Title: None as of yet.

Author: Hedge

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to me. Characters, universe, bad grammar. All of it.

Synopsis: A group of unlikely heroes set out to save the realm. When fate has a sense of humor, no one is safe.

Notes: I cant believe I actually finished this. Huzzah, a story not abandoned after the first part.

Chapter Two: Bound

The next morning saw Ranit with a bad case of ale head. She flinched against the light coming through the window of the inn she was lodged at, and groaned. She probably shouldn't have consumed that many tankards of the Red Eagle's strong ale... But she had been concentrating on the problem, and Gerik, and hadn't paid much mind to how much she was drinking. If she had, she would have remembered how she felt the morning after a night of drinking, and switched to water.

That made her think of her last student's amazing tolerance for liquor, and she made a sour sound. Oh, it didn't take much to get Kass drunk, but she couldn't remember him getting ale head once, and he was usually disgustingly cheerful the morning after drinking, even more so in comparison to her misery.

She chuckled wryly. She would have passed it off as the strength of the young, but she certainly hadn't had that much of a tolerance when she was his age! Neither had Gerik, if her memory served her.

She sighed at the thought, as she remembered that she had promised to meet the arms master today. Soon, if the position of the sun coming in her window was anything to judge by.

This gave her inspiration to get out of bed, a little stiffly, and stumble to the water basin set in one corner. The room was plain, but comfortable and clean, sporting a narrow bed, a chest to hold her things, and a chair, all made out of the same pale, sanded wood, as well as a brass basin and pitcher. She poured some water from the pitcher into the basin, and splashed some of it onto her face, shuddering at the touch of the frigid water but feeling marginally better when she was done. As an afterthought, she swished some of the liquid around in her mouth, before spitting it back into the basin. She ran a hand through her cropped hair, and deemed herself ready to face the world beyond her room.

She slipped out of the room, shutting a locking in behind her, before making her way down the narrow stairway into the common room of the inn. It was a little smoky in here, but as spotless as the room that Ranit occupied, and rather crowded by people looking for a simple but solid midday meal. Her own stomach growled at the scents coming from the kitchen, reminding her that her ale head was leaving her, and that she was yet to fill her stomach.

She ignored it, deciding that seeing Gerik took priority over her stomach's complaints. Who knew, maybe he would even be kind enough to feed her. She smiled a little, squirming through the crowded common room with skill matched only by the serving girls and boys. She reached the door, and went out onto the street, cobbles crunching and grinding against each other as she stepped on them. This street, located just on the border of the upper city, was as busy as the rest of those in the city, with carts and foot travelers, and vendors yelling the virtues of their wares for all the world to hear. Oh, but it was nice to be back in the city. She had loved the silence of the country and the familiar faces of the town she had lived and taught in for so many years while Kass grew... But a part of her always longed for the city. Her wandering feet usually made her move on before too long, but she did enjoy it while it lasted. She enjoyed it even more when she held it up to the memory of Garth's Watch. She really had needed to get out of there, even if it wasn't entirely fair to Kass. Eleven years was far too long for her to settle in a place, especially a small town, where there was no variation.

The streets were paved now, as she was traveling through the section of the city closest to the palace, mostly made up of the town homes of the richer merchants, and the nobility that was not housed at the palace itself. The noise, however, had not decreased - in fact, it seemed to increase the closer one got to the palace.

Finally, she reached the palace grounds, a sprawling maze of buildings that would have the average person confused within moments, surrounded by rambling grounds that offered everything from the most luxurious, manicured garden to less evidently manicured patches of trees, almost wild looking, all of it surrounded by a wall. The stones of the palace and wall were a pale, uniform silver, almost shimmering in the light of the noon sun.

She made her way around to one of the smaller gates, and showed the guard there the embroidered ribbon knotted around her wrist, identifying her as one of the royal mistrals, no matter how bedraggled she happened to look. Gerik had pulled some strings and gotten it for her, even though she was in the city only on rare occasion, and a visit to the palace was even rarer. The guard let her in without protest, barely glancing at the identification.

From there she made her way up the path towards the barracks. Gerik had been offered quarters inside the palace, but he kept refusing them, settling only for slightly more luxurious rooms inside the barracks at Kaleigh's request. Stubborn old man. She knew that after all those years of traveling, were she to settle here, she would enjoy any extravagant rooms offered her, and after so many years of fighting he couldn't be in better shape then she was. Old scars hurt, and old wounds ached.

She was almost to the barracks, cutting across one of the flowery gardens, when she ran into one of the few people in the palace who she wouldn't have minded not seeing. Gezela cleared her throat behind Ranit, and the minstrel wondered briefly if it would be considered rude to pretend one didn't notice the queen, before turning to face her. "You're majesty," she greeted with false sincerity. She made no secret of the fact that she disliked the king's second wife when among friends, but one just did not insult royalty to their face.

Gezela smiled at her, and it wasn't friendly, "Its been a while."

"Years," Ranit replied shortly, eyes sweeping over the queen before she said sweetly, "You're aging well." She and Gezela always walked a wire-thin line between insult and courtesy. Of course, the implied insult there just wasn't true - the queen scarcely seemed a day past thirty, even though Ranit knew that she was a few years older then herself. The dark chestnut hair pinned under veil and crown was not touched with gray, the curvaceous figure was just as lovely in it's fitted gown as it had been when Ranit had left.

Violet eyes flashed with annoyance, before Gezela regained her composure, "I see that your company is the same pleasure it has always been, minstrel. Time has not changed that." Another almost-insult, depending on how the listener chose to view it.

That got a genuine smile out of Ranit, though it was by no means directed at the queen, "Let us hope that it never does," she replied with a shrug, "May I be dismissed, majesty?"

Gezela's rosebud lips parted, as though she wished to add something else, but after a moment her mouth snapped shut and she shook her head, waving a slender, long-fingered hand dismissively. "Go. Good day, minstrel."

Ranit turned, heading the way she had been going, "Good day, your majesty," she murmured, relieved beyond belief that today's meeting with Gezela had been blissfully short and comparatively painless.

She did not see the narrow-eyed, calculating look that the other woman gave her before turning in a whirl of skirts and heading in the opposite direction, mind burning with thoughts, plans, and a deep-rooted dislike that wasn't entirely directed at Ranit.

Gerik glanced up at the sound of footsteps on the path, "You're late," he scolded the approaching redhead. However, his tone was less then firm and a smile somehow made it's way to his lips.

Ranit looked up from her consideration of her feet at the sound of his voice, green eyes dark and thoughtful. After a moment, her expression cleared, her usual amusement taking over and the seriousness vanishing like a dream as a smile tugged at her own mouth, "If I blame it on the queen, will you not be angry, Arms Master Éles?," she teased mockingly, coming to a stop in front of him. He was leaning against the wall next to the front entrance of the barracks, a blocky L-shaped building, and she was happy to find that he looked just as rumpled from the night of drinking and the few hours of sleep as she was. Actually, his rest had probably been even shorter then hers - he had to be up at dawn each day to drill the troops.

The old soldier flinched, eyeing her warily, weather-tanned face set in a grimace, "I hope you didn't offend her majesty's 'delicate sensibilities' too much. I think she was hoping that after eleven years, you weren't planning on returning again."

"I'll bet," the petite musician murmured, shaking her head, "No. Our conversation was brief and without outright insult," she replied. Gerik eyed her with suspicion for a moment or two longer, before nodding, almost to himself, "Shall we get down to business, in that case?"

"By all means," Ranit replied, with a bit of a wry smile, "Gods know we've dawdled long enough.

Another curt nod, before Gerik started speaking softly, taking her elbow as he did and guiding her away from the barracks, "Inspiration on where to find another member of our happy party struck this morning. I was recalling last night, and thinking about the fate of our coins."

Wondering both where he was leading her and what his 'inspiration' was, Ranit followed and raised a brow, "And?"

"And I realized that a thief might make a good addition," he replied, "Tricky, good at surviving, they can go places and talk to people who won't speak to us, capable..."

"... Selfish, manipulative, liable to run off or stab you the first time you turn your back on them," Ranit put in sharply, vibrant eyes narrowed to slits, lips compressed.

He smiled, a bit viciously, and she stared at him, realizing that this was the soldier part of her friend peaking through; the cold, calculating side that allowed him to send people into battle, knowing that they might not come back again, and keep his mind. The side that rarely came out around her. "Don't worry. I have it taken care of."

Ranit didn't have time to ask more questions as they approached the prison, a large building set on the side of the compound farthest from the palace, a bit away from the barracks. Gerik nodded curtly at the door guard, an aged veteran who nodded back, and led her through the barred door, past another guard, and into the central courtyard of the prison. It was a three-story building, made of dark gray stone that differed from the rest of the buildings around the palace. The first floor of cells were level with the stone-paved, barred courtyard, one after another lining all four sides save a brief break where the door was, and the stairway that led up to the open, walled walkway that ran in front of the second story of cells. High above was the third story, identical to the second, and beyond that was a patch of sky, visible through the open roof of the courtyard. It had to get cold in here when it rained or snowed...

She shook off the pang of sympathy that brought as Gerik let go of her arm and approached the guard standing at the bottom of the stone stairway leading to the second floor. The two spoke in hushed tones for a moment or two, Gerik looking grim, the unknown guard looking puzzled. After a moment he nodded his thanks to the guard, and returned to Ranit's side, lips set in a hard line, "The woman we need in on the third floor," he said curtly but quietly, obviously not enjoying this severe place any more then his minstrel friend. That was a bit of a comfort, to know that Gerik was disturbed by the harsh surroundings. It would have been a hard revelation to find out that the person closest to her, save Kass maybe, was unruffled by such an unforgiving place.

"Let's get this over with then," Ranit replied, letting out a breath and moving towards the stairs, then up after a brief look at the guard. The arms master followed, and both ignored the comments and jeers directed at them by the prisoners they passed. She walked around the walkway, pointedly not looking down into the courtyard - she had always hated heights. Finally, she reached the second stairway, and paused to catch her breath before continuing on the final floor, where they were to find their thief.

Iute paced the inside of her cell restlessly, the thin soles of her boots silent against the stone floor even though she wasn't trying to be quiet. The cell was small, containing a pile of hay in one corner, a wooden slat that passed as a bench or bed against the back wall, and a bucket for the essentials. There was no window, but since the fourth wall was made up of bars that faced the walkway and the courtyard beyond it, windows weren't needed for light. It was cramped, and small, and completely intolerable for someone who was used to having their freedom. She felt like some half-wild, cadged beast - suffocated and full of pent-up, frustrated energy.

It was a simple, stupid mistake that had led to her being there. Once in a while, when they had nothing better to do, the street guard went through the public areas and chased out those who slept there because they had no where else to stay, so that the gardeners didn't have to deal with them. She had slept in a bit late, and that combined with the fact that the guard who found her just happened to be one that she had dealt with before led to her demise. He had picked her up for what she was - a thief, and not just a loiterer - and tossed her into this trickster-be-damned cell.

And she had no illusions about being released. If she was lucky, she would stay in this cell for the rest of her life. If she wasn't lucky, there would be a trial, mostly for show, and she would be sent to work in the mines or on the docks for whatever remained of her short lifetime. Mines. Now there was a nightmare. Even worse then these cramped quarters; you worked for maybe three years until your body, mind, or both gave out, and never saw the outside except for twice a day when they led you from box to mine and back again. She would rather die.

There was a noise right outside her door, and she turned glittering brown eyes towards the barred side of the cell. She took a moment to register the two people standing there, an hulking soldier wearing worn leathers and a gentle, remote expression on his tanned and scarred face, and his plump but fit companion, who looked like she had just swallowed a cup of nails. Maybe she just couldn't stomach the king's prison. They did look vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place them.

The thief's eyes narrowed, and she made her way slowly over to where they were standing, slipping her hands around two of the bars and leaning into them so that her arms pressed against cool metal all the way up to the elbow. She considered them a moment, before speaking, her tone venomous and full of the displeasure she felt, "Can I help you, or are you just going to stand and gawk at me all day?"

The woman started, but the man simply fixed her with a quiet, solemn look that made her want to twitch, "We have a deal for you, thief. The reward is your freedom."

A bitter smile tugged at the corners of Iute's mouth, "A deal? I give up these lovely accommodations and the charming company of my jailers, and for what? You tell me." Really, it wasn't that. It was simply that she was fairly sure that whatever he was going to ask in return for her freedom was not going to be something she wanted to give.

"Charming," the woman muttered, expression wry. After a moment, she added, "The heir to the throne has been kidnapped. We've decided that you should be part of the group that is going looking for him."

"Ranit!," the man hissed, and Iute blinked. That had not been what she had expected, not at all.

The woman named Ranit shrugged a little, "I figured we'd best get it over with," she said reasonably, "You'd better explain the rest, Gerik."

Gerik heaven a huge sigh, shaking his head, massive shoulders drooping a little before he seemed to remember that his lady friend was not the only one present. He looked back at Iute, shoulders squaring again, and explained, "The night before last, Kaleigh, the crown prince, went missing," he said, very quietly, leaning forward so that she could hear, "We have ruled out that the prince chose to leave on his own, but if we were to send soldiers to find a recover him, people would notice. His father's health is failing, and if it were found out that the heir is missing, there would be rioting. So we've selected a plausible cover story, and I'm gathering together capable civilian's to find him. We would like you to be a part of that group."

Iute gave him a wary look, "How do you know that I won't run off and take my freedom the first time you turn your back to me?," she asked, and saw Ranit glance at him, as if waiting for this answer as well.

Gerik smiled grimly, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a thick but small circlet of silver, something that might have been mistaken for a plain bracelet were it not for the strange inscriptions on it. Ranit frowned, and Iute's already fair skin paled visibly. "A keeping charm," she rasped in a voice suddenly gone dry and quiet.

The copper-haired woman blinked, and raised a brow at her companion, "Aren't those illegal?"

"Not when you have the king's permission," he replied shortly.

Iute swallowed, taking a step back from the bars and letting her arms drop limply to her sides. No. She couldn't do that. Be bound to a stranger, have to obey everything he told her to do, and find it hard to act on her own will without permission until he decided it was time to remove the charm? How did she know that it wouldn't be as bad, if not worst then the fate that awaited her? Could she afford to take the chance? "Why would I exchange one form of imprisonment for another?," she asked harshly, glaring at him through her lashes.

He stared at her silently for a moment with steady black eyes, and shrugged, "I know the life that awaits a thief who has been caught as well as you do."

She flinched inwardly at that, licking her lips. After a moment, she said, in a soft, angry voice, "I'll think about it."

"Think quickly," Ranit counseled quietly, almost gently, "We leave tomorrow at break of day. If you decide that you want to take us up on the offer, send word with the guard." With that, she turned, and headed back for the stairs, Gerik going with her.

Stepping up to the bars, Iute pressed her forehead against the cold iron, hoping without avail that it would calm her spinning thoughts a little. She had always been a risk-taker... But she wasn't so sure she wanted to risk being bound to someone, possibly someone cruel, for any amount of time, maybe even her lifetime if he decided against setting her loose. That was bad... But was it really worse then the alternatives? Living her life in this tiny room, or having her body and spirit broken with harsh overseers and hard labor? Was it, was it, was it...

"Wait!," she cried as they reached the top of the stairs, closing her eyes and pressing her head more firmly into the bars, which were now becoming body temperature with the heat of her hands and head. She squeezed her eyes shut, not speaking again until she heard them in front of her, "Fine. I'll join your group," she said tightly, hating herself for her weakness. Whatever happened to the fearless pickpocket, who laughed at the guards and tempted fate whenever she could?

Silence for a moment, followed by Gerik's voice, "Stick out your wrist."

She stuck her left hand out between the bars without a word, and felt cold metal touch her skin, dangling loosely for a moment before tightening until the thick band was flush against her skin. The only way to remove it now, if Gerik or a mage superior to the one who had made the charm didn't, would be to remove her hand.

She felt a warm, long-fingered hand squeeze her own, "We'll see you on the marrow," Ranit said, before letting go of her and heading for the stairs again. Gerik paused a moment, before she heard his retreating footsteps as well. She wasn't paying attention to any of it.

It was horrible. She could feel him, in the corner of her mind, glowing like an ember. She knew where he was, and had a vague idea of what he was feeling. And she had the impression that he could feel more of her then she could of him. Not even her mind was safe haven anymore.

She stumbled blindly over to the pile of hay, and slumped down on her as the first tears started leaking out from behind closed eyelids.

Ranit glanced sideways at her companion as they left the palace grounds through the same gate that she had entered through, "What do you think?," she queried, eyeing Gerik. He seemed... Distracted. His attention was turned inwards, as if he was thinking, or seeing things that she could not. It was something he rarely did - when he was fighting or teaching, all his attention was focused on his goal, and the rest of the time he was the perfect observer, rarely missing anything, always paying attention to those around him. He kept his own counsel, sure, but he never seemed so absorbed in it.

The arms master started, confirming her thoughts, and shook his head as though to clear it. He seemed shaken, pale and almost confused. He focused on her finally, and raised his brows, "What do I think about what?"

"Our little thief," Ranit replied, gesturing back the way they had come.

He let out a sigh as they headed for Ranit's inn by mutual, silent agreement. "She's going to be a handful, even with the keeping charm. But if she's a handful for us, it means she'll be more of one for any enemies."

She nodded, accepting his observation and trusting it, "Do you have any idea where we're heading?"

He grimaced, "The seers are getting south-east as a tentative direction, but nothing else. I was considering heading to Yll, and seeing if we can scrape up anything there."

Ranit brightened a bit at the mention of her native city, bottle green eyes lighting up as though someone had held a candle behind them, "That would be wonderful. And a treat for the girl and the priest - I'll bet neither of them have been - "

His lips twitching, Gerik shook his head, interrupting, "This is not a pleasure trip, song-maker. We're likely not going to have time to make a trip to the one of the theaters or galleries."

She laughed, and was about to reply when a few soft notes of music reached her ear, before they were joined by a steady, rich voice. A street performer, no doubt, albeit somewhat better then a lot of those who played by the side of the road for the spare coins people tossed to them. No, that wasn't what stopped her in her tracks and made her hold her breath and strain to hear. It was that she knew that lovely voice, smooth as honeyed wine, knew it as well as she knew her own.

"I'm going to kill him," she growled under her breath, stalking towards that oh-so-familiar voice and leaving a bewildered Gerik trotting to keep up with her.

Finally, as she turned the corner, she slowed, eyes narrowed into angry, cat-like slits. For there he was, sitting there at the side of the road, strumming his lute at he sang, a small metal dish with a few coins in set in front of him. His head was tipped forwards slightly, sending brown hair into eyes which were narrowed with concentration. She strode towards him with purpose, stopping right in front of him and crossing her arms, waiting for him to finish the song. 'The Queen's Vow' - a lively, slightly randy song, and a good one for coaxing coins from the hands of the audience.

He finished with a flourish, and she allowed herself to take a moment's pride in how good he really was. That made her anger dim a little, so she brushed it aside. Anger usually faded quickly for her when dealing with Kass, so she was planning to hold on to it for as long as she possibly could.

He emptied the dish into the pouch he was carrying up his left sleeve before looking at her, and she had to give him credit for that - at least he seemed to know that the city was not a nice place. He glanced up at her face, and she saw astonishment flick over his features before he recovered and flashed her a smile as charming as any child's. "Ranit. Hello." His eyes were wide and his expression innocent. It didn't fool her for a moment.

"Kass," she replied, voice overly pleasant, arms still crossed. She was pleased to see that his expression turned cautious, even nervous. Smart boy.

He cleared his throat, toying with the handle of his lute absently, "I can explain...," he started.

"I'd love to hear an explanation," she interrupted, as Gerik caught up with them, holding up a hand to silence any questions he might have.

Kass winced, before his expression turned stubborn, chin jutting out, "You left. You barely even said goodbye. What was I supposed to do?" His expression was filled with the hurt of an abandoned child, and it was hard to tell weather it was true hurt or just a very good pretense.

Ranit sighed, softening in spite of herself. It was true that her leaving had been abrupt, but, "I was needed."

"I needed you," Kass said, hands clenching for a moment on the strings of the lute and making them squeal unattractively. He cast the instrument an almost apologetic look, loosening his grip and starting to unstring it so he could put it away, carefully not looking at her as he did so.

Pausing for a moment, Ranit sighed under her breath, and made a decision. She didn't like to do this, but what choice did she have? She couldn't very well abandon the boy a second time. Her voice light, almost casual, she said, "We're off to save the kingdom. Would you like to come?"

Kass looked up, expression no longer holding any tract of his previous gloom, eyes practically glowing, "Really?" At her nod, he said, "Can Chenoa come?"

"Your sister is here?," Ranit asked, but she didn't really need a response - of course the responsible midwife wouldn't let her twin go off the city alone. Giving Gerik a helpless look, she nodded, "Fine, fine. Where are you roomed? We'll go there and discuss the details."

This was going to be a very interesting journey.