man sleep in peace for just one day?" A tall built man shouted, and the air coming from his large lungs sent ripples through Alanna's short, red hair.

Alanna looked down to where the poor doorknob was being crumbled into pieces. "Not in the mood for company?" she asked in a light voice.

"Too early for such a thing," Raoul growled back and took his hand away from the door, leaving it to hang askew. He turned his back to them and walked inside his room, not asking his guests to follow him.

Raoul started to pull on a shirt. When his head popped out, his black hair tousled, he paused before pulling the shirt down. Looking at his two friends, he frowned deeply. "Aren't you to going to come inside or do you really find my door that interesting that you totally forgot why you were here?"

Alanna took the first step inside Raoul's chambers, making sure to step over the broken door. "Now I understand why you are requesting more liquid assets from Jonathan." She flickered her gaze back towards the door. "How many have you broken up until now?"

"It's not that bad," Raoul retorted and sat down on his desk, making the wood crack under him. He flinched.

Numair followed Alanna inside, placing his large boots safely on the other side of the threshold. "I think they've given you the wrong nickname. Shouldn't you be called the 'Giant Door-killer' by now?"

Raoul flexed the muscles on his right arm, stretching the poor fabric on his shirt thin. "If Jon wasn't so keen on sending me off every time someone just sneezes wrong, it would be okay. Even my men are complaining over the lack of well-fitting uniforms — hence the extra expenses."

"You'd get more money from him if you'd show yourself at one of his banquets," Alanna snorted. She picked up discarded clothing from the couch and sat down.

"And have all the unmarried ladies throw themselves in front of my feet, complaining that they have broken their ankles, just to have me carry them to their rooms so they can lock me in. No, thank you. I would rather go hunt bandits."

"Good, because that is exactly what I have in mind. Only this isn't just any man dancing on the wrong side of the law."

Raoul raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Oh? When you say it like that, I'm intrigued."

"You should be," Numair said quietly and sat down beside Alanna. "The King of Rouge has the assassin tucked away and we are going to go get him."

"And bring him here?" Raoul asked, his eyebrows still raised.

Alanna nodded.

"You won't get Jonathan to agree to this plan," he replied and stood, trying to stretch his strongly built frame.

"What Jon doesn't know, can't hurt him," Alanna replied and studied her old friend.

Raoul shook his head as he reached for his weapons. "You are going to be the death of him," He told her as he fastened his sword-belt around his hips. He looked at each of them in turn, giving both Alanna and Numair a look that told them that they owed him.

"Both of you are going to get in trouble, but as it is — the Kings Commander can't disobey an order from the King's Champion , Alanna…he doesn't think too kindly about you for scolding Lord Wyldon."

Alanna rose, rubbing the palms of her hands on her breeches. "Jonathan has always had a bad temper, it's only too bad that he hasn't grown out of it yet. Maybe a deadly assassin in his dungeons will make him realize that there are worse things than having a temperamental woman as his champion."

"And I think that you are going to point it out to him the very second you see him next," Raoul snorted and trotted out into the silent corridor with Alanna and Numair behind him. He pulled the door shut, or as closed as it could be in that misused state.

Alanna leaned against the wall, tucking her hands inside her sleeves while her lips pressed together in deep concentration. "Someone has to get him to keep his wits sharpened," she said and followed suit. She allowed her eyes to follow Raoul's movement as he reached for a large bell hanging under the ceiling near the entrance to the inner courtyard.

Three loud bell tones sounded. They waited, expecting every door in the corridor to be opened and men to run out, but as seconds passed, nothing happened.

"Are you sure your men are home?" Numair asked politely.

"As sure as the moon always chases the sun over the sky," Raoul retorted back. He pulled the cord of the bell again.

A single man allowed his sleep-marked face to become visible and his blue eyes searched for the source of the loud noise. When he found it, he yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. "Really, Raoul? Three hours of sleep was the best you could do?" he accused and ran a large hand through his brown hair.

It was only when his swimming eyes settled on the two guests that he straightened and saluted, "The two of you are a strange sight at this time of morning, Sir Lioness and Master Salmalin." His eyes flickered over to where Raoul stood with something that resembled a growl in his face, "Well, I see that when you have awakened the bear, one such as my humble self should wake his cubs."

The man entered the corridor wearing only a loincloth. Domitan of Masbolle nodded an excuse to the Lioness, whose cheeks were bright red, before he turned and yelled a deafening order.

That seemed to do the trick, as each of the men in the Third Company nearly pulled the doors off of their hinges. The air was filled with "Oops", "Sorry", "Not going to happen again", and "I think the door is rotten" as the men hurried past Raoul, only to disappear.

Raoul turned to Numair with a resigned expression. "Please tell me that there is a spell or some sort of glue to put on the hinges. They are draining my chest of money."

Numair laughed as they entered the cold dawn air. He clapped his friend on his shoulder. "If you fetch the assassin, I'll dust up a spell and enchant the doors myself."

"Good, because I'd hate to spill it to Jon that I need new doors because my men are growing abnormally large muscles."

"Please do," Alanna smirked almost silently behind them, "Thayet would be grateful if he fussed over that instead of her."

That got the two men to turn abruptly with astonished expressions. Alanna ducked her head and hurried past as Raoul opened his mouth. She was way ahead by the time he finally managed to get his vocal cords to obey.

"Are you saying that..." he called after the Lioness.

"No!" came the reply.

"Are you sure?" Numair asked loudly.

Alanna rolled her eyes, but the two men couldn't possibly see that. "Yes!" she lied and shrank further when Raoul passed her and stopped her escape, making her bump into his large frame.

His eyes twinkled, "You were and are still a terrible liar. Not even when you were a page and stood in front of Duke Gareth could you keep the signs of a lie from your speech."

Alanna stuck her tongue out. "I'd be careful if I were you," she warned him and Raoul took a step back, raising his hands up in pure surrender, "or else I'm going to tell Jon that you need to train your muscles in your legs and there is only one way to do that," she raised herself up on her toes and poked him in his chest with every word she said, "and that is to dance."

She left him standing horrified beside Numair. Raoul gulped. "She wouldn't do that?" he turned to the mage with fear in his eyes, "Would she?"

"She told me to quit pouting over Jonathan's decision about the arranged marriage. Just hope that she doesn't give him the fantastic idea that it's your turn next." Numair laughed and left Raoul standing behind.

"Oh," Raoul turned his eyes up to where the sun was coloring the sky a faint orange. "Dear Shakith, send me off on a mission far away if Jonathan ever as much as touches the idea with his thoughts," he pleaded and made the sign in front of his chest that always followed such a prayer to the great Gods of Tortall.

No one answered him but for a single drop of rain that landed on his cheek. "I'll take it that this means you will take it under consideration," he mumbled and continued towards the stables. The second thing he hated the most, besides being pulled from his warm bed, was the prospect of being out in the field when it rained.