It was nearly midnight when she closed the last volume, rubbing her eyes tiredly. As she had suspected, the only one with the power and the closeness to Alanna needed for such a tapping was her twin. She should have been angry, but her emotions felt dead. And she was getting sleepy again.
Suddenly she heard—and didn’t hear—a boom, a crash that made even her dull senses quiver with alarm. The crystal sword shrieked and fell silent. Somewhere Faithful let out an anguished howl. Seconds later the door burst open, and the cat hurled himself onto Alanna’s chest. She soothed him, caressing his fur and holding his shivering body close. It was fully an hour before he relaxed enough to let go of her tunic and settle onto her lap.
It’s over, whatever it was, he yowled as he yawned. He did the spell he needed all that power for.
Alanna took him back to her bedchamber. No one else was stirring, so she and Faithful were the only ones able to feel whatever had happened. “We might as well forget it,” she advised the cat as she hung the crystal sword on its hook. “I doubt Thom will give us an explanation.”
To her surprise, when George returned the next day he brought a note from the young sorcerer. Thom had written:
Dearest Alanna,
Perhaps this letter should have come to you sooner, but it was only when your friend George demanded an explanation that I realized you might be affected by my recent work. On All Hallow I will be attempting some experiments—all very arcane and esoteric, with no meaning for anyone but a Master, I promise you. The work is quite delicate and requires plenty of power. To get it, I’ll be tapping you, since you never use more than a small part of your Gift. I know you won’t mind. If I’ve caused you any inconvenience or worry, please forgive me.
Your loving brother
Thom.
“Well, I mind!” George snapped when she told him. “I could feel the city shake when he did his precious ‘experiments’! Doesn’t your twin have any regard for us lesser folk?”
Alanna had sent a blistering letter to her brother that morning, telling him the same thing. Now she grinned and shook her head. “He learned to be secretive in the Mithran Cloisters,” she said. “If he can’t be bothered to consult me beforehand, he certainly won’t care about other Gifted people. Let’s just be thankful he’s doing experiments, instead of being up to real harm.”
Thom’s reply to her angry letter arrived before the week was out and extended his deepest apologies to his sister. With her Gift restoring itself, Alanna decided to let that be the end of the whole affair. She doubted that Thom would ever borrow her magic again without her consent. Obviously there were no other ill effects of his All Hallow’s experiments.
When the first snows fell, early in December, Alanna greeted their coming with dismay. George laughed as she unpacked her heavy clothing and covered herself with layers of silk and wool. She shrugged off his teasing, having endured its like from her friends for years. Now more than ever she missed the desert, and infrequent letters from Halef Seif only made her longing sharper. Recognizing her mood, George went to great trouble to find things to amuse and divert her; but in the week after Mid-Winter Festival ended, she spent an entire day poring over maps in the library.
“You wouldn’t be thinkin’ of leavin’?” he asked as they sat down to their evening meal. Coram and Rispah, who had joined them, looked anxiously at Alanna.
The young knight reddened and shrugged. “You could always come with me.”
George arched one eyebrow. “Me? In the desert?”
“I suppose not,” Alanna admitted gloomily as the new maidservant poured soup into her bowl. “It’s just so cold here. And I’m getting restless.”
She was lifting her spoon to her mouth when a frantic, yowling Faithful leaped onto the table sending Alanna’s soup dish flying. The ember-stone sent out a burst of white heat as George yanked her back. Coram shoved his own dish away as Rispah ran after the fleeing maid. She returned within seconds, hauling the terrified woman back in a grip that permitted no careless movement on her captive’s part.
Alanna extended her hand, and a wave of purple fire washed over the plates on the table. She looked up at George, her eyes sick. “They’ve all been poisoned.”
George looked at Rispah. The redhead’s mouth was set in a grim line; the maid fought her hold uselessly. “I think we’ll learn a bit more if the noble lady isn’t by,” she told her cousin.
“You’ll need me,” Coram told them. He glanced at Alanna. “Wait in the library.”