Gypsie Eyes

Only found one thing I have a problem with.

She’s a princess.

It might be better to put this into italics as it runs as a line of thought rather than a narration.

Nice chapter gyr, well done!

I'm actually quite glad you've done a chapter like this as after a battle is one of the best ways to emotionally search your characters. Very few are callous enough to not feel anything and because your characters do, it makes them more life-like. But please don't do a Paolini and have them fine and dandy a minute later.

Also, can I see a hint of Nadak being bad guy gone good in the distance? Overall, good job.

Nadak, I think, will never go fully good. But he does go useful, which is better. Thanks much to all you wonderful editing people! *scatters toffee* Shall try to get the next up "soon."

Oh, I see you've reached popular topic status, well done! I think that's a first for a story.

I think I like this chapter best, I'm not sure why.

There were other things to see to.

To = too?

Laroo’s face turned bright read with embarrassment. “I meant to say ‘I’m sorry,’ I thought ‘trah’ was ‘apologies;’ ‘trah vsih,’ ‘give my apologies,’ ‘I’m sorry.’”

Vsih = vish? The ups and down of learning a foreign language!

I like that bit with Elkarn and Karenna. Nice... "character development"... to be pretentious. "Sympathetic relationship that reminds me of my own characters" to be frank and earnest.

Lol, I just totally spotted one of my own mistakes in the bit you quoted; "read" should be "red." Thanks so much, my twiterling! ONE WEEK!!!

Chapter 22

Tavrinal and Jataal rose before the sun was up, packed their few possessions and the provisions they had bought, and paid the innkeeper for their rooms before saddling their horses. The former Headmaster’s was a sensible tan gelding called Brass, who had been with Ashter for several years. Jataal had bought his just the other day—a three year old mare with a dappled gray coat and plenty of spirit. He had affectionately named her Dapper.

The two men set out of the capitol just as the sun breeched the horizon, drawing the city into another day. Tavrinal looked back over his shoulder as the center of his government fell behind the rolling green hills of the middle lands.

“You going to miss it?” asked Jataal, who rode just ahead of him, Dapper’s hooves clattering on the well-paved road.

“What, the city or my position?”

Jataal shrugged.

They rode for a ways as Tavrinal considered. “No to the former,” he said at length. “Perhaps just a little the latter.”

The battle mage smiled and kicked Dapper into a trot; Brass instantly changed pace to stay with her. “That’s good then,” he said.

* * *

Vishna shifted, and came awake as her elbow hit something sharp. She sat up, rubbing the elbow and glaring at the pen that had poked her. Once again, she had fallen asleep sitting at the desk in her study, surrounded by books and the stale smell of old paper. She stifled a yawn and tried to take a draft from a cup that was empty. She glared at the dried brown residue that clung to the inner edges.

Rising stiffly, she massaged her neck and paced back and forth in the crowded study, maneuvering expertly around the piles of books. She scanned the shelves; she had read all of these volumes at least twice, and was still no closer to her goal. Maddeningly, there always seemed to be fewer of them every time she checked. For all her threats to Avarn, she knew that he probably wouldn’t even have the opportunity to interfere if she couldn’t get more information.

The heavy wood door opened and Karoon ground his way in. She turned sharply to him. “Yes, what is it?”

“The boy is still stubborn,” he growled, his dark red eyes blazing.

She gestured briefly, dismissing the matter. “It’s not of any real importance; the girl and that pet of his will take days to get here, even if they were to set out now.”

“I think they are more of a threat than you realize, mistress—” began Karoon, but Vishna cut him off.

“I am mistress, you lump of fire-hardened stone,” she snapped. “And I have given you an order; leave them alone for now.”

She flung herself down in the leather-covered chair she had spent the night in, trying to work the taste of sleep out of her mouth. Perhaps she should try some of the upper libraries again; she might have missed something.

For a moment Karoon just stood there, and she could feel him fuming. Ever since his defeat at the Academe, he had become more surly than usual. And after she had recovered from the pain that had come to her across their link, she had found she was less afraid of him than she realized. If an Elementar as young as Tannar could defeat him, however much agony it caused her, then perhaps he was not so all-powerful as he seemed. “Was there something else you wanted?” she demanded of her servant.

“No.”

“Then leave me, I have work to do.”

* * *

The fluttering of wings awoke Nadak. He opened his eyes and saw a small, bent woman standing outside of his bars, peering in at him with large yellow eyes. He shifted, unwilling to admit, even to himself, how uncomfortable those eyes made him. “What do you want?” he growled.

The figure shifted until she was more fully in the light, and as he saw her face he was able to remember her name: Mirnar, the Wereeagle who had acted as a guide for his prey. She regarded him, looking him up and down as if he were a product on sale in the market, one whose value she was unsure of.

“What do you want?” he repeated, louder.

Mirnar’s lip twisted, just a fraction, in a scowl. “Murderer,” she breathed.

“Is that all?” he demanded.

“This is the fifth day of the Gypsie Winter Festival,” she said. “For the first four days there is feasting, dancing, all the things one would expect from the word ‘festival.’ But on the fifth night…”

“Yes?” asked Nadak, mildly curious in spite of himself.

“They call this their ‘Night of Questioning;’ I can’t pronounce it in their language. Tonight everyone may ask a single question of any person, even the king, and that person must answer truthfully, or be disgraced and perhaps even exiled from their clan. A word given on this night goes beyond these peoples’ normal commitments—to break a Night of Questioning promise is to forfeit your life. The Gypsies spend all year coming up with the perfect question for tonight; in a few hours, at dinner, they will ask them.”

“And?”

“And so I have a question for you, murderer,” snapped the Werebeast.

Nadak half smiled, half snarled. “I have no clan to disgrace, beast. I’ll be dead in a few days anyway.”

“Then what will you lose by answering this one question honestly?”

“Ask. I do not guarantee that I will answer.”

She was silent for a long moment, as if pondering the phrasing. Then, forming each word carefully, she spoke.

For a moment Nadak could only stare. He considered laughing, or telling her to get out. But what did he really have to lose, after all? So he answered, “Yes.”

That seemed to satisfy her; she left without another word.

* * *

“Tell me about my mother.”

“That’s not really a question, Cerenna.”

“My name’s Karenna. Please, father.”

“Please call you by your human name or please tell you about Allarhana?”

Karenna sighed and kicked her feet against the legs of the handsomely carved wooden chair she was sitting on in the king’s royal apartments. Dropping her head, she ran a hand through her long hair, which had been tied back into a high ponytail as most of the Gypsie womens’ were.

He glanced over at her, smiled slightly, and came to sit beside her. “I’m sorry,” he said. After a moment of silence, he asked, “Do you truly prefer your human name?”

She raised her head and looked him with eyes with same pattern of color as his own: the right one blue, the left green. “It is my chosen name, not my ‘human’ one. Please.”

Cerreno sighed. “Very well, then.”

Karenna gave a wan smile. “Thank you. Now, my question…”

“Yes, about your mother.” The king stood and began pacing back and forth across his chamber floor. The ceiling, like all the ceilings in the Palace, was high, the Gypsies having no more love for enclosed spaces than she did. Aside from this the room was not very large, barely bigger than the guest quarters Mirnar and the twins had been given. Boom slept in CavernLights—the Gypsies had set up a make-shift sort of nest for him in a corner with sheets and bedding—and only Werenna knew where Tannar spent his nights.

“You know she was part human. Her grandfather was captured in the Forest near the Winter Festival many, many years ago. Eventually he worked his way into membership in the clan, eventually marrying Allarhana’s grandmother, who was half human herself, though I don’t know her history. It is their blood that allows you to use that wand,” he added, nodding to it. Karenna glanced down at it again. With Nearn’s help, she had made a kind of holster that fastened it to the underside of her left arm, tight enough that she could pull a long sleeve over it and have no one notice it was there. As long as it touched her skin, and as long as the tip was pointing away from her, she could use it with only a thought.

The comment about the wand hung in the air a moment, Cerreno letting it ferment into an unspoken question. Karenna ignored the brief awkwardness, and gestured for her father to continue. He took a breath and continued pacing. “She was not a member of my clan,” he said.

“Which clan was she, then?” interjected Karenna before he could continue.

Cerreno’s face split in a wry grin. “The rule is only one question, little one.”

“But I’ve missed my first seventeen Nights of Questioning, I should be allowed seventeen questions besides this one,” explained Karenna.

The king laughed out loud at this, a wonderful, full sound, not as deep as the laugh of Karenna’s adopted father, but somehow merrier. “Very well,” he consented, unable to avoid spoiling her. “Seventeen extra questions it shall be. But this is your second—you have only sixteen left. Use them wisely.”

Karenna nodded solemnly, fighting to keep the hint of a smile from her face, and Cerreno continued. “Hers was one of the clans destroyed in the Werewolf attack,” he said. “They called themselves the Shre Whinds, the Emerald Wind.” Seeing a small opportunity for education, he added, “My own clan are the Ohl Cerro, the Royal Oaks, because we consider the oak to be the king of the trees. All of our clan names come in some part from the Forest; for instance, Jaan’s clan are the Kesh Seshee, the Sun Leaves. You see?”

His daughter nodded patiently, but he could see her eagerness. He continued “Marriage between the Emerald Wind and my clan was not uncommon, but her eyes were. Though she had no royal blood that we knew of, somehow she had our eyes.”

Karenna leaned forward, her gaze focused, her lips parted in an intent smile. It made Cerreno pause to fight back the sea of memories that came every time Karenna imitated Allarhana without knowing it. Karenna, noting his expression, stood and crossed to him, her forehead creased in concern. “Are you all right, father?”

Cerreno screwed his eyes shut to block out her all-too-familiar face. He had tried so hard, had worked so much to keep from her, from everyone, how much he still missed his wife. And how much Karenna brought her back to him. He pulled away, keeping his expression under control this time. “Perhaps we may speak more of this after the banquet, little one—we will be late.”

She seemed a little hurt by his reaction, and while his heart went out to her he did not reverse it. “All right,” she said, and followed him out of his chambers.

* * *

Pagrin was awakened out of a pleasant dream by a page shaking him earnestly. He surfaced groggily. “What is it?”

“There are two travelers at the front gate, my lord,” said the servant nervously. “They seek lodgings for the night.” He hesitated, then added, “One of them is a battle mage for certain. I believe the other is a wizard.”

“Did they give their names?” asked Pagrin, throwing the covers aside to sit up and instantly regretting it as a wave of cold broke over his night-gowned body. He pulled the warm quilts back up, feeling foolish but not caring.

“No, my lord.”

“Well, let them in, give them something hot to drink. By Werenna, it must be cold enough out there to freeze blood in the veins.” The page scuttled away and Pagrin dressed hurriedly, stuffing his cold feet into the fur-lined boots that Cerreno had given him as a gift three years ago. He had not found any human-made ones to be warmer, and wondered vaguely if they were enchanted. He strode out of his chambers and paused at one of the few landings with a glass-set window. The night was dark as pitch, and no stars shone through the cloud-clogged sky. He could feel the snow about to fall, and shivered slightly within his thick clothes.

He entered the small, private dinning room the page had ushered the strangers into, and found two travel-worn men still wrapped in dark cloaks sipping at the steaming tea before them. Just as Pagrin was about to speak, one of the figures lifted his head and threw back the hood of his cloak. The breath caught in Pagrin’s throat as a surprised smile split his face. “Ashter!” he managed finally.

The wizard returned his smile and stood to embrace his old friend. “It’s been too long, Gantos,” said Ashter Tavrinal.

“I’ll say it has,” said Pagrin, taking a seat next to the former headmaster. “And who is your traveling companion?”

“This is Jataal Dynos,” he said. “Professor of armed melee combat from the Academe. Jataal, this is my old friend, Lord Gantos Pagrin.”

“A pleasure, my lord,” said Jataal, also flicking back his hood. Pagrin just managed not to flinch at the man’s scars.

The battle mage stuck out one hand and the noble shook it warmly. “You are welcome here, Professor Dynos.”

“Just Jataal, please,” he replied, chuckling.

Pagrin took the chair next to Tavrinal, across from Jataal, and accepted the mug that a servant offered him. “What brings you out so far, my friend?” he asked after a sip.

The wizard grinned wryly. “Ask Jataal. He’s the one who talked me into this crazy adventure.”

“Oh, and your schedule was just so packed, was that it?” Jataal was grinning. “You had too many things to do, and I dragged you away from your oh-so-important tasks to accompany me on this ‘crazy adventure’?”

“I assume you heard about my…early retirement,” said Tavrinal, not looking Pagrin in the eyes.

“Yes. Normally we wouldn’t get news like that so soon, all the way out here and with winter setting in so early. But we’re only ten or so miles north of your—of the Academe, rumor gets around. I’m sorry, Ashter, I know how much you loved it there.”

Tavrinal waved a hand. “It was getting boring anyway,” he said, but by his face Pagrin knew he had not fully stopped missing his former position.

“So I come back to my question,” said the nobleman. “What brings you two all the way out here with the weather like this?”

The two mages exchanged a look. “It’s a bit of a long story, old friend,” said Tavrinal.

“Well, I’ll have the fire stoked in one of the sitting rooms, order us some real food, and let’s have it,” responded Pagrin, standing.

Jataal turned, grinning, to Tavrinal. “I like him,” he said.

“You going to miss it?” asked Jataal, who rode just ahead of him, Dapper’s hooves clattering on the well-paved road.

I'd say change this to a new sentence. It don't feel quite right, somehow.

They rode for a ways as Tavrinal considered. “No to the former,” he said at length. “Perhaps just a little the latter.”

Is this an Americanism or a typo? "A little while," maybe?

She sat up, rubbing the elbow and glaring at the pen that had poked her.

The the the here is too much. The to her works fine.

Once again, she had fallen asleep [s]sitting[/s] at the desk in her study, surrounded by books and the stale smell of old paper.

Nix the sitting.

Vishna shifted, and came awake as her elbow hit something sharp.

Do you need that comma?

“I am mistress, you lump of fire-hardened stone,” she snapped. “And I have given you an order; leave them alone for now.”

Considering the context, adding in "your" might have more force. "I am your mistress." Or "the mistress".

If an Elementar as young as Tannar could defeat him, however much agony it caused her, then perhaps he was not so all-powerful as he seemed.

So = as

“Then leave me, I have work to do.”

This might have more force if it was two sentences. Change the comma to a full stop.

He opened his eyes and saw a small, bent woman standing outside of his bars, peering in at him with large yellow eyes.

This just doesn't feel right, but I can't think of anyway to change it. And nix the eyes so close together.

She regarded him, looking him up and down as if he were a product on sale in the market, one whose value she was unsure of.

Some might say that the "regarded" is redundant and all, as you say that she looks at him in the next breath. I think it's alright, but it's something to think about.

Mirnar’s lip twisted, [s]just a fraction[/s], in a scowl.

Nix it man, nix it.

“They call this their ‘Night of Questioning;’ I can’t pronounce it in their language. Tonight everyone may ask a single question of any person, even the king, and that person must answer truthfully, or be disgraced and perhaps even exiled from their clan. A word given on this night goes beyond these peoples’ normal commitments—to break a Night of Questioning promise is to forfeit your life. The Gypsies spend all year coming up with the perfect question for tonight; in a few hours, at dinner, they will ask them.”

May I say just how much I like this? It's like the scream and the eyes - it really gives depth to the Gypsie culture.

Dropping her head, she ran a hand through her long hair, which had been tied back into a high ponytail as most of the Gypsie womens’ were.

How can she run her hand through her hair if it's tied back? She can run her hand over the top of her head, but she couldn't run it through her hair, and it's too awkward to run it through the ponytail itself.

The ceiling, like all the ceilings in the Palace, was high, the Gypsies having no more love for enclosed spaces than she did.

The "she" here is jarring. You've started to talk about Cerreno, now you jump back and look at the ceiling through Karenna's viewpoint.

Aside from this, the room was not very large, barely bigger than the guest quarters Mirnar and the twins had been given.

Comma here?

As long as it touched her skin, and [color-red][s]as long as[/color=red][/s] the tip was pointing away from her, she could use it with only a thought.

Nix it.

Cerreno’s face split in a wry grin. “The rule is only one question, little one.”

I'm normally in favour of never ever using that phrase. How many fathers would call their kids that?

He continued, “Marriage between the Emerald Wind and my clan was not uncommon, but her eyes were. Though she had no royal blood that we knew of, somehow she had our eyes.”

Comma.

Pagrin was awakened out of a pleasant dream by a page shaking him [s]earnestly[/s].

Nix it.

He had not found any human-made ones to be warmer, and wondered vaguely if they were enchanted.

Enchanted slippers...

The night was dark as pitch, and no stars shone through the cloud-clogged sky.

I am envious of that phrase. I command you to remove it so I can use it instead.

He entered the small, private dinning room the page had ushered the strangers into, and found two travel-worn men still wrapped in dark cloaks sipping at the steaming tea before them.

This is rather a long sentence... Dinning = dining.


You have a few double spaces where there should be none.


So! Need I stress that this was enjoyable and very well written? Compliments are ever sweet, but I can think of none that have not been used before. So there. It's your fault for writing so well that everyone likes it.

Lol. Nixnixnix...ad infinitum. Tis okay, and more than okay, as verbosity is one of my worst faults. Bless you for an eagle-eyed twit!

P.S. "cloud-clogged" is mine, mine I tell you, MINE!!!

Chapter 23

Avarn.

His head jerked up, the word wrenching him from the half-sleep he had fallen into before his warm hearth. His blind eyes searched for something that wasn’t there. “Karenna?”

Not quite. The thoughts were similar to hers, but flavored with an animal mischievousness and cunning that gave the thinker away.

Elkarn. Avarn smiled. He had never before spoken directly to the fox. What can I do for you, my friend?

The Familiar’s senses were sharp; the magician could smell the merrily blazing fires in CavernLights and the roasting meat that spun gently over them. His stomach rumbled, and he could feel Elkarn’s amusement. You would probably be able to feel it if I ate some, he offered.

No, said Avarn. To have the taste without the sustenance would be delicate torture. But thank you.

Elkarn was silent a moment, and his next words felt carefully chosen. You know what tonight is?

Yes. You have a query to put to me, little fox?

I can only have one question, Elkarn said, and I want you to understand that there are many, many things I would like the answer to. Know that I consider this to be more important than any of those. I’m sure you understand.

Avarn nodded, knowing that the essence of the gesture would carry over. Ask.

Will you penalize me if I phrase it in two parts?

Of course not.

Again there was a pause as the fox considered. Why did you wait so long to send Tannar to my lady? Woven in with that: why did you not wait long enough, until her training was complete?

Avarn could have laughed. You need not waste such an important question on such a simple answer, fox. I will let you have this one for free.

I’d rather you didn’t, replied Elkarn evenly. His tone was not cold, exactly, but Avarn was suddenly aware that he was conducting this conversation without Karenna’s knowledge. “My lady,” the Familiar had called her. As if he were some kind of spymaster to a noblewoman. Avarn was startled to realize that this was very nearly true.

But if Elkarn was going to take this seriously, so was he. I was afraid, he stated, without preamble or pretense. At first, it was a combination of fear and pain that kept Tannar constantly at my side, healing me, keeping me from retreating into myself and dwelling on my loss. By the time I could operate on my own, I had become so used to him, so dependant…I was afraid of losing him, fox.

Eventually, after more years than I care to consider, it was Tannar who reminded me of my pledge. The gull I had promised had to call me to fulfill my word. I was shamed, Elkarn, and my fear intensified. How could I operate without him? How could I live with the distance between us and his inevitable pain in a human shape? It took him far too long to bring me out of that fear, and once I had emerged, I acted before it could overcome me again. I did not consider the timing as I should have…even so, he mused, perhaps it was all for the better anyway. Karenna has received some basic teaching, and Tannar was there to protect her from Karoon, and from Shana’s malice.

Avarn had expected scorn from the fox, or at least the mental equivalent of an eye-roll. Instead, he felt satisfaction. It’s a good thing that you both answered and acted honestly, Elkarn said. If I’d felt that either your answer or your motives were…insincere, well, there are things a Familiar can do through magic to a mind that you wouldn’t want to think about.

The grisly details were hanging there at the edge of Elkarn’s consciousness; Avarn forced himself to turn away from them. I have answered well, then?

You have answered truth, the fox corrected. And it will do.

* * *

Tannar brooded at the end of one of the main oak dining tables, right next to the dais and mahogany table where Karenna sat. His shoulders were hunched, his plate clean and untouched by even the hint of food, and his dark eyes stared at the tabletop without seeing it. The Gypsies wisely left him alone.

The clamor of the Night of Questioning went on all around him. From simple and expected questions like “Will you marry me?” to complex and unforeseen ones such as “Who ate the last of the plum cake?” the Gypsie people were becoming steadily better informed. What a lot of drama for something as simple as a question. Why did they even need a special night for these—didn’t Gypsies always get along well enough to ask them anytime?

Gradually, he became aware that all noise had abruptly cut off and that everyone was staring at him. He lifted his head to meet the violet and hazel eyes of Kalab, the man who had helped Laroo find Menee during the Werewolf raid. “What?” asked the Elementar irritably.

“I asked you my question,” said Kalab.

“I didn’t hear you; what do you want?” demanded Tannar, wary and intrigued.

“When is Kareemone?”

Tannar froze. For an instant, his natural form flickered like a shadow over his human body, but he suppressed it. “You have no right,” he said, each word a soft hammerfall in the silence, “to ask that of me.” Slowly he stood, his wooden chair scraping across the stone floor. He could feel the primal magic of this night reaching out, trying to bind his answer to truthfulness. It was nothing compared to his anger. “Where were you the day Karem bound the first of us by magic, cursing a being that had walked the clouds to walk the mud?”

There was fearful silence all around him; every being present knew what Kareemone meant. Tannar ignored them, “Where were you when we first felt the pain of a mortal death? Not the blazing nonexistence as we had known it, oh no, but the searing agony of wounded flesh. Where was your oh-so-powerful nation when the humans began a cycle that would enslave the intangible forces of water, fire, wind, and earth to serve mere mortals!” Despite his best efforts, he knew that the silhouette of his wings hovered over his back, making him seem larger than he was at present. “You, whom Werenna called her Chosen, were hiding in the trees when the children of her brothers and sisters fell to the whims of magicians!”

His last word echoed around the empty space, filling the hushed void. Tannar’s eyes were fixed on Kalab, burning with their inner blue light. His own rage surprised him as much as it did those assembled. But Kareemone was not a thing to be discussed in such a place, and his magical helplessness in this place made him tense.

Shhh, came a voice in his mind. His head jerked to one side, and he saw Karenna, sitting at her father’s right hand, watching him. Anyone else would have thought her face was blank, but Tannar, who had spent nearly every moment for months by her side, saw the pain and sorrow in her expression. In the same way that he had shown her his own birth, he had once shown her what he “remembered” of Kareemone. He could see those images flickering at the edge of her mental vision.

I’m sorry, he whispered mentally. Then, to Kalab, “I’m sorry. I cannot answer that question.”

For a long, long moment there was silence. Then, “It is for me to apologize,” said the Gypsie. “I retract my question.” The Night of Questioning magic relented its fruitless attempts on the Elementar.

Tannar sat and stared at his empty plate as if it held the secrets of the cosmos. Gradually, the noise began again, mounting until it was as if nothing had happened. The Elementar glanced over to Karenna, saw her concerned look, and sighed. I’m all right, he assured her.

She didn’t respond.

Just edgy, he explained. He felt something nudge his leg and looked down to see Elkarn staring up at him. And what do you want? he demanded of the fox.

Just to sit on your lap and maybe take a bite or two from your plate, replied the Familiar.

My plate is empty, Tannar said. But he glanced back over to Karenna, and saw her smiling slightly in his direction. Again he sighed, and lifted the creature onto his lap.

* * *

Pagrin leaned back in the comfortable chair, setting his emptied plate aside. The fire, crackling away to his right, filled the modest sitting room with warmth, and Tavrinal and Jataal had shed their cloaks to better soak up the heat. “These must be some very special students, Ashter, if you are willing to risk the Forest to find them.”

“They are, my friend, trust me. Not so much the twins, of course, but both Karenna and Tannar are…unique. Especially Karenna. She had the Royal Eyes, Pagrin, you know that doesn’t just happen by accident. You know the king’s clan better than any human alive; tell me, did they lose a child at some point, one who might have been taken in and raised under the name Karenna Morn?”

Pagrin was quiet for a long time, running a hand along the arm of his chair. “I did hear…rumors,” he said. “But of a killed child, not a missing one.”
Jataal leaned forward eagerly. “Tell us.”

* * *

“Allarhana and I married while my father was still alive, and she died before I took the throne, so technically she was never queen.” Cerreno and his daughter had repaired to his chambers after the feast, Karenna badgering him ceaselessly about her mother until he relented. “She was…” he faltered, sitting down on the grand four poster bed. “No word in either of our languages suffices. Beautiful? Amazing? They pale in comparison to her. Only a few days after meeting her I was entranced.”

* * *

“Incredible as this woman was,” Pagrin explained, “it was considered unusual for the heir to the Gypsie throne to marry outside his clan. But there was a factor that tipped the scales: Allarhana had the Royal Eyes.”

* * *

Cerreno stood and paced the room several times. “Our people had rarely encountered a non-royal Gypsie with the Royal Eyes, and we had never seen the Eyes in any Gypsie with human blood. Because of them, and the fact that my child would have to possess the Royal Eyes to rule, my father and his councilors decided that it would be all right for us to marry. Oh, we were so in love, two poor young fools with no idea what to do with ourselves.” The king was smiling as he spoke, chuckling at his own youthful bliss.

“For three years I lived in what could only be called a dream. I thought nothing could make my life better. But then…”

* * *

“Allarhana became pregnant.” Pagrin took a sip of his re-filled tea cup and set it aside. “As I’m sure you’re both aware, Gypsie women rarely have more than two children.”

“Yes,” said Tavrinal, “they say Werenna put that restriction on them so that her favorite people would not become so numerous that they would dominate over her other two creations.”

The nobleman nodded. “And they very rarely start having children until they’re at least twenty-five; remember that Gypsies live longer than us. The king’s bride was only twenty-two when she conceived. I’ve heard there was something akin to panic in the royal court, herbalists being called in and all that. Apparently they were afraid that if she gave birth so early, either she or the baby might die.

“It was Cerreno who came up with a plan.”

* * *

The king paused in his pacing. “I knew that human women were often capable of giving birth to healthy children as early as fourteen or fifteen years.”

“Yes, but that’s rare these days,” said Karenna.

Cerreno shrugged. “Still, I thought it might be the human blood in her that allowed her to conceive that young. So I proposed that Allarhana and I go, in disguise, to a human doctor or healer, in order that the child might be born safely.”

* * *

“No one’s sure how long it took for the couple to convince the royal court to go along with this, or where they actually went to find the doctor. Of course, healers and doctors have come forth claiming the credit, and some unlucky fellows have taken the blame, but I suppose humans won’t really ever know for sure. Either way, the two of them apparently lived in hiding for the last few months right up to the birth. Then, when the time came, Allarhana gave birth to a baby girl.”

* * *

Cerreno sat next to his daughter and put a hand to her cheek. “You were such a lovely little thing, so perfectly formed. You had hair on you even then, a great mop of dark brown hair just like your mother.”

Karenna saw the gleam of tears in her father’s eyes. She sniffed back her own. “What happened then?”

The king leaned back, crossing his arms. “For a long time, nothing. We lived among the humans for several months after you were born, just in case any more complications arose from your human blood. Nothing did, and when you were about four months old we decided to head back to the Forest. I couldn’t wait to present my father with his granddaughter. Oh, Karenna, he would have been so proud of you.”

The girl looked confused. “So what went wrong?”

* * *

“They were found out.” Pagrin sighed and ran a hand wearily over his face. “I never heard who discovered them or how, but suddenly the entire town knew there were Gypsies in their midst.”

Tavrinal and Jataal flinched; they had heard all too often what happened to such Gypsies. The battle mage leaned forward, and, like a child begging for more of a bedtime story, said, “What happened then?”

“Well, fortunately the townspeople didn’t know it was the prince of the Gypsies and his bride who had deceived them. And because it was Cerreno, a great soothsayer even in his youth, he was able to ward of their attacks, protecting his wife and child as far as the outskirts of the settlement, to the bridge across the river that separated the town from the Forest.”

This time it was the former headmaster who demanded, “And?”

* * *

“There was a battle mage waiting for us, just inside the edges of the Gypsies’ Forest.” Cerreno spoke stiffly. His body shook with suppressed rage, and his eyes seemed to gleam, cat-like, in the light of the hearth fire.

“He took me by surprise, and I was already exhausted from warding of those idiotic villagers. He was powerful as well, no ordinary mercenary.” The king looked sideways at his daughter and said, “I learned later that he was called Heneshan Vocilia, the father of the man in our prisons.”

Karenna sucked in her breath sharply. “I had no idea…” she whispered.

Cerreno sighed and once again ran his hands over his face. “I know; it’s not your fault.” There was a long, uncomfortable silence filled only by the crackling of the fire. After awhile, he began again, “As I said, he took us by surprise. Somehow he knocked me out, I don’t know how he did it, he moved faster than any human I’d ever seen. I suppose he thought he’d killed me.” The king swallowed. “The last thing I heard was Allarhana screaming, and a splash.”

* * *

“They say,” Pagrin’s voice was heavy with weariness, “that he found her body half in the river, her blood staining the water and her arms out as if she had dropped the child into the flow. His people found him a few days later, lying next to her, nearly dead himself from blood loss. They never found the child.”

Tavrinal leaned forward eagerly, as if this was exactly what he had wanted to hear. “What did she look like, the baby?”

Pagrin snorted. “How should I know? Quite frankly, I’m not even supposed to know the things I’ve just told you, but Gypsies can’t handle human liquor and I’ve had more than one blabber on to me after he’d had a few at the fair I hold here.”

“Do you at least know how long ago this was?” asked the former Headmaster.

“About seventeen or eighteen years ago, I think.”

Tavrinal rubbed his chin. “That would make her a little older than the required age for the Academe, but she could have easily been kept home a year or so, because of her eyes…” he trailed off.

“If she is the long-lost daughter of the Gypsie king,” said Jataal, “what actual impact will that have on anything?”

Both Pagrin and Tavrinal gaped at him. “Are you joking?” demanded the nobleman. “A Gypsie princess, raised by humans her entire life? She’s a political anomaly, I don’t even want to think about the kind of chaos her existence would cause at Regos’ court, especially since so many of the nobles are against his desire for peace with them.”

Jataal snorted. “Good thing we’ll get to her first, eh?”

“If we can get to her first,” rebuffed Tavrinal. “And if she is this princess, and if we can actually find her in that huge expanse of Gypsie-infested Forest without freezing to death.”

Again, the battle mage snorted. “Pessimist.”

As i have said a few times before, i love your writing, i have been busy so have missed a bit but i will hopefully get a chance to read through it all again some time soon, too get a better feel for the story but too me it still feels like it flows well. I hope to see more of it soon.

-Skelly

so its 10 am where i am and i just finished your whole story (having stayed up all night). you are a FANTASTIC storyteller...your characters are well thought out and well rounded...the plot is working itself out in a lot of good ways...i couldnt stop reading even though i knew i needed to sleep lol. i dont have any critiques i dont think....maybe the beginning was a little confusing...and that stuff about the gull...whether or not it was tannar...im going to read the first chapter or two tomorrow when i get up and see if im still confused....PLEASE PLEASE continue with your story!!

Uh-oh. Hooked another one. *sigh* Well, welcome to the mad-house, darling, your adoration would be even more welcome if you happened to know an agent who would like to represent me...?

Anyway, glad you like, lemme know if I can return the favor and take a peek at your work!

actually i do have a story up...its just called "the preface to my new story" sometime today im putting up the first chaper and i would love to get your opinion....and sorry i dont know any agents

Chapter Twenty-four

The door to his chambers slammed open, interrupting Avarn in the middle of the composition he had been playing. His hands jerked off the keyboard and he pivoted sharply to face the invader. Quick, light footsteps—his mother. She stopped a few feet away from him, breathing hard. “Have you seen Karoon anywhere?” she demanded.

He smiled. “No, I can’t say I’ve seen anyone recently.” The slap was easily avoided.

“You know what I mean!” Vishna screamed.

“How is it that you don’t know where he is?” asked Avarn. “You are mentally joined to him.”

He could feel her scowl. “He’s blocking me. He can do that sometimes.”

“Well, I haven’t noticed him around for awhile, if that’s what you’re asking. He’s obviously not in any actual trouble or you would feel it; stop worrying.”

Again he effortlessly evaded the slap. “You—” Vishna seemed to catch herself and stopped. She took several deep breaths. “Never mind,” she spat, and turned on her heel. He could hear her muttering “useless brat” and suchlike as she stormed out.

Avarn returned to the piano.

* * *

Regos, the King of Dirantyr, awoke to an unfamiliar smell in the room. He shifted, and heard his wife move beside him in response, murmuring in her sleep. Gently, he reached over and stroked her hair, whispering “Go to sleep.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, wrapping his robe around him. The smell persisted: brimstone. He felt discreetly in the pocket of his robe for the wand that never left him. His fingers closed around its familiar handle and he felt it warm to his touch, charging.

Then, his eyes still scanning the darkness in all directions, he carefully turned the knob up on the oil lamp. There was something lurking in the far corner, filling the shadows cast by the dim light. It stirred as the light spread towards it, and the scent intensified. Two glowing red eyes glared out at him, and the beak-like mouth split in a horrible smile, revealing the inferno that pulsed in the throat beyond it.

Regos moved without thinking, the wand coming out and up, targeting the intruder. The silent spell burst from the tip before the target could act, pinning him in place. “Who are you?” the king hissed, still unwilling to wake his wife.

The creature growled, pressing against its magical bonds with a sound like a grindstone. “I come from the black-haired one you once loved,” he replied.

The king’s face went as white as his nightshirt. “Vishna sent you?” he demanded.

A chuckle, and the subsequent red glow, answered him. “No, she doesn’t know I’m here. Though I am her slave I can hide things from her. Just as she can from you, apparently.”

Regos’s brow creased. “What do you mean? What is your purpose here and how did you penetrate the defenses?”

Despite its powerful bonds, the creature managed to wave a hand dismissively. “Trivialities. I am here to warn you.”

“Of what?”

“The Windstorm has arrived.”

The king scoffed. “A fairy tale. Your ‘warning’ would have more of an effect on my small children than on any adult in Dirantyr.”

The creature chuckled deep within its throat. “It seems it already has.”

Regos was fast losing patience. “Tell me your business now, or so help me I won’t even call in the guards to help exterminate you.”

“I believe, some years ago, rumors reached you that a princess had been born to the Gypsies.”

“Yes; I heard she was killed with her mother; the Gypsies very nearly went to war with us.”

“That war may not be as averted as you like, highness. She has returned.”

The king gaped. “What?” he demanded, forgetting to be quiet.

The creature lunged forward, its bindings snapping like twine. Regos threw up his wand to defend himself, but before he could even think the spell, the intruder had vanished. Only the strong scent of brimstone remained.

His queen had been wakened by his shout; she sat up abruptly as the guards rushed in. “Regos—” she began, but was cut off.

“Your majesty, what happened?” demanded a guard.

For a moment the king stood there, wand in hand, staring at the shadows. “Nothing,” he snapped. “Get out.” Then, after they had gone, he spoke more gently to his wife, “Go back to sleep, Fira, it was nothing.”

She took some convincing, but finally consented to calm down. He paused before joining her in their grand bed, staring hard at the space the intruder had just occupied. “What are you playing at, Vishna?” he whispered to the shadows. Then he hung up his gown and slid under the covers.

* * *

Tannar, perched at the top of the same oak in which he had spoken to the king, watched the sky go gray with pre-dawn. The rising light illuminated a clear sky, and yet only a few minutes after sunrise wisps of cloud formed in the blue expanse, and gentle puffs of snow drifted down to wrap the world in cold.

There was a rustling of feathers to the Elementar’s right, and he turned to see Mirnar, just shifting from eagle to human form. She sat on a thin branch that looked too weak to hold her weight, and swung her legs unconcernedly. “Seems we have something else in common,” she said. “A liking for heights.”

Tannar didn’t answer for a long time; he sat there, gazing steadily at the rising sun. “And what’s the other thing?”

“Eh?” The Wereeagle turned her yellow eyes on him.

“You said ‘something else in common.’ What’s the other thing?”

Mirnar’s lips twitched in a smile. “Oh, just a loyalty to a certain Gypsie wizard.” She paused, and almost seemed to whisper the next words, “The kind of loyalty we’d both lay our lives down for.”

“Werebeasts are more easily killed than Elementars,” he pointed out, almost nonchalantly.

“True,” she conceded. “But, in my own way, I have as much a stake in that girl as you do.”

Tannar jerked his head around to face her. “How’s that?”

The Wereeagle sighed and shook her head at the ignorance of six-year-olds. “I guess you haven’t noticed,” she said, speaking slowly as if he would have trouble with the longer words, “but my people—Werebeasts, I mean, not just Eagles—are not on the best of terms with either the humans or the Gypsies.”

The Elementar snorted. “I guess that’s what comes of raiding the former and regularly trespassing on the land of the latter.”

“Ah, so you have noticed,” said Mirnar, her voice wry.

“But what does this have to do with Karenna?”

Mirnar hopped up, planting her feet on the branch she had been sitting on and gripping the trunk with her claw-like hands. Her raptor eyes were intense on Tannar. “Why should I tell you?”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he snapped, shifting as a breath of wind blew some flurries in their direction. Then, more seriously, “Because, as you said, I have a stake in her. And I will protect her.”

“Well then.” The Wereeagle shook her head, scattering the flakes that had accumulated in her bristle-like hair. “If you must know, I don’t think it’ll hurt anything for the human-raised princess of the Gypsie people to have good memories of at least one Werebeast.”

Tannar’s expression hardened. “You pretend friendship for her, then?”

Mirnar threw back her head and laughed a piercing sound full of delight. “You stupid boy,” she said, grinning indulgently. “Catch me.” Faster than thought, she changed. A flash of sunlight on her ebony beak, and she was off into the endless reaches of sky.

“Hey!” Tannar sprang to his feet and, forgetting all restraints of caution, allowed his true form to emerge, his translucent blue wings billowing out behind him as he rose. He darted after the Eagle, sure he would catch her in the first instant. But even though he was faster, his earth-bound weeks had kept him out of practice with the finer points of aerial maneuver. He caught up with her almost immediately, but she changed direction faster than he could have imagined, and it took him a moment to find her again in the ever-thickening snowfall. Impatient, he gestured, and the snow around him exploded away from his body. Then—the glint of light on golden feathers, and he was off again. He laughed and whooped in delight as he chased, loving the three-dimensional freedom offered to him by flight.

How long the chase lasted he didn’t know, and he only slowed when something in the distance caught his eye. He hovered there, his long silver hair blowing back from his face. Mirnar came and beat the air beside him, struggling to stay stationary against the buffeting wind. In Eagle form she couldn’t talk, but she squawked a question nevertheless. Tannar drifted forward a few feet, his huge eyes trained on something at the very edge of the Gypsies’ Forest, just visible to his better-than-human vision. “What is that?” he asked.

Mirnar turned her sleek head to look where he was facing. The Elementar knew that her raptor eyes were as good as his own at this height, and he waited while she flapped and fought to stay beside him. Without thinking, he calmed the wind to give her an easier time. But as soon as he had she was off again, streaming in the direction he had been looking. She gave the high-pitched scream of her kind, one hunter urging the other on towards prey, and he obeyed.

Before long the two had reached the outskirts of the Gypsies’ Forest, and Tannar allowed himself an annoyed moment. If only he had been allowed to fly, it wouldn’t have taken them the weeks it did to cross this wooded territory. But that thought quickly gave way to confusion. “What’s a human dwelling doing this close to the Forest?” he demanded.

Mirnar nodded to the ground, and the two of them descended slowly, until they stood just within the confines of the Forest’s trees. Tannar, with difficulty, took his human shape again, as did Mirnar. “I think that’s Pagrin’s manor,” she said.

“Who?”

“A man named Gantos Pagrin. He’s a human nobleman who acts as a kind of stationary ambassador to the Gypsies. I’ve heard his name mentioned around.”

Tannar eyed the manor. It was surrounded by a smooth stone wall a good fifteen feet high, but from the air he had seen the sizable, turreted manor house and several smaller lodgings within the fortification. “Why would Dirantyr want an embassy to the Gypsies? I thought the two races hated each other.”

“Not so much with the current king, I hear, and anyway, neither side ever wanted an all-out conflict. Once a year the king’s clan comes here to put on a fair and Cerreno and Pagrin talk politics. Mostly Pagrin asks Cerreno to return humans captured over the course of the year and Cerreno does—those who really want to go, anyway, or who have family in Dirantyr. Often, Pagrin will arrange to have extra game released into the Forest around autumn, as a way to keep the Gypsies from raiding nearby settlements. Cerreno pays him for it, of course, with Gypsie baubles like talismans and amulets.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Tannar demanded, creeping forward to get a better look at the place.

“Because I’ve lived in or near the Gypsies’ Forest for fifty-three years and I have good ears and a good brain between them. What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Without retaking his natural form, Tannar hovered, ever-so-slightly, off of the ground and glided forward noiselessly. “Getting a better look.”

“You’re crazy,” said Mirnar, who nonetheless followed.

There was no entrance to the manor from the forest side; they had to follow the rough curve of the wall around to where the road from Dirantyr—little worn but broad and obviously used—met it. The gates were open, and two very cold-looking guardsmen stood to either side. The men were doing their best to ignore the weather, however, keeping as alert as they could with snow sticking to their metal helmets and piling up in slightly comic lumps.

“You’ve had your look, let’s get going,” hissed Mirnar. The two of them stood with their backs pressed to the wall, just barely out of sight of the guards.

Tannar knew she was right. But there was something…familiar coming from within the walls. Like the faintest hints of a well-known smell. “I want to see inside,” he said.

“And perhaps inside the dungeons as well? Come on, you idiot immortal, Karenna will be wondering where we’ve gone.” She placed a clawed hand on his arm and tugged him back a step, towards the Forest.

“Stay outside if you’re scared,” he said, and levitated out of her grip, floating up until his head was nearly level with the top of the wall.

“You are such a child,” she hissed up at him, trying to be quiet. But apparently one of the guards had heard her voice; there was the sound of a brief conversation at the gate and then the noise of heavy boots approaching. Mirnar snarled at him, then changed and flew up to perch on the battlements above his head. Below, the guard reached the spot where she had been, looked around in confusion, then returned to his post.

Tannar chuckled. “See? They can’t hurt us.” Then, like an acrobat, he flung his body over the wall and down to land on the other side. Fortunately, his landing spot was behind a stable, so no one saw him. Unfortunately, his landing spot was behind a stable, so he came down feet-first into a pile of very used straw. With several disgusted noises he hopped out of it, using his magic to fling the filth away from his boots with perhaps more vigor than was necessary.

Mirnar landed silently beside him and resumed human form, muttering, “Stupid, stupid child.”

“And yet you follow me,” said Tannar, not really paying attention to her. He finished with his boots, straightened up, tugged at his tunic, and walked out from behind the stable.

He nearly ran into Jataal.

“How is it that you don’t know where he is?” asked Avarn.

Nietje. "How don't you know?" might be better... or something along those lines.

The Wereeagle sighed and shook her head at the ignorance of six-year-olds.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he snapped, shifting as a breath of wind blew some flurries in their direction. Then, more seriously, “Because, as you said, I have a stake in her. And I will protect her.”

The "snapped" and then "more serious" seem at odds with each other, as "snapping" is pretty serious already.

He hovered there, his long silver hair blowing back from his face.

I don't know why, but I got this really nice picature of Tannar from this.

In Eagle form she couldn’t talk, [s]but she squawked a question nevertheless[/s].

...No. Just - no. Not good.

Fortunately, his landing spot was behind a stable, so no one saw him. Unfortunately, his landing spot was behind a stable, so he came down feet-first into a pile of very used straw. With several disgusted noises he hopped out of it, using his magic to fling the filth away from his boots with perhaps more vigor than was necessary.

Mirnar landed silently beside him and resumed human form, muttering, “Stupid, stupid child.”

“And yet you follow me,” said Tannar, not really paying attention to her.

---

And... everything as usual.