Allena of Tirragen sighed as she stared up from the bottom of the hill at
the palace of Tortall.
Somewhere inside those vast rooms and corridors of that building, a room
was waiting for her. There, she could put down her bags and take a hot
bath, her first in almost a week.
The eleven-year-old noble had come all the way from Tirragen, her fief,
such as it was. It wasn't much of one; it had been in decline ever since
Alex of Tirragen had made some mistakes in King Roald's time. Allena was
about to change all that. She was about to begin knight's training as a
page. When she led armies and returned victorious to Corus, Tirragen would
be restored to its old height once more.
She took a deep breath and began to drag herself up to the pages' wing.
She was met but a small, dark haired woman in the uniform of a servant. The
woman looked her up and down—they stood about eye to eye—and said: "New
page?"
Allena gulped and nodded.
"I'll show you to your rooms," she said kindly. It'll ease your nerves, to
be in your own place. What's your name, lad?"
"Stuart. Stuart of Tirragen." Allena replied smoothly. Lad, she thought, good.
"I'm Selma," said the woman. "Welcome to the palace, Stuart."
The name still caught her off guard when other people used it, despite the fact that she had traveled under it to give herself practice. Coming as a boy had been her idea. Making it official hadn't been difficult. The older cousin who had been put in charge of Tirragen wasn't interested in Allena; she was only interested in playing Lady until Allena's mother, Desirae, came home. Allena had written the letter, Cousin Padma had only signed it, without noticing that the pronoun was masculine rather than feminine.
Allena had reason to deceive the crown. She wasn't just a thrill- seeker. As far as she was concerned, the fate of Tirragen was in her hands. She intended her fief to be glorified by a proper knight, not an upstart girl who most people didn't think should be allowed to train at all.
Selma stooped in front of her door, the ninth on the left. "If you need anything, my room's the first door in this hall. Have you a servant with you?"
"No."
"Then I'll assign someone to your room."
"Thank you. Thank you very much," Allena said, meaning it. She opened her door and went in. There was a small but comfortable-looking main room and a smaller dressing room off of it. Allena wandered through it and had a thorough look at everything. She didn't have much of her own to unpack. Several items of clothing went into the plain wardrobe, her toiletries she placed on a small table in the dressing room, a few books were stacked on her dark polished desk, and she set her most prized possession, her flute, next to them.
She was just putting ink and quill pens in a drawer when there was a knock on the door.
I wonder what that's about, she thought, and went to open it. A boy of about sixteen, with light brown hair and green eyes, stood outside. He looked at her quizzically for a moment and then said "Hello. I'm sorry, I've made a mistake."
He turned and strode down the hall, muttering to himself. Profoundly curious, Allena leaned out and looked after him. After a few seconds she pulled her head back in, shaking it. She'd find out who he was in good time.
She figured she'd better change for dinner. There was not telling how soon it was, and it wouldn't do to be late on her first day. She left the rest of her things where they were and removed a blue vest, white shirt, and white breeches from the wardrobe.
A few minutes later she was surveying her reflection in the window. She saw a slim, young boy or girl with brown eyes. Her hair dark hair was slightly damp from being combed with water and her face red from scrubbing. Perfectly normal, she though, tugging her sleeve down. Nervous looking, but perfectly normal.
The bell rang. Squaring her thin shoulders, she opened the door.
"Stuart. Stuart of Tirragen." Allena replied smoothly. Lad, she thought, good.
"I'm Selma," said the woman. "Welcome to the palace, Stuart."
The name still caught her off guard when other people used it, despite the fact that she had traveled under it to give herself practice. Coming as a boy had been her idea. Making it official hadn't been difficult. The older cousin who had been put in charge of Tirragen wasn't interested in Allena; she was only interested in playing Lady until Allena's mother, Desirae, came home. Allena had written the letter, Cousin Padma had only signed it, without noticing that the pronoun was masculine rather than feminine.
Allena had reason to deceive the crown. She wasn't just a thrill- seeker. As far as she was concerned, the fate of Tirragen was in her hands. She intended her fief to be glorified by a proper knight, not an upstart girl who most people didn't think should be allowed to train at all.
Selma stooped in front of her door, the ninth on the left. "If you need anything, my room's the first door in this hall. Have you a servant with you?"
"No."
"Then I'll assign someone to your room."
"Thank you. Thank you very much," Allena said, meaning it. She opened her door and went in. There was a small but comfortable-looking main room and a smaller dressing room off of it. Allena wandered through it and had a thorough look at everything. She didn't have much of her own to unpack. Several items of clothing went into the plain wardrobe, her toiletries she placed on a small table in the dressing room, a few books were stacked on her dark polished desk, and she set her most prized possession, her flute, next to them.
She was just putting ink and quill pens in a drawer when there was a knock on the door.
I wonder what that's about, she thought, and went to open it. A boy of about sixteen, with light brown hair and green eyes, stood outside. He looked at her quizzically for a moment and then said "Hello. I'm sorry, I've made a mistake."
He turned and strode down the hall, muttering to himself. Profoundly curious, Allena leaned out and looked after him. After a few seconds she pulled her head back in, shaking it. She'd find out who he was in good time.
She figured she'd better change for dinner. There was not telling how soon it was, and it wouldn't do to be late on her first day. She left the rest of her things where they were and removed a blue vest, white shirt, and white breeches from the wardrobe.
A few minutes later she was surveying her reflection in the window. She saw a slim, young boy or girl with brown eyes. Her hair dark hair was slightly damp from being combed with water and her face red from scrubbing. Perfectly normal, she though, tugging her sleeve down. Nervous looking, but perfectly normal.
The bell rang. Squaring her thin shoulders, she opened the door.