AN: I am VERY sorry this took such a long while, especially since all of this is still more building plot and details... this is the calm before the big storm, so be prepared in the next few chapters for a lot of big action... it's probably about time, right? :)

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed- renagirl, SarahE7191, MaxCullen-Whitlock, Chips!, Evilstrawberry, Dragonfly257. I am, again, very sorry for the delay. There's a lot of life and sports and college apps and portfolios to be completed....

Chapter 19

When It Rains

It was a dream. Kol was standing in his uncle's sick room, standing over the shivering girl. They had covered her in many blankets and stoked the fire, but nothing seemed to break her fever. His uncle, a wide, bearded fellow, stood on the other side of the bed, gazing grimly into his patient's face.

"Can you heal her?" Kol heard himself ask softly, and his uncle's eyes darkened.

"She has the Gift, Kol- it is strong enough to fight off this illness, but she is untrained… and untrained little ones with this much power have a horrible tendency to block my own magic. It will be up to her, if she survives or not…." The large man fixed Kol with a long stare. "And to you, too, perhaps." Kol's brow narrowed in confusion, but his uncle had already taken his small hands in his large palms. "Stay," he ordered, placing Kol's fingertips on the girl's pale skin. "Don't move- and call me if-"

"Kol!" Jerking awake, the youth turned to Merle, who fixed him with a disapproving stare. Sometimes, he thought the scowling redhead could read his thoughts and knew he had met with the Chancellor. He resisted the urge to reach for the medallion under his tunic. "Stay awake, will you? Why should we even bother keeping watch if you can't keep your eyes open, eh?" He colored; after Brand had left to scout out their situation trapped in the city, he and Merle had alternated taking quick naps and keeping an eye on Damek and the quiet street outside. He rubbed his eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered, thoughts turning back to his dream. It was not a real dream, more of a memory- Merle snapped her fingers brusquely under his nose.

"You're doing it again already," she retorted. "Snap out of it!" He blinked several times, trying to send more vigor to his drooping eyelids. She snorted. "I suppose we'll just have to keep each other up, then." He wanted to protest; after all, who was going to hunt them down? He had the sinking suspicion that, if the Chancellor had sent him after the two Kyprians, there was little threat from the Scanrans.

"Tell me about your family," his companion demanded, plopping down on the floor to stretch her legs. She bent over gracefully, then turned to glare back at him.

"Why?" the boy asked, then regretted it as her eyes narrowed.

"Because," she said slowly. "It is very possible we'll be cooped up with each other for a very long time."

The Black God swept down the streets of Rasda, a Carthaki city wracked with the plague. Many dying cries echoed through the buildings and people writhed in pain in doorways and alleys; everywhere the dark shadow wandered, his gentle touch stilled moans and tormented dreams.

"Are you proud of yourself?" the woman striding along behind him demanded, ignoring the strife surrounding her. She tossed her black hair. "Now I hear we've only bought them a little more time- not nearly enough! Does even the death of the mightiest kings not appeal to you?" She listened for a moment, then snorted dismissively. "The old man's life becomes more and more costly as the days wear on? So even Jonathon of Conte's death was not enough to satiate you? That is why this-" She swept her hand to the adobe structures around them. "-has happened? The death of Tortall's old king and hundreds of innocents?"

"I thought you cared not who died," another voice answered. Frejonak, God of the North Wind, materialized at the woman's side. "Sister, what should concern you is that next time, the plague will strike closer to home." She arched her eyebrows.

"The Realm of the Gods does not know nor care of mortal illness-" He snorted.

"I mean the heart of the balance we are trying to save. I mean Tortall." He smiled grimly, showing his brilliantly white teeth. "I mean Corus." His face softened as his vocal companion shared her thoughts. "We cannot stave off this forever; eventually, that which we are trying to avoid and the cost for avoiding it will collide, with more consequences than we can count, Yama." The fire goddess gazed first at him, then at the silent God of Death, and finally at the distress surrounding them. Several looters with rags over their faces raced past, oblivious to the presence of the three divine beings in their midst.

"We have so little time left?" she asked softly. "Before Chaos breaks free? Before the scales must move?" Frejonak's eyes locked with the darkness beneath the hood of the Black God as the caped shadow turned towards them.

"Even less than you think. I fear we cannot hold back the tides of change any longer."

The Gods were crying. Vanora outlined the edge of the pane of glass listlessly as she gazed out of the window, out at the drenched parade grounds. Several grooms were ushering mounts out of the pouring rain while their riders hastily made for shelter. She had cried a little earlier, but the pain she felt was on her friend's behalf, on the behalf of Tortall. Even her mother had shed tears, and she had never been fond of the old king, who had never given her the same chance as the other boy pages.

"I have a terrible feeling about this," Kel had told Dom when she had thought Vanora was out of earshot. "Killed… by raiders out in the desert. Meanwhile, in Scanra-" The lady knight's voice dropped to an even lower hush then, and Vanora could no longer hear. But all the palace knew something was wrong…. Mages and scholars rushed in and out of the king's presence at all times, Numair Salmalin looked as though he had not slept since the Tortallan delegation had left…. There was a rumor of a new evil, greater than the Shadows….

"I haven't seen him since last spring." Vanora turned her head away from the rain, into the tiny nook of the royal library to which she and Leo had snuck off. Leo's face was buried in his hands; he sat on the floor, back against the wall. "He gave me…" He trailed off. Vanora waited for a long moment, listening to the pounding rush of the rain. She tucked her knees under her chin, wrapped her arms tightly around her legs. She was about to speak when he looked up at her for the first time since they had sat down; his eyes were red, his face pale. "His ring." Vanora's eyes widened. "I didn't realize, at the time… the importance…." He closed his eyes and leaned back, head tilted up towards the ceiling. "Royal custom states that a king keeps his signet ring until death, that if his son should take the throne before then, then the son will keep the ring of the heir- ring of the prince- until the death of his father. Then he inherits the King's Ring and passes his own onto his own heir." Troubled, he reached under his tunic and revealed a long silver chain with a ring on it. He stared at it intently; Vanora watched his face. "But Grandfather gave it to me."

"Are you going to keep it?" she asked softly. Leo bit his lip.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't even know why he-" He fell silent as footsteps echoed dimly through the stacks. Neither he nor Vanora spoke until the muffled sound had long faded. With a sigh, he shook his head. "I want to figure that out first," he muttered, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the silver dangling from his fist.

"Ask Sir Myles," Vanora suggested, and a small smile crept across her friend's face.

"The answer to everything," he commented wryly as he tucked the chain back underneath his shirt. Then, resolved, he locked gazes with Vanora. She had to resist the urge to gulp; even with reddened eyes and dishelved appearance, he looked like a prince. "Come with me?"

"When it rains, it pours," Myles muttered to himself as the Crown prince and Keladry's daughter sat down. Behind him, Cadel was glancing through pages and pages of notes, referencing a translation text with a faint frown. "No one but Irnai for weeks, no news or further developments… and then everything happens, all at once." He leveled Leoraed of Conte with a firm stare. "You know that if Jon gave you the ring, he wanted you to have it?"

"I supposed so, sir," Leo said uncertainly. Myles raised an eyebrow.

"And you also know the crisis it will be if and when your father realizes the ring is missing?" The prince's cheeks flushed, but he returned the old scholar's gaze. "And you cannot possibly reveal that you have it and keep it. Custom dictates- well, you know what the tradition is." Myles sighed heavily. "It will be a harsh morale blow to discover the signet ring has disappeared, but your father has had enough of those lately that this one will be relatively small in comparison."

"You mean trouble with the Scanrans?" Leo prompted, eyes narrowing. Myles sighed again, settling back in his chair. He half-smiled as he realized how Cadel had reacted to the question- he stared at the parchment, clearly not working, but listening, back straight and fingers tense. Although he was working with Myles, the old knight had not yet enclosed the details of the Scanran delegation with Cadel. Vanora also watched him with curiosity.

"Now, I might disagree with your father in his decision to keep the Crown Prince out of such matters, but I will obey his mandate to remain silent." Leo groaned, sliding back in his chair. "But we are all blundering around in the dark, Your Highness." The boy's eyes snapped back to Myles.

"Which means unfamiliar territory, even for Master Salmalin," Leo said slowly, fixing the scholar with a gleam in his eyes. Myles smiled to himself; he could practically see the youth's mind working. "Magic… creatures that we have not seen before. But that would not matter… unless there was something special about these beings. If it was just three-headed spidren or a winged centaur, the Own and Riders and knights could just kill this new trouble like anything else." Still the old man said nothing. Leo continued to voice his thoughts aloud. "So it is something similar to the Shadows and their Vents, perhaps. Requires magic…." His brow furrowed. "But that would not account for the amount of research that you are doing- they would only make you work so hard if the task was only something you could do… which means anything and everything obscure and ancient. Which means they know nothing about this new threat. Besides, the Vents have never caused such a problem for Master Salmalin. In Tortall, we have more than enough mage power… which means power is not the problem. It is finesse- it is knowing who the enemy is." Myles nodded deeply in appreciation. "And the enemy probably has some sort of odd quirk, like the Shadows… some origin in Chaos… because Rikash, Deryne, and Han were sent with the delegation." Myles raised an eyebrow.

"Deryne went with her knight master. Rikash and Han went to take care of some reports of a Vent in Orgin." Leo raised an eyebrow in reply, a faint smile crossing his face.

"Right. Because the two of them usually close Vents by themselves… without Master Salmalin." Myles struggled not to laugh at the prince's pique.

"Master Salmalin is needed in the capital now for correspondence and serves in an advisory role until any dangers have passed."

"Meaning he needs to protect my father… even from whatever news the good mage has gotten from his son and the others." Myles sputtered.

"Beg pardon?" He gawked at the youth for a moment, wondering if the boy could possibly either have the Sight or even read minds. Vanora and Cadel were staring in confusion at their friend, who shrugged.

"It isn't hard to know when someone is holding information back," he muttered, clearly regretting mentioning it. "Even if I don't know what isn't being said." Myles was half-tempted to tell the boy sitting before him there and then the trouble; certainly he deserved it, if he could deduct everything from the nature of the danger to Numair's protectiveness over his students' abilities and the extent of their mission in Scanra.

"Well," Myles managed. "Feel free to help Cadel with those translations. Perhaps you three will catch something I missed."

That morning, Rikash woke to see that the vegetation around them had grown around Han during the night, as though to protect him from the cold. Unlike Rikash, who had yet to feel chilled, even after the bitter night, Han had shivered his way north. Trying to be quiet, Rikash raised a hand, cautiously calling upon his magic to warm Han; he did not want to burn his friend accidentally.

He sat in silence for a long time, wondering when Deryne and Cyne would arrive. He did not worry about the shielding spell masking their presence from Deryne; as long as there was air, she could not be stopped.

Except by this Tezock. Tezock. Tezock, who had acted as though he had known Rikash, had greeted him like an old friend…. The firemage ran a hand through his hair. Cyne had mentioned a little of what the creature had said to her- he had wondered if she were a goddess, or an elemental… he had wanted to protect his identity from her… But then he seemed to realize who- or what- she was, and his reaction was similar to his actions when he had spoken to Rikash. Tezock seemed to think that Cyne would help him… help his people. He had said all four. Rikash refused to even consider that the demon had meant anything but the four of them. He had been right, when he had snapped at his father: Four. The damned number was everywhere. Somehow, Tezock thought they would help him… it never seemed to register with him that they were on opposite sides of this brewing war.

He did not know how long he had sat stewing in his thoughts when Han sat up, wide awake.

"They're coming," he said, standing. Rikash did not move; he simple listened, ears straining for the sound of hooves that would not reach his ears for awhile. Finally, he picked up the soft sound and rose. The hooves became louder and louder, but slower- the uneven rhythm of two riders became distinguishable a few moments before the figures became visible among the trees. Cyne was looking every which way in puzzlement, but Deryne had her eyes fixed on the camp, smiling slightly. Rikash felt an odd jolt in his stomach as she locked eyes with him- it was an eerie sensation, because he knew she could not literally see him… but she could sense him with her gudruna. She knew he was looking at her, that their eyes met, but there was no link between them, despite the look of recognition in her gaze.

"Drop the shield," Rikash grumbled, loathing the chills his thoughts were giving him. A moment later, Cyne's face was alit with relief as the camp was finally revealed to her, and both girls dismounted. Deryne smirked, hands outspread.

"What? No food?" she drawled.

"We figured we'd wait for you to show up with some," Han replied, striding forth to give her a quick hug. He did the same for Cyne. Rikash narrowed his eyes; what was it with them and embraces? Always, the little greetings- why did they do that? He would feel awkward beyond words if he went around wrapping his arms around anyone and everyone he saw. He nodded when he caught Deryne's gaze.

"Bread's in the usual pack," he said, jerking his head at Han's saddlebags. She nodded; the routine was familiar, since they had traveled across Tortall to seal Vents in the past year. Once she retrieved the loaf, she ripped off a small piece and chucked it at Rikash before handing a bigger piece to Cyne.

"I hope you two lugs are ready to go," she said cheerfully. Rikash raised an eyebrow.

"You just rode through the night," he retorted. "You can't kill your horses."

"We rested for awhile," was her reply. For whatever reason, her calmness was irritating him. "We've only been up now for an hour, and we're ready to keep moving. After all, I can't see Tezock taking many breaks." He scowled.

"We lost Tezock." Deryne snorted. "What's that?" he snapped. She shrugged, then turned to address Han.

"Together, you and I can probably cast a spell wide enough to sense a void in our magic- wherever the void is, we'll find Tezock." Han nodded. Rikash stuffed his bread into his mouth as his two friends sat down to begin. Cyne tried to catch his eye, but he only lay back down on his blanket to glare up at the sky. He knew from experience that the next spell could take five minutes or five hours. He could feel their power growing, Deryne's thickening the air and Han's rushing through the ground underneath his body….

He shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep.