Carnassials

Pogona Prose

Blurb: Numair agrees to be a Gallan war mage when he escapes from Carthak. Years later, an ungifted woman offers to work for the terrible, monstrous Black Mage, if he will teach her about magic. Amazed that she isn't afraid, Numair agrees to let her into his home - but Daine soon finds out that fear might be her only defense against what lies within.

D/N, AU set in the same timeline as TI.

A/N: I'm just playing with this idea at the moment, as I haven't posted any Immortals fanfiction for a long time. Please let me know if you like it and leave critique, as it will help me decide whether to keep going. Thanks!

Chapter 1: The Interview

The girl sat awkwardly on a finely-carved oak chair and stared at the mage. Beside the opulence of his rooms, her brown dress and the tatty grey scarf around her curly hair was ridiculous. It was so unusual to see a skivvy like her outside of the kitchens that Numair had laughed when she had knocked at the door. It was a terrible start - her eyes had darkened at once, turning nervous politeness into outright hostility. Even when he tried to apologise, she had ignored him.

"I'm here about the job." she said through gritted teeth, "The castle steward said you were expecting me. I can leave, if you'd rather?"

"No - no. I'm expecting you." he replied quickly, and waved her in. It was no good making conversation about the weather, or even asking the girl's name. This wasn't going to work, and they both knew it.

Still, Numair had promised Velos that he would find a servant, and he owed the man too much to back out of it now. His whole life - from the rooms in the Gallan fortress to the clothes on his back - belonged to the prince. He sat opposite the servant and tugged fretfully at his nose.

"What's your…"

"Daine." she said quickly, and then winced at interrupting the question. "I'm sorry, sir… I mean, my lord… my name is Daine."

"Daine what?"

"Daine, my lord." she repeated stubbornly. Her voice was soft, thick with a rural Gallan accent. It suited her perfectly, matching the tattered peasant dress that had made Numair's hopes fall when he opened the door. The sarcasm was a surprise, though, and the man smiled humorlessly at it.

"I was asking for your surname, Daine."

"I know that." she returned quietly, "Will knowing it change your thinking? Would I make a better servant if I had the name of a king?"

"You're not a king."

"No, I'm not. But I'm a good worker." the girl risked a small smile, "Not that a name would prove that one way or the other."

Numair gave her a grudging smile and leaned back in his chair. He knew the Gallans were precious about their names, and the girl's evasion had already given him the answer. No doubt it would end in '-sri', labelling her as clearly as her accent and her clothes. By the guarded look in her eyes, he knew that Daine was waiting for him to figure it out. She thought he was slow, then, but not stupid. The sudden realisation that she was sizing him up, as much as he was her, made him want to laugh. Relaxing, he met her eyes and saw her smile.

"I do need a hard worker," he admitted, "I'm not easy to live with."

"Seems like it." she gestured vaguely around the messy room. "I heard stories, but they didn't tell the half of it. They said you were dangerous, not untidy."

"You heard stories?"

Daine nodded seriously, unabashed, "I've been skivvying in the barracks here, for the recruits, you know? They don't pay much, but it's more than I made working for my old master. A horse trader he was. I worked with him from when I left home for a fair few years, until he beat the poor creatures once too often. We found him face down in the mud with hoof prints on his back, and the paddock gate all smashed down and not a horse in sight! No-one wanted to hire me after that, so I thought I'd come here to the city. They asked for people to work with the Black Mage. Not many stepped forward. I reckon I might even be the only one."

She was right, and he was impressed by her steady reasoning. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, you're a fine lord looking for a servant. You'd think people would leap at it! But the castle stewards had to come all the way down to the barracks looking. They were offering bribes! If someone from the castle had volunteered, then they wouldn't have bothered."

"Perhaps I should have offered a larger bribe?" he prompted. She cut her eyes up at him.

"It wasn't the pay that was the problem. Nobody wanted to do it."

"Apart from Mistress Daine-My-Lord, it seems. Why did you volunteer?"

She reddened, "I need the work, sir. I'm not one to be afraid. I can quake in my boots, I guess, but then I'll starve come winter. They say it'll be cold this year, and the recruits will be leaving soon. If they dismiss me then I'm finished. I've got no home to go back to."

"Why not?" he blurted without thinking, and winced.

"Bandits." she looked away, and he saw her neck flush red. "Do I have to tell you?"

He shook his head quickly. "I don't… I won't pry into your life, girl. I was told that you were hardworking, and honest, and that you wouldn't be afraid of me. If that's true, then it's enough to be going on with. Is it true?"

She nodded slowly, and he smiled. Neither of them met each other's eyes, because they knew what was coming next. Daine spoke first, because the silence was too awful to bear.

"I heard your wife died, and left the baby behind. That the baby was the one who… who…" she shook her head, met his eyes for a flashing moment, and then looked away. "They were looking for a nurse who wouldn't be scared because it… it has the gift, almost as strong as yours. I'm not scared of that. I'm used to caring for things that bite. Dogs, ponies - you know, animals. When they're small and scared, they don't know they have teeth."

He laughed, because thinking about his wife still hurt too much to admit. "Are you trying to impress me by comparing my son to a dog, girl?"

"It's a compliment." she said. Numair was bewildered to see that she meant it. The strange grunt he made caused her lips to quirk somewhere between nerves and stubbornness. "I don't have to flatter you, my lord. I just have to prove I'll be good with your son. Well, I shall. And if I'm not, then I'm sure he'll set my hair on fire to teach me a lesson, and then you can send me packing."

"You're very blunt."

She hesitated, and then her voice grew softer. "I don't mean to be. I wanted to say that… that when the bandits came, they…" she swallowed hard, "Well, my family died too. So I know how grief feels, I reckon, enough to hold my tongue and stay out of your way. I work hard, my lord. I'm strong and stubborn, and even though you don't like me, I won't do anything to make you hate me."

He raised an eyebrow, "Why don't you think I like you?"

She tilted her head to the side like a bird. "You decided that the second you set eyes on me. I bet you were hoping for some pretty, gentle lady to help you out, but instead you got a little grubby peasant. But I'll stay out of your way, and you'll be grateful for me, for I'm fair sure no-one else will volunteer."

Numair laughed, embarrassed by her sharp reading of him. "You won't see much of me anyway."

She nodded, meeting his gaze carefully because she already knew what kept him so busy. Numair was sure that the whole of Galla told their children stories about him, to make them behave. Prince Velos and his pet mage…

"Does that mean I got the job?"

"I…" Numair started, and then hesitated. He leaned closer, lowering his voice, "Tell me something, and be honest. Why aren't you scared?"

"Honestly? It's because I want to learn from you." she said, and her voice was quick and suddenly serious. He gaped at her, and then barked out a short laugh.

"You don't have the gift."

"I know that. Do you think I got through eighteen years of this sweet life without knowing I can't summon sparks?" she retorted scornfully. "Do you have to have magic to be able to learn about it?"

"No, but what's the point?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Sometimes strange things happen, don't they? I want to know what… what might make them happen."

The look in her eye made Numair's skin prickle. He hadn't seen anyone with that look since being in Carthak, sharing the mysteries of the magical world with his fellow students. He'd thought that part of his life was done with. Nobody was interested in arcane secrets in the cold Gallan mountains. Why whisper when you could roar? Numair's eyes gleamed, and he leaned forward with a surge of interest.

"What sort of strange things?"

The girl recoiled, looking panicked as if she'd said too much. Her fingers fluttered to her mouth, and she looked around wildly for a second before putting on her brash armour.

"The sort of things you'd never notice, my lord, what with all the prying." she snapped, "I just want to see how magic works. We don't get many chances to do that in the kitchens, since none of you high-and-mighty mages come down to visit, so I figured I'd have to find a mage for myself. You'll do, I guess. Do I have the job or not?"

He grinned and reached out to shake her hand, "You'd better not teach my son those manners, Daine."

She beamed, her body relaxing in delight, "I won't, I promise."