�Your highness,� a voice whispered in his ear as a hand was laid on his shoulder, �are you alright?�
Marsibadd turned to face Aaran, pushing his disgusting meal away disdainfully, �Of course I am. Why do you ask?� he spoke calmly but with ice and steel behind his voice.
�Pardon me, highness, but you are gripping that utensil a little tightly.� Aaran replied, his voice carefully neutral.
The king looked down at his hand and saw that the edges of the square handle had bit into his palm and was drawing blood that oozed from between his fingers. He relaxed his hand and set the bloody utensil down before pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapping it around his palm. �Thank you, Aaran.� He said with no real emotion.
The professor didn�t reply, instead returning to his own bland meal.
�Let�s leave. Now.� Marsibadd commanded, rising from the table. Immediately, everyone around the collection of tables stood, their chairs scraping. A few of the soldiers bent down hastily to shovel a few more bites into their mouths before being forced to leave. The king felt no sympathy. They had failed him.
Marsibadd turned on his heel and swept out of the restaurant, dropping just enough on the table to pay for the meal and none at all for the tip. The waiter had been somewhat polite, but he didn�t feel inclined to give anyone any reward.
He pushed out the door and into the crowd, the people parting before him as he strode down the street. This whole town was dirty and dusty and he would be more than happy to be rid of it. But first, he supposed that he would have to find an inn that would house his troops and himself comfortably until tomorrow when they could travel to the next town. His eyes were scanning the shops for such a place when he heard a shout.
�Hey look! There�s that dragon-girl!�
The mage-king whirled to look at the soldier who was pointing ahead of them frantically with an astonished look on his face. Marsibadd made a quick mental note to reward that man when this was over before whirling and scanning the crowd.
There, off to the right, walking out of a shoe store, was the girl. Her long dark hair and black-clad form was easily noticed in the crowd full of dusty peasants in clothes of brown and tan.
When the shout rang out, the dragon-girl began to run immediately, pushing through the confused and startled crowd without turning to look at her pursuers. Marsibadd motioned to his followers before running after the girl who had so badly foiled his plans.
We�ll see how strong she is without the tree people to help her. He thought gleefully. But the crowd that had parted before him when things were calm now rushed in a mad panic trying to push the opposite way that he wanted to go. Briefly he was tempted to draw his sword and force them apart, but Aaran, who had stepped behind him when the shout had rung out, whispered a few words and motioned calmly with his hand. The peasants were pushed to either side of the road like dust brushed from a table top. This left a clear path for the king and his party to follow, and, as luck would have it, the dragon-girl, Tavia the king recalled was her name, had darted into the cleared street, seeing a chance for her to flee unhindered.
Unfortunately for her, however, this also gave the king a clear view of her so that he could perform his spells. A few phrases and red light shot from Marsibadd�s fingers, rocketing toward the girl running in front of him. The confinement spell was only inches from her back when she ducked to the right, into a side street and away from his spell.
Marsibadd cursed, not bothering to mumble, and then turned to his company, �Well, what are you waiting for you fools? Go after her!� he bellowed so loudly that even the townspeople cringed in fear.
Tavia�s breath began to come quicker and more painfully in her lungs as she ran desperately down the darkened side street. The warmth from the spell the mage had cast at her still lingered on her back and the fire-mage wondered if there wasn�t a scorch mark on her robe. That was preferable to having the mark on her flesh, though.
The street was narrow and winding, lined with garbage cans and slippery with refuse. Several times she almost slipped and fell face first as she took a bend in the road, but the sound of quickly approaching footsteps drove her on. Shouting accompanied the pounding of boots and they were close enough that Tavia�s sharp hearing could make out their words now.
�Move men! Don�t let her get away!�
�You are hardened warriors; you won�t be outrun by a little girl!�
�The first to catch her and bring her to me alive will be rewarded greatly.� This last voice was hard and quiet as ice. It sent a shiver down her spine. Why alive? She shuddered again at what those men could and would do to her if they caught her alive and then she ran harder.
The side street ended abruptly, opening out into another larger street full of passersby milling about. She dove into their midst and made her way toward what appeared to be another side street. But as she entered it, she saw that it though it looked the same as the street she had just left; it ended with a brick wall that loomed ahead of her like some giant, blocking her way.
She made to turn back, but as she did, she spotted the mages and their company exiting the street she had left moments ago and realized that there was no way she could leave this alley and not be seen. Instead, she quickly ducked behind a trashcan that stood on one of the walls. With a brief concentration and exertion of will, an illusion appeared before her in the form of herself. But it was unnerving to also notice that this illusion had no face at all. She flinched and silently commanded the figure to pull its hood up, which it did immediately. With a final anxious sigh, she sent the illusion out of the alley and down the street, hoping that it would get far enough away that the mages wouldn�t sense its true nature.
She sunk down onto her heels between two garbage bins, her head falling to rest on her knees. Please Simione, my Lady, please don�t let them find me here. If they do, I have nowhere else to run to and I can�t fight all of them. Tavia prayed desperately, her fingers curling around the heart shaped locket around her neck. It lay cold in her hand for a moment before suddenly flaring with a comforting heat.
The pounding of heavy boots sounded outside the alleyway and Tavia poked her head around the garbage bin she sat next to. The sound was accompanied by the shouting of surprised and outraged peasants as they were pushed out of the street�and against the entrance to her hideout. This was small comfort though as the white robes of the mages became visible through the press of people. They all moved quickly past (apparently they had spotted her illusion) except for one who paused in front of the alley. His feet moved as if he was circling in search of something and Tavia quickly ducked back behind the garbage bin which concealed her.
The locket in her hand grew even hotter as she gripped it tighter and sent a second prayer to her goddess. Finally, the mage moved on, hurrying after his companions and the fire-mage breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She waited only a few more moments until the spell had worn off the townspeople and they began to move back into the street and then she left the alley, heading in the opposite direction as they mages had taken. With any luck, she would be out of the town and well on her way before they realized they had been fooled