A/N: Ack! Much apologies for taking so long...I've got a final project for my AP World History class, and a physics test to study for...x.X I promise once summer comes around, I'll try to update more often!!

Thanks muchly, Fyli, ITSALLABOUTME, Rubber Duck (I appreciate the one-review-per-chapter, LOL), emikae, Steph Silverstar (I looove Faleron ::grin:: Be on the lookout for a fic about him soon!), Lizai, and lady-anna-bee (I know, I hate those x.X Hence my Meg, LOL...). I appreciate all the reviews so much, and I wish there was some way to thank everyone who enjoys this fic so much :D

Disclaimer: Oooooh, I actually have some OCs here!! Joy!! Basically...I don't own the concept of Tortall, Padraig, Neal, Faleron, or Lord Wyldon...but I do own 'most everyone else. Woohoo for OCs!!

Chapter Three: Rick

Meg sidled out into the hall and went to where Lord Padraig had showed her to go. There, she found four boys who were standing on one side of the room – they all looked about her age. The older boys were on the other side of the room, with Lord Padraig.

Meg nervously took her place among the boys, among whispers and stifled laughter. Padraig shot her an encouraging glance before launching into a speech about sponsors. While he spoke, however, there seemed to be a knot of older boys not listening to what he was saying. Some kept glancing at Meg, which made her sure they were talking about her.

She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but she knew a way to be able to. Slowly, she lowered her chin into her hand and stuck a finger in her ear. Gold flame shimmered around its tip for a while; suddenly, the sound was magnified, and she could hear the older boys as clearly as if they were standing right next to her.

"A girl, is it? Mithros, look at her!"

"She looks like she'd break in half if you hit her hard enough."

"Better not let the training master hear you talk about abusing the girl."

"You know she's going to be abused whether or not we talk about it."

"Not by us, I hope."

"Of course not. I'm not cruel, just a little tactless."

"You know, I like the look of her. I think I'll volunteer to be her sponsor."

"What?! You're crazy."

"Thank you."

"In Mithros's name, why? Lord Padraig needs no more reason to dislike you!"

"Meg?"

Meg's head shot up, her expression startled and guilty. A flush spread over her face, to the obvious amusion of her fellow pages. She glanced at the older boys and noticed a handsome one with brown hair and eyes grinning at her. She caught his eye; he winked. Meg blushed darker, fairly sure that this was the one who'd spoken of being her sponsor.

She met Lord Padraig's eyes. "I was just making sure you heard...it's time for you to recieve a sponsor. Please state your name and fief."

Meg cleared her throat a few times too much. "Um...Megenne...of, um, King's Reach," she stammered out, looking at the floor.

Lord Padraig glanced at the older pages. "Who would like to be Megenne's – "

"Sir?" The voice was of the page who'd winked at her; Meg's suspicions about him were confirmed. "If you'll let me, sir," he continued in a cheerful tone, "I'd like to sponsor her."

Lord Padraig studied him carefully, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Very well," he said finally, in a voice tight with dislike. "Roderick of Cavall, you will be her sponsor."

The boy grinned and moved to stand beside Meg, who was now staring at him in shock. "Cavall?!" she mouthed in disbelief.

Roderick nodded, grimacing. "I'll explain later," he whispered, turning his attention to the other pages.

Meg gulped, but followed his lead. Cavall...as in Wyldon of Cavall, the training master that Keladry of Mindelan had been under. He had been a conservative who hated change; Keladry had barely passed his probation. Meg felt like something had crept into her stomach and died. Who was Roderick – his nephew, his cousin, his – Mithros forbid – son? Why had he chosen her?

Still feeling ill, Meg watched the four other pages get sponsors. Astor of Rosemark, a cool-faced boy with dark brown hair and blue eyes, was sponsored by Regan of Blythdin, who cast a glance at Meg that made her feel lower than pond scum. Chestnut-haired Donegal of Veldine, whose dark green eyes darted around the room in curious anxiety, was taken in by Tiernan of haMinch, Lord Padraig's pensive-looking son. Shy-looking Idren of Disart recieved kind-eyed Adair of Legann as a sponsor, while Adair's grinning twin Blair chose to sponsor Rhysten of Nond, who was the only page not looking even vaguely nervous.

Slowly the pages and their sponsors dispersed to spend their before-dinner time touring the castle. Roderick shook his head after the four new pages and their sponsors. "Those'll fit each other like a glove, all four of 'em. I s'pose that's why each sponsor chose who they did, anyway..." He turned to study Meg thoughtfully. "So what d'you go by?"

His question threw her off guard. "What makes you think I go by anything?" she replied defensively, her tongue getting ahead of her.

Roderick raised an eyebrow; Meg instantly regretted her forward speech. However, his tone was amused when he spoke again. "Lots of people have nicknames. Like me, for example. Only those with a death wish call me Roderick – it's Rick. Megenne is a bit cumbersome of a name to drag around, don't you think?"

Meg did agree, but something in her wanted to be ornery, and she sprung to the defense of the name she hated. "Is there something wrong with my name?"

Rick held up both hands in surrender. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's a beautiful name. Feisty little thing, aren't you? You have a nickname, don't you?"

Meg sighed. "Yes, I do. It's Meg...please."

"All right then, Meg please," Rick said brightly, "let's begin your tour of the castle, shall we?" He started off down a hallway, then stopped when he realized Meg wasn't with him. "What is it now, little one?"

Meg would have resented this – he didn't look more than a year older than her – had he not been a head taller and more muscled. "I...I just..." she began, then cleared her throat. "You're...I mean...family...wondering...Cavall," she finally managed, looking completely flustered. "I can't figure out how to say this without sounding disrespectful," she added in one soft breath.

She heard a soft chuckle, and looked up to see Rick smiling. "Don't worry about sounding disrespectful," he said in a friendly tone. "I may be of Cavall, but I'm not that much older than you. Yes, I'm Lord Wyldon's son."

Meg wrinkled her nose. "But...conservative...you..."

Rick shrugged. "My dad was stiff as a boulder, and as likely to change," he said in a tone laden with insubordination. "It doesn't run in the family, thank Mithros. I think women can do great things. Look at Lady Alanna and Lady Keladry. You'll become just like them if you try hard enough."

Meg flushed darkly, looked down, and shook her head vehemently. She suddenly felt herself being towed by a strong arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, King's Reach." Rick's tone was overly bright, laden with futuristic vision. "We've got a long evening ahead of us. The palace is a big place, and you've got a great tour guide." He didn't bother to sound modest.

Meg let him tow her for a while, listening to him talk and feeling an odd mixture of emotions. Apprehension, certainly...the palace was indeed a bit place, and she was worried sick about her prospects as a page. Obviously, not all of the pages would be friendly. Rick seemed flighty...eager to try things, talk endlessly, crack pointless jokes. He seemed overly energetic, the type who didn't care what others thought or expected of him, severely lacking in modesty and propriety, and possibly even a little crazy.

To her horror, Meg found herself liking him already.