A/N: This is just a theory I thought of: What if Daine was loyal to Carthak rather than Tortall? Hence, if you're shipping D/N there might not be any in here… evil grin

888

Desert

They were hunting the wild girl. Each villager, young and old, brave and cowardly, carried a weapon. Being a poor mountain town, these weapons were rough and home made: wooden bows, slingshots and pitch forks. They strode through the bright afternoon sunlight like it was the middle of the night, a frightened clump of people joined by mutual terror. Only a few strode bravely forward: bragging sweethearts trying to prove their bravery, the foolish, and the strangers who had been enlisted at the inn. The crowd was led by a small pack of hunting dogs, their noses keen to the scent of the girl. Abruptly, they stopped and whimpered, trying to turn back.

"What's wrong?" growled Ulrin, the headman, kicking at a cowering hound. The huntsman frowned and studied the ground.

"Them's wolf tracks… strange, they don't normally come this near the village."

"Ah, your cowardly mutts are scared of wolves." The sarcastic mutter came from somewhere near the back of the crowd. The huntsman glared toward the sound.

"'Ain't so. Might be… summat else. Daine did raise 'em, they don't see her as quarry."

"She's mad, and a threat." The headman cut in smoothly. "At the least she should be locked up. We can't have her runnin' wild, attacking people. Get them mangy mongrels on the scent!"

"Yessir." the huntsman muttered, dragging the dogs past the row of tracks. As one they growled and snapped at his hands, pulling free of the leashes and running back to the village. In the resulting confusion, they didn't hear the feral growl until it was in the trees right beside them.

"Daine?" the huntsman whispered, searching the undergrowth. Steely blue-grey eyes narrowed, glinting with fierce intelligence as they studied the burly man. He shivered and gestured for the crowd to get back. "Daine, it's me… remember me, Jun? Remember…" A snarl cut him off. Several villagers started to run back to the village. Ulrin stepped closer to the trees, his voice cloyingly sweet.

"Daine, we're here to help you. We're sorry about your family. We just want to help…" Cautiously he loosed the dagger from the small of his back, smiling innocently at the glittering eyes. The grey orbs softened slightly.

"Juh- Jun?" A voice murmured, rough from weeks in the wild, clumsy, as if the owner couldn't quite remember how to speak. The speaker edged forward, peering from the dense scrub with confusion written on her dirty features.

Ulrin threw the dagger. With a cry, the huntsman grabbed his arm. "What're you doing!"

The dagger sped through the air. With a cry, the girl ducked in the bushes, crouching on all fours. Snarling, she groped for the fallen blade, lunging across the road and burying the blade into Ulrin's arm. Instinctively, he grabbed her with the other arm.

She bit him. Yelling, he let go. She turned to run…

The scream cut through the air like a sword blade. Ulrin turned and glared at the frozen mob of villagers, a thick, bloodied branch clutched in one hand.

"Fat lot of good you lot were." He spat, dropping the branch. "Jun, you arsehole, what did you do that for? I coulda got her…"

"You coulda killed her. You forgot'en all she done for you?" The huntsman eyed the girl uneasily. The Daine he remembered had been patient, quiet. He remembered one time, when one of the hounds was ill, she'd sat up with him through the night and nursed him back to health. When it recovered, the dog had bitten her. She had only laughed and ruffled its fur.

This Daine was totally different. Twigs were snarled in her tangled hair, dirt covered any human features she may have had. Even unconscious, her face had a wild, savage look to it. A livid, bloody bruise was swelling across the top of her shoulder; a smaller one blossomed on her temple. Several villagers were backing away, muttering prayers to Mithros. Ulrin spat on the dust and kicked the branch away.

"The curs't pony'll be here soon." The headsman muttered, glancing warily into the trees. Distant howls rang through the trees. "We should finish her off." He unsheathed his dagger slowly, still keeping an eye on the forest boundary.

"No!" A woman shrieked from the back of the crowd. "For shame, Ulrin! She grew up not five mile from us! Don't kill her! She done fix my plough horse's leg, what you said would never walk again! Mithros, her ma done brought your son into this world!"

An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd. Ulrin glanced at their faces, disgust plain on his face, and murder in his mind. His half cultured speech fell away in his vehemence.

"You're mad, the lot of yer! She done murdered them people…"

"Bandits." Jen muttered stubbornly. The headman glared at him, a vein throbbing on his temple.

"Murder! An' she be wild, runnin' in the forest like an animal…" A chilling howl cut him off. The wolf pack was closer. The villages tightened their grip on their weapons.

"Surely there's summat else we can do?" The woman spoke almost pleadingly. Daine had brought her herd through calving, when they had the milk sickness. Without the calves, the whole family would have died.

"I have a possible solution." The clear, cold voice came from the back of the crowd. One of the strangers, a dark skinned merchant, was watching the event with interest. His hand rested lightly on a no-nonsense sword, a crossbow on his back was cocked and loaded- the only signs that he might be nervous. The amused expression on his face was anything but, a huge contrast with the villager's fearful masks. A calculating look spread across muddy hazel eyes.

"Well?" Ulrin spat in the soil again, trying not to shiver as the wolf song came even closer. The villagers had started trickling back to the village, some even breaking into a run to get away. The stranger eyed them with contempt, and turned back to the headman.

"I'm a trader. I'll be prepared to take the girl from you…for a small price. After that, she's out of your hands and you'll never have to be bothered with her again."

The offer was almost irresistible. A look of gleeful delight escaped from Ulrin before he composed himself. "I'll consider it." He said.

The merchant grinned.

888

The song of the forest was still around her when she woke up. Surprised, she sniffed the air. The wolves were close, Cloud was ever nearer, but…

Something was wrong: A dischord in the forest's song. She forced her eyes open, lifting a hand to clear the dried blood which sealed one shut. The hand wouldn't move. She glared at it with her remaining eye, willing it to work, by Old White! The other arm was no good either. A short rope tied her wrist to a tree. When she tried gnawing it off the sting of magic burned her mouth. She snarled at it and tried again.

"Do you speak?" The voice was cold and indifferent, and came from nowhere. She glared around the clearing, searching for traces of human footsteps. A thud shook the ground behind her as a man jumped from one of the trees, a crossbow strung to his back. She backed away, spitting and snarling. The man glanced at her, shrugged, and strode through the trees. A few seconds later he returned, leading a pack horse and a pony.

Cursed human… muttered the pony, snapping at the man's arm. May your hair fall out and boils grow on your rear and may the people hunt you for all time…

"Cloud!" Daine exclaimed, the nearly forgotten word torn from her memory in surprise. The pony dug her feet into the soil, stared at the girl, and tugged at the rope which tied her to the pack horse. The sparkle of magic swam along it, dark green flickers that hissed as they struck the pony's mane. She whinnied angrily and snapped at the rope.

"Cloud." The man muttered, knotting the rope around an apple tree. "Is that all you can say?"

She glared at him and snarled again, curving her good fist into a claw. The pack song chorused in her ears, mournful and distant. The wolves were moving away. Unknowingly, she blinked tears from her eyes.

Cloud, why is the pack going?

The pony shifted from foot to foot, refusing to meet the girl's eyes. Your shoulder's dislocated. Did someone finally kick some sense into you?

The pack's going! Through her helpless tears she could sense them, trailing away beyond her reach. The pack song faded with them. The scent of food replaced it. The man had pulled trail rations from the packs, and was eating them acquisitively. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since…

"Hungry?" The man asked, pausing with a piece of meat halfway to his mouth. She spat at him.

Daine, the wolves have gone. You can't be a wolf any more. The pony said gently. If you're going to survive, you need to eat. You're usually keen enough to stuff your face…

The wolves have gone. She said feebly, dim traces of acceptance resting in her eyes. The humans tried to kill me, the pack has left me… Cloud, what have I got left?

You've got me. The pony snorted and pawed the ground. Now eat something, or so help me, I'll bite you!

"You can have the pretty pony when you act like a civilized human being." The man called, sarcasm dripping from each word. "She isn't going to move even if you keep staring at her. Can you speak, or are you dumb?" Obviously not expecting an answer, he carried on, "You're Daine, aren't you. I'm Kavan. I'm a merchant from Carthak. Well, I'm a merchant at the moment." He grinned to himself. Reaching for another piece of trail bread, he seemed about to continue when a hesitant voice stopped him.

"K-kah-vahn? Food? Pleas…se?"

"Since you asked so nicely." He shrugged, concealing his surprise, and dropped a piece of bread and some meat near her. She hissed and back away, sniffing it nervously. He shrugged and returned to his piece of bread.

Don't touch the meat, Daine.

Why not? This time she was careful not to look at Cloud as she spoke, desperate not to draw attention to her friend. Her mouth already ached from the unfamiliar action of speaking as she crammed bread into it. The pony hesitated again, and looked directly at Kavan.

Just…don't trust the stupid human. Tomorrow I'll bite his head off, and we'll get away from here. But don't touch the meat.

888

The Beaten Arms was busy, as it always was at that time of year. Merchants, traders and tourists gathered in clumps in the hot inn, sweat running off them like water as they boasted of this sale, that purchase, this souvenir. Hasty last minute trades were carried out even as the boats pulled into the nearby dock, bound for Carthak, Tortall, the Yamani isles, and Scanra. Every minute, new merchants from the boats poured into the inn. It felt like an oven.

Shaw lounged in one of the quieter corners, nursing a pitcher of beer as he eyed the crowd avidly. Sweat ran between his eyes, and he wished he didn't have to wear the stuffy, dark cloak and hood. Secrecy was fair enough, but he had the funny feeling he was attracting more attention like this, especially with steam rising from him. Still, rules were rules. He sighed and tugged the itchy wool away from his skin.

"You look like a goddess-cursed priest."

Shaw jumped and glared around him, "How the hell do you do that? I was keeping an eye open for you!"

Kavan laughed dryly. "His imperial majesty believes in training to the utmost." He made a mocking bow. "Since we are both slave traders at the moment, I find that I am most interested in seeing your wares."

"Ix-nay on the lave-say!" hissed the other man, taking a quick gulp of his beer. Kavan shrugged, looking amused.

"You should've stayed at the university. You're pathetically incompetent."

Shaw spluttered beer over the table. The hood fell back in his agitation, revealing a pair of watery eyes and a weak chin. Ragged blonde hair was plastered to his forehead. "I found three. His majesty will be most pleased with me. I see you have none."

"You didn't think I'd be stupid enough to bring them with me, did you?" Kavan leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from the warm beer on the table and wincing. "Where are they?"

"There's a storehouse under the dock that belongs to Himself. No guards or anything interfere with it, and it has gift-protected walls. It also has a tunnel going right to the Carthaki dock, which is convenient." Shaw pulled a face. "I suppose you want to see them?"

The storehouse was nearly invisible, hidden behind one of the many pubs that covered the waterside. Strong wooden planks were tinted a deceptive grey, blending with the slate sea and the stormy skies. Shaw lifted a hand that glittered with blue fire, and a small door swung open. Kavan's mouth fell open. Inside, the storehouse was filled with valuable goods- spices, gold, and magical goods, all bound for Carthak.

"Gods," he whispered, "Why did no-one tell me about this? It's… incredible."

"You're not a merchant. You didn't need to know." Shaw said smugly. He gestured to the neat stacks of goods. "They don't need guards, even. Hardly anyone knows the spell to open the door."

They made their way to a second door, which led to a second, smaller room. A long wooden bench covered three of the walls- the fourth wall had a lifting door which Kavan suspected led to the dock tunnel. Sitting or sleeping on the benches were fifty or sixty slaves. The conscious ones lifted their heads, dull, listless eyes staring at the intruders. Shaw locked the door behind him and gestured to three of them: a young boy, who was sucking his thumb uneasily, a sleeping teenage girl, and a middle age man. The man glared at them as they examined him.

"Well," Kavan said eventually, breaking the silence. "I don't know why you bothered with him. He only has the standard Gift, although it is quite strong. I suppose you could sell him to the army." He let his gaze drift to the younger boy. "Now, that's more interesting…he has the Sight, mixed with the Gift. Young enough to be trained as well. You'll get a good reward for that."

The boy whimpered. "I don' wanna be trained. I wan' my ma."

Shaw struck him across the face, knocking his thumb from his mouth. "You ran away, remember. You're so lucky I found you." A slow grin spread across his weak features. "The girl's the best one, I think. She's part Banjiku, and she has the Gift on top of it."

He ignored the boy's wails and strode back to the door, beckoning Kavan after him. Once they were out of earshot of the slaves, he muttered, "The boat leaves in six hours, after dusk. There's still time to stay behind and look for more, if you need to. The emperor may become…upset… if you don't have the right merchandise."

Kavan shook his head irritably. "You think I don't know that?" He strode off without another word. Shaw watched him, a smirk playing across his weak features.