To the many impatient readers and reviewers: Arram still isn't in this chapter, but I do have another guest appearance.
Lady Lioness: Chapter Ten
Barony Olau was beautiful, and had enough land to please any rural noble. The orchards had been her favorite part, besides the comfortable manor, but the ruins of the Old Ones were just as impressive. The trip to Olau hadn't had any of the awkwardness Alanna had dreaded. Despite Myles and Eleni's obvious courtship, they had kept her included in the light conversation about horses, healing, and the oncoming winter.
George was still working in Corus to find just what Raoul would be facing, Faithful had not been lured into a long trip by horseback, and Eleni had been struck with inspiration for a new weaving, so Alanna and Myles were alone as they walked through the ruins.
Myles had already apologized several times for the suddenness of her new inheritance, but she was much more interested in the explanation. Roger had been a little too interested in Alanna, it seemed, and she didn't have powerful enough allies to protect her if he decided that she was a threat. Mages of lesser power had vanished or had ended up mysteriously crippled. That had happened to mages with no connection to Roger but proximity, let alone known powers that had already defied him. If such a fate happened to a baroness, the entire country would look closely.
Myles had proposed it to his old friend Lord Alan as an excellent way to gain a worthy heir, and a way to not leave Alanna pressured about a dowry. In light of Thom's mishandling of Lord Alan's funds for both twins, Alan was pleased to agree with the offer. Duke Turomot had agreed with none of the expected arguments, leaving Alanna with a large amount of money to accompany her Book of Gold nobility status. She wasn't fully protected, still, but Roger might risk civil war by killing a rich and connected noble too injudiciously.
That was a heavy topic, however, so they readily changed the topic to speak about the Old Ones and the ruins they had left behind.
Myles had just reached a pause in his stories about the Old Ones and their writings when she spied the storm door. "Have you ever been down here?" Alanna asked.
"I've never been able to lift the cover."
"Here, I'll help this time," Alanna said. She never had been one for restrictive undergarments, so it was easy to bend over and grasp the old iron ring that had somehow escaped any sign of rust. "Help me out, Myles?"
He bit back a comment before bending to pull with one hand. "As I was about to say, I've tried this before, and with…" His words trailed away as they pulled open the trapdoor to reveal a staircase. "With the blacksmith's son."
"It's about leverage, then." Alanna ignored the part where Myles would certainly know more than she would on that subject. She called a glowing purple dome to her hand and peered down the dark stairs. "I'll be back in a minute, unless you're coming with me?"
Myles was pale as chalk. "Alanna…"
She shrugged off the hand that had clutched weakly at her shoulder and descended into the darkness. It was a very dangerous decision, perhaps, but something was compelling her. Alanna doubted she would have been able to resist, so she would try to follow on her own terms. She walked down the stairs slowly, feeling a constricting force settle all around her, and was not surprised when her purple witchlight faded to nothing. Her magic meant nothing in the blackness, and she probably should have listened to Myles.
She was probably going to die, and beyond the part where Myles would look terrible by association with her death, she was sorry that it would hurt him. Her death would hurt George, Myles, Eleni, Raoul, Gary, Faithful, Salma, her father… it would even hurt her brother.
She knew that her death would hurt Thom, no matter what had happened between them, and regretted that she wouldn't be able to leave the blackness to pull her twin away from Roger.
She had thought that she would be afraid, but she only felt peaceful. There was no use worrying that they would be hurt when she wouldn't be able to help them, and in time they would find the same peace with her death.
Suddenly, light blazed around her, and the Goddess smiled on her for the second time.
"You have made wonderful allies, my child, but it will take more than friendship to complete your task. You will need to fight, and fight more than in spirit."
The blaze was coming from the pommel stone of a sword, bright as lightning. Alanna blinked tears away from her eyes at the intensity of the light as she stepped through the thick air to accept the sword.
In an instant, the Goddess was gone, and so was the sense of pressure. She climbed the stairs in a daze to find Myles at their head, damp from the light rain falling all around him.
"Alanna! You're… Mithros, child, let's get you inside."
She let Myles fuss, too tired to put up any sort of struggle. Eleni took one look at her before taking over. Myles was trusted to hold onto the sword while Eleni bustled Alanna into a warm bath, warmed towels, a clean nightdress, and then into bed. When Alanna woke hours later, she could hear voices down the hall.
"Never mind how I know," George was saying when she had walked close enough to make out individual words. "That sword's meant for her, Myles, and it isn't worth trying to coddle her a day. There are some forces no man should try to alter, and I say that as someone what's treated with a god."
"George!"
"I would've told ye, mother, but you'd worry—much like this. It ended on good terms, and he owes me a favor that I just may need to collect by the time all this is over. Alanna already knows, so the two of you should. Roger's found a scapegoat for the nasty fever he brewed up, probably with Ozorne's help, and it's a fourteen-year-old boy." George's brogue was nearly gone, but Alanna suspected that was because the thief was reasoning with Myles on Olau's grounds. George seemed to have three reasons for every action he took.
"He would have been eight when the spell was cast," Myles protested. "Just how powerful is he that anyone would believe such a lie?"
"Powerful beyond my ken, I'd imagine," George returned calmly. "He's strong enough to scare Ozorne and Roger both, so I mean to recruit him to our side of things—don't waffle, Myles. We're against Roger, so we're not on his side and may well be honest."
Alanna chose that as her moment to enter. "It will come to sides, Myles," she said from the doorway. They all were sitting around a table, with her sword on the table's center. "I'm supposed to fight with that sword, in time, and it would be easier if I wasn't hiding from you. You know that I have the raw basics of weaponry." She took the open seat beside George.
"Marek was quite certain of it, lass, and he's a fine eye for swordwork." George looked pointedly at their present company. "I believe all of us know but Myles, but I'll share secret for secret. It isn't easy to become a king of thieves without more backstabbing than I saw, but I had the advantage of a trickster god. I'd rather not use names lest he take it as an invitation, the god's vainer than a cat."
Alanna toyed with her ember pendant as she gathered the courage to speak. The Goddess had praised her allies, and these were some of the people she trusted the most. "I suspect you've always known, Eleni, and I haven't wanted to tell Myles within the palace. After my mother's funeral, the Goddess came to me. I'd been following a kitten into the woods when I saw her. The Goddess gave me the pendant I always wear, but it was an ember in her hand." The explanation seemed too simple, but there was no use dwelling on the strange story. Myles would believe or he wouldn't, but she was nearly certain that he would choose to accept the tale.
"With the sword…" Alanna stroked the crystal at the end of the hilt, but it didn't so much as spark. "I thought I was going to die down those stairs, but just when I was thinking about Thom, the goddess came, and the sword was brighter than anything. It looked like a lightning strike."
Myles looked stunned, which she had expected, but Eleni looked pleased. "I knew you were under the Goddess's protection, child, but not that the Goddess had chosen you. It is a hard path, but you're doing quite well with it so far."
"The sword is yours, lass. I can show you the basics, but for th' rest… you did good work befriending Gary. Aside from Alex of Tirragen, Gary's the best, and you'll not want to mix with Tirragen." George looked reluctant to share the last detail. "Tirragen's forever jealous that Roger chose Thom as squire."
Myles touched the flat of the sword's blade carefully. "It looks like a remnant of the Old Ones, and who better to dispense it than the Goddess? They called her the Dark Mother, when they wrote of her." Something in his expression stilled when he looked at Alanna, like he was looking at royalty and making an effort to be formal. "It's your sword, Alanna."
"A sword that grand certainly deserves a name," Eleni said.
It was just as easy as naming Faithful. "Lightning," Alanna replied, testing the edge very carefully. It sliced into the pad of her index finger, a shallow wound fixed a moment later with a burst of violet magic. She watched the healing with a hand on the ember, following the patterns her Gift made.
"I can see the Gift with this pendant, and it's in the right colors for the person using it."
"Roger's is orange," George offered. "I can see magic and most else without artifacts, a little specialty of mine. It's not the Gift, but sight serves me well."
"Well." Myles nudged the hilt of the blade toward her. "I've taught pages, and I wager you'll be a much faster study after your time of watching the young sorcerers at work. I'll hint Gary along if he proves recalcitrant, but I suspect this is just the thing that will keep him gainfully occupied with Raoul gone. It will necessarily involve sneaking about and some deception of the conservative minds, and he'll quite enjoy that alone."
"With Raoul gone, Gary can be my new beau," Alanna said thoughtfully, pushing her chair away from the table to pace. She heard George choke on his wine behind her, but trusted that his mother wouldn't let him aspirate the drink while Alanna was distracted. "Raoul and I were having fun playing at courtship, but I can be desolate that he's gone. Gary can comfort me for a while, and look much better by that association. When I break it off later, Cythera can comfort him, and then all involved should be happy," Alanna finished triumphantly.
Myles chuckled. "So Cythera is sweet on the young man! Here I was thinking that Gary would come out of his depression straight into unrequited affections. That's a far better story, Alanna, and I suspect your friendship with him can involve lessons in swords."
"Gary was all sorts of impressed that I knew the king of thieves," Alanna offered, retaking her seat. "All I said was that Eleni was my tutor, and he guessed from the surname."
"Perfect. I'll drop in, then." George looked very cheerful for someone that had nearly choked on his wine. "It's honest enough for Gary to come to my mother's, she can officially chaperone the two of you while Gary starts exploring the city again.
"Unofficially, he can teach you swordswomanship and I can see just who's been talking t' strangers." George sounded a little too friendly, and there was something very wolfish in his smile. Alanna had been friends with him long enough that she only regretted someone had been dim enough to give Eleni's name and cross the King of Thieves.
"Gary's lessons will keep me out of trouble," Alanna remarked, with the strong feeling she was about to spend entirely too much time being sweaty and tired. "Did you get the information to Raoul, George?"
George bowed elaborately. "But of course, milady," he said in a put-on courtier's voice. Alanna giggled while he resumed his natural brogue. "Raoul had the timing to catch me with th' last drop. I played the librarian, but your barbarian of a friend's smarter than he looks. That's for the best, because apart from the face Sir Goldenlake looks to have the wits of a stump."
Alanna might have taken umbrage, but it was true. From the back, Raoul did look like he wouldn't have a spare thought. "Maybe I can have all my friends working together, then. Myles, your little conspiracy in the palace is running the place now, but that will fall apart when Roger makes his next move. I don't know what to do, but I don't think I have the leverage to save King Roald."
Myles and Eleni made the sign against evil. George leaned back in his chair. "I thought much the same," George admitted. "Roald's inner circle is gone. Gareth the Elder was his closest confidant beside Lianne, and with both them and Jonathan gone, Roald's not left with much reason to cling to his throne. At best, he abdicates and might live a while, but he won't take that throne back without more gumption than he has left. We need a champion that can win even over Roger's appeal."
"Would Roger's rule be so bad?" Myles asked, running a hand through his thinning hair. "You're discussing regicide as if it's a given, and planning a revolution."
"Regicide is a given," Eleni said crisply. "Roger wants power, and Roald is in his way. Even if Roald does manage to die naturally, Roger will have helped him along. A man willing to kill his own blood will never be king when there's a thing I can do to help."
Myles looked abashed. "I'll speak to the poetry circle about contingency plans, then. Harailt does the wards for us, and they're a tricky bit of work. They're not very powerful, but they make the hearer remember only what he expects. Harailt's an old hand at looking unimpressive until his strength is needed."
"My thieves like stable nations that don't mind a bit of controlled crime. The Lord Provost doesn't chase me too hard provided I have th' rest in line," George said. "My boys and girls don't like Uncle Roger, and we're starting to make it clear. His men never get back to the palace with full belt-purses."
"Gary and Raoul despise Roger, and they were both especially devoted to Jonathan." Alanna felt a fleeting pang for the long-dead prince. Somehow, she knew that any friend of Gary and Raoul would have been a close friend of hers. If she had been a page, just like she had played at through her childhood… if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Still, she thought she would have liked the stubborn prince.
"They're at the heart of the young nobles," Myles said thoughtfully. "Douglass of Veldine, Raoul's old squire, and Sacherell of Wellam, Turomot's grand-nephew, are both at the Scanran border now, but they were devoted to Jonathan. All the young men of that age also lost Francis of Nond to the sweating sickness."
She made the sign against evil for the dead man, another ally lost to Roger.
Someday, Roger would pay for what he had done. Alanna's smile was every bit as wolfish as George's had been, had she only realized. "Then the next trick shall be getting everyone ready to stand against Roger, when the time comes. After that, the next bit of work is to have them all working together. From there, Roger's allies are still weak. He has the dubious support of Alex of Tirragen and Delia of Eldorne, but most nobles still feel alienated from him." Her expression fell as she considered the last piece. "He also has my brother."
"How strong is your brother in the Gift?" Myles asked. "I was never quite sure."
"At least my strength, if not stronger," Alanna admitted. "I'll need to start learning defense and attacks. From what I know, fights between the Gifted all very flashy, but I imagine I could wreak enough havoc adapting healing together with known spells." Several of the more famous bits of combat magic took minimal finesse to cause damage, but she imagined that working her magic in its specific forms could do far better. She wouldn't have the range, but she would be able to incapacitate most anyone within her range before they had time for a spoken spell.
If Myles gaped at such a casual mention of changing old spells to her own purpose, Alanna was too caught in what she might be able to do. "I don't want to fight Thom, but I will. I might be the only person that can stand against him or Roger."
"Harailt is too academic to be much help in a fight." Myles frowned, looking as if he would take personal responsibility for that failure.
George slid a creased piece of paper onto the table, unfolding the parchment almost reverently. "That's where our newest recruit comes into play." The parchment showed a detailed ink drawing of a dusky-skinned young man with a long nose and a dreamy look in his eyes. "Meet Arram Draper. He's the reason that I was delayed in getting t' Olau. Carthak granted the warrant of extradition just yesterday, and it'll be a week or two for him to get to Corus, depending on the currents this time of year. He'll have a very loud, very showy trial, and then a very public date of execution set. I imagine he'll be in no condition for much of anything by then."
Myles considered the drawing upside-down. When Alanna had reached to edge the picture closer to her, no one had disputed her claim. "Who passed this on to you, George?"
"One of the Carthaki palace mutes is an artist—the slaves, that is. Carthak keeps slaves, still, and the ones serving the most important are made t' not talk. As it happens, a few of them carry messages to the stable when His Imperial Majesty wants a ride, and to one of my men in that stable has refused to come on over to freedom. Revolution might get 'im over here, so that'll be something.
"Musenda has kept sending me updates about young Master Draper. To hear it, Draper's the worst hand with a horse that th' world has yet to see, but the boy's gentle with them." George looked at the portrait, letting a softer look than usual show. "For all the times Draper fell off the mildest gelding, or a mischievous stallion bucked him, Arram never once raised a hand to one of those beasts. The boy even had the sense to please and thank you with all the slaves no matter who teased, and Musenda's right fond of him.
"Draper's a good man, and knows Roger for the snake he is. I've already taken a look at the cell they set aside for that boy. The door's warded so tight nobody with a single trace of Gift can pass through without a mage of Roger's caliber working th' door while some other pre-approved mage keeps the ward-keys in place," George explained with a broad grin. "Th' wards tie into the personal core of anyone gettin' too close."
Alanna's slow smile matched the light in George's eyes. "Mages. The door's probably warded tight enough that not a mouse could get through, and all while they forgot the window!"
"Exactly, lass. When they get him in that jail cell, I'm taking that boy a message from his old friend in the stables, then I'm taking Draper straight out the window.
"He'll be on the third floor, but that's not all that bad. I'll be on th' roof waitin' for the late shift of guards, then I'll shimmy on down a good rope. There's some charm already on the rope by my mother that'll have it coil itself up again when I'm ready for it and say th' right word, to not leave hints behind. I'm plannin' t' carry the boy on down, and know I can manage with him for all that he's a very tall fellow and most of it's elbows and knees."
Alanna studied the face of the fourteen-year-old mage one last time before pushing the parchment back to George. By all reports, he had an amazingly strong Gift, but she was more reassured by Arram Draper's good nature. It was past time that her little conspiracy grew into something more. Her ember was warm at her throat when she took up the sword; she had the distinct feeling that the Goddess approved of their latest gambit.