the_lioness | Early 449 HE

Early 449 HE

Alanna is in the library, but she might as well be in the stables for all the attention she is paying the scroll spread out on the table before her.

It's her father's (as yet unfinished) report on Immortals to the king. She'd read enough. Now she's busy contemplating what it all means.

In an hour, she's due to attend a meeting of Jon's most trusted advisers. Alanna intends to come prepared.

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A soft knock on the door and Jon's head appears in the doorway.

"Lioness. I thought I might find you here."

He steps in the room, his expression worried for all his light tone.

"Your Highness," she offers in greeting, then does away with any semblance of formality by remaining in her chair and pushing one out for him with her foot. "I haven't forgotten about the meeting, don't worry."

"I didn't think you had."

Jon takes the seat and gestures towards the paper. "Something there has you involved."

"Aye."

Alanna bites her lip, eyes still glazed over like her thoughts are miles away, and nods. Suddenly, she straightens and fixes him with a serious look.

"It's Father's report on the types of Immortals that have been sighted. He hasn't finished it yet, so I can't show you. He'd have my head. But I've read enough to know we've never been up against anything like this."

Jon sits back. If Alanna is this worried, this can't be good.

"We have to prepare ourselves and the realm. Discover ways to fight these...creatures before they decide that human flesh is an easy target."

She shakes her head swiftly.

"We'll find a way. We always do," she says with more confidence than she feels. "What concerns me most is how they got here. According to Myles, they were never meant to escape their imprisonment in the Divine Realms."

Jon nods. "I remember coming across references to them in my readings when we were pages."

He exchanges a quick smile with her, but his expression turns serious again. "It would take an incredibly powerful mage to open the Realms. I wouldn't even know how to start researching a spell of that type."

Thom would.

So would Roger.

Swallowing hard, Alanna shakes her head and peers absently at the scroll.

"Ask Arram," she suggests, using his real name on purpose. Then, "Carthak's having a rough time of it."

Jon nods, his eyes narrowing. "I think that would kill 2 birds with one stone. I don't trust Ozorne and I suspect that this rough time they're having might stem from being the source of the trouble."

They look at each other, knowing more than most what desperation can drive people to do, and each is aware on a primitive level what Carthak could gain if their suspicions are correct.

Tortall once suffered when the land was ravaged and couldn't feed her people. The difference is that Jon never considered looking elsewhere to solve his problems.

There's always a price.

"We must, in this new climate, be certain of who we can trust," she warns him softly.

Jon nods. "I think we need to extend our spy network, especially by getting more people in to Carthak."

He sits back again considering. "I wonder if Numair still has contacts we can use."

"Possibly," Alanna says, "though they couldn't know how we found them. I think his continued anonymity, as far as Carthak is concerned, is of the utmost importance."

They might have had a rocky start, due in large part to her own reticence, but she now counts Numair among her closest friends.

"George and Myles will certainly want to talk to him." She sighs. "And will we discuss Lord Sinthya at the meeting?"

He's been Watched for some time now, and Numair seems eager to go in himself.

"Of course. I wouldn't risk his life after what he has gone through to come here."

Jon gives her a small smile. "Come now. George and Myles will not be too hard on him. Surely their devotion to their work is inspiring."

He nods, growing serious again. "Yes, and in depth. He needs to be taken care of, and soon."

His smile is returned. Somehow, she must think of a way to be present during that conversation. It ought to be entertaining.

A meeting entertaining? These are odd times, indeed.

"He's become even more vocal in his dislike for the queen and her work," she growls. "Yet he's a coward at heart. People like him don't make such opinions increasingly public unless they are stupidly confident of support." A look. "But who here would offer him that backing?"

Jon shakes his head, returning her look. "I don't know, but I certainly intend to find out. Thayet is doing far too much good for this kingdom for anyone to have the audacity to disparage her publicly."

He grins humorously. "Besides the fact that she's my wife and I'm tempted to duel anyone who dares look at her wrong."

"That's as it should be." A firm nod. "And you are both doing far too much good to be treated thusly."

Alanna has no love for Lord Sinthya. Not even a little.

Sighing, she pushes away from the table and deliberately turns a teasing look on him. The meeting will be serious enough, and Alanna gets the feeling that if they don't smile when they can in the coming months, they will forget how. "In that case, I shall have to remember to look at her wrong. It might do you good to be forced into a duel. Wouldn't want you getting soft, now would we?"

Jon rolls his eyes. "Just because you bestest everyone in our training years at the sword shouldn't give you a big head. I've been keeping up, despite what you may think." Slight exaggeration there. Being king doesn't give one much time for trainig.

Alanna laughs, clear and loud; the sound echoes through the dusty library.

"Relax, Sire. I delight in goading your own swollen head, as you well know. Truth is, I miss our sparring matches. I of all people am aware of how well you handle a blade," she tells him, starting to gather the scrolls and a small pile of books. She waits until she's out of reach to add, "For a king."

"I miss them too."

Thwap. That would be the sound of a scroll hitting the back of Alanna's head. No one ever said you had to be mature to be king.

"Well," she drawls, balancing the scrolls and books in one arm so she can rub the back of her head, "the practice courts should be free this afternoon. I'll meet you there."

Her smile, the one she turns away to hide from him, is satisfied. He's momentarily distracted. A thwap to the back of the head with Myles' research is a small price to pay to take Jon's mind off what they face, both at the meeting and beyond. At least for a little while.

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Early 449 HE

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