Edit April 2010: FFN decided to eat all the scene dividers so I'm having to go back and add them all in again. I'm also removing the review responses. NOTHING ELSE HAS BEEN ALTERED; if you've read this story before, you don't need to read it again (although you're more than welcome to).

Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday; your reviews were a great present to get! I've never had so many reviews for a chapter. Now, if you would all review like that every time... This is the last chapter; there's also a lot of notes at the end.

Numair had no real idea of how everything had been organised afterwards. On their return to Dunlath, the shock and exhaustion had finally caught up with him, and once he had passed out he hadn't woken for two days. That was fairly standard after a draining, but he was starting to get quite tired of it. When he finally did wake up, the fief was crawling with activity; Maura had inherited the valley, which meant a lot of negotiations, and a guardian had to be appointed, and Yolane's trial arranged, and a lot of other arrangements that Numair decided not to involve himself in. It would be several weeks before they could head back to Corus, but that was all right; he and Daine could both use the rest.

Daine herself had also spent several days in bed, although not unconscious. Shifting with wild magic seemed to be more aggressively physical than with the Gift; his own first changes had been painful, but not excessively so, and he surmised that his magic had eased the transformation more than Daine's could. She was not a cooperative patient; she had to be in real pain to stay in bed for so long, but she clearly resented it. Numair decided uncharitably that Alanna was a healer and could therefore deal with it; he limited himself to brewing assorted medications and pretending not to hear the patient's opinion of them.

When she finally did get up, Numair was in the courtyard, obeying Alanna's impatient order to find something to amuse himself. "What are you doing?" she asked, startling him badly enough that he cut his thumb and dropped the knife.

Wincing, he sucked at the wound. "Nothing," he replied automatically, looking up at her from his seat on a lump of fallen stonework.

Frowning, Daine walked around him to get a better look, and smothered a laugh. "Are you carving your name into Tristan?"

"Of course not. That would be petty and juvenile. And it would take far too long; I'm just carving my initials," he admitted, grinning sheepishly and retrieving his knife from the ground.

Trying not to laugh, she sat down next to him. "You're insane," she told him mildly. "Can you do mine, too?"

Snickering, he licked his cut thumb one final time and put the finishing touches to the N before starting the first curve of the S. "If you want. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Better. I'm a bit stiff, but it doesn't hurt any more. What on earth did you put in those teas?"

"Don't complain," he told her absently, chipping at the rough bark. "They worked, didn't they?"

"Eventually." They sat in companionable silence for a while "Are you all right?" she asked finally. When he glanced up, she searched his face hesitantly, and he frowned.

"Yes. Why?"

"I – I know you were having nightmares," she said quietly. "I heard you."

He grimaced and brushed dust out of the carvings. Had it been anyone else, he would have insisted he was fine; he had done already when Alanna had asked. But this was Daine; he'd never lied to her and didn't intend to start now. Everyone else was busy, anyway, and they might not get another chance to talk for a while. "Yes, I was, for the first couple of nights," he admitted softly. Finished with his initials, he started on hers. "Did you want a D or a V?"

"What? Oh. D, please... Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he replied honestly, starting to scratch the letter onto the bark, "but I think I might need to, if you don't mind listening. I don't know how much sense it will make, mind."

She giggled softly. "Numair, you never make sense."

He grinned at her. "Thank you for that, magelet," he answered dryly, considering where to start. "The nightmares weren't about Tristan, not really," he said reflectively, digging the point of the knife deeper into the wood. "It was the spell that affected me. I've never used a word of power before, and I don't think I want to use one again."

"Was it so bad?" she asked softly.

"It wasn't really bad at all. That was the problem." He breathed out slowly, thinking. This wasn't going to be easy to explain, but they should have had this conversation before, really. He had never considered talking about what he could do with any of his other friends, who were already apprehensive enough, but if he could he wanted to tell Daine. She wasn't afraid of him, even though she'd seen him turn someone into a tree.

"There are only seven mages of my rank in the world," he said finally. "The black robe is very rare; sometimes there are none living. I don't think there have ever been more than a dozen at once. Part of that is strength, but there are other mages almost as strong as I am who don't take the robe, and there are more who try and don't survive the test. I think it works in a similar way to the knights' Ordeal; if you're flawed in any way, you won't make it. The gods alone know how I managed it," he added, glancing up in time to see a hint of a smile cutting through the concern on her face. Finished with carving the D, he began to scratch the final S as he continued.

"Generally, mages are discouraged from reaching the black robe. The history isn't terribly pleasant. Most who get that far die young; they go insane. Some of them kill themselves; others have to be put down like rabid animals. Spells like the words of power are the reason why. You can't really imagine what it feels like to wield that much power," he said softly. "I couldn't imagine it, until I felt it. It's... unbelievable. For a moment, just a moment, it felt like I could do anything. Anything. It didn't feel bad, it felt good. And it terrified me." He looked up, wondering if he was making any sense at all.

Daine looked thoughtful, absently winding a curl of hair around her finger as she considered. "Alanna told me about her brother," she said finally, uncertainly. "Is it anything like that?"

"I'm not sure. That was all over before I came to Tortall. I don't remember if Thom ever took the black robe, but I think it was similar. He wasn't the only mage to have done something like that. The power gets too much. The adrenaline rush, the excitement... it's almost physical," he admitted, ashamed. "Throughout my training, I was warned repeatedly about the danger of surrendering to it. I never really understood what they were saying. After feeling... that, I think I do."

She nodded slowly. "But you said it scared you. And it gave you nightmares. That's a good thing, right? I mean..."

"I think so. I hope so. I never really wanted power anyway." Numair finished the final curve and sat back to study the pairs of initials etched into the bark. "In fact, I cried when my teacher explained to me that I would have to train to be a war mage, that I was too powerful for anything else," he said reminiscently. "I was only a boy, younger than you are now, but I was already stronger than most of the teachers at the university." Brushing away the last of the dust, he shrugged and stretched.

"Was that when you met Tristan and the others?" she asked very quietly. He had never really spoken much about his past, except in very general terms, but if they were going to keep running into trouble connected with Carthak then she deserved to know. And truthfully, it would be a relief to talk about it; it wasn't something he shared with anyone.

"No, it was after I'd been at the university for a year or so. I don't remember exactly any more."

"Why did you hate him – them – so much?"

Numair looked down at her and felt himself smile. It seemed so stupid now. "They used to bully me," he admitted, his smile broadening at the surprise on her face.

"Really?"

"Really. Well, I didn't fit in much there, after all. I was only twelve when I went to Carthak; years younger than the other students. I was foreign, and I couldn't speak Thak very well at first. I was a lot smaller than they were, as well."

"I don't believe that," Daine replied, looking up at him.

He laughed, able to appreciate the irony now. "It's true! I had a late growth spurt; I was probably only about your height until I was nearly sixteen, then I grew almost a foot in half a year and terrified everyone. Anyway, I was always the outsider, and being more powerful made it worse. Tristan was the leader of his little gang; Alamid and Gissa followed him, and he decided he didn't like me."

"What about the emperor?"

"Oh, he didn't take any notice of us lesser mortals then. That came later." He wasn't quite ready to talk about that, Numair realised thoughtfully, but soon he would tell her – if she wanted to know. "Thanks for listening, magelet. I haven't really been able to talk to anyone else about this. You're a good listener."

"I wanted to know." Daine looked thoughtfully up at the tree for a while before looking back at him. "Why haven't you told anyone else, though? About the black-robe thing, I mean, not about Tristan. Alanna would understand, wouldn't she?"

"I don't know. In all honesty, I think after what happened to her brother she would run. In any case, I haven't seen much of her since we got back here; I think she's avoiding me."

"Why?"

"Because I turned someone into a tree, Daine. It frightened her. People aren't supposed to be able to do things like that. She won't be the only one; when we get back to Corus there will be quite a few people who won't feel comfortable speaking to me, for a while."

"That's stupid," she argued, and he smiled at her, more grateful than he would ever be able to tell her.

"No, it isn't. What I can do is frightening. I'm lucky everyone trusts me as far as they do."

"It still don't – doesn't make sense." She corrected herself before he could, making him grin. "I mean... well, it doesn't frighten me."

"I know," Numair replied softly, finding her hand and squeezing it gently. "I don't understand it, but I know."

"I don't either, really. Maybe it's because I didn't know much about the Gift and didn't really understand how powerful you are until after I got to know you. I know you can do scary things, but I also know you won't, not unless you really have to."

"That means a lot to me, you know."

They sat in silence for a while before she broke the moment with a grin. "Maybe if they'd seen you playing with the wolf puppies – and losing – folk would realise you're not scary at all."

He laughed at that, feeling a lot better than he had done in days. "Maybe! But I have a reputation to maintain, you know. It's bad enough that you have no respect for me whatsoever, but..." She elbowed him and he subsided with a grin, sliding off his seat and leaning back against it to stretch out in the autumn sunshine.

"You get the respect you deserve," she grumbled, joining him on the ground. After a while she said quietly, "I s'pose I know what you mean about people being frightened. The Own and the Riders have been giving me funny looks and they don't seem to want to talk to me."

"It will happen," he agreed sadly. "Your magic is very powerful in its way. It's not easy to measure, but you could be as strong as I am. As you learn to do more, you'll find people drawing away from you, especially those who have no magic of their own. If it makes you feel better, remember the Swoop. People were avoiding you for a while after that, but they soon forget. And your friends don't care – whatever species they might be," he added wryly, making her smile.

"That's true. How do you always know so much? It's not fair."

Numair grinned. "I'm your teacher. It's what I do." Closing his eyes, he relaxed, feeling a lot happier after their talk. He hadn't realised how much he had needed a friend who could listen to things like this. I'm a lucky man. After a while he asked, "Are you feeling better about shapeshifting now?"

"I think so. It was strange at first. I don't remember it very clearly now, but it was fun, being a wolf."

"I'm sure it was."

"Is it anything like the way you shift?"

"I don't know yet. I don't think so. Shapeshifting with the Gift doesn't seem to work logically; it's not really a physical change. Sometime I'll try and explain it to you just so you can see how it works for me, but I doubt it's going to help us understand your shifting. While I remember, be careful with what shapes you try. Above all, do not attempt to change into an immortal, under any circumstances."

"Why?"

"Because you won't be able to change back. I don't know why, before you ask. The badger might know; you could ask when you next see him."

"All right," she replied slowly, sounding disappointed.

He grinned at her. "Wanted to be a dragon?"

"Shut up, Numair."

"You'll have to settle for a bird instead. I hope you appreciate how lucky you are, having a teacher who can show you how to fly."

"I've seen you fly. I'll be lucky if I don't get hurt," Daine answered, trying not to laugh.

"Don't be impertinent," he replied loftily, knowing she was right. After a moment he sighed and opened his eyes. "I suppose we ought to go and find something more productive to do before someone notices Tristan's new decorations." He stood up reluctantly – it was warm and sheltered in the courtyard – and offered a hand to help her to her feet.

The pair stood and looked at the apple tree for a while. "Do you suppose he's still there?" Daine asked hesitantly. "Does he know what's happening?"

"I have no idea," Numair replied quietly. "I'm not completely certain how the spell works. I should have just killed him, but I didn't have time to think. Still, he looks healthy enough; if he is still in there, he should have many years to think about things; maybe he'll learn something." Picking up his knife, he scratched a line beneath his initials, and another beneath Daine's. "Come on. There's probably some work to avoid somewhere."

As he followed her out of the courtyard, Numair's mind returned to their earlier conversation, and a sense of warmth crept through him. I really am a very lucky man. The cost doesn't matter; I'd do it again if I had to. Some things are worth the price. Smiling, he started to whistle cheerfully as he followed his friend.

The End.

That's all for this story, folks. Yes, Numair carving his initials on the tree was utterly childish and not particularly in character, but the idea came to me when I was re-reading Wolf-Speaker before I started writing this and it made me laugh. In the end, I couldn't resist the urge to include it. Call it a minor deviation from sanity.

Some notes about this chapter. Firstly, Numair and Tristan; something about the way they interact made me think there was some nasty personal history between them. And Arram was a geek, by TP's own admission; he would have been a target for bullies. I also thought it would be cute to make him short. A lot of tall people were short as children.

Next, Numair and Alanna; don't worry, she hasn't abandoned him. In my mind, though, Numair is unusual enough that even his friends sometimes have to back off and say, "Woah, hang on a moment." With what happened to Thom, I figure sometimes Alanna gets a little disturbed by extreme magic and needs a little while to adjust and reassure herself that Numair isn't going the same way her brother did. He knows that and understands, so it doesn't hurt him much.

The concept of black robes going insane is entirely from my own head, as I mentioned before, but I think it makes sense. It's the whole idea of "absolute power corrupts absolutely." These guys have enough raw power to destroy continents if they want to; that must do strange things to your mind. After a while, you would start forgetting that other people matter. In Numair's case, he's a complete scatterbrain; I adore him, but realistically he isn't the type to be so constantly in control of himself unless he has a really good incentive to watch what he does.

And so this story has come to an end. Once again, the ending was unashamedly fluffy; that's going to happen a lot. I adore these characters enough that I tend to give them happy endings. Given everything I put Numair through to get to this point, I figure he deserves it. Next update will be a new story, the first part of Emperor Mage, a prologue that sets the scene, when Numair learns what's about to happen to him. Because he hasn't suffered anywhere near enough so far. Be prepared for more mage torture!

I want to thank all my readers, especially those who have been with me since the first chapter of Teacher. I still can't quite believe that so many people really like what I'm writing; I never dreamed that I would get the response I have. And now Teacher has been nominated for a competition; I would never have seen that coming in a million years. Without all of you I might not have had the confidence to continue with this; now I'm determined to see it through to the end. Thank you all so very much.

Loten.