A/N There are no excuses. Feel free to hate me. Or review. Whatever works. I'm in the process of redoing the first 6 chapters to make them, not quite so horrible. I rather like Chapter 7 though. Okay, so as long as no one tattles, I'll be able to keep this at T for one more chapter. So, please don't turn any smut/vague sexual references into a huge deal. The ratings going up this chapter.
Many of the nobility in Tortall, for varied and often sexist reasons, thought Keladry of Mindelan was insane. Apparently a burning desire for a career involving hitting others with various implements and a distinct lack of bathing was considered normal only for males. Keladry of Mindelan was not insane. She merely, she often told herself, wanted different things for her life then most girls. At the moment, however, Kel could not classify herself as anything but totally, and completely, out of her mind.
She had said yes. As in, he had asked, for all intents and purposes, whether or not he could visit her the following day, and she had agreed. She was only 12, for Mithros' sake. Far too young to be mooning over some boy, even one so, well, gifted. Its not as if she didn't have access to attractive males in her everyday life. Faleron, for instance, was quite attractive…Faleron, who had an arrow in his leg, and had gone with the rest of the pages. Had they escaped?
The reality of her situation hit Kel like a slap in the face. She wasn't mooning over some boy at the palace, but her Master, who had bought her from a slave auction. Romantic. And regardless of the perks of her situation, and the Game-which she still didn't completely understand-she was still a slave. In a land that Kel, never known for her skills in geography or history,, couldn't find on a map if her life depended on it. Which it probably did, at the moment, If she could run away, which seemed unlikely, from her hazy knowledge of slave collar magic, which way would she go? Which brought her back to the object of her earlier, and far more frivolous thoughts, Raston.
Could he, and more importantly, would he, get her back home? Could she, in all likelihood, win the game?
Kel sighed, almost regretfully. It wasn't a matter of choice. While she was certain Lord Wyldon and her friends would be looking for her, it was hardly productive to sit on her rear end, and wait to be rescued. She was no damsel in distress, and this was no tale. If it was, she'd be better looking. Her parents, for that matter, would be frantic by now. Her only option, then, was to win the game. Was there a time limit of sorts? Did calling his name have to be in a particular context or would slipping it out if he surprised her count too?
Kel considered. Playing dumb hadn't worked before, and likely wouldn't again, especially if he tried to well, seduce, if that's what he was doing, her into behaving. And she wasn't even going to speculate on Raston's reaction to her display of strength. Kel nodded decisively. She would have to speak as little as possible, no hardship there, and think through everything she did say. She was going home. Just as soon as they fed her. Planning made her hungry.
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Lord Wyldon of Cavall was not pleased. One of his pages, the young boys-and girl-parents trusted he would look after, was missing. Not just missing, either. If she were merely 'missing' there would have been some sign of her disappearance. The chit had vanished into thin air. Wyldon's scowl became even more pronounced.
"Are the other pages well?" King Jonathon inquired.
Numair Salmalin muttered loudly next to the monarch's throne. This meeting, combining members of both the old and new nobility, conservatives and progressives, served a dual purpose.: to both find Keladry of Mindelan and display a united front to the populace. Understandably, the atmosphere in the private throne room was very tense.
"Well enough, your majesty," Wyldon replied. "Minor injuries, but nothing fatal. The page Faleron of King's Reach claims that he and Keladry had planned to be the last to leave, but that he somehow lost her on the way to the camp."
"This whole situation is ludicrous," one of the Minchis huffed. "Likely enough the girl decided to quit and just ran away. This is hardly a matter of importance."
Numair finally looked up. "I combed the area ten miles around that cliff. There was no sign of her, and the barest traces of a mage in the cave. The girl is not Gifted. It is highly likely she was kidnapped."
"Wonder who would want that!" the Lioness snapped, pacing in the area next to the table.
"I'll bet you looked hard for that page, Wyldon."
"Alanna, enough." The King sighed. "The most we can do now is to do damage control. Make certain that everyone, no matter how old their family, is visibly searching. Numair, do you have any ideas where she could have been taken?"
Numair shrugged and sat down heavily in one of the ornately carved chairs surrounding a large banquet table. "I have no idea where the bandits acquired a mage able of taking Keladry anywhere, let alone to a place I can't trace. Can I question any of the hill bandits?"
"Dead," the King sighed. "No visible injury, aside from the ones obviously taken care of by the pages."
"I'll take a look at the bodies then."
The King looked around the table, lingering on the most upset faces and likely taking note of the least affected. Wyldon glanced around. Many of the older nobility were as upset as those in the new. A child was a child, regardless of political affiliation. And nearly all nobility agreed that kidnapping of any of their ranks signified lack of respect. Except for the middle Minchi brother, Wyldon noted, but he was hardly intelligent enough to orchastrate a kidnapping. Wyldon sighed. He didn't like the girl, but she didn't deserve to be taken to gods-no-where. She needed to come back soon. Or they might have a civil war on their hands.