the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

As time passes and danger fails to present itself, life at the Swoop (for some) settles into a more relaxed routine. The Riders begin taking the trainees outside the castle walls for training exercises. The number of archers kept on the walls is reduced. The children are gradually allowed more freedom.

They still assist Daine, however. They had made a promise and their mothers see that they honor it.

One afternoon, they find spots in the shade outside the Riders' stable and help Daine mend tack. Thom and Roald tell her about their plans to become knights. Kally, who is really too young to do anything but run a rag over a stirrup leather, nods eagerly and says "Me too!" Grace smiles and suggests she'll see them at court, but in a very different capacity.

"D'you want your shield, Jamie?" asks Daine.

The grinning boy never gets a chance to answer. Through the gate rides a messenger at full gallop. He barely lets his horse come to a full stop before he's out of the saddle and announcing, "Lioness. Message for the Lioness."

Grace's keen eyes run over the man's dusty clothing, the sweat on his face; she knows what this means. "Great. She has to go away again."

Roald sighs. "It's like Mama in raiding season."

"We're lucky to have mothers like ours," insists Thom, though his eyes are worried.

Jamie says nothing, just snakes his arm around the young princess.

"How about a run to the beach?" Daine might read animals better than humans, but it's not hard to see what this lot is thinking. "The seals aren't that far out. If we ask nice, maybe they'll come in."

Grace shakes her head, watching the messenger follow a servant inside. "Maybe I should wait."

"I'll have Gimpy keep watch. He'll fetch us if they saddle Darkmoon," Daine tries, glancing at the bloodhound.

Thom chews on his lip. Jamie's lively face looks oddly expressionless. And everything Grace feels is in her eyes: worry, confusion and lingering anger.

"Let's go look at the seals," Daine presses, ushering them down to the beach.

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Inside, Alanna is telling X more about Lord Sinthya and the probability that he'd been working with the Stormwings.

There have been many such explanations since the following evening. X is now well-briefed on Tortall; Tortall's enemies, both openly acknowledged and not; Immortals; the Gift and its many uses, often with demonstrations by both Alanna and Numair; Wild Magic; Tortallan weaponry; and, of course, places in the castle small children use to hide.

Alanna leans forward in her chair, fingers laced together. "I can't fathom that Ozorne would see any information Sinthya fed him as enough to offset our undeniable advantage. No, it will come down to the Immortals, whatever he's planning. If only we could see."

X tucks one leg underneath herself, head tilting very slightly.

"You have met him. And seen his previous campaigns."

Beat.

"The Immortals are a new resource. A weapon. Extrapolation will not help?"

Preparing for the worst-case scenario rarely actually hurts -- though in a world where troop movements are not instantaneous this may be more problematic.

A nod, as she considers.

"He's driven by more than greed, that's clear. He won't want to risk another bout of food riots," she thinks aloud. They've been over parts of this, but looking at it from another angle might help. "What he needs is farmland. That makes most of the North a distraction, nothing more. But first he'd have-"

"Lioness." Alanna is cut off by George's man, who is in turn interrupted by the dusty, weary messenger: "Lioness, you must come immediately. It's an emergency."

X is already unfolding from her seat, expression gone blank.

Her gaze flicks from Alanna to the messenger, and stays there.

Waiting.

She's still working on the Ozorne problem with half her attention, though.

For now.

Alanna remains seated, all her instincts screaming that it might be her last chance to do so for awhile.

"What's happened?" she asks the messenger, eyes locked on his. Everything else has faded from her attention but this man and his message.

Jon, she thinks silently. Goddess keep him.

"Fief Mandash," the man gasps. "I'm from Fief Mandash."

Alanna gives a curt nod. The man's livery is right.

"The lord was at table. All of them were. Then the ogres came. Three of them! Lioness, he's dead. The lord and his son are dead."

Something very near fury darkens Alanna's eyes.

X's question is swift and reflexive, her delivery flat as ever.

"The ogres are uninjured?"

This seems like the most relevant information to have right now -- the dead will take care of themselves.

It does not take much.

The messenger glances at X. "Aye, m'lady. They-"

Alanna doesn't allow him to finish. "And the rest of the family?" she snaps.

"The ogres have them trapped in the keep." Which is what he'd intended to say, anyway.

"I warned him," Alanna growls. "He wouldn't hire soldiers. I told him that he needed to arm his own people!"

"That is not helpful," X says. "Now."

Beat.

"And there is not a garrison nearby. You said."

After a sharp look at X, Alanna affirms, "We're the nearest king's representatives," slowly and with great restraint.

It is no small feat to rein in her temper.

"Have twenty of our men prepare to ride out within the half hour. I'll need Darkmoon and-" another glance at X "-Mithros both."

To X: "That is if you'll join me."

"Yes," X says, promptly.

"I will be useful there."

Beat.

"And maybe there will be new information. When we come back."

George's man nods and hurries toward the courtyard, already barking orders. A small, not particularly pleasant smile curves Alanna's lips.

"How big are they?" she asks the messenger.

"Seven, eight feet?" he guesses, swallowing hard. "But I've never seen something that moves like them, Lioness."

"We'll go," she says. "We'll handle them. You should rest, eat when you're able. Fief Mandash can ask no more of you this day."

"Thank you," he murmurs, moving away.

Alanna watches his retreat for a moment, then asks X: "Do you know how to ride?"

"I have ridden before," X says promptly.

"When we saved Parker from the dragon."

Beat.

"I do not get saddle sore."

"That is useful," Alanna remarks, utilizing what she thinks might be X's favorite word on purpose. "Dragons?"

Her eyes light up with interest.

"Kitty gave me a dragon."

Dragons are much more interesting than ogres, but at least Alanna is up and moving as she asks.

X is moving, as well. Her preparations will take a lot less time. Unless she needs to find more appropriate clothing.

"She did not give you Lockheed."

She sounds very sure of that.

"Norman is bigger. And he talks."

Beat.

"And he is not purple."

"That's unfortunate. Purple is a great color," she says, walking faster now. "She gave me Puff, Lockheed's mate."

In her head she's cataloging her gear: sword at her side, mail and helm near Darkmoon's stall, shield in the same place.

Suddenly she jogs forward and catches up to one of the trainees who had been pressed into service. "Do you know where my children have gone?"

"The beach," Evin answers. "With Daine."

Alanna nods and lets him go. "Adam will be alerted by now. I need to say goodbye. Do you want anything? Weapons?" Beat. "A cloak?"

X tilts her head slightly, considering Alanna's question.

"A cloak would be useful."

Beat.

Beat.

"I like purple."

She can ask about Puff another time. Probably.

That gets a laugh, if a distracted one. "You have good taste!" Alanna calls back over her shoulder.

She's already on her way to find Adam. He deserves to hear it from her, as well as a private goodbye.

When she makes it back down to the stable, everything is almost ready. Her eyes are serious, her stride quick and determined. She's carrying a cloak, woolen and thus slightly too heavy for the weather, but it's a dark purple. "For you," she says, giving it to X.

Someone hands her the mail and starts helping her into it.

"Thank you," X says, taking the cloak and pulling it on. She leaves the hood down.

She does not think that level of concealment will be necessary any time soon.

And then X waits. Again. At least she is careful to keep out of the way.

Mid-preparation, Alanna gives X an unexpected smile. She appreciates that her friend is there and ready to go with an almost unbelievable minimum of fuss.

"My shield," she says, once she's mounted. A hostler hands it up to her. Dressed in combat gear, the company of guards, a mix of Olau and Swoop men, stands ready. Her mouth thins into a proud, stubborn looking line when she sees her banner dancing in the breeze. "I've quick business on the beach," she tells them. "Wait for me at the gate."

She nods at X, then toward the beach; it's an invitation to join her. Darkmoon moves out at her command, easily overtaking the bloodhound traveling the same path.

X pulls herself up on Mithros, a big but reasonably even-tempered chestnut, and turns him to follow Darkmoon.

She can feel eyes on her back, but these are Alanna's men.

It is okay.

Probably.

The children -- all of them, she notes with both relief and resignation -- are clustered around a group of seals near the rocks. At the bottom of the slope, Alanna draws Darkmoon to an abrupt halt, hangs her shield and sword on the pommel of her saddle and dismounts.

The rocks will have to serve as a mounting block when she's done.

She drops into a crouch and watches the children approach. Soon, she realizes, she won't have to lean down much to be on a level with her three. Biting her lip, she pushes the thought aside.

"You know Fief Mandash?" she asks, taking turns looking each of them in the eye. "They've got ogres -- three of them. They killed the lord and his son and have the rest of the family trapped in the keep. I have to go. We're the closest king's representatives."

Jamie tilts his head, watching his Ma as she speaks. He's heard similar stories before (minus the ogres), they all have, so he focuses on memorizing the shape of her eyes and the way her coppery hair glints in the sun.

Quietly, he steps forward and wraps an arm around her neck. She feels solid and alive, and that is far more reassuring than any reasons she can give for leaving them again.

He has nothing to say. Grace will undoubtedly say enough. She always does.

Grace might surprise him.

She certainly surprises herself.

Blinking rapidly, she lets her eyes roam over the company of guards waiting at the gate, then Laura. She looks at the woman from Milliways and wants so badly to say Don't let her die that some of it must be visible on her face.

At last, Grace nods.

It's Thom who finally voices what they are all thinking, in his practical, thoughtful way.

"Mama, ogres are huge."

X looks at all four of them, expression still and almost placid.

Almost.

And then --

"I have fought creatures as big as houses. Before."

Beat.

"It will be okay."

A creature is easier to explain than a robot, here. Or an alien spaceship. And demons -- mentioning those would be impolitic. Probably.

X is learning to be careful.

Valiantly resisting the urge to ask what size houses, Grace nods again and smiles at Laura.

It helps.

So does the company of guards waiting.

"The messenger says the male is eight feet or so," Alanna informs them. "That's not bad, and he's the biggest."

She smiles at them and reaches out to snag Grace's hand. After a quick squeeze she pulls the girl in for a hug and whispers something in her ear; whatever it is makes Grace smile.

"Mind your father, Raph and Maude, and don't get under people's feet. Try to stay out of trouble," she tells them with a wink, standing. She no longer bothers to tell them to be good. "I'll be back as soon as I'm able.

"Roald? Kally? Watch after your mother for me. Now go tell your seal guests good night. You need to clean up before supper."

Watching them as they go, Alanna pulls on her glove and starts back to Darkmoon.

Daine is there, stroking the stallion's soft nose.

"Should I go with you, Lioness? If it's immortals?"

Alanna shakes her head and spares the girl a brief smile before watching Roald lift Kally so the girl can pat a seal on the head.

"No, we should be fine. What gets me angry is I told Mandash to arm his people, if he was too cheap to hire soldiers. But no, we can't teach peasants to use weapons -- what if they decide they don't like their overlords?" She blows out a breath through her teeth and risks a quick glance at Laura. There goes her temper again. "I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. I just don't like the timing, and I don't like it being immortals."

Face grim, she grasps Daine's hand and holds it firmly. "Will you and Numair look after my family? Don't let anything happen to them."

Daine nods, dark eyes wide. The knight's grip on her hand is starting to hurt.

"We won't, Lioness."

"Thank you," Alanna answers.

She leads Darkmoon to a large rock. Once she's mounted, she trots back to X.

"A small but necessary delay. Ready?"

X nods, just once, and turns Mithros in the direction indicated.

And after a few moments of silence.

"It is good. To say goodbye."

Beat.

"But you will be back."

It is X's primary mission objective.

"We will," Alanna agrees, voice firm, and grins at X; if one ignores the worry in her eyes, that grin could almost make it seem like Alanna is looking forward to the fight. "I have no doubt of that."

She doesn't look back.

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