Chapter Five

Duty Calls

Deryne and Han turned on Rikash, who looked from one to the other, eyes narrowing.

"That wasn't me," he said coldly, even as Deryne saw Numair frowning in their direction. She raised an eyebrow.

"It wasn't me, or Han, for that matter," she told him, a drawl entering her voice. "We aren't the resident walking fireballs here." Rikash's lip curled as his gaze slid back to the charred crystal that the Scanran envoy studied.

"Malvyn- or Heolstor, as he's calling himself now- always liked a show."

"Malvyn?" Cyne's eyes shot over to the scorch mark on the floor, where the apparation of her once-kidnapper had stood. "That was-"

"You didn't know?" Deryne asked increduosly; when she had first laid eyes on the mage, she had recognized him instantly, even through the glamour he had worn to disguise his age. Cyne shrugged.

"There wasn't a lot of time before he burst into flames," she replied, voice neutral, although her eyes flickered back to Rikash, who shot her a glare that sent her gaze back to the spectacle before them; Numair was striding towards the Scanran, his polite face masking whatever feelings he had.

"It wasn't me," he grumbled. "But I bet Malvyn knew you would blame me." He looked like he was about to spit on the floor. "His little salutations."

"No worries," Reuthsak boomed, waving Numair away as he rummaged through his cloak. "Chancellor Heolstor gave me another one, in case of accidents." Deryne's jaw set.

"You're right, Ri," she whispered when the Scanran pulled out a second crystal. "That was planned. But why-"

"To assert his position," Cyne whispered. "Intimidation." Deryne's fists clenched as Reuthsak directed a smug smile in their direction.

"And the ol' Chancellor told his little messenger, too." Rikash snorted.

"Chancellor." A rushing stream of hissed curses raced from his lips. "High and mighty now, are you?" he muttered, shaking his head as he settled back in his seat, traces of his anger slipping away. "Just you wait; I'll drag you back where you belong."

Malvyn reappeared in the throne room, adjusting the cuffs of his robe before he looked up with a small smile.

"My apologies," he murmured. "Shall we continue?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Han put a hand on Rikash's shoulder and whisper something in his ear as the fire-mage glared down at his once friend. The figure bowed before Their Majesties, and Numair stepped closer to the king, hand flexing; he knew Malvyn, too.

"Scanra's sheltering a traitor- a traitor a thousand times over," Rikash muttered. Irritated, Deryne stepped on his foot. Complaining wouldn't solve anything. "Damn Malvyn to the pits of-" Deryne grabbed him by the arm and tightened her grip until he winced.

"Why support the façade?" she hissed, gaze locking with his. "Malvyn might as well be dead; you're looking at the Duke of Conte wrapped up in his newest flesh vessel." She let him go, eyes traveling back to the Chancellor, Malvyn, Sar Heolstor- whatever name Roger had chosen for himself.

"King Hauk and I have sought allies to bring peace and stability to our nation," he explained, his sincerity as treacherous as a snake's. "And, after many long months, we have found them; an island, to the far north-" The crowd stirred, but Roger continued, unable to hear their surprise.

"How far north?" Cyne whispered with a thoughtful frown on her face. Deryne made a face, shrugging.

"A great and mighty people," the Chancellor declared. "-have bound themselves to the fate of Scanra, and with them we would like to extend a hand of sincere charity to you-" Deryne snorted. "-to bring the rise of a new age." He paused, smiling across the room. "And thus, we invite you to come to our own conference, in two weeks' time, to understand completely the wisdom of joining us." Then, message delivered, he faded into nothing. Roald eyed Reuthsak.

"And if we refuse…?" the king queried, face hinting that he suspected the answer. Reuthsak bowed again.

"As a lowly servant, I would strongly advise adherence to this magnanimous invitation… and to witness the might of our new alliance." Deryne glared down at the smug messenger.

"The clouds are more lowly," Han muttered. "Deryne, who are they talking about?" She shook her head slowly as she scrutinized the man; he was no mere messenger- he knew too much, she could tell by that knowing, gloating glint in his eyes…. He had his own private joke running; he knew the details of all the secrets he dangled tantalizing in front of them….

"He knows where Roger is," she whispered as he stared up at Roald, the only taunt in his face the lack of one. She leaned forwards, narrowing her eyes as she sized Reuthsak up.

His features were sharp, his cheeks hollow and eyes sullen despite the comfort he must have enjoyed in the city, waiting to be sent by Roger to torture them. Shrewd. Strong-willed? Perhaps…. It mattered little.

"A rat," she muttered, leaning forward as far as she could, focusing on him as a soft breeze stirred her clothes and swept towards the Scanran, playing across his face experimentally. "Let's see how much Roger trusts you."

A hand on her wrist startled her out of her probe; she glanced over at Rikash, who was watching Reuthsak, his face stony.

"Don't," he said flatly. Numair was looking at them again; his gaze caught Deryne's, and he nodded, marginally. Deryne tried to pull free, but Rikash held her tightly; she wouldn't be able to yank free without attracting attention.

"Even your da's given me the all clear," Deryne snapped, disgusted as she looked over at Han in appeal, but he evaded her stare. She turned back to Rikash, who still hadn't returned her gaze.

"Don't," he repeated. Deryne inhaled sharply in exasperation.

"Ri, this rat isn't going to squeak unless we squeeze him." It was her job, her duty to the Crown, to protect her country from Malvyn and his scum.

"Exactly," he retorted, and Deryne's brow knitted in confusion. His face twisted into a grimace as he kept his eyes on Reuthsak. "There are other ways," he said through gritted teeth. She snorted; didn't he see what was at stake? Didn't he want to catch Roger, before the bastard hurt anyone else?

"We don't know what we're getting into," she hissed.

"Malvyn knows about your powers. All of them. Do you really think-" Deryne had had enough; she gripped his wrist with her free hand, her thumbnail biting gently into his skin as a warning.

"Let go." He finally looked at her, and Deryne nearly blanched, although she had been preparing herself for it; his eyes were hateful slits, burning with anger… at her. All for her. She dug her nail a little harder, glaring back at him determinedly.

His stare wavered, and his eyes closed, his face slumping, invisible weight bearing down on him.

"Do what you think you have to." Then his eyes snapped open, his face suddenly in hers, as his grip on her loosened. There was something new in those golden orbs, something uncertain. "Please, Deryne," he breathed, lips unmoving; it went unheard through the room by all… it never would have reached her own ears if it were not for the gudruna that pulled every word from him. A whisper for her alone.

She tore her gaze from his and stared back down at the Scanran, head spinning; she had almost forgotten-

She could hear her pulse, thundering in her ears, as she singled Reuthsak out, closing off all other distractions- all other flurries of motion and sound- as she called up her gudruna.

Rikash watched her out of the corner of his eye; he couldn't believe she was doing this- he could believe she was doing it in front of him. And he was letting her! He hadn't thought she had the nerve to flaunt that cursed power before him. Nothing was safe from her ears, not even the distant whisper of thought. Perhaps Reuthsak deserved it; probably not. Rikash shuddered, remembering the all too intimate pressure of her presence in his mind, omniscient and inescapable.

His fists clenched as the telltale breeze stirred in the air; he willed himself not to look, but his eyes were drawn to her as she gazed intently at her victim, sensing his strength.

He couldn't watch this-

Unbidden, a memory of the fateful day at Pirate's Swoop rose in his mind; they had both lost their tempers that summer. The little whirlwind spell… the shadows in the flames…their argument… and their first, true fight.

He had taunted her… and she had hit him. First physically. Then her magic had ripped out of control, tearing his mind and memories apart in a siege of her special little "wind whispers" before he countered the attack and burned her out of his head.

The Wavewalker's Feast, Irnai had called it. The day which marked the beginning of the waxing of the Gods' powers. As the magic grows again, so does the danger of power spiraling out of control. Out of control, indeed.

He could have killed her.

Maybe she could have killed him.

He saw her blink, her long lashes trembling in the tiny zephyrs that swept across her skin. Her brow furrowed, and her hand flexed, reaching out towards Reuthsak, to focus her thoughts.

Don't, he echoed in his mind. Please…. He was not one to beg, but maybe someone would go up in flames if he was forced through that horror again… even if it was not him suffering. Deryne's fists clenched, then relaxed. A sigh escaped her lips; her hand fell into her lap as she closed her eyes. The feeling of growing power around her faded, and Rikash almost smiled as she shook her head.

He looked over at his father, who was frowning at Deryne; clearly, he wanted information. Rikash's stomach sank- would Deryne obey their teacher, his father?

But when she opened her eyes and caught sight of the black robe mage, she shrugged, then shook her head. A breath of relief slipped from Rikash's lips, and Deryne's gaze shot towards him, but he ignored the weight of her eyes on him, pretending he noticed nothing.

"I hope you're happy," she growled as Reuthsak bowed once more to Their Majesties and took leave of them. Almost immediately, people rose and moved, either to the door and their rooms or their respective delegations to discuss the events that had unfolded. "I need some sleep," she said shortly, nodding to Han and Cyne. "See you tomorrow."

Rikash waited until she was some fifty feet away, almost at the door, before he whispered, too quietly for even Han- standing right next to him- to hear.

"Thanks."

He saw her turn, stiffened as she shot him a dark look through narrowed eyes.

Then, jaw set, she nodded and walked out of the chamber.

Messages were sent. Plans were made long into the night; if a conference was to be held in Scanra in a scarce two weeks, they would need to begin traveling almost immediately. The Yamanis and Kyprians were given approval from their respective monarchs to journey north with the Tortallans, but if there were any further resolutions among the three powers, Deryne heard nothing of them. It seemed as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the news that the meeting in Scanra would bring.

Deryne was thankful she had no part in the whole affair; she kept to her room with Duskwing, trying to stir the Chamber up into speaking with her. She was also grateful that Numair had decided not to press the issue of why she had not gleaned any information from Reuthsak; with Ri sitting next to her, she just couldn't have done it.

And then, just as her damned guilt broke her concentration, other gudruna claimed her attention. Rikash's unguarded memories had crowded her mind, shattering any resolve her own thoughts hadn't buried.

Hopefully, Numair assumed she had failed, rather than that she was weak enough to reject her magic. Wasn't that exactly what Rikash had mocked in her, her refusal to embrace her power? She wished he would decide what he hated.

She was surprised, then, the morning before the delegations were to depart, when both Numair and Sir Alan appeared at her door.

"Guess where we're going this time, squire?" Alan queried, a maniacal grin on his clever face. Still waking up, Deryne blinked, her mind struggling to guess.

"We've been invited to the grand ball of Shadow-demons?" She paused. "Or did they forget our invitations, and we're going to remind them?" Her knight master snorted.

"You and Alan are going with the Tortallan delegation." Deryne's eyes widened, but Numair held up a head to forestall any comments. "I'm staying here; we don't know what Malvyn had up his sleeve, so my place is here with Their Majesties until we undestand what's going on with Scanra better." Deryne frowned.

"But-"

"Harailt will be there," Numair told her. "And I feel that whatever mysteries are unfolding now- this unknown force pledging itself to our enemies- have a great deal to do with you four… or Malvyn thinks they do." He pursed his lips. "Talking to Rethusak gave me some insight into this cloudy haze… and the way he spoke hints that he knows about you four… and that Malvyn isn't extending this invitation to our nations as much as he is to you." Deryne's jaw clenched.

"Then why are we playing into his hands?" she hissed. Numair glanced down thep passageway behind him.

"Can we come in?" he asked lowly. Deryne held the door open wide for her two teachers, then closed it when they entered. Numair flicked his fingers, and his Gift sealed the room.

"What is it?" the squire prompted, wanting to know what Numair had planned. He grimaced.

"You and Cyne will be on the ship leaving from Port Caynn for Scanra in a day's time; you will be in the official delegation, with full access to every meeting they hold." He locked gazes with her. "I trust you will be able to sense their intentions, read minds- whatever you can to help us." Deyrne fought not to look away or seem guilty.

"Whatever is needed," she promised, reassured by the fact that Numair hadn't mentioned his son yet.

"Han and Rikash… have already left for Scanra," Numair said, watching Deryne's face as he explained. "I knew what we would have to do from the moment Reuthsak left the night he delivered his message; the two of them are making their way to Scanra's capital. They will wait in the city, close but far away enough not to draw attention." He cleared his throat. "I want a free hand ready for anything, in case events spin out of control." Deryne cocked an eyebrow.

"Do you think they will?" she asked him. The black robe mage's jaw set; he shook his head.

"I don't know," he admitted wearily. "We don't have enough information to make any guesses. But if you need backup, or protection, they'll be moments away…. They're our secret weapon, so to speak." His lips twitched. "Maybe I'm being overprotective, but I don't like this talk of an island… no one, mage or explorer, seer or ancient text, mentions such a place so far north." Deryne frowned.

"Irnai-" Numair sighed heavily.

"Babbling nonsense. I can't understand any of it, except for the occasional warning of doom." Deryne nodded, eyes narrowed.

"Mm-hm." She raised her eyebrows. "So that would be why you want a secret cavalry up your sleeve?" Numair smiled, albeit tiredly.

"To put this entire serious series of events into a flippant summary, yes." Deryne sighed, her gaze sweeping over her room: opened trunk, scattered papers from half-finished letters, her kestrel glaring at the intruders….

"I've got some work to do, then." She flexed her wrists. "Just when I thought I could put away my heavy winter clothes…." A soft laugh escaped her. "Well, duty calls."