Lessons Through Time

A/N: This literally is a backward story;-) It begins a few months after the end of ROTG, and works backwards in fragments of missing time from the canon. The timescale at the beginning of each fragment refers to its distance from the first scene, in Numair's tower.

A/N2: Edited! Silly me, thanks to Jess for pointing out that Numair was a Hawk, not a crow. Tut tut, silly mistake. A few others duly noted and corrected...Although if anyone cares, I KNOW I had to change the text at the end from the book, since she calls to him as Arram, not Numair. But otherwise it wouldn't have worked! You'll see why when you get there;-) Forgive my little bit of creative license.

Disclaimer: All TP, including the section in italics I have quoted from Wild Magic. Otherwise, my writing.

Rated a high T for SEXUAL CONTENT, so no unwanted blushes, please.

And please REVIEW!

Numair's Tower.

"It's time."

Her eyes were bright; her voice held promise in its depths.

She felt, suddenly, as if everything that had come before, would come after, had been leading them to this moment.

They stood, either side of the bed. His bed.

She began to remove clothes with trembling fingers. He watched, enthralled, as skin he had only dreamt of was bared before his eyes. He took it all in: the gentle curve of her stomach; strong arms; a mole that graced the flesh beneath her navel.

Her eyes flickered as she stopped; there was so much wanting in his face, so much love, it made her heart ache. She gestured to herself, vulnerable, exposed before him: it was easier, somehow, to joke. "So, shall we have another lesson on mammalian anatomy?"

He ignored this, knowing she was nervous. "Come here." He reached for her, and she came to him. For the first time, he held her skin flush against his own. Goddess… Inside, his body screamed. To her, he whispered: "Don't be scared."

And then, only later, when he touched her there and she gasped, did he whisper in her ear: "Did you know, magelet, that this is the only part of the human body designed solely for the purpose of pleasure?"

Later, she would laugh at the memory; trust Numair to be thinking of academics at a time like this! But oh, he was right…

In the future, more confident, she would sit above him, knowing the power she held in every flicker, every movement of her hips, and would say: "Why should I always be the one learning? Let me show you…" And then she would begin.

It would always, had always been this way: learning from each other.

But now, at the first, she let him guide her. His hands, fingers, and then his mouth, were everywhere: her face, thighs, back, stomach... Her hands found sanctuary in his hair, free from its usual horsetail, and she held him to her.

And then, as she reached out to him, meeting his bright eyes with her own, she said: "Teach me." She opened to him. "Teach me how…"

And so he did. A tear, a moment's pain.

Desire swamped him. Inside her, he was reaching, reaching…

Her voice cut through the fog. She was calling for him, a whisper and hesitant at first, then more insistent.

"Numair?...Numair…"

He heard it, in her voice, and knew; she was waiting for him.

"Numair…"

And then he went to her; scared, knowing, finding home.

10 months earlier: The Palace

Numair sat at his desk, a brief moment of respite amidst the madness. His fingers spread out over papers he barely recognised. Mithros, had they been away for so long? He glanced at the pages briefly. They were the scribbles and diagrams of scholarly experiments, the academic whims of a man who had time and Gift to spare; not the exhausted, battle-ravaged mage he was now.

Behind him, a giggle emerged. He turned from the desk, and smiled.

Daine was stretched out on his floor, on her stomach, chin propped on clasped hands as she gazed at Kitten, who was peering back at her with inquisitive amber eyes. Her legs were crossed at the ankle and kicking back and forward. She seemed wonderfully…carefree.

Numair allowed himself a moment to gaze at her; Daine's was a childish pose, but her body was far from childish, as he had realised and been trying to avoid for some time now. Her strong, slender but muscular legs slid into rounded hips now pressed to the floor; her position emphasised the curve in her back which mesmerised him, her shapely waist. His eyes followed the line of her spine to the sliver of bare skin at her neck, and the rush of dark hair thrown over one shoulder and hanging in a pool on the ground.

Daine's blue-grey eyes were vibrant as they met Skysong's. She did not look like a young woman who had been on the road and on missions from the King for the last two months, who had nearly died from Unicorn fever, who held the weight of a small world on her slender shoulders…But then, she was young after all, with seemingly boundless energy. Unlike him.

Numair grimaced, and tore his eyes away. It would do no good to enjoy this brief moment of looking at her. It would only make it harder; rationally he knew this, and yet rational thought seemed increasingly to lose out where Daine was concerned.

Numair realised suddenly that she was looking up at him inquisitively, and he coloured. "I'm sorry…" His voice was breathless. "What did you say?"

Daine's smile broadened. "Is your mind wandering off to some uncompleted experiment somewhere?"

He attempted a smile. "It must be."

Kitten trilled, and Daine turned her attention back to the dragon. "I think she wants a lesson in something," the girl commented.

"How do you mean?"

Daine sighed. "The lock-splitting and invisibility spells are wearing a bit thin with Kit. Oh, she still seems pleased when she croaks to make the opals shine something pretty, but even that…I think she's longing for a new trick."

Numair studied the dragon thoughtfully. "In the Dragon realms I imagine she would be inundated with new ideas and learnings at her age."

"Exactly." Daine sounded sad. "I'd ask Tkaa to play with her, but he's so busy, what with the Immortals and all…"

Kitten croaked once, and then trilled, as if in apology. Daine smiled at her dragonet and reached out a hand to stroke her tiny muzzle. "I'm sorry I can't be your teacher, Kit."

"You're doing a fine job." Numair winced as he unfolded his long body from the desk chair and eased down to sit on the floor beside them.

"No," Daine sighed. "I'm no teacher, not like you. All I can do is look out for her."

"Sometimes that is all a teacher can do."

The girl shook her head. "I think I'm getting rusty. When's the last time you drilled me in anatomy or some such? We haven't had a lesson in an age, not like we used to…"

Numair looked away; his chest suddenly felt very tight. "I won't always be your teacher you know, Daine."

There was silence. When he glanced over at her fleetingly he thought he saw a flash of pain in her eyes, but it was quickly gone, if it had ever been there. He sighed. "You're so knowledgeable already, magelet. Have you ever thought that maybe I've run out of things to teach you?"

Magelet. Little mage. Perhaps even that small term of endearment, which he clung to, was no longer fitting. She was not little, after all. She was not his.

He recognised the stubborn set of her jaw as she fixed him with a full-lipped and attractive scowl. "Nonsense," she scoffed. "Why, only this morning I was trying to remember about the earliest immortals, about their creation…" She trailed off. "Why don't you tell me about it now?"

Numair didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His heart felt like doing both. He could tell she was lying, and it was funny, and a little heartbreaking.

"It's time," she told him, eyes stern. "What are you waiting for?"

You, he thought, and then shook his head, looking away. Finally he sighed, and eased back until he was lying by her side, Kitten tucked between them.

He looked at her, wondering how things could have changed, so much and so fast. He had been left behind. She would not need him for much longer.

Until then, said a voice at the back of his mind. Until then.

"Alright, magelet. Where shall I begin…?"

1 year, 4 months earlier: on the boat to Carthak

They each held tight to the rail as they peered over the edge.

"Goddess, what is it?" Daine's voice was breathless. Her stomach skipped with excitement.

"It's a trumpet fish." Numair's voice was warm, and amused. "They prefer hotter and more exotic waters such as these, hence why you haven't come across them during our sea-visits at home…"

Daine dropped a hand over the edge of the boat, still meters above the waves, as if hoping to reach that sudden flash of electric blue. "I'd love to see one up close," she murmured wistfully. When her teacher didn't reply, she snuck a look at him from beneath lowered lashes and pushed it further. "How far are we from land? I doubt I would be missed if I shifted for a moment and…"

"Not a chance." He was suddenly closer than she realised, and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Peering up, she met his stern but dancing eyes.

"Please?" she wheedled. "I could go swim with the trumpet fish and…"

"Lord Martin would have my black-robed hide," he told her firmly. "I promised I would keep an eye on you, and that precludes any unnecessary dips."

Daine sighed, drumming her fingers against the railing. "You're no fun," she complained.

"Of course not," he said, voice good natured. "It's not my job to be fun."

"It's not your job to baby-sit me, either," she muttered, but apparently he didn't hear her.

"Now look…" He pointed at the flash of blue than had suddenly reappeared. "They have elongated bodies with small jaws at the front and a long, tubular snout."

"Do they normally swim so close to the surface?" she asked, annoyance forgotten now, and curiosity aroused. "They're fair pretty to be showing off so much."

Numair smiled. "When they lie like that on the surface of the water they can sneak up on unsuspecting prey. Even though they appear to be inactive they're actually very alert."

Daine grinned. "Perhaps I'll try than one on you next time you accuse me of sleeping through my studies."

"I'm far too engaging for you to fall asleep, magelet."

Daine laughed. They were silent for a few moments before she turned at the rail to look up at Numair. "It must be nice to see the animals you haven't seen since you left Carthak."

Numair looked at her sharply. Her voice was carefree but there was something inscrutable behind her blue-grey eyes. "I don't know, Daine. There has been plenty to occupy my interests since being in Tortall. And plenty of fish from the northern seas to indulge my academic interests."

"I'm sure." She watched the hesitation flicker over his strong features and then, when the wind pulled at his hair, she stood on tip-toe, reached out and tucked one long strand back behind his ear. "But perhaps these southern fish have missed you. Or are you worried they might try and gobble you up?"

She stood back, flashing him a quick smile. For some reason, Numair found he breathed a little easier when she wasn't quite so close to him. He looked at her closely; there was that inscrutable expression again. She had turned back to peer down at the water as if all this time they had really only been talking about fish.

So why did he have a feeling that Daine was learning about him, as well as the wildlife?

2 years, 4 1/2 months earlier: journeying home from Dunlath

Daine turned over, feet getting tangled in her bedroll. With a grimace she pulled a particularly pointy stone out from underneath her and wriggled a little more. Trying to lie still only made it worse; she developed an itch behind her left ear, and then cramp in her leg. Muttering to herself, she rolled over again, only halting when she heard a loud sigh from the other side of the camp fire.

"Having problems sleeping, magelet?"

Daine winced. "I'm sorry Numair, I didn't mean to wake you, it's just…"

"Don't apologise. What's troubling you?"

She would tell him, if she knew. "Do you think Tristan's grown himself any rotten apples yet?"

Numair laughed softly. "Staghorn, devil that he is, is not enough to keep you from your well earned rest. Frankly I hope he remains barren all his years, but why don't you tell me what's really on your mind?"

Tired as she was, the corners of her mouth curled into a smile. How did he know her so well? "I don't know," she told him truthfully. "This all…Brokefang, the pack and so on. It's all been a little like coming home. It feels strange to be leaving them again."

"I can understand that, Daine." His voice was thoughtful. "They were like a family to you."

"Do you think they'll ever be normal again?"

Numair paused. What could he say? That he didn't have the answers? That he could only speculate that Brokefang was, and would probably remain, the most unusual wolf he could possibly imagine? He didn't want to hurt her. She was just a girl, after all; a girl who had been through too much in her short life.

"I wouldn't like to hypothesise on the basis of…"

Daine's small laugh stopped him in his tracks; it was uncomfortably hollow. "I change everything I touch, don't I?"

Numair was about to protest that she was being ridiculous; then something made him stop. He thought back over everything that had happened in the last year and a half. When had she changed him? Anyone would laugh if he tried to explain it; it was not like he had been exposed to her, to her blood, like Brokefang or Cloud. But he realised, in that moment, that he would never be the same man again, not after teaching her. Certainly he had never had a student so bright, so quick to learn, so troublesome…

"Change isn't always a bad thing, Daine," he said finally, but there was no answer. Perhaps she had already fallen asleep.

3 years, 9 months earlier: the beach, on route to the Rider trainees' summer camp

'No lessons?' Numair asked quietly.

'I promised I'd bring him something to eat. And I do need a holiday.' She looked away, rather than meet his eyes and see the disappointment in them.

'If that's what you want. Goodnight, then.'

Numair was silent as he watched her trail slowly down to meet the sea-lions, his mouth set in a grim line. He could see Onua gesture to him but he waved her away; he had some thinking to do.

The figure that was Daine almost melted into the dark, but Numair kept sharp eyes fixed to her diminishing form, watched closely as she knelt and then lay down, presumably conversing with the intimidating creature who had almost killed her earlier.

The mage shuddered. It had come too close today- again. He could not remember if he had ever had a student who worried him quite as much as Daine. Daine with her lively mind and wild copper fire, her hurt soul and quick temper…He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time worrying that she was about to come to grief.

And what were they even doing, now? She had been faking during her lessons, and was foolish for thinking he wouldn't know. He thought about confronting her, but always stopped just short; here was a girl who had been confronted too much already in her life. She was like a wild animal, still envisioning a cage that had once held her. He wouldn't make her scared of him, wouldn't make her run from him in fear as she had run from others before. That, he had promised himself within days of meeting her.

But now they could only go round and round in circles as she withdrew, hiding herself and her magic from him; shutting him out. There was something in her past, something she wasn't telling them...

He wondered if she would ever learn to trust him.

With a sigh, Numair crouched down to the sand and sat down. After a few minutes he had created a warding and protection spell that he could place around her from this distance, to keep her safe as she slept. She need never know. He had a feeling she did not want anything from him tonight.

What else could he do? What could any teacher do? Nothing. Nothing but wait. When she opened her eyes, when she reached out, he would be there.

3 years, 10 months earlier: the road from Cria to Tortall

The hawk that had been Numair was lost. He was very, very lost.

She had found him, but he was lost again. The ground would not stay still; why did things keep swimming in his eyes? His little belly hurt.

He barely registered the hands that placed him on a cool, soft surface. The sharp voice of one he knew, one from his past. And now two. Two sharp, arguing, familiar voices. He could not hold onto them; but he could feel the darkness come.

Where was home? It was too late now, he knew the Black God was coming for him. Too late, too late, too late.

And then there was a shift- the soft, mellow sounds of someone new. Her. The one who had found him, who had brought him here.

Her voice cut through the fog. She was calling for him, a whisper and hesitant at first, then more insistent.

"Numair?...Numair…"

He heard it, in her voice, and knew; she was waiting for him.

"Numair…"

And then he went to her; scared, knowing, finding home.