A.N.: Late chapter... yet again.

Disclaimer: I do not own the fantasy world of Tortall, nor its characters.

Chapter 11: The Hut

The next morning they were off again, in a flutter of anxiety as the ladies rushed for their things at such short notice.

"I don't see how this is helping to choose a queen," someone grumbled. Alanna shot her a look. "Mind your tongue," she snapped- it was raining, and she wanted a nice hot bath, not stuck in a stupid competition.

The woman shot her a deadly look and walked off. Someone nudged her.

"That was the richest woman in Galla you just offended," whispered a shrewd-looking woman. Alanna rounded on her. "So? Do I care? Do I look like I care?"

The shrew shrinked under her glare. "No, but I thought…" with that she sprinted for the woods. Alanna rolled her eyes and groaned.

This, she thought, was going to be a long, wet morning.

When she woke, it was not to her wonderfully comfortable bed but to a gloomy room smelling of old linen and moth. She sat up quickly. What was going on? She was supposed to meet the Tortallan King in person. She had been planning to seduce him- bind him in her power with the skills she had. There was a curious creak at the door. In the blink of an eye, she was back between the sheets, pretending to be asleep. It was a man- no, a woman? It was hard to tell in the dim light. The small, hooded shadow came towards her bed and placed a warm hand on her forehead, as if to make sure she was not sick. It (for there was no better word for the strange shape; possibly a dream) muttered something nonsensical, and left silently.

She did not know where she was, but she knew that this was not where she was supposed to be. Tonight, she would make an escape.

"Still out like a light."

Buri clicked the door behind her. As she found herself a seat, Rispah offered her a small porcelain cup.

"Thank you."

They sipped in silence.

"Jonathan says that they should be back on the morrow."

"So you know what's coming up?"

"Yes."

"Lets get to work, then."

They marched along in the rain, which had by now thickened to a hearty downpour, soaking them to the skin. Four more had opted out since they had started this grueling journey.

Deep in thought, Alanna accidentally walked into the person in front of her. About to say a rude word, she found that they were at a stream. She also noticed that it was no longer raining. No- she could hear rain on leaves. They had arrived, at last.

The tramp-master stood on a tree stump at the centre of the clearing. He cleared his throat of phlegm before speaking, so painfully audible that the group had to cover their mouths with whatever they had in their hands.

"Ladies, this is the place where you will undergo your trial. As I call your names, each person will join me in the hut," he paused.

Suddenly a gloomy hut strangled with dark ivy appeared behind him. The crowd began to shift uneasily.

With a satisfied nod, he finished: "-for their trial."

Worried whispers began to circulate within the crowd. The idea of a common-born man with a noblewoman in this unknown hut mounted up to too much trouble.

While the herd was building itself to the verge of panic, the master had produced a list of names.

"Linda of Redhorn Valley," he called.

Everyone fell silent, and a swarthy, vixen-like woman walked up with a sly, confident smile crossing her lips. She clung to his arm and purred something inaudible into his ear.

Five minutes later, a stony-faced woman staggered out. She walked as if her soul had been sucked out and nothing was inside. Her friends ran to support her. The next woman came out in tears. Everyone asked what had happened, but she would just shake her head and sob her heart out.

Next, the lady thought to be a black enchantress came out with literally bats in her ears. A lady sucking on a raw fist stomped out. There was one who would refuse to move from under a tree. Then another laughing out loud with joy. And lastly, one who had to be carried outside, because she had fainted. But whatever awaited her in there, Alanna was not afraid- a King's Champion could not proclaim defeat at a simple task. So when her name was called, she went in with square shoulders and a confident shine in her eyes.

Cosy.

The word described the place perfectly.

Crude, yes, but it was also most definitely cosy.

Especially the Saren-woven rug on the dirt floor. The crude monkey-puzzle table standing on it. Set carefully on its top, a tea set for two. Wondering if the hut magically set the table for each contestant, her eyes found the stumpy man sitting across her, and thought of how much he reminded her of a particular, gnarled tree stump back home. He looked very comfortable in a brown homespun tunic. He gestured at the seat opposite. She sat. He started talking.

'From this moment, whatever happens here will stay here.'

This simple sentence reminded her that this was serious business.

He handed her a piece of paper.

'There have been many who have sat down at this table, all with their own sorrowful challenges to battle. Yours is the hardest.'

He nodded. She opened it, her smile nevertheless defiant. Her eyes immediately found four words on the parchment, which are written in a bold, decisive hand:

'YOU HAVE BEEN DISQUALIFIED.'

She blinked. Suddenly, five sneezes hit her in rapid succession. Wiping her nose on a napkin, she smiled. This was their doing. With a polite nod (forgetting that she was supposed to curtsy to the representative of the King), she waltzed out the dank door, into the sun.

In no time were they back at the palace. The place was buzzing with talk of what had happened at the Hut in the Mountain. Alanna took her time in going to find Rispah and Buri. She wasn't worried. This note was probably their idea of a joke. They'd explain after a few drinks.

After a nice, long bath, she got into Lady Cornelise's nightgown and settled into an armchair beside the fire to read. A ginger cat with fine whiskers came to nestle around her feet- presumably a palace rat-catcher.

Time passed. The fire was comfortingly warm- Alanna's eyes grew heavier and heavier as the candles marked the passing hours.

She was awaken by soft curses and the sound of the door handle rattling as someone tried to force it open, which she kept locked under a powerful spell. Wondering what sort of fool was stupid enough to break into the heiress's rooms, she quietly stood, startling the cat at her feet (who meowed her displeasure and curled up back to sleep). Pulling a decorative sword from the wall, Alanna moved as silently as she could to the door. With the right incantations murmered, she jerked the door open. She flinched. Whatever she had been expecting, this was not it.

It was her double.

A.N.: Don't forget that button down there.