Edit April 2010: FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to).

Another fairly long chapter, because it was either that or break it into two small chapters, which would have annoyed me. There's also a brief conversation in here entirely from my own head; at the Swoop, Daine tells Kalasin that Numair's in trouble in Carthak, but we never see the moment when she learns that herself, so I stuck it in here. Enjoy.

That set the pattern for the next few weeks. During the day she worked with the trainees, and Numair spent most of his time in the library; in the evenings he taught her, although truthfully she was learning so fast that he felt almost unnecessary once he'd given her a task to complete. Once she had made the decision to learn, Daine had thrown her heart and soul into it with a gratifying enthusiasm.

Finally, the king's progress departed, which meant tomorrow they would relocate and head for the Swoop. Hopefully that meant he would have a chance to go home and check on his tower; of late he'd seldom spent much time there, but he wanted to go through his books and see if there was anything he'd forgotten that might be useful. Besides, a change of scenery would be nice.

The evening's meditation was interrupted. Startled out of the near-trance, along with everyone else, he stared blankly at the door, which was almost being knocked off its hinges. Sarge was closest; as he opened the door, Cloud shoved past him. The pony's appearance was so unexpected that Numair almost thought he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming, until he noticed that Daine was the only one in the room who hadn't looked up. Suddenly worried, he got up and crossed the room just as Cloud knocked the girl over and began to nose at her.

"What happened?" he asked her softly, kneeling next to her. "She nearly kicked down the door to get at you."

She didn't answer him, instead looking at Cloud, after a moment producing sugar from a pocket and shakily feeding it to the pony. "You'd best go outside now," she whispered, and the mare obeyed.

He helped her up, aware that everyone in the room was staring at them. Turning his body to block as many of the stares as he could, he scrambled for a convincing lie. "It's all right. We were just trying an experiment. I didn't realise it would work so well." To avoid difficult questions, he led her out of the hall and to her own room, shutting the door firmly behind them before looking at her worriedly; he didn't like the expression on her face. She looked frightened, and haunted. "What happened?" he asked again.

"I felt sick. Just a headache, that's all."

He didn't need eyebright to know when he was being lied to. "Cloud wouldn't come here for that," he retorted. "She was in a panic. And what's this?" he asked, distracted by the sight of her necklace; he'd never seen it before. He picked it up carefully. "From its appearance, it's a claw."

"It's mine," she snapped, snatching it from him and tucking it back inside her shirt. "It's private. Can't I have anything private any more?"

That had been uncalled for. What on earth was wrong? She looked terrified under the anger. "Daine – "

Her voice rose until she was almost shouting over him. "Would you please go away? I'm tired and my head hurts! Can't you leave me alone for once?"

That hurt. He'd thought she trusted him; apparently not. Whatever was wrong, it was clearly more serious than he had realised. "Very well," he answered softly, sadly. "But I wish you would trust me." He left quietly, closing the door behind him, and headed for his own rooms; he didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment. He had a lot of thinking to do.

In the end, Numair had been up most of the night, struggling to make sense of what had happened. Something had gone badly wrong yesterday, and it had scared her. He'd thought he had worked out much of her story; illegitimate, she had been disliked in her home village and had been under pressure from her mother to be something she wasn't. Then her family had been killed; fire had been involved somewhere. And she was almost painfully unsure of her own worth. But none of that explained what could have happened yesterday, or why she wouldn't talk to him about it.

Eventually he had given up and gone to bed not long before dawn, deciding that there was nothing he could do unless she decided to trust him with whatever this terrible secret was. He wouldn't pressure her; he had his own secrets, after all.

The long night meant he had overslept; fortunately he had packed the day before. Collecting his horse from the stables, he rode along the column to the wagon Daine was driving, throwing his belongings carelessly into the back of it. "Wake me up when we stop for lunch," he told her tiredly, stretching out along Spots' neck and attempting to doze off.

After an interval that was nowhere near long enough, she poked him in the ribs and he opened one eye. "I think this is it." He nodded wearily and pushed himself straight in the saddle; it was going to be a long day.

In the afternoon Numair swallowed his pride and asked if she minded if he rode in the wagon with her, pretending not to see her smile. He knew he was a terrible rider already, thank you very much.

That evening he intercepted her on the way back to the campfires. "Lessons," he told her firmly. "As long as you and I are within riding distance of each other, my magelet, we will have lessons." She didn't argue, at least; one potential problem gone. He sat cross-legged next to Daine.

"Tonight we'll try something a bit different. While you were washing up, I untethered Mangle and Spots. I want you to call them both to us, at the same time."

"Why can't I call them one at a time?"

"You're being difficult," he told her, in the vain hope that for once she wouldn't argue with him.

"It don't make sense."

Fine. He explained patiently, "Remember the Stormwing attack in the horse meadow? You called quite a few animals to you, all at once. You might need to do something like that again some day. Wouldn't it be nice if – instead of calling entire herds – you only called enough horses to keep you safe?"

She couldn't think of an answer for that, it seemed; another small victory, he thought tiredly, as the two horses cantered over to nuzzle them. He stroked his gelding's nose. "See? That wasn't so bad," he told her. "Send them back, please."

She obeyed, and he turned his attention to setting up a speaking spell. "Onua, now, if you please." He snuffed the black fire between his fingers and looked back at Daine. "Our friend is releasing some of the other mounts. How many has she loosed?" He didn't know the answer to this, either, having left it up to Onua.

"Spots and Mangle are still free," she answered slowly. "Onua's loosed – let's see, Ox and General, Sarge's two horses, and her pair, Whisper and Silk, and also Darkmoon."

Good. "Call them."

He wasn't expecting her to succeed first time. This was more difficult than simply calling one or two animals, especially since she didn't know some of these horses as well. Settling more comfortably on the ground, he watched her, and saw it when she lost concentration as an owl screeched nearby. "Relax," he told her softly, gently. "It gets easier with practice. Find them, and call them – softly. You don't need too much."

Daine tried again, and for a moment he thought she had it until she gasped sharply and opened her eyes, the same almost-fear from last night crossing her face. "I can't," she told him shakily. "My head aches."

She was lying to him again, and now he was beginning to get annoyed. One way or another, this had to be sorted out, or her lessons weren't going to go much further. "You must learn this," he told her sternly. "You didn't have a headache before. Try again."

Her expression was convincing, but there was no whisper of magic against Numair's senses and he was almost certain she was no longer even attempting to do as he had asked. He drummed his fingers on the ground, watching her; this was completely out of character, and that more than anything said that this wasn't simple boredom or laziness. Those he could have dealt with, but something was seriously wrong here, and he could do nothing if she wouldn't talk to him. But... she had been working incredibly hard in the last month. He could let it be, for a little while, in the hope that she would come to him of her own accord.

Eventually he sighed. "Perhaps I push too hard. You've done well – too well, perhaps. Most apprentice mages take over a year to make the progress you have in a month."

She stared at him. "But I thought I wasn't – How can you tell?" Fear crossed her face. "Can you see in my mind?" Her reaction was understandable, but that didn't stop it hurting a little.

"No." Not entirely true. He could have, if he'd made the effort to do so; but it didn't happen casually. "I wouldn't if I could," he added more honestly. "We all have secrets." He was silent for a moment, thinking about some of his secrets; she'd run screaming if she knew, and he couldn't say she would be wrong. No, he had no business pressuring her into telling him anything.

Numair returned to her original question with a smile. "I'm a mage, a well-educated one. When I wish, I can see things hidden from normal vision – like a person's magical aura. See mine?" He lifted a hand suddenly wreathed in shadowy fire, wondering as he always did why the aura of the Gift always showed as white irrespective of the colour of the person's magic. "The first day I was strong enough to do it, I examined your aura." He let the magic fade from view.

"Your magic was like a tangle of vines around you, going in a hundred directions. You've been getting that tangle under control, pulling it inside your skin, and you're doing it faster than anyone I've ever known. Well, perhaps you've earned a night of rest. Come on – let's go back to the others. We'll meditate and stop there for the night."

They returned to camp and interrupted a strategy lesson; they were discussing his least favourite subject – Carthak. Personally he was holding out for an earthquake that would dump the whole country into the ocean and drown them. Or at least for Ozorne to get piles.

"Why won't he declare war, then?" one of the trainees asked.

Alanna answered. "It's true Carthak has the largest standing army in the world. But to attack us they have to cross water at every turn – the Inland Sea, or come up our coast on the Emerald Ocean. We have the advantage, being firmly on land when they have to come ashore to engage us."

Thayet joined in. "The navy's grown since my lord came to the throne. The emperor's policy of coastal raiding and paying bandits to attack in the mountains and hills has made the people in those areas determined to fight. Also, since His Majesty built his university outside Corus, we've brought a lot of mages to Tortall – enough even to make Emperor Ozorne's trained sorcerers think twice about taking us on."

Time to change the subject, Numair decided. "And only a fool would want to attack King Jonathan without some kind of real advantage," he said. "Not on Tortallan soil."

"Why's that, Master Numair?" someone asked.

"Jonathan's magic and the magic of the crown are tied into every grain of soil in this land," he explained. "Unless an enemy has some kind of advantage that will hurt the king, or keep him from calling on his magic, it's possible that every tree, stream and rock would form death traps for an enemy."

And on that cheerful note, it was time to meditate once more. Later, Daine asked Numair about Carthak as they walked back across the camp; she'd noticed that he tried to avoid the subject and was hesitantly trying to find out why. He bit his lip and wondered how much to tell her; he trusted her, but he hated talking about this. Finally he shrugged and smiled crookedly.

"It's complicated, magelet. I used to live in Carthak, after I left my home in Tyra; I went to the imperial university there when I was younger. I was even friends with the emperor, for a while. Then, when I was twenty... something happened."

"What?"

He shook his head. It was the one thing he couldn't make himself talk about; even Alanna and Jon didn't know the full story. He'd tried to tell them, more than once, and hadn't been able to. The memories hurt too much. "It doesn't matter. He wanted me to do something unpleasant and I couldn't do it. I refused, and Ozorne... isn't the kind of man you say no to. I had to leave Carthak in a hurry; I'm still wanted for treason there."

"Treason?" she echoed, taken aback. Numair's smile was lopsided.

"Yes. In Carthak, to disobey the emperor is treason."

"That's stupid. You're no traitor."

Oddly, it made him feel a little better to hear her say it; he smiled at her. "Thank you. Anyway, that's why I don't much like talking about Carthak. But for chance, I might still be there, finding ways of attacking Tortall."

Daine nodded slowly, thinking about it. "Is that why you came to work for the king?"

"Partly, I suppose. It was more complicated than that, though... I didn't come to Corus straight away. Someday, I'll tell you the whole story, but not tonight. It will take a long time to tell, and I don't particularly want anyone else to overhear."

Her expression changed at that; presumably she was thinking of her own secrets, and whatever had happened in the past couple of days. The moment of sharing was over for now; she was starting to close off once more. "All right."

"Good night, Daine. Sleep well."

"Good night."

The following evening, matters took a turn for the worse. From the beginning of the lesson, Daine was only pretending to try anything he asked of her; as far as he could tell, she didn't attempt to reach for her magic at all, even for simple things she had already mastered. In the end he halted the lesson before he lost his temper, wondering how far he could let this get before he had to interfere, and during the meditation session he watched his student carefully instead of meditating himself. He could tell from her face that she wasn't doing that, either, and that confused him – avoiding lessons was one thing, but she'd come to enjoy the meditation.

Numair followed her to her bedroll afterwards, making yet another attempt to persuade her to talk to him – besides, maybe she was ill or something. "Are you all right?" he asked softly, reaching out to feel her forehead – her temperature seemed normal, and her eyes were clear. He rephrased the question. "Is something wrong?"

She stared at him, swallowing, and for a moment he felt hopeful until a now-familiar look hardened her blue-grey eyes. "What's wrong, except for me being worked to death?" she snapped at him. "Honestly, can't you stop fussing at me for one day?" The outburst earned startled looks from everyone else in camp; before, she'd only been rude to him in private. "I'm tired of being watched all the time too!" She wrapped herself in her blankets, her back to them all, and he gave up with a sigh.

"Sleep well, magelet," he told her softly, before walking away. He caught Alanna's eyes briefly and shrugged, telling her that he had no idea what was going on, then shook his head slightly when she moved; he didn't want to talk about it, not yet.

He sought his own bed, wondering if maybe he was making too much of this. It could just be a fit of teenage temper; thirteen was not a pleasant age to be, as he well remembered. And he had been pushing her hard. But if that was all, what had caused the faint shadow of fear in her eyes? One thing was certain; he would have to be very sure of how to proceed before he tried to fix this, or he might do more damage.

Fog greeted them all the next morning. It seemed to have dampened everyone's mood, and conversation was almost non existent. Daine refused to speak to anyone, reinforcing the theory that this was just an adolescent sulking-fit; after a while he gave up trying to make conversation and rode in silence.

Reaching the sea in the afternoon seemed to cheer her up, at least. Maybe by that evening she'd be fit to live with; in the meantime, he had other things to think about, and wandered off along the beach towards a lump of stone that looked oddly regular for a sea-cliff, leaving her with Thayet.

The rock he'd found probably wasn't natural, but he wasn't really paying attention. Having decided to leave his student to her own devices for a while, his mind had returned to the problems Jon had asked the Tortallan mages to study. Mainly, of course, that meant the immortals and everything that went with them, but there were political issues as well. Absently turning a fragment of rock over in his fingers – it looked like masonry to him, although he found it difficult to feel even vague curiosity about where it might have originated – he couldn't help jumping at the distinctive sound of a K'mir war cry.

"Thayet, stop that," Numair called down the beach without bothering to look up; the woman was completely mad, wading out into the sea this far north. He didn't care if it was summer or not; it was far too cold. On impulse, he held up the rock. "Come look at this."

The queen walked up the beach to him and duly examined the rock, agreeing with him that it didn't seem natural before giving him a long look. "What's really eating you?" she asked. He made a face; nobody could fool her for long.

"Everything," he answered wryly after a minute, and she chuckled.

"True. We are all spoiled for choice of things to worry about." After a moment, she asked, "What's wrong with Daine?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he replied. Both of them automatically turned to look at the girl, now knee-deep in the waves and staring out to sea; both saw the cloud of spray. Thayet yelled, trying to get Daine's attention; he started jogging across the damp sand, wearily wondering what was happening now.

A moment later he started running in earnest; some kind of huge animal was charging through the shallows. He was too far away; the creature slammed into Daine, knocking her over and sending her under the water. Reacting instinctively, Numair seized her; dangerous, with his Gift, and if he'd had time he would have done something else, but there wasn't time to think. He had to stop running and concentrate in case he hurt her, skidding in the wet sand as he held her clear of the water to let her get her breath back.

When she had recovered enough air to scream, he set her down carefully where Onua had come running with a blanket. That done, he turned his attention to the animal that had attacked her, growing suddenly angry as he stalked down the beach with fire gathering around his hands. It was a sea lion, a large one. Buri and Sarge were there now, both armed, all three now in range. He lifted his hand.

"No, don't!" The voice was Daine's; she could barely walk yet, but staggered forward anyway to throw herself between him and the sea lion. "Don't!"

He twisted his hand frantically, the spell dying at his fingertips less than a second before it would have incinerated her; fool girl! Shaking his head, he lifted a hand to stop the others, watching as girl and sea lion held some sort of conversation; apparently the animal wasn't truly dangerous. Well, good, he told himself dryly, swallowing and waiting for his heart rate to calm down.

That evening, he was disappointed but not much surprised when she gathered her bedding and started off down the beach away from the camp. "No lessons?" he asked quietly.

"I promised I'd bring him something to eat." The sea lion, presumably. "And I do need a holiday." She looked away from him; at least she seemed ashamed of herself. And thankfully she'd stopped sulking and snapping at him. Even so, he wasn't happy.

"If that's what you want. Good night, then." Numair watched her the entire length of the beach, until he could no longer see her in the darkness, hoping that she might change her mind; she didn't. This couldn't continue much longer; now she had started her training, she had to finish it, or she would lose control completely. For students with the Gift, that was usually unpleasant and always fatal; he had no idea what would happen to anyone with wild magic, but it wasn't likely to be benign. Turning away, he sat and stared into the campfire, brooding.

When she approached him at breakfast, he was sufficiently irritated that he was on the verge of a nasty remark when the look on her face stopped him. She looked scared and unhappy, staring between him and Onua hesitantly. "Can I talk to you later?" she asked them in a small voice. "Alone?" She swallowed. "There's something about me you ought to know." Once they had agreed, she practically fled, leaving him and Onua staring at one another in puzzled relief; finally they'd get to hear the big secret. He had a feeling it wasn't going to be a pleasant tale.

So, there you have it. I'm not getting as many reviews as I did at first; is that because you don't like it, or just don't have anything to say? Talk to me, people! I like seeing what you think. And I won't improve without feedback.

Wolf-Speaker's coming along quite nicely now. Once it's almost finished, I'll increase the frequency of my updates; it shouldn't be too much longer.

Thank you to all my readers, especially those who review.

Loten.