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Another year, another expedition to Carthak.
Given the wreckage incurred during her last visit, Daine hadn’t expected to be welcomed back to the country again in her lifetime. Tortall’s royal councils seemed to agree; a month after the Battle at Port Legann, they had conscripted a group of ambassadors to visit Carthak in the hopes of relieving the two nations’ post-war tensions, and Daine’s name had been rather conspicuously left off from that roster.
But to the wildmage’s surprise, when King Jonathan had announced the following year that yet another friendly delegation would sail to the island to “promote unity between the realms,” the Carthakis had asked after both her and the former fugitive Arram Draper personally. All too eager to promote goodwill with their neighbors to the south, the Tortallan councils had dutifully appointed the pair of mages as official members of the Tortallan envoy—an assignment that held firm despite Numair’s many protestations.
Daine and Numair had been invited to serve as guest lecturers for a day at the Imperial University. They planned to present an introductory lesson on wild magic, a routine they had down to a science due to many a day spent in classrooms with groups of budding mages, riders, and knights in Corus. Then, for every other waking moment of their trip it seemed, they were scheduled to meet with one or another diplomat, mage, or scholar from Carthak’s national collection—meetings that the King’s advisors had termed a “mingling of the national talents.” Supposedly this talent pageant (as Daine preferred to call it, albeit to herself) would better the relationship between the two countries, somehow or another.
Daine thought it all might exhaust her to death, first. Once they’d arrived in port, been greeted extravagantly by hundreds of humans and People, made polite conversation with dozens of new and impressive faces, and at last been shown to their rooms, she collapsed onto her bed and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
But of course, even with their schedules strictly arranged and fit to brimming with diplomatic goings-on, how could the girl not stop to spend a few hours in the imperial menagerie? It was just as wonderful as she remembered. When girl and black-robe mage reunited their first night over the Tortallan company’s joint dinner with the Carthaki ambassadors, she could barely eat for rushing to tell him about each and every new friend she had met. Numair hid a smile, watching her face glow as she spoke. She’d caught him up on all the gossip among the zebras, the hours she’d spent sitting with the mongoose, and her quick chat with the opposums, whom she had found quite irritable on their last visit.
“And the ferrets,” she continued, “they weren’t here the last time, and did you know that Carthak has over five different breeds, just here in the city? Their paws have these gorgeous black markings at the toes, and their sense of smell—I swear they can smell the lion enclosure from three rooms away. But then that’s not so difficult with a human nose either.” Her laugh was like smoothing butter onto bread. “And their hearing was something of a marvel too.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “But maybe—I suppose we should go ambass ourselves.” She saw Numair peek furtively around the room. Indeed, the mages were the only Tortallans at the table not engaging with a Carthaki. The Duke, deep in what was probably an unbearably dull conversation with a cousin of the Emperor’s, kept throwing meaningful glares in their direction.
“From the looks we’re getting, it seems we’re likely to get a strong talking-to from our side of the delegation later if we don’t,” Numair relented. He’d been startled to realize he hadn’t even noticed their isolation from the rest of the group. Daine had a way of stealing his focus, even when she shouldn’t. “We have a job to do, however wearisome it may be. I’ll take the mage a few chairs to your right, if you keep me away from redhead in the corner?”
“Not a chance,” she grinned. “I’ll take Mage Larter; you’re supposed to go discuss that blocky spell with Master Promeian.”
“The Merian Coronis,” he corrected reflexively, and then groaned at the reminder. “And I forgot about that.” The statement won him a knowing smile. “So then I’ll talk to Promeian—and maybe that’ll be interesting, even. I heard he’s made a quite a bit of progress on the Coronis, and it hasn’t really been touched since the Elderian Dynasty—" and off her look “—and then we’ll meet later, and you can tell me more about the ferrets. Deal?”
She squeezed his arm gently, preparing them both for the long haul with their new companions. “Deal. And remind me to tell you about the lions later, too.” Reluctantly, she stood up to leave her friend and make a half-hearted search for the haughty-looking older mage half a table down. A job is a job is a job, she told herself. And you’ll get to see him again later tonight!
* * *
When the meal was over and the Tortallan delegation finally able to retreat to their rooms, a small crowd gathered in the Duke’s suite. The delegates had discovered that he alone had been treated to a chamber with a built-in enclosure for a fire, which he now lighted for their gathering. As the emissaries chatted amongst themselves, Daine spent more than a few minutes describing the strength of opossum teeth to Numair—a fascinating enough topic, but one a bit withdrawn from the larger group discussions on the wiles of Carthaki women, the outrageous amounts of spice that seemed to be in every dish served here, and the things we wouldn’t do for a good old piece of Tortallan braided bread. (“You’ll be back on our side of the sea two days hence, you goons!” the ship’s captain chided). Numair in turn filled Daine in on his conversation with the Carthaki mage, Promeian—the red-robe’s new discovery was interesting, though certainly not as much so as he’d made it out to be—while from the corners of their eyes they observed a friendly game of cards between two young men turn into a shouting match. When the noise settled down, their discussion moved to the short time they had left before their ship would set sail for home. Daine confided softly to her teacher how conflicted these brief diplomatic journeys tended to leave her.
“It’s fair wondrous to meet so many new People, but it hurts each time I have to leave them. It’s like there’s not enough of me to go around. I can’t be everywhere, but it feels like they need me to be.”
Numair, usually adept at providing quick resolutions to her magical problems, commiserated on this one instead. “That’s how I feel reading the letters I receive from mages. Do you know Master Promeian wrote me five months ago, with a ‘critical’ discovery in urgent need of my appraisal?” Daine shook her head. “If I had tried to answer that, and every other letter I receive, I would go mad. It’s a matter of learning to balance it. But with healing as a factor I understand; I know it isn’t easy to feel you can let anything go…”
Daine had spent the first minutes after their arrival onshore healing a cane rat who had walked three miles on a broken paw to meet her. She had nearly missed the Carthakis’ introductory ceremony because of it. She made it back to the group in just the nick of time, hair flying in pieces outside of her fancy bun, dress a tad wrinkled, but none too worse for the wear.
“It’s not easy, no. I’ll have to learn to manage like you do one day, I s’pose.” Daine nudged her partner jovially. “What’s your secret, Master Salmalín?”
“Oh, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gone mad from it by now. Surely some would say so. If you’re not among them yet, I’m fair grateful for it.” He grinned at her.
After an hour or so of magnanimously indulging the delegation’s antics in his chambers, the Duke attempted to reel in the rowdy crowd and send them off to bed with a quick speech. Tapping a glass, he barked out a reminder that the following morning would be their last working hours of the trip. Each delegate had been scheduled with a final meeting or two, and then given the rest of the afternoon off to pack. They were to use that time wisely, “you hear?”
With a quick promise to check in after their respective dealings tomorrow—Numair was off to discuss the barrier between realms with a leading scholar in the field, Daine to be led on a tour of the Royal Stables and Aviary—teacher and student wished one another a good night and departed for their rooms.
* * *
After all the excitement for the menagerie she’d shown the night before, Numair was confused when Daine visited his room early the next evening, having spent perhaps just half an hour in the Aviary before departing.
“Headache,” she explained, dropping into the loveseat at the foot of his bed.
“Magical headache?” he responded, to a shake of her head. “Or lying-to-me headache?”
She frowned, and said nothing. Numair closed the book he was holding and placed it back on the shelf, turning to look at her. “Your fingers twitched. It’s your tell.”
She hid her hands under her arms unconsciously, then gave up and twisted them together, sighing. “I went to visit the birds. Ozorne’s old group. They’re really healthy now, and there’s a new brood that's just the sweetest.” She paused. “They all just started remembering at me”.
Numair placed his finger on the spine of “Intensive Magework and its Repercussions,” keeping his place along the shelf, and turned to her again. “Remembering at you?”
“They started showing me all these memories they had. Ozorne filling their food dish, feeding them out of his hands. Preening their feathers and cleaning their cage. It was a lot, so I left.” She said it casually, but Numair dropped his hand from the bookshelf and walked over to her. She pushed herself up against the lefthand pillow to give him room.
“Too much how?” he asked gently.
She shifted in her seat. “I don’t know that I really had a choice last year on the battlefield. He was Uusoae’s pawn, after all. But I still—at Legann, I still was the one who k—” Her hands dropped into her lap. “And he used to feed his birds, and stroke their feathers. You know how I have a soft spot for folks who are good to the People.”
“Daine,” he said, and hesitated. “Daine, I knew Ozorne. He had a way of making himself seem decent. He used his charm to come off likable to a fault. But that wasn’t . . . that wasn’t truly his way.”
“The birds weren’t seeing him pretending, Numair. He wasn’t manipulating them; he was just good to them. Good even when no one was watching. It’s just easier to sleep when I only think of him as that man who put me in a cage, or the dark thing Uusoae used. A body filled with Chaos—not just a normal, flawed. . .”
He put a hand on hers. “I know what you mean,” he admitted. “I try only to think of him that way, too.” He swallowed. “Can I show you something?”
“Of course.”
He put a finger inside the collar of his shirt and pulled down and right, exposing the skin near his shoulder. Along his collarbone were four long, aged scars. She gasped, and he pulled his shirt back upright.
“Numair,” she breathed, her voice nestling into the soft spaces of his throat. Then, “why haven’t I seen those before?”
“I usually cover them up with magic. Best make-up there is—the first few weeks handling these gave me quite the tutorial with the Cuvriat spell,” he joked. She flinched all the same. She was getting the feeling he hadn’t let anyone else see those marks before.
“These are from the time Ozorne had me thrown in the dungeons. He can be very good, Daine, and very kind and trustworthy, until he’s not.”
“Did you love him?”
Numair started.
“I just had wondered," she continued. "You told me once he was never like a brother to you.”
“Those were the only two choices for what he could be? Close as family, or my lover?”
“Only someone you love could hurt you that much,” she replied simply.
They sat in silence for a moment while Numair digested what she’d said. "Best friend” had always seemed believable, he thought, especially the less he talked about it. Used to his pauses, Daine waited patiently for his next words. Finally Numair spoke again, opting for the understated.
“I loved him, yes. And quite wrongly.” He looked down. “And you, magelet?”
“And me, what?”
“You and love, since you’re so platitudinous on the subject.”
"There are lots of people I love.” A beat, and she scooted closer to him on the couch, placing her head on his chest and listening for the steady rhythm.
He wrapped an arm around her to bring her nearer and touched his lips to her hair, as he’d done many times before. And held his pose there, as he’d never.
After a few minutes together in silence, she reached up to peck him chastely on the cheek, and then rose. “I think we both still have work to do before sunset. I have to have a talk with Renzano about the birdfeed, and explain my magic to—I don’t know, probably a thousand different old men. And don’t you something?
“Yes, I do.” Spending time with Daine lately always made him feel guilty. He thought of the phrase “stealing kisses,” and how time spent with Daine always felt stolen. He stood and walked with her to the door. “But Daine—thank you for this. For everything.”
“As I remember it, you were comforting me,” she teased.
“Even so. You’re—well maybe it doesn’t mean much to say this, given my track record. But you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, by so much.”
Daine felt the familiar sadness overwhelm her. Sometimes she felt she knew just what he was thinking, but then just as the air around them started to hum he would make a note of their friendship, or call her his “apprentice,” and shoo her out the door.
“Numair,” she started. And then stopped. He was the one being cautious, and that certainly wasn’t getting them anywhere.
Quick as a bird, she stood on her tiptoes, placed her hands on his chest, and planted her lips onto his. She held the kiss just as long as she could before he would come up with a response; luckily, the man always needed an extra second to think.
After a moment she fell back onto flat toes and cupped his cheek. “I won’t hurt you like he did,” she murmured. He blinked once and then gave a shaky smile, lids heavy. Reaching behind her, she turned the knob and brushed out the door, off to finish the week’s last bit of work.
* * *
When the envoy walked to the docks for their return trip to Tortall the next morning, they found birds, sea-creatures, and land-dwellers of all types skirting the area to say their goodbyes to Daine. She talked to as many as she could before she was ushered onto the ship. As they set sail, the girl watched from the stern as her friends grew smaller in the distance, then closed her eyes and threw a tendril of her magic out to the shore. As she struggled to hold it in place alongside her friends, she felt a familiar dark black magic with white edges sneak alongside to wrap itself around her power, anchoring it in place. She opened her eyes to turn and take in the shape of the man who’d come up behind her. She reached to slip her hand into his, leaned back against him, and smiled. Together they looked toward the horizon, watching the steady rise and fall of the sea.