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Numair forces his expression to remain neutral in the face of the dirty merchant trader, back rigid and purse of coins heavy. Daine had gone missing a week ago, a week. Numair tries not to think about all the things that can happen in a week because he already knows the limitless horrors that can entail and he’s already had every one of them flashing behind his eyes in the moments of sleep exhaustion had forced upon him.
The man sizes him up, a long hard look, and Numair tries to look bored because he can’t elicit the lie of excitement he’d usually use in this kind of ploy. It’s enough, it has to be enough, because there’s only so far he can stretch his acting when his body has been strained tight with stress for so long.
He should have been able to track her, he should have been able to find her, but there’d been spells – powerful spells – in his way and instead of being able to use his focus, or any of the other redundancies he’d prepared for this kind of instance he’d been forced to do it all by foot. The days had dragged.
“Is there a purpose to us standing here?” Numair eventually asks because his pulse is high and time is moving strangely around him.
“Just wondering what a fancy like you is needing this kind of thing for,” the trader replies, and this at least Numair is prepared for. He’s made the same lies to nearly every trader in the city, if they all didn’t know he was in the market then it was because they were keeping their own secrets from each other.
He arches his eyebrow condescendingly, “If you had ever worked with mages before you would know there are certain ingredients that one can’t easily procure through more… legitimate means.” There are laws, after all, in every country and this man is breaking many of them. Numair has been keeping a list as he moved from one trader to another, listing out details he’d hand on after he was done – after he’d found Daine. Maybe she’d like to help take them out herself. Numair was still trying to believe she’d be in a state to help anyone when he found her. Because he would find her – no matter how long it took.
The trader scrubs his nose, and Numair feels the touch of magic brushing over him. His unimpressed look gets darker but he lets the probe slide around him. He’s got nothing on him this kind of low-level magic will notice, his magic is banked down, coiled tight, and everything that might oust him as more than he seems has been concealed under the kind of spells Numair himself would be challenged to break.
When the spell passes the trader grins all blackened teeth and apparently, they’re friends now because the trader gets his hand around Numair's back and starts to lead him into the shanty with a push. Numair bares it.
As they cross the threshold Numair feels the pop of a spell being bypassed, and instantly he can hear what’s been hidden. The spell is inconsequential, a privacy spell that would have cost a trader like this one a large purse or two, but infinitely invaluable when trying to hide from the law.
Numair blinks to adjust his eyes, and he’s walked past cage after cage of squawking and terrified animals. He spots animals he can’t even identify in the mix, bright coloured birds, chittering monkeys, a snake big enough to swallow a man whole, but none of them are her.
“Here you go,” the trader lets up the pressure on Numair’s back as they step into the back room. Numair holds very still, controls his breathing, and doesn’t move until the shake is gone from his hands.
There are twelve cage doors in this last ramshackle room, and he knows the animals inside will all be larger predators Numair can recognise easily. He steps away from the trader and up to the first cage to look through the small opening in the door. There’s a grey wolf inside, it has a thick leather collar covered in spells, and it meets his eyes but doesn’t move. Numair counts the seconds, but there’s no sign of recognition. Feeling sick and angry Numair moves to the next cage.
“They’re pretty right my friend? Surely one of these will have what you want. I don’t trade in rubbish,” the trader boasts watching Numair’s back. Numair tries to ignore him as he looks into the second cage. The black bear is asleep, curled into itself in a corner, instead of asking the trader to wake it – which he knows he will not be able to palate - Numair moves to the next cage. He moves from cage to cage, categorising animals, but seeing no signs of recognition, and he’s not desperate yet but he’s planning the next steps. This trader has been his best bet, and he had to run through all the others first to get here, but he still can’t rock the boat in case she’s somewhere else.
The stress and worry melts away though, the moment he lays eyes on the coyote in one of the back cages because it meets his eyes, steps forward in an excited quick step. Frantic he looks it over, checks for injuries, but there isn’t anything, no more than superficial scratches and that same horrible thick collar all the other animals wore.
“This one,” he says decisively, and watches the way she bears her teeth stalking to the cage door ready to attack. He shakes his head once, and she cocks her head and tucks the teeth away, stepping back away and looking meek. Her trust in him centres him, makes him more aware of how important it is to get this right. How essential it is to protect her and save her. Not that he’ll leave here now he’s found her, his magic is already starting to crackle at his fingertips.
“Alright,” the trader grins, stepping forward to open the cage door. Numair doesn’t expect it, remembers to flinch back, and the trader laughs, “it’s fine, it’s got no teeth with that collar on but once it leaves here, well… that’s on you friend.”
Numair watches as the door opens and Daine takes one menacing step forwards despite his instructions, then stops cold and falls unconscious. Numair twitches once, wants to check on her, wants to lash out against the trader, wants to roar, but holds it in under that same cold exterior he’s been holding onto so tightly since he arrived in the town.
“The collar, how does it work?” Numair restrains himself further when the trader steps into the cell to bring Daine out, coiled tight and furious at the disgusting man touching her but knowing he can’t step into the cage himself. There are too many traps, too much to risk, and getting trapped with her won’t help either of them.
“Simple thing,” the trader promises, “can’t hurt it, just put it to sleep when it’s inconvenient for it to be awake. I could sell it to you too, but it wasn’t cheap to come by.”
Numair doesn’t doubt it, the collar is as illegal as the animal trading, but the one thing he wants now, more than anything else, is to get it off her.
“I don’t want it damaged,” he warns, and the trader sets her down in the middle of the room, carefully because the trade is worth a lot and not for any care of the animal he’s selling off.
“Won’t happen,” the trader assures, and pats her flank with his dirty hands. Numair feels his control start to crack, drops to the grimy floor, and slips his fingers in under the disgusting collar. “Hey, you can’t take it off in here-“ the trader tries to say, but Numair’s already tested the thing, felt its benign nature, and he doesn’t have to listen to him, doesn’t have to pretend anymore.
With one flick of his magic he throws the trader back, slamming him into a wall of cages. The trader calls for help, and Numair can hear people approaching, but he doesn’t care. He unclasps the collar binding her, reaches into her so familiar mind and wakes her up with a gentle brush, and then she’s awake bright eyes, furious, and Numair feels an answering feral grin in reply. “Magelet,” he greets, relief and pleasure at the sight of her unbound and undamaged, “you gave me a scare,” he reprimands, and she glowers until her eyes shift past him and then she’s lunging past body shifting so that when she hits her target it’s with the solid weight of wolf.
Numair turns to the task at hand even as the room erupts into chaos. The trader is shouting about the king’s mage and the shifter, the trader’s guards are fighting off an enraged and skilled predator whose been caged for a week, and Numair after a week of strain and stress lets loose his magic and throws it furiously at the ramshackle trader’s den shattering protective spells, knocking back the tide of enemies as they try and approach, then ripping apart collars and locking spells in one furious move.
The cage doors open. The animals locked inside wake up, and after that they do all the work, releasing their rage against the monsters that held them captive. And, no longer needed, Daine returns to his side, shifts back into her human body. He tucks her quickly under his own robe, hides her from the room, and she smiles up at him, stunning and beautiful, alive and whole, and Numair has never been so lucky as to be able to hold her again. Safe, secure, even in the middle of a battle they need not worry about.
He kisses her once, because he can, then again because he needs to, and she smiles into his kisses and gives them back.
“Knew you’d come,” she tells him with certainty.
“Daine, so long as I live, I will always come,” he kisses her again to chase away the thoughts of what could have been, barely noticing when the town guards locate the den. But she pulls away from him, goes to leave his arms completely naked. He manages to stall her long enough to get his cloak off his shoulders and onto hers, and then she’s sprinting into the mess to protect the animals that have driven into the fray for her. He follows more sedately and the animals ignore him like he’s one of them.
When everything has settled down, when Daine has made sure the animals will be taken care of he pulls her away, finds a clean inn with a spare room, and falls asleep with her wrapped up in his arms, her head tucked securely under his chin. Safe and alive and well.