House Azik, Dog Lane, Port Caynn
For the past week, the sense of power radiating from Chorus had continued to grow. George's reminder that the only person capable of raising that kind of power did not help alleviate Alanna's fears. The fact that all her attempts at corresponding with anyone from Fandom or her brother failed horribly.
Finally resigning herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do, Alanna had spent the day before All Hallow's training with her sword, ignoring the tiny voice that reminded her of other students who had gotten cut off from the school.
All Hallow dawned bleak and stormy. The waves battered the cliffs below the house, and the winds blew away anything not already fastened down. Alanna arose to find George gone, summoned to the city on a matter of business. His note said he hoped to be back by nightfall, but if he was kept too late he would stay at the Dancing Dove in Corus, rather than risk the return trip after dark.
Toward noon exhaustion hit her like a sledge hammer. She was barely able to make it to her bed before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she awoke, it was pitch-dark, and the wind howled outside the shuttered windows. She reached out and ordered the branch of candles beside her bed to light, something she had done without thinking since becoming a shaman for the Bazhir. There was no flame in answer to her command, and when she looked inside, searching for her Gift, she found just a trace of magic. Only then did she discover the ember-stone was flickering with increasing urgency, and that the crystal sword was humming in its sheath as it had not in weeks. While she slept, something had come and leeched away her Gift.
Lighting candles with a spill from the banked fire, she headed for the library. Some extensive books of magic were there, and she had promised herself a look at them. Now seemed like an excellent time. There was no sign of Faithful as she padded through the quiet halls. Marek and the other men had gone with George. Rispah and Coram would probably be in Rispah's chambers; and Rispah's woman friend, Harra, retired early. The servants had gone home for the night. Alanna felt all alone, odd and detached. She knew she ought to care that someone had tapped her Gift, but she couldn't.
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 Thorn will give us an explanation."
[ooc: All of Alanna's letters have just gotten sent. Responses go here, yay. Most of the post blatantly stolen from TP's book.]
Finally resigning herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do, Alanna had spent the day before All Hallow's training with her sword, ignoring the tiny voice that reminded her of other students who had gotten cut off from the school.
All Hallow dawned bleak and stormy. The waves battered the cliffs below the house, and the winds blew away anything not already fastened down. Alanna arose to find George gone, summoned to the city on a matter of business. His note said he hoped to be back by nightfall, but if he was kept too late he would stay at the Dancing Dove in Corus, rather than risk the return trip after dark.
Toward noon exhaustion hit her like a sledge hammer. She was barely able to make it to her bed before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she awoke, it was pitch-dark, and the wind howled outside the shuttered windows. She reached out and ordered the branch of candles beside her bed to light, something she had done without thinking since becoming a shaman for the Bazhir. There was no flame in answer to her command, and when she looked inside, searching for her Gift, she found just a trace of magic. Only then did she discover the ember-stone was flickering with increasing urgency, and that the crystal sword was humming in its sheath as it had not in weeks. While she slept, something had come and leeched away her Gift.
Lighting candles with a spill from the banked fire, she headed for the library. Some extensive books of magic were there, and she had promised herself a look at them. Now seemed like an excellent time. There was no sign of Faithful as she padded through the quiet halls. Marek and the other men had gone with George. Rispah and Coram would probably be in Rispah's chambers; and Rispah's woman friend, Harra, retired early. The servants had gone home for the night. Alanna felt all alone, odd and detached. She knew she ought to care that someone had tapped her Gift, but she couldn't.
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 Thorn will give us an explanation."
[ooc: All of Alanna's letters have just gotten sent. Responses go here, yay. Most of the post blatantly stolen from TP's book.]