Lord HaMinch, Training Master of pages and squires at the Royal Palace, was rather uncomfortable. He was tired of waiting for the servants to come to start his fire, and for late September the temperatures were extremely cold. Have to do it myself he thought glumly. He called up his Gift and slowly directed it at the waiting logs. They burst into flame, and a moment later, a wave of warmth covered the room like a thick blanket. Much warmer, but a little guilty, he returned to the documents on his desk. He didn't like to use his Gift, because he believed that dependence on it would leave him in trouble in a battle.
Halfway through a document on the advances on the Scanran raiders, he looked up at a knock on the door. A servant stepped through, obviously rather nervous, and new, and announced in a quavering voice "His Majesty, the King." Before retreating to a corner to wait until called.
HaMinch stood as Jonathon of Tortall walked through the door. The King was dressed in a shade of blue that accented his eyes and the sapphire on the circlet of gold around his head. He strode confidently into the room and motioned for HaMinch to be seated. He took the chair across the desk and sat very much at his ease. After a long silence, he spoke.
"We are expecting a new page," he stated in a voice that gave nothing away about his emotion. His face was unreadable.
"Very good my lord." said HaMinch smoothly, hiding his confusion. Why should the King come to speak with him about a new page? He had never done so before, in HaMinch's experience
"I am told that this one has some very extraordinary skills," continued Jonathon, "and has been trained in street and knife fighting since the age of four. By the Shang Falcon." He looked at HaMinch to see his reaction
HaMinch was quite surprised. "Why was he not accepted for Shang training?"
"The Shang decided that the child showed signs of the Gift, but unfortunately they never came to a head. The new page will arrive shortly. I came on a question of the youth's training."
"Yes Majesty?"
"From former experience we have found that pages should all be treated alike, no matter what their differences may be. You agree with this theory?"
Lord HaMinch was as good at verbal traps and combat as he was at physical ones. He sensed that he was walking into a trap at this moment. "Yes Sire, I do."
"Good," the trap snapped shut. "The new page will arrive soon to begin training. Have a pleasant evening."
As HaMinch bid the King goodnight, he wondered what he had let himself in for.
Rain lashed against the castle as servants rushed about, latching shutters. Lord HaMinch picked up a scatter of wet paper that the sudden cloudburst had disturbed. His fire crackled merrily, and with the wind and rain, his office seemed like a very agreeable place to be this afternoon. He settled into his chair wincing, and wondered why all first years couldn't be born knowing staff work. In a demonstration this morning a particular first year had accidentally hit the training master on the shoulder. It ached almost as much as his bones in this rain. I must be getting old, he mused. It was not a pleasant prospect. He was glad for the distraction of a servant knocking on the door. It was the same one who had announced the King five weeks earlier, and now seemed to have been assigned to the training masters permanently. Lord HaMinch found this exceedingly annoying. The boy hovered for Goddess's sake. HaMinch could not stand people who hovered. And the child's stutter! Lord HaMinch dismissed these thoughts from his mind as the servant nervously cleared his throat several times. Nonetheless, his voice squeaked when he finally announced, "The training master of fief Golden Nest and his pupil reporting to my lord for confirmation of knight training." The servant backed into the wall, respectfully looking as if he wished to melt straight through it.
"Enter," stated Lord HaMinch in his most calm and businesslike manner. Inside he was full of quiet anticipation. This must be the Shang trained boy that the King had referred to. He stood as two people entered the room.
They were both dressed in dark brown cloaks with a water repellant outside which didn't seem to have helped in the least, as both were soaking wet. One was a man with a rather scarred face, and a wary demeanor. A foot soldier to the bone he seemed. He carried himself as if he were in ranks at that very moment. The other person kept the hood up, but looked to be about ten years old in build, and very slender. He moved, for HaMinch was sure that this was the page, with a sort of boneless grace which, to the training masters eyes, communicated almost perfect balance. Lord HaMinch guestured them to be seated in the empty chairs in front of his desk. The soldier sat quite comfortably, and the youth seemed to do so too, but HaMinch could see the disguised readiness. The slightest hint of attack and the child would be on his feet in an instant. And from the way he set his arms, HaMinch, from years of working with thieves and assassins could tell that the boy either had knives in arm sheaths, or was used to carrying them. He probably had a few other hidden surprises too. There was no doubt about it. This boy had been assassin trained, trained to fight hard and if need be, dirty, to get himself out of any tight situation. The boy would be a natural with a sword, and probably with the bigger weapons like the lance would come easily too.
Much satisfied, Lord HaMinch settled back in his chair. Suddenly he realized that the two were still wearing their dripping wet cloaks. "Would you like to remove your outer garments? You must be very uncomfortable." He beckoned the servant.
"Oh me and Kaia have been through worse than this milord." The old man chuckled. Lord HaMinch put him very much at his ease.
The training master froze. Kaia. But wasn't that a…
The page removed the cloak, and turned to face Lord HaMinch. HaMinch felt as though he had been hit in the back of the head with a board. The new page, the prodigy, the wonderfully Shang trained youngster was a girl.
Kaia had short black hair, hanging halfway down her neck. Her face was clear and pale. She had large black eyes and elegant eyebrows. Her mouth was full, and her chin was one that many women in Court would give their diamonds for. Her whole effect was completely disarming, and if HaMinch had not witnessed her earlier movements, he would have been convinced that the old soldier had pulled her out of her mother's solar in the middle of cross stitching roses. Her face said I'm vulnerable, her body said I am a predator, don't mess with me, and HaMInch knew from experience that those combinations were always the most dangerous.
The girl was dressed in dark breeches and a loose shirt that allowed free movement. Lord HaMinch was fighting an internal war. He wanted to send her home. She'd never have the strength to master the big weapons, and his career would look extremely bad if she failed. However, she was well trained, and when you looked at how Alanna the Lioness and Keladry of Mindelan had turned out, well then.
He paused, then came to a conclusion. I'll ask for probation. The King can't fault me for that. Keladry of Mindelan was on probation. That decided, he opened his mouth, then snapped it shut abruptly as he remembered what the King had said. About accepting all pages as the same no matter what their differences were. And he remembered agreeing to that. He had said so to the King, and now he could not go back on his word. He sighed.
"Welcome Kaia of Golden Nest. We are pleased to have you training at the palace. We have a few rules you must follow…