Several hours later, he followed the lady into a large hall. A massive and unbelievably long table sat in the center of the hall, and at the far end, two chairs sat, the larger at the end, the smaller to the right side.
He followed her to the end, and stood for a moment in surprise as she took the smaller chair, leaving him the larger chair at the end, then sighed and sat. He looked at her for a moment, surprised at the sadness in her eyes. He was about to apologize again when she spoke, startling him. "Master, will you tell me now what I am doing that is hurting you? Please." Even as she said the first word, he winced.
He sighed, and in a low voice, said, "Lady, I'm real sorry for killing your husband, even if I couldn't help it, and even if he mighta deserved it. But I certainly didn't kill him to take what was his, least of all you." She felt a sharp pain in her heart at his words.
"I ain't your Master, Lady. I dunno why you keep calling me that. Was he your protector or something? Are you afraid that you'll have no-one to protect you if I leave too?" Her heart fell to her feet when he mentioned leaving her, and tears appeared in her eyes.
"I won't! I won't leave you. I'll protect you, if you want me to. Don't cry, please don't cry," he responded quickly to the sight of her tears. "Just don't call me that. I'm not your Master."
"But you are," she said emphatically, even as he shook his head. "He was not my husband, young Master, he was my Master. I was bound to him, and now I am bound to you."
"I don't understand. You said that before, about bein' bound. Whatcha mean by that?"
She sighed. How to explain this... "Young Master," she began, and he immediately interjected, with a look of pain on his face that tore at her heart, "Please stop calling me that. My name's Ranma. Saotome Ranma."
"Very well, Ranma. I am bound by magic to serve and love my Master. I am bound to you."
Ranma jumped out of his chair at this, stumbling backwards. "What? Magic... love!?" He looked scared out of his wits. "No, no, I don't want that. You can't want that! How do I stop it?"
She looked hurt. "You don't like me? You don't want my love?" Tears sprang into her eyes. Her heart felt like it would break, and she could not stop the pain, nor the tears. she knew that the emotions came from the old Lord's spells, not her heart, but she could not fight their strength.
"No, no, its not like that. Please don't cry. Its just... magic... its not right that you should be forced to love me. Its not right! Please don't cry." He was back at her side instantly, holding her in his small but strong arms. "Please don't cry." He felt terrible. She had looked so sad and small and vulnerable saying that. He felt like he had hit her, when he saw how she took his words.
He scraped his courage back together. Though he knew he was responsible for protecting her, after killing her... well he wasn't her husband, but surely he had been responsible for her... Ranma couldn't just leave her. But if he found someone who could take care of her... He needed to get back to his father before Genma got really mad. "What would you do... if... if I left?" he asked, dreading her response.
"I'd die," she said, in a choked whisper.
"You'd kill yourself," he said in a soft voice filled with shame and horror. Genma would have to go on without him. He could not be responsible for her death.
"No," she replied, "I'd simply die. The magic won't let me live without my Master." She sobbed. She knew he didn't love her, he couldn't love her. He was too young, too young to love any but his family. He would leave her, for she could not refuse to aid him in returning to his father, whom he surely must love, and she would die, and she would never see her beloved sister again. Oh how she hated the old Master, now that he was gone. She hated him, because she had loved him first, a true love, UN-forced, and he had betrayed her, trapping her with magic, and now that the magic love was gone, and the original love dead by betrayal, he was still going to drag her into death with him.
"I won't leave you." he said, simply, and quietly. He reached out with his small arms, and held her close. "Don't cry. I won't let you die." She believed him, comforted by the sincerity in his voice, and held him tightly, still sobbing softly.
Finally, after nearly a quarter of an hour, she had quieted. She was holding Ranma in her arms now, his arms around her, as he sat in her lap. Shifting slightly, he spoke, his voice clear of tears and sorrow now, sounding light and sweet. "Lady, you still haven't told me your name."
"My name? You may call me Alana, Ranma."
"That's a pretty name, Alana." he said, then shifted again to look up to her. "Please don't t-take this the wrong way, Alana. B-But I don't wanna stay here forever. I got my Oyaji out there somewhere, looking for me. I gotta find him. I gotta train. I don't really wanna ask this of someone like you. But can you leave this place? Do you gotta stay here? If you could come with me, I promise to protect ya." His eyes pleaded with hers.
"Oh you poor child. Yes, I can leave this place. But I don't think we'll find your Oyaji. Ranma, that room, upstairs, where you fought my old Master... that was a summoning room. He brought you here, Ranma, from somewhere else. This isn't your world." She felt her heart break again at the pain and fear in the blue eyes of the child she held. "I'm sorry, Ranma. I'm really sorry."
She almost laughed at the sudden almost comical look of determination that appeared on his face. "Well, then, we'll just haveta find us somebody who can set you free and send me home." Her heart nearly broke again, but for a very different reason. This cute, comical, sweet little boy was actually placing as much emphasis on setting her free as on getting himself home. He had someone who truly loved him, who would do anything and everything for him, and all he wanted was to set her free.
"I'm sorry, Ranma. I really am. But the only person who could have set me free was the old Master. You could, if you knew enough magic. But no other magic-user can do it. But I can send you home." She saw his face light up again, then dim as he saw the look of sadness and despair on her face.
"You couldn't come with me though, huh? You'd have to die to send me home. I won't letcha. I won't." He hugged her fiercely again, and she wept, again. So pure of heart. So strong of will. She realized then that even if he did one day manage to free her, she would never be free of love for her little Ranma. "So I have to find somebody to teach me magic then. So I can free you. Do you know someone?" He looked at her, that fierce look of determination on his face again, and she felt her heart leap.
"Yes," she said softly, "I do know someone. If you really want to learn, I will teach you, Ranma."
"Alright," he said, "But I gotta keep training. Are there martial artists on this world?"
"Yes," she laughed, "there are. I will bring Sensei's here to train you, Ranma."
---
That night, as Ranma sat alone in his room, he considered all that he had seen that day. His father had always told him that women were silly and weak, and when he had cried, his father had beat him, telling him that he was behaving like a weak girl. He had cried again that day, after realizing that he had killed. Even worse, he had killed unknowingly, without being able to decide if it was right and honorable.
The Lady had held him, and comforted him, and it had helped, he knew that. Crying was good therefore, he decided. It had rid him of some of his pain. He remembered the look on her face, the terrible pain in her eyes as she held him, crying against her, and realized that he... he had hurt her with his tears. It had been good for him... and it had hurt her.
For once, Ranma agreed with his father, in a completely unexpected way. Had he stayed with his father, he would have been beaten until every aspect of his femininity had been beaten from his mind, until he reacted to the possibility of emotion with harsh retorts and insults designed to prevent any emotional closeness that might let another share his pain.
Though he was now free of his father's influence in this respect, Ranma made a choice, and he chose to follow his father's path. But without the beatings, the continual conditioning of his unconscious self, this determination would manifest in a very different manner. Instead of a defense of automatic emotional reactions, Ranma began building barriers in his mind, locking his tears and pain away.
He had studied meditation under his father very early in his training. His father did not care much for meditation, and had used it only as a tool to get Ranma in touch with himself, to help him achieve his balance. Now Ranma began using it to wall away his emotions. In his mind this became a wall of ice, a coldness that held back the heat of his anger, the fire of his pain, and soothed them until there was nothing but numbness left.
It would take time, he knew, and so he set aside a half-hour each day to spend in his meditation, building the emotional barrier, strengthening it, striving to make it an integral part of his mind.
So it was that Ranma set out on the path of the Soul of Ice.
---
Krall made his way back to the massive encampment where Fey's permanent war force trained and prepared. There, he knew, he would learn of what had happened. He must be cautious, though. If Arkus or another warlord had taken control, they would likely have orders to capture all the higher officers, to force them to take magically binding oaths of loyalty, or perhaps to slay them out of hand, if the new ruler had generals of his own.
So it was a wolf that slunk into the encampment in the darkness of that second night, and padded silently from tent to tent, listening to the endless gossip. The death of the Lord Fey was a popular topic, unsurprisingly, but there seemed very little discussion of who had replaced him.
Krall heard enough to know that it was a small being, child-size, though he knew well enough not to judge power by stature. Fey had been a much thinner man than Krall, but was physically stronger. This new Lord might well be one of the faerie folk, or a dwarven elementalist, or even a demon. Krall had little thought of facing him directly, knowing that with his own power reduced by Fey's death, instead of enriched, he had little hope of defeating one who could defeat the Lord Fey in his inner sanctum.
Krall pondered, wondering whether Fey had succeeded in his intent before dying. Had the summoned being destroyed Arkus as well, or was that blight still out there, lurking somewhere? Krall shook in fury as he heard a few of his subordinate generals commenting on the fact that the new Lord had already been accepted by the Dragon Fang, the Lord's sword. That was to be mine, he growled to himself, before slipping through the shadows out of the encampment. He would find work in another army, for now, but he would have his revenge.