"Alanna – she – she says you're not coming. She says you can't. She says it doesn't matter how much I yell at her, there's no way you'd come." He almost felt those expressive blue-grey eyes piercing through his back into his soul. Would she see the cowardice there? He couldn't – wouldn't? – turn around and see the disappointment in her eyes that gave the tremble to her voice. "She says I should ask you about it."
"Alanna says a lot of things," Numair said ruefully, rubbing his hands together. He finally turned to face his student, watching her tremulous eyes fix on his. He cursed Alanna for telling her before he had gotten a chance – now she probably wouldn't understand. Most likely, she'd invented some way of blaming herself. That was the normal way of things for teenagers. Never mind the fact that Daine acted older than any teenager he'd ever known – most of the time, at least.
She shifted her feet and glanced out the window. He could tell she was fighting tears back. "Is she right?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes, magelet, I'm sorry. I'm not coming."
He watched her face sadden and her lip tremble slightly before she firmed her mouth. He knew why she was upset, and he wished he could go to Carthak with her, to keep her company, and to keep her safe. She might be precisely the toy Ozorne was looking for. But there were other people who could protect her just as well as he could. And those other people hadn't heard from spies that the Emperor was ready to cut their heads off as soon as they set foot on Carthaki soil. King Jonathan hadn't forbidden those other people to go.
"Why not?" She raised her chin defiantly. Numair understood the gesture; it was to show that it didn't matter to her. But her voice betrayed that it did.
"Magelet, I can't. I'm sorry. I'd only upset things if I went." He paused, running his hands through his hair. "You'll be fine. I promise."
He lived to regret that promise.
Daine had uncovered some bizarre distortion of her magic, which he was certain couldn't have been natural. All the scrolls he had studied forbid the theory. None of her magical lessons had shown a talent for necromancy.
Yet it had happened. His magelet had learnt to raise the mammalian dead.
Numair slammed his fist into the wall, biting back a yelp of pain. Stupid. So stupid. He should have known Ozorne would have taken an unhealthy interest in his old friend's student. He should have known, he should have forbidden her to go, he should have gone himself. He should have done anything except let them be separated.
"Numair?" a tentative voice asked. Thayet. She brought him back to the present, her green-hazel eyes wide with – with fear. He was scaring her.
He found he didn't care.
"How long?" he asked tersely. He had to know. He had to know everything. "How long has that gods-cursed son of a spidren had her?"
There was a pause. A long pause. He glanced at her, watching the uncertainty in her expression. After all these years, she still didn't know what he was capable of. "A – a week that we know of," she admitted finally.
"A week," Numair repeated coldly, biting off every word. He longed to rage at her, but knew it would get him nowhere. "One week. And may I ask why I hadn't been informed of it until now? May I ask why she hasn't been recovered yet?"
Thayet looked away from him, as though she saw in his eyes something that disturbed her. "Curse it, Numair, it's not that easy! Don't you think that I want her back as well? We can't very well declare war because he says she's started up some slave uprising! Just because we can't do anything doesn't mean we don't care as much as you do!"
His voice was quiet, full of steely control that almost scared him. "No, you're right," he agreed, getting to his feet. "Because I'm willing to do anything to get her back, that means I care more than you do."
She also stood. He bit back a smile at that; Thayet wouldn't let him gain the "higher ground" that way. "Jonathan and I remember our responsibilities."
"As do I. I have a responsibility to Daine."
"And to your realm! We need you here if Ozorne is going to announce war! Which countries will stand by us if we harbour a wanted criminal, and gave protection to a girl who started an uprising? They'll say we're only looking for trouble."
Numair bowed to his monarch, in a mocking gesture of his allegiance. "Then I wish you the best of luck, but I can't afford to lose any more time."
"Numair, we'll–"
Whatever they were planning to do was lost in the slamming of the door.