Thanks to those who reviewed- I always enjoy reading them- Alliekate1996, SarahE7191, Shang Leopard, Dragonfly257, and my beta, KyrieofAccender. I'm sorry this took so long- ffn wouldn't let me log in... grr...

Chapter Nine

Let the Games Begin

April 1, 482 H.E.

The port city of Andukar was in sight when Cyne finally woke, shaky from her confrontation with Chaos magic, but all right, considering the enormity of the feat she had undertaken.

"Malvyn will be pleased," Deryne muttered darkly to Duskwing as they dallied on the deck; in the morning sun, Andukar's shipyards were noticeably well-kept; winter storms forced Scanrans to build and upkeep for their ports with care. Even though Andukar was situated in a large cove, the city itself was built further inwards, into the cliffs above the docks themselves.

"You talk an awful lot to your bird, ma'am." Deryne's lips twitched as she turned to Kol, the boy who had helped them several days ago during the storm.

"He keeps me sane," she drawled, eyes twinkling. The ship hand smiled back, seeing the irony in her words. "I never found a chance to thank you for saving Cyne." He shrugged, eyes falling to the deck.

"My uncle's a physician, in the city," he said. "No Gift, but he's a good hand at healing and such. He calls healing more a science than anything else, because magic can make stuff more complicated than it needs t' be. I kept her blood moving- keeps the magic going. And the cold always helps the power; amplifies it." Deryne shrugged back, noting how well-spoken he was. It seemed his uncle was a learned man.

"It saved us, whatever it was." She studied him; he could easily blend in while in Andukar, or any other Scanran city, with his pale skin and fair hair. He was gawky, usual for his age, and there were signs that he would be very large someday. "You live with your uncle?" Kol shifted; with curiosity, Deryne picked up his keen uneasiness.

"Aye," he replied cautiously. She struggled to keep her face composed, hiding her intrigue with a blank countenance.

"Your parents?" she pressed, trying to sound casual.

"Don't have no other family, ma'am, 'cept for my sister." He was hiding something….

"You seem like you know your uncle's trade," Deryne commented, turning to Duskwing with a frown. Would the Chamber help her out, or would she have to do this alone? Her voice was detached, lazy and amiable… the opposite of her churning thoughts. "Why are you here? Why be a ship hand, hard and dangerous work, when you could earn more in Corus?" Kol's face was pale; he was trying to hide his panic, but the gudruna fetched it to Deryne like a proud hound bringing a stick to its mistress.

"I-"

"Don't get me wrong," the squire continued, smiling at him. "I'm glad you were here- are here- but it seems a bit odd-"

"I'm looking for my sister," he blurted out, then looked away. Deryne raised her eyebrows; sister?

"Where is she?" Kol did not answer; he was eyeing the port studiously. "Hey-" She snapped her fingers under his nose. When he turned to her, he blinked furiously, then rubbed at his eyes.

"Great," he muttered, then continued on in soft, harsh syllables in neither Tortallan nor Common. Deryne's eyebrows rose even higher. Now, that she thought about it, he did have a very faint accent, one that tended to emphasize the harsh k's and g's that were far more gentle in Tortall….

"You're from Scanra?" Kol gritted his teeth and glared at her, eyes suspiciously bright. Her eyes narrowed. "But you left… and live with your uncle? In Corus?" He stuck out his chin.

"I'm not telling you anymore," he told her obstinately. "It's bad 'nough you know that much- Bea doesn't need no busybodies-" Deryne raised her hands.

"I'm trying to help," she retorted, fixing his gaze with hers. "It seems fair I repay your help, right?" He glowered for another moment.

Stubborn youth. Duskwing flexed his wings, then cried loudly at Kol, whose eyes grew huge. The ship hand blinked, then averted his eyes.

"Frejonak's hunting bird," he muttered. "He's left the sky, again-" Still avoiding a glance at the kestrel, he looked at Deryne, pale eyes wide. "The Runner of the Skies would not choose you unless you were true." She was silent; what could she say to that? "You'll help me?" Puzzled, Deryne nodded, wondering what had provoked his words, and Kol breathed a sigh of relief.

What have you gotten me into? she demanded silently of the Chamber, but the only answer she got was a sinister chuckle. I've got enough on my plate, as it is.

"Our parents are dead," he said bluntly. "But I left, before that…. I think-" He swallowed heavily, sizing the squire up once more. "I think she's in the palace," he explained in a rush. "Stuck working there- I did, myself, before I left, but she needs to come back with us, because it ain't safe in Hamrkeng. Not ever." A fierce look entered his eyes. "It's been years now, and the longer you stay, the harder they hold on t' you- I need to help her." Deryne eyed him, thinking slowly.

"So you need to get into the palace?" she clarified. Looking more unsure of himself, Kol nodded. "And find her. That's it?" Kol's jaw flexed. Then he nodded.

It was a simple request; Deryne herself could "hire" him as a servant, or Alan could, and he could find out where his sister was….

"But I shouldn't be seen," he added suddenly. Deryne's eyes narrowed.

"Why?" He fidgeted.

"I… was in some trouble, when I left," he admitted reluctantly. The girl rubbed her head wearily. She knew it had sounded too easy.

"How much trouble?" she asked. Kol shook his head. "You don't want to tell me?" Her lips twitched. "Did you up and insult the king himself?"

"Sommat like that," the youth muttered, and Deryne's curiosity was further piqued. She bit her lip, considering her options one last time before she nodded.

"That's fine. You don't have to go in when I do," she said. "I have some friends who can sneak you in later-" Kol's head snapped up, his eyes gleaming.

"Really?" he whispered. Deryne pushed away a trickling feeling of unease; what if Rikash refused? And she still felt like Kol was holding out on her… but the only way to find out was to stay with him. She smiled, extending her hand for a quick, firm handshake with the ship hand.

"Promise," she vowed.

Han knocked twice on the door of a small house on Remakr Street, then pushed it open; the sturdy wood gave way to the dusty floor and dirty windows of a long-abandoned residence. He glanced around; everything was as Numair had said it would be, to the old broom propped up in the corner- several years before, the spymaster had acquired dwellings in Hamrkeng as meeting places, sanctuaries for discovered spies and people of interest to Tortall. This one had always been kept a secret; there was no way anyone could know of its current use.

Rikash strode in, wrinkling his nose.

"I'm not cleaning," he said shortly, tossing his packs down; they had been forced to leave the horses in a stable halfway across the city. Han smiled.

"I'm very comfortable, myself," he commented, taking a deep breath. "No servants here to do any work, Ri." Damek rolled his eyes, making his way to the broom and snatching it up.

"Lazy mages," he muttered, shaking his head. "You think you walk on water." Rikash's jaw flexed, but he gave the Kyprian an ironic smile.

"No- that's just your lover." A sigh escaped Damek as he began sweeping. "Domesticated already?" Rikash stopped when Han elbowed him.

"She isn't my lover," Damek said sharply, beating the straw broom head against the floor. "We-" He ran a hand through his hair. "I admit, that I don't know how close I can be to her." His lips twitched. "I try…." Then he shook his head, glancing up to see an odd, rueful expression of understanding on his antagonizor's face which disappeared into a scowl the moment Rikash saw him looking. Damek did not know what to make of it. "We heard the first banquet is the day after next," he said, turning back to their dark, temporary home. "And the delegations should be arriving within hours; I say we contact Master Salmalin and find out what his orders are."

And carry them out, quickly, Rikash thought silently to himself. And then leave this damned city. He had been in Hamrkeng for only a several hours, and he was already loathing it.


The walls of Hamrkeng glowed in the sunlight; the granite sparkled as the three delegations approached the city, escorted by Scanran guards. Deryne felt a twinge of unease as she turned to Kol, who nodded confidently; he seemed certain that he could fade into the crowd before they came anywhere near the palace. The squire fervently hoped so; she hoped that he also found Rikash and Han all right- perhaps Numair would be angry at her for compromising their position, but from her minor prying-not without guilt- she could tell that whatever Kol would not tell her, it was not any danger to her. He just wanted to help his sister; she could understand that.

Indeed, the youth was right; moments after they entered the walls, she turned to find him gone. She fidgeted, casting a glance behind her to Cyne, where she formally sat at the head of the Kyprian delegation with Aly. The Copper Isles' spymaster and her twin brother, knight of Tortall, were very similar in facial features; they would have to stay as far apart as possible during these negotiations to avoid questions. Sir Alan was planning to remain in his rooms in Frasluk as much as he could; he really was only there to explain Deryne's presence.

She swallowed heavily as they made their way through narrow streets; what did Malvyn have in store for them? His invitation had been a direct challenge to them, one they had accepted with little deliberation. Now, Deryne wondered if this had been the right choice. She squared her shoulders as the homes ended, leaving space between them and the palace-fortress walls; people watched them with curiosity but then withdrew, not daring to remain within the soldiers' range.

"Ready, squire?" Deryne turned to see Alan's reassuring smile; if they had not been riding, he might have clasped her shoulder. A dry little smirk played across her lips.

"Always. Meeting old friends is always exciting." Alan raised an eyebrow before he turned to the iron gates before them; the palace guard unlocked them now, bellowing orders to open the oak doors behind them. She noticed both were new; she betted Roger had been behind the replacement. The man left nothing to chance.

A shiver raced up her spine as they rode into Frasluk, Tortallans first, Yamanis last. Before them was a wide staircase that led to the fortress's doors, and a single man was strolling down the steps with a proprietary air. A huge, brunet man garbed in Scanran finery.

A harsh Scanran wind blew, assuring her that it was in charge here; this was Frejonak's domain, and his storms made the earth tremble. Still, Deryne wondered if the might of the mountain god would be enough to match wits with Roger of Conte, pawn of Chaos.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Her fists clenched the reins of her mount as she looked up at the former duke, who was slowly scanning the entourage; when his gaze alit on her, a smile with all the friendliness a cat gave a mouse played across his face, and he ducked his head in a subtle, mocking bow to her. Anger blossomed in her chest and she returned his feral grin, feeling her heart turn to ice as the wind howled its support of her defiance in her ears.

All the players had arrived… and now, the games began.

AN: Very short... but I feel that I have to stop here, and I'm fair busy.... But I'll be back soon! ;D