A/N: To start off my senior year in high style, here's an eleventh-hour (literally) update! Depending on how things go, there may be longer hiatuses between chapters because of life and classes, but I promise to try my best to make each chapter worth your while. Thank you for all the wonderful feedback you all have been giving me, especially on the last chapter—and no, this isn't the last we'll see of Jessa. I don't think I could keep her from hijacking her brother's story even if I wanted to.
Thank you to my wonderful beta, Lionesseyes13, as well as the incredible Zeeblebeeble, for their feedback. In addition to being great editors, they have awesome Tamora Pierce fics of their own, which y'all should totally read.
Disclaimer: I have 99 problems and being Tamora Pierce would solve quite a few (*cough*college tuition*cough). But I am not her, and therefore I own nothing. Enjoy!
Evening was falling by the time the three towers of Pirate's Swoop came into view.
"Home at last!" Lady Alanna said, smiling.
"Until the next distress call, at least, eh?" said Lord Imrah, grinning.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lady Alanna said loftily. "I am merely grateful for simple pleasures, like my home, children, husband—"
"I can see that you two get along swimmingly," Roald murmured to Neal. "She even sounds like you."
"I'm going to ignore that, if it's all the same to you," Neal told his royal friend with a shudder. "The implications are terrifying."
"Of course," Roald replied, deadpan.
They fell silent as they waited for the gates to swing open. Lady Alanna led the way in, followed by Lord Imrah, the prince, and Neal, bringing up the rear. They rode into a warmly lit courtyard; men-at-arms lining the walls stood to attention. Servants came forward to greet them and take their gear.
"Squire," Lady Alanna said, dismounting. Realizing that she meant him, Neal slid from his horses and came forward, leading Mage Whisper on foot. He bowed slightly for good measure.
"My lady?"
In reply, his knight-mistress held out Darkmoon's reins. "Branson will show you where to stable him," she said, indicating the stable boy who stood near her, who bowed to Neal. "Remember everything he tells you, for future reference."
Neal took the reins.
"Right this way, sir," said Branson, bustling him off before Neal could even decide whether to answer his knight-mistress with a bow or a retort. Grudgingly, he led Darkmoon along—or rather, Darkmoon walked with Branson and tugged Neal along. The stallion seemed to know the way to his home stables just fine. Neal wouldn't be surprised if Darkmoon could curry himself and tend his own tack as well.
"Do you normally care for Darkmoon?" he asked the stable boy, feeling rather superfluous. Behind him, Mage Whisper nudged him, as though in rebuke.
"Sometimes," Branson replied. "Right in here, m'lord." He led Neal into a stable. The first three stalls stood empty. "This is Darkmoon's stall." He indicated the one nearest the door. "Master Thom gave orders to prepare the second stall for your mount, here." He pointed. "Will you be needing help or directions?"
"No, thanks," Neal said absently, leading the horses into their stalls. He took care of Darkmoon first, removing the stallion's tack and arranging it properly. He found currying brushes in a neat little shelf built into the side of the stall and used them to give the stallion a thorough rubdown. Then he worked on Mage Whisper.
When he finished, he looked up and realized that Branson had gone, leaving him alone with the horses. He also realized that he had no idea what happened next.
"I don't suppose you know where your mistress goes at this time of evening," he told Darkmoon. The stallion snorted in reply.
"Figures," Neal said. He checked one last time to be sure that everything was in place. Then, washing his hands, he left the stable and tried to retrace his steps back to the courtyard. Finding it, he tried one of the entrances into the castle proper and found himself in a hallway lit by torches. He started down it, following the sound of conversation echoing along the stone walls and floor, which would hopefully lead him to his knight-mistress. The sounds led him to veer left at the hall's end, down a second hallway, which ended in a round room lined with bookshelves. A handsome mahogany staircase wrapped around the walls, but it didn't look as though any of the doors on that led anywhere he needed to be. He had reached a dead end.
He didn't consider it a total loss, however: any room with books was a worthwhile room to Nealan of Queenscove. He went to the shelf-covered wall nearest him and examined the books displayed therein: books on magic, he noticed with a pleasant jolt, and here were treatises on medical magic, the Sight, magical ethics, potion-making…It couldn't hurt if he took a quick peek, Neal decided, sliding the volume on medical magic off the shelf.
Immediately the book started screaming.
Neal fumbled with it; it fell to the floor, where its caterwauling doubled in volume.
Somewhere overhead, a door slammed.
"By the gods, Alan, what've I told you about messing around in here!" a boy's voice yelled. Soft-shod feet pounded down the spiral stairs. The boy reached the bottom floor landing, where his eyes took in Neal, frantically trying to cram the book back on the shelf. He turned white, and then flushed red as the hair on his head. He reached over and wordlessly took the book from Neal.
"Sorry," Neal said immediately, over the book's continued screaming. "I didn't mean to—I didn't realize it would go off like that—"
The boy shook his head. Neal hoped it was a sign of pardon, instead of a vow of future revenge. The boy stroked the book's spine; it fell silent, and he replaced it on the shelf.
"Was that your spell?" Neal asked, impressed in spite of himself. The boy, a redhead a bit on the gawky side, looked all of thirteen, but he nodded. Neal whistled. "That must have taken some patience," he told his silent rescuer. "I didn't even see it. How did you do it? An illusion? Or did you just spread the magic so thin that it was undetectable? A sub-spell?"
The boy blushed even redder.
"I could show you after supper, if you want," he squeaked.
"Oh. Is that what happens now?" Neal said. "Do you know where Lady Alanna eats? I need to find her." He finally remembered his manners and held out his hand. "I'm sorry. I'm Nealan of Queenscove—Neal. I'm Lady Alanna's new squire," he said.
The boy shook his hand.
"Thom," he said quietly. "Of Pirate's Swoop."
Oh. "Well," Neal said. This was awkward. "I don't suppose you could, uh, not mention that whole incident to your mother?"
A small smile appeared on Thom's face. "I won't," he said.
Shortly after, Neal followed Thom into the small hall, where the Pirate's Swoop family took supper on regular days. Lady Alanna was already there, seated at the table talking to a strawberry-blond boy of about eleven who sat across from her. She looked up as Neal entered.
"Congratulations, squire," she said. "You were almost on time."
"And you are again unfashionably early," he replied on instinct, dropping into the chair she indicated for him, next to her.
"I'm starting to regret bringing you here already," his knight-mistress volleyed back. "I can see that you're only going to corrupt my sons."
"I doubt he'll do anything that Da didn't begin already, Ma," said the younger boy cheerfully, using his foot to pull out the chair next to him for Thom.
"Squire Nealan of Queenscove, my second son, Alan of Pirate's Swoop," the lady knight said, with a quelling look at said son. "I see you have already made the acquaintance of my eldest. My husband and daughter are currently away, but you will also meet them in due time." Neal nodded.
"Da actually had a message scried through a few hours ago," Thom told his mother. "He's on his way back, to arrive tomorrow or early the day after. He's bringing a contact, so we need to have a room prepared."
Lady Alanna didn't reply, instead rising to greet Lord Imrah and Prince Roald, who had just arrived. Her sons shook hands with both prince and lord with grins. Roald took the seat next to Neal, while Imrah took the one across from his squire. Lady Alanna offered a short prayer to the Goddess and Mithros, and then all began to eat.
For a time, Neal was content to focus on his meal while listening to Roald and Thom, who knew each other, exchanging news. Thom, he noticed, was much less shy around those he knew well. It wasn't surprising, then, that he got along very well with the rather withdrawn prince, despite the four-year gap between their ages.
"Are you coming up to Corus anytime soon?" Roald was asking. "We haven't gotten to do a proper stargazing in years."
"Skies are clear tonight, if you want," Thom suggested. The prince shook his head.
"My lord and I are riding on tomorrow," he said, smiling slightly. "I need to get all the sleep I can tonight."
"Midwinter, then?" Thom said. "I'm starting at the university then. Maybe we could fit in some time? I'm sure your father would let us use the Needle if we asked."
"Maybe." Roald looked thoughtful. "It was under repairs when we left Corus, but maybe they'll be done by then." He smiled. "We'll see."
The next day Roald and Imrah rode on for Legann. After they left, Alanna led Neal down to the castle infirmary, where she introduced him to Maude, an old healer and midwife. Because the infirmary was currently empty, Alanna then led Neal into the storerooms.
"Let's see what you know about equipment," she said. "I'm a Gifted healer. What do I need in a basic kit, the one that will accompany me everywhere?"
This, at least, he remembered. Neal ticked off the items on his fingers.
"Bandages, in all sizes," he said. "Towels or cleaning cloths, whichever are handy, for hygiene. Soap. Herbs."
"Which herbs?" Alanna asked sharply. "You've got limited space, Queenscove, so which ones are the most likely to be used?"
"Willow bark," Neal said. "Cures headaches, muscle pain, arthritis, and helps the healer keep their concentration while they work."
"It also helps women with menstrual cramps," Lady Alanna added. "And you can use it to ease the symptoms of fever or the common cold. Any other herbs?"
"Comfrey, for poultices?" Neal asked.
"Fair enough," his knight-mistress said. "Now, for different conditions. Suppose I'm a field medic—"
She was interrupted by a sudden clamor in the infirmary ward outside. She gestured Neal to go see what it was and followed him out, pulling the storeroom door closed in her wake.
A tall man emerged in the infirmary doorway, carrying a young girl in his arms. Neal recognized him as Lady Alanna's husband, Baron George of Pirate's Swoop. A younger girl—clearly Alan's twin by her face and hair—walked alongside him.
"She's got a sprained ankle, I think," the baron told Alanna, laying his charge down gently on one of the beds. The girl winced as he adjusted her leg. "I'm sorry, lass," the man told her. He looked at Alanna. "Can you take care of her from here?" he asked. "We need her injuries healed as quick as possible. I'll take care of Aly, and look in on the boys—"
"We'll be fine," Lady Alanna said shortly, her eyes flicking over the girl on the bed, reading some sign that was invisible to Neal.
The baron moved around the infirmary bed and pecked Alanna on the cheek.
"It's good to see you," he told her. He nodded to Neal. "Squire Nealan," he said. "Welcome to Pirate's Swoop. I'll see you around, I've no doubt."
With that the baron turned and left, his daughter trotting in his wake.
"Diagnosis, Nealan," Lady Alanna said sharply. Neal turned to the patient; the girl, a scrap of humanity maybe eleven or twelve years old, dirty and red-faced from what looked like hard riding, regarded him apprehensively.
"Excuse me," he told her. Calling up a bit of his magic, he probed the girl's leg. She yelped. "Broken ankle," he told his knight-mistress. "Do you hurt anywhere else?"
In reply, the girl patted her breech-clad legs and muttered, "Saddle sores."
"I'll take care of those," Lady Alanna said quickly. "Nealan—can you set her ankle and mend the break?"
"Yes, my lady," he said. Calling up more of his Gift again, Neal placed his hands gently on the girl's ankle and willed it numb. "Can you feel it?" he asked her. She shook her head. Neal closed his eyes, using his Gift to see the dislocated fracture in her ankle. He tugged, gently; green tendrils nudged the broken pieces of bone back into place. He concentrated. Marrow, bone, and tendon knit back together. Blood vessels glowed green as they realigned and healed.
When he opened his eyes again, the girl's foot lay righted in his hands. Neal wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"We need to work on your efficiency," Lady Alanna told him. Neal blinked.
"What?"
"You put so much of yourself into every healing, you'll overextend when you're in a field hospital," she explained. "You need to use less magic to achieve more. There are tricks to it."
"Which you haven't taught me yet," Neal pointed out.
"Sleep," Alanna ordered their patient. "Do you need a draught?" The girl shook her head. Alanna patted her arm and turned to Neal. "Walk with me, Queenscove," she said. "Yes, there are tricks, but there is also practice. While we're here, I want you in this infirmary, every afternoon on weekdays. When we don't have patients we'll work on the academic part of healing. Weekends we're down in the village. Clear?"
"Yes, my lady."
She looked at him warily, as though expecting a retort. Neal gazed innocently back. Finally Alanna sighed.
"Go to the kitchens and get some food," she told him. "Once you've gotten some strength back, report to the library."
"Yes, my lady." Neal bowed and left, trying not to skip as he went. He was learning healing, at last!
Furnished with a fresh turnover from the kitchen, Neal got directions from the cook to the library, a beautiful and well-lit room at the heart of the keep. Lady Alanna was not there yet, so Neal had a look around, taking care not to touch the books lest they, too, might start screaming.
As he passed one of the doorways leading off the library, he heard Alanna's voice.
"I can't believe you're doing this." Neal froze. His knight-mistress's words radiated a sort of cold fury he had never heard before. "You wouldn't ask something like this of our daughter. What gives you the right to ask it of someone else's?"
"You think I'd take on a case like this if she had parents left?" the baron asked evenly.
"She's a child, George."
"Believe you me, lass, she isn't, after what she's seen. And if it rests your mind, we're only training her as of yet. And then we'll be putting her into place. She'll not be called on for some years yet."
"A sleeper agent—where, this time?"
Neal heard a sigh. "You know I can't tell you that, lass." The baron's voice got louder. "Nor you, Squire Nealan. So why don't you step in here where we can talk to you properly."
A/N: And just when you thought we were going about our business….plot! XD
Balor's Needle, of course, is under repairs because Kel reported the rusted stairs and now good king Jon has workmen going over every inch of the place for safety hazards.
On Lady Alanna's eldest son, thus saith Tamora Pierce: "As for Thom, there's no reason whatever to think he'd be like his uncle. Thom Cooper is bookish through love of books; Thom of Trebond was searching for secrets and power. Thom Cooper loves his younger sibs and kept an eye on them as long as he could, His greatest wish is to serve the crown, like his parents. He's really a sweet kid, once you get his attention. He loves animals, and if you want a babysitter, he's your guy. Even the crankiest babies quiet down for him. (Some of the other mage students at the university are married and have kids.)
"His biggest flaw, and the one that stands between him and royal service, is that he's not quick on his feet as a mage. He can cast perfect spells, given time and materials, but if he has to think something up in a hurry, based on only things at hand, he tends to freeze…
"Actually, mostly Thom's a school nerd, like Tim said. He takes more after Alanna's father than her brother. But you'd like him, once you got to know him (he's shy, but sweet). The way to get his attention is to talk magic intelligently. He also does the student thing, goes around the taverns with his buds arguing important philosophical issues."
I intend to have fun with this characterization. Thank you again for reading!