AN: Okay, "tomorrow night" became Monday night... but I'm still done in less than a week, and I'm hoping this wait was worth it- I'm pretty sure it is... ;D Hopefully you guys agree- thanks to Suguri, PurpleBookWorm, SarahE7191, and Shang Leopard for reviewing!

Chapter 13

Enough For One Night

Kol unlocked the entrance to his sister's chambers; he had nicked the key off of one of his tipsy menservants- no one would notice its disappearance. He pushed the door open gingerly, peering in cautiously.

Everything was dark. The quiet encouraged him to creep inside and ease the door shut behind him. Still no sound. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust, then made his way across the room.

"Bea, Bea," he whispered, tempted to curl up on her bed until she arrived… but that would be a terrible idea, if all he had discovered was true…. "So much has happened since I left," he observed as he approached the door to the adjacent chambers and put his hand on the knocker. He hardly believed the news when he had heard it. What had she done without him, all these months and years? "I'm here now-" His murmur turned into a yelp as hands grabbed him, silenced him. He kicked and bit, squirming out of the callused grip that held him. Someone cursed.

"Damned brat-" Kol could make out the gleam of mail- the Palace Guard- he leapt across the mattress, hit the stone floor racing towards the door- "Stop him-" He yanked open the door, evading the diving guards only to jump into the hands of the men waiting for him.

Deryne followed the Lady Orbea through the crowd, pausing every once in awhile to avoid arousing suspicions; still, the woman's thoughts left her fists tense with anticipation as questions whirled around in her head.

You're in danger, Deryne of Queenscove. The warning itself was not half so troubling as its source; she had everything to lose if it was discovered she was speaking with Deryne. I cannot say anymore here- they are listening. Follow me. Her thought had been projected; how had she known about the gudruna? Why would she, consort of the king, come to speak with a Tortallan squire? And who was listening?

Who could listen to the winds? The answer formed in Deryne's mind on the heels of the question.

Tezock. Perhaps she could find out what she needed to know from this Scanran courtier….

The blonde entered the main hall of the banquet and strode towards the open double doors that led into the gardens. Deryne strolled across the tiled floor, forcing herself to take her time; she even paused for a drink before pretending to contemplate the night. Then she rested the glass on a small table and made her way towards the chilly, open air.

Outside, she allowed her mind guards to drop; free of the inane chatter of the indoors, she allowed the gudruna to stream through her- they told her which path Orbea had taken through the tall hedges. Deryne began to walk quickly, goose bumps rising on her skin; it was freezing, and her gown was not designed for warmth. She listened to the wind's whispers as the lady turned once, twice, then finally stopped.

Everything was still, perfectly so- her gudruna picked up less and less as she moved forwards through the darkness; holding out a hand, she summoned her magic, and her fingers shone with a pale light.

Orbea was waiting, her calm façade gone; she was biting her lip, and her brow was furrowed as Deryne approached her. They were in a cul-de-sac; the only way out was the way they had come.

"I cannot stay long," she murmured. "But you have to leave Scanra." Deryne shook her head, and Orbea's eyes widened. "No- you don't understand-"

"You're right," the squire whispered, staring into the alarmed blue eyes. "Which is why you have to tell me what is going on!" The woman grabbed her arm.

"Listen to me," she said quietly. "I know very little myself- but enough to know that the Lord Chancellor has no love for you."

"I know that," Deryne muttered. "But who is Tezo-"

"Hush!" Orbea thrust a hand over the squire's mouth. "The immortal's name is enchanted; whenever it is spoke of within the walls of Frasluk, Heolstor knows." Deryne frowned.

"What is he, then?" The lady bit her lip, Deryne quelled the sense of urgency that rose as she thought of the executions. "My lady, I must know!"

"He is from the north- an island-" Again: information she had heard before-

"Where?" Orbea shook her head.

"An island-"

"Tortall has had many explorers traverse the northern seas!" Deryne hissed. "There is no map I know of that shows such a place!"

"It is enchanted; only his kind can find their way there," the woman replied. "It does not exist, except to those who have his magic."

"The magic," Deryne prompted. "What is it?" She put a hand on Orbea's shoulder. The courtier's gaze fell. "Orbea-"

"He can hear thoughts, as you can." The squire nearly released the woman in surprise.

"How did you know-"

"He can rip a man apart with a look," she continued, her head bowed. "Some sort of spell- a sekali, I have heard them call it-" Ice filled Deryne's veins; she had suspected… but now, if Orbea was to be trusted, she was proven correct. She swore softly.

"Frejonak preserve us," she whispered. It was his magic, as it was hers- the strength of the wind. The north god had blessed her with his gift of power… had he given it to Tezock, too? If so, why? "How many know what I can do?" Orbea hesitated.

"The Chancellor… and the king…." With mention of Roger again, Deryne sent out a wave of gudruna to reassure her that there was no one nearby who could eavesdrop; she was answered by silence- no a motion nor whisper betrayed the presence of any.

"Does Tez-"

"Don't say his name!" she hissed.

"Does he know?" Deryne countered heatedly.

"Gods above, I pray-"

"My lady Orbea." Deryne stiffened; who was it? Why had there been no warning? She sent out another wave of magic, but this too told her nothing. The Scanran woman's face went ashen as she released the squire. Deryne whipped around to see Roger standing on the path between them and the palace. He was smiling. "You are quite resourceful, my dear."

"I-I- please, my lord-" Deryne turned to the stunned blonde, then back to Roger, who took a step towards them.

"Whispering secrets of any kind into the ear of any foreigner- even a potential ally- is an act of treason," he murmured. "But I see no reason to tell our king… yet." He watched her from another moment, waiting for tears of horror to slide down her cheeks. "Wait for me by my chambers," he ordered, gesturing her to leave. Deryne sent out another breeze as Orbea fled past him. The back of her neck prickled in warning; she could feel the courtier as she hurried through the hedges… but only her eyes told her that Roger now stood before her.

Just like Tezock.

She stepped to the side, trying to worm her way past the man, but he only moved with her, blocking off her exit. His eyes twinkled.

"Going somewhere, my little bird?" Deryne retreated slowly, stalling for time; she ignored the urge to spit at his feet- the gesture would only amuse him. She ran what she knew through her head once more.

She had not heard him. She had not sensed him- And her gudruna still could not feel him. Tentatively, she sent out a soft breeze; it ruffled his tunic, but if it knew Roger was there, it would not tell her.

She had not lost the wind whispers- they passed through him, towards the statute behind him, and back again as though there was nothing there. As if he were air himself.

"This is one of your tricks," Deryne commented trying to sound scornful as her mind churned furiously. She dared not take her gaze off of him, when her sight seemed to be her only guide.

"Then it is a very good trick, isn't it?" He bared his teeth in a smug grin.

"An illusion. One of your projections," she retorted. Roger chuckled sinisterly, holding her hand out to her.

"I am as real as you," he murmured. "Come here, Queenscove." Shaking, Deryne her head. His lips curled. "There is no reason to fear me; the hunter chooses his time to strike."

"I'd say this is as much your time as it is mine." He shrugged eloquently.

"Perhaps to you." A smile tugged at his cruel lips. "But not to me; we have several steps to dance before I decide you've suffered long enough." Almost against her will, Deryne took a step towards him. "Still afraid, little girl?" Her eyes flashing, she strode over to him, even though she knew it was exactly what he wanted. Looking at his outstretched hand and back into his innocent expression, she touched it with the tips of her fingers. Before she could blink, he brought her hand up to his lips with mocking sincerity. He laughed as she jerked herself away.

"You doubt my chivalry, my lady?" A sharp laugh escaped her.

"Doubtlessly, my lord chancellor." Her eyes narrow. "Who is this Tezock, then?" He only watched her. "It was his spell that's done this, hasn't it?" She threw a hand towards him, irritated with his silence. They were past games now, weren't they? "Answer me."

"Do you know why they call these the silent gardens?" he asked instead. His gaze alighted on her before sweeping over their surroundings. "You, of all, should know… the muffling spells make it difficult, if not impossible, to listen in on conversations… and whatever else folk may do." He chuckled. "No one to hear you scream, sweetling."

"Such terms of endearment," Deryne retorted, trying to fight her rising nauseating panic. "Really, I'm touched."

"I'm only whispering the sweet nothings your lover never could," he answered, gaze smug with satisfaction as he saw her stiffen.

"I could blast you where you stand," she whispered. "And I don't need any gudruna to do it."

"Careful," he drawled as her fists clenched. "You wouldn't want to land Tortall in trouble because you lost your temper with your magnanimous benefactor." Deryne's eyes glittered with derision.

"How kind of you to give me such good advice," she replied coldly. He nodded somberly.

"My pleasure… love." Her arm lashed out, her fingers arched with dangerous poise as they thrust a sekali into the statue past him. It shattered into a cloud of marble dust as she drew herself up to give him the most insolent stare she could muster.

"Oops," she said, unable to suppress the smallest note of triumph creeping into her neutral voice.

For a long moment, Roger watched her, eyes dark. Then, a very slow smile crept across his features. His gaze seemed to glow as his lips curled, sending shivers across her skin. Deryne was too occupied with keeping her stare from wavering to see his hand until it was too late. He struck her across the face, calm smile still in place as she reeled, eyes watering from the stinging blow.

"Oops," he repeated, advancing. Deryne instinctively stepped back, blinking tears back furiously. "Don't run away, my girl; we were having such an entertaining discussion."

"Stay back," she hissed.

"Or you'll do what?" he inquired pleasantly. "There's nowhere left to run," he observed as she backed into the foliage. "Really, accusing me of anything would be equivalent of accusing His Majesty… and if the Tortallans are no longer involved in negotiations on the grounds of such a dismissal, I'll have no other course but to assume Tortall is an enemy… a perfect choice for a real demonstration." Deryne felt sick to her stomach as the chancellor approached. "I won't mention that little threat over there," he whispered in a sing-song murmur. "If you don't tell, either." Even as he spoke, the squire felt her smarting skin heal- he had used his Gift on her. She swore to herself. "There. Do we have a deal?" His hand gripped her chin; not wanting to squirm, Deryne just glared into his dark pupils. "That was quite a demonstration of your own just now," he mused aloud, another smile dancing across his lips. "I did not know you could use your little wind arrows on stone." He chuckled. "I love mastering challenges; you keep me from dying of boredom." That was it. Deryne wrenched her face out of his fingers and ducked under his arm as she strode towards her escape.

"Tell Salmalin I send my salutations," was all she heard before he burst into raucous, chilling laughter.

Tezock drifted among the mortals; he was easy to pick out, since the crowds gave him a wide berth. Cyne watched as the figure garbed in black strolled along, sending plump matrons and hefty warriors alike scurrying.

Still, her sense of curiosity was quickly winning over her caution; surely there was no one better to talk about the immortal than himself?

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she pushed her doubts to the side, rubbed her moist hands on the sleeves of her gown, and stepped forward to intersect the immortal's path.

Damek's breath caught in his throat as the lock to Roger's personal study clicked; it had taken him such a long time to remove or silence the wards placed on this little room, and he was not certain if the time had been worth it; he would have to move quickly. Careful not to touch anything, he chanted a spell to silence the alarms Roger had set; clearly the man did not known the extent of raka magic- few did.

A glance told him there was far more here than he wanted to know; books with all sorts of gruesome titles lined the shelves, and there were several jars with unidentifiable contents….

And maps. Damek threw a hand over a pile of parchment; this time, when he whispered a few words, ghostly images of the maps rose into the air. He scanned them quickly, face nearly up against the pale light.

"Gotzan," he said, reading a delicate, curly script over an island that appeared to be leagues north of Frasluk. He frowned, peering at the innocuous landmass- it was too large to have been missed by past sea-explorers…. "Let's see if you have any other places I don't know about," he murmured as his eyes fell, running across the Grimhold Mountains, to Corus, where a series of caverns were labeled by symbols he could not pronounce, to the Bazhir desert, where the infamous Black City loomed, again named by unreadable runes, down further south and east, towards Roof of the World…and past the towering mountains, through the Lumuhu and Chitral passes, another splotch of land on the desert, with a name inked above it-

"That's quite enough for one night," a soft voice hissed in Damek's ear, and the map images faded as a hand grabbed his shoulder. Cursing, Damek tried to turn, struggling- he threw an elbow into his assaulter's stomach, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp, but his elation was short-lived; something struck his head hard, and everything went dark.

"I am impressed by your mettle, Your Highness," Tezock hissed softly as he twirled her across the dance floor; Cyne was struck by his grace, which uncannily reminded her of Deryne…. "Not just any soul would approach me, let alone a young woman. Fewer still would accept an invitation to dance." She could hear the smile in his voice and said nothing; she had not looked directly at him yet- his eyes were chilling enough from afar, lacking the white and the colored iris of mortals. "Your people have my respect for raising one such as you."

"I am nothing remarkable, your lordship," she replied, glancing over his shoulder to where several Kyprian delegates watched worriedly. Merle and Brand looked prepared to dash in at a moment's notice. She smiled at them, but their frowns only deepened; they knew she was trying to assuage their concerns. "You, on the other hand-" His chuckle made her hair stand on end; there was nothing friendly in its caress.

"You are a clever little diplomat, aren't you?" He leaned in closer, his cheek nearly brushing hers; Cyne thrust down the urge to pull away as he breathed in her ear- his breath was cold, as cold as his hands. "Trying to ferret information from me? You charming, daring spy- I could have almost sworn that a mortal had not the nerve to do so…." He laughed quietly again. Cyne ignored the sweat that trickled down her neck as he spoke again. "Perhaps I have a goddess in my arms, in the guise of a young woman?" A strand of his hair brushed up against her face. "Or an elemental, with divine power racing through her?" As he drew back, she could not help following his face with her eyes- suddenly she was trapped by the eerily false, charming smile plastered on his inhuman features. Then his black stare captured hers, and time stopped.

Drowning. Cyne stared into the pits of his dark eyes unsteadily, and a flash of heat, then cold, came over her. Her nightmares crashed down around her, the dark water obliterating the great hall she had been standing in; she could see nothing but the water… and him. Tezock. He would not let her go; his eyes seemed to grow, drinking her in, swallowing her whole….

Then he opened his mouth, and an unearthly, sharp cry escaped the well of darkness. The sound grated on her ears, jarred her bones. He released her, and she stumbled backwards as he closed his eyes, breaking the connection.

It took her several moments more to realize he was laughing. There were arms around her- Merle, with Brand at her side. But though their voices chattered on and on in her ear, she heard none of it; she could hear no one but Tezock, as he continued to let his terrible laughter loose upon her, wracking her body with unsuppressed glee.

"It is true," he hissed as people fell back, putting as much distance as they could between him and them; the immortal scarcely noticed as he stepped towards her, light surfacing from his empty stare. "All four… how we will rise!" Another horrible cackle left his lips. "How we will rise- the time has come." He grew larger and larger in Cyne's sight; she tried to close her eyes, tried to remember how to breathe, but she could do neither; her head spun. "The time has come for the Gotzane to rise, and how great and terrible a power we shall be…." He knelt by her side, his gaze somehow softer now- it made Cyne even more alarmed. "All with your aid, my lady," he whispered in her ear, then stood. Dazed, the Kyprian watched as the immortal strode away, again sending people scattering in every direction in their haste to flee his wake.

Merle shook her.

"Cyne!" she snapped. "For gods' sake, get up and get a hold on yourself- it's your own damned fault for playing with fire!"

"Who else is going to play with it if I don't?" the princess responded breathlessly as Merle hauled her up; Brand hovered, watching her with concern in his eyes- it would not be proper for him to help. Merle's impromptu scolding was unorthodox enough as it was.

"Leave the fire for Rikash," the redhead sniffed. "I don't give a rat's ass what happens to him." Brand snorted as Cyne hushed her friend, glancing around at the gathering Kyprian delegates.

"Why haven't they swarmed me yet?" she muttered. Her eyes narrowed. "Not that I'm not grateful for the space-" Her two friends hesitated.

"It's just-" Brand paused as Cyne turned to him. "You look a bit… wary. Alert." Cyne raised eyebrow. He shrugged. "A bit more like when you fought off Kypria-"

"Hush!" Cyne ordered. "There are enough ears, magical or mortal, in Frasluk."

"The point is, nobody messes with anybody who can wield that sort of power," Merle hissed. "And you don't usually look like you handle that sort of magic-"

"Appearances can be deceiving," Cyne muttered.

"Most of the time," Brand commented. "In Merle's case, she's as simple as she looks." His red-haired female friend shot him a filthy glare. "But right now, you look like- like you could summon up a monsoon to drown the whole castle." In the privacy of her own chambers, Cyne might have snorted; here she only rose both eyebrows slightly.

"I have been known to do that," she murmured in a very soft tone before looking around. Tezock's words began to race through her head. Where had Han gone? He had appeared and left again to find Rikash just before she had seen Tezock; the two of them could tell Numair what the immortal had said. "Where-"

Then she caught sight of them, lingering by a nearby window; obviously they had seen the episode, but did not dare rush over. She nodded towards them.

"A little fresh air, perhaps," she said, a little louder than she had intended.

"Of course, Your Highness," Merle replied as she caught sight of the two youths, steering Cyne towards the window. The princess noted with amusement how now onlookers parted for her like they did for Tezock, with an urgency motivated by selfish fear. She shook her head, then met Han's gaze for a moment before looking out into the night.

"Your Highness," Rikash rumbled, bowing. Cyne nodded to both of them.

"Deryne?" she asked quietly.

"Her gudruna are bringing her towards us now," Han replied, glancing down at the stone floor. "In the meantime-" He leaned towards her, then away again as a fanfare sounded. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Malvyn likes attention," Rikash grumbled, but Han shook his head with a frown. His green-brown eyes were narrowed.

"I don't-" He fell silent as movement caught their attention on an upper balcony, above the crowd; it was Roger, who looked as smug as any reigning conqueror.

And behind him….

A soft gasp left Cyne's lips; instantly both Brand and Merle were at her sides, supporting her weight as her legs gave out from underneath her.

Behind him, two guards hauled in Damek, his eyes downcast, and his arms tied behind his back.

"Here, my friends and allies," proclaimed the Lord Chancellor. "-here is treachery."

AN: And... that's the end of the chapter!

Gee, I wonder what happens next? Reviews, pretty please?