Chapter 2

Palace Greetings

Four days had passed when the two travelers finally arrived at Corus. They were soon swarmed with thousands of people huddled in crowds, selling goods, buying goods, or robbing goods. Thom couldn't help but be awed by the sight. It was too much a boy from the mountains could take in all in one day. Still, he found that he could live without the city life.

Too bad Alanna isn't here. She'd love to see this place, Thom thought, eyeing the crowd of colors. Amethyst eyes scanning the crowd carefully, they soon met twinkling hazel eyes staring up at him from the crowd.

Thom found himself staring at a young man with a rather large nose. The young man gave a charming grin and winked at Thom before disappearing into the crowd. Thom blinked and glanced at Coram, who was looking at him with disapproval.

"Ye best be careful, lad," Coram warned, leading Thom towards the Palace Way. "There are thieves here who go as far as t' steal their mother's teeth!"

Thom gulped and gave a nod, eyeing his purse and saddlebags carefully. Still, he couldn't help but think about the young man who had winked at him earlier. He didn't look dangerous.

After passing the Market Way, Thom and Coram finally made it to the Palace Way. Curiously, Thom eyed the temples scattered along the way. From a distance, he caught sight of a temple dedicated to the Great Mother Goddess and grinned. Seeing the women with large axes guarding the temple, Thom couldn't help but think of his sister.

Coram led the way to the courtyard, followed by Thom. There, a hostler hurried over to them and summoned a servant to come along. Coram introduced himself and Thom.

The servant bowed and led them inside the palace.

"Ye'll show his Grace th' proper respect," Coram murmured, staying close to the young redhead.

Thom shrugged and followed the servant and Coram quietly, feeling a sickening stir in his gut.

The duke, a tall man with dark-brown hair and muddy brown eyes, looked Thom over carefully before speaking. "Thom of Trebond, hmm? I trust you will do better here than your sire. He, of course, was always busy with his books." His voice was stern and nasal.

Thom fought the urge to shrug. It had become quite a habit with him. "He still is, your Grace," he answered plainly, uninterested in the subject.

"Indeed." The duke glanced at Coram and smiled. "Ah, Coram Smythesson. A pleasure to have you back at the palace. I trust you will do some guard duty at your free time – if you desire, of course," he said, shaking the soldier's hand.

Coram shook the duke's hand firmly and grinned. "T'would be a pleasure, yer Grace. Didn't think ye'd remember an old soldier like me."

"Nonsense! A man who has saved my life is always welcome here at Corus," Duke Gareth replied. He turned to glance back at Thom and his smile faded. "Well, you boy, are here to study to become a knight. You will learn to defend the weak, to obey your overlord, and to champion the cause of right," he stated strictly. "You will be a page until you are fourteen, or until your masters see fit. When you are eighteen, you will undergo the Ordeal of Knighthood. If you survive, you will be made a Knight of Tortall." He gave Thom a stern look. "Not everyone survives." He held up his left hand and revealed a missing finger. "I lost this during my Ordeal."

Thom gulped nervously as he gaped at the missing spot where the duke's finger was supposed to be. Who am I kidding? I'm not going to live long enough to be a squire, anyway, he thought to himself. Somehow, it wasn't a very reassuring thought.

The duke dismissed Thom and Coram and sent them for their fittings. A scowling, old tailor wrapped a long cord around Thom and Coram, yelling measurements to his harassed looking apprentice. He then shoved an armful of clothing into Thom's arms.

Thom held up the gold-washed tunic, noting how big it was on him.

Coram hid a grin behind his hand as he saw the look on Thom's face. "Isn't it a wee bit big for th' lad?" he asked, still grinning.

The soldier was rewarded an irritated glare from the old tailor. "Boys grow," he snapped crankily. He then turned to Thom and shoved a pair of boots into his arms. "You rip 'em you mend 'em," he growled, sending the redheaded boy and the soldier away to their rooms.

Coram sighed and glanced at the weary looking Thom. Already dressed in his new attires, he reached for the door and said, "Well, lad. Th' boys are changing for dinner."

The page nodded. "You go ahead. I'm fine," he replied, unfolding the clothes he was given.

The soldier grunted and left the room, leaving Thom alone.

Thom eyed his new attires carefully before changing into them. Once dressed, he looked himself over in the mirror and scowled. He looked small and scrawny in his loose tunic and breeches. Amethyst eyes glared back at him as he continued to scowl at his appearance. At least he looked much better with his new clothes on, as opposed to his worn, traveling attires.

With that thought in mind, Thom left the room and stepped out into the hallway, preparing himself to break all the bones he had wanted to preserve. He was ready.

Word of a new page in the castle spread like wildfire. In no time, the page's wing grew quiet, and Thom grew uncomfortable with the stares directed at him.

Someone grabbed the redhead forcefully from behind and spun him around. Thom looked up and found himself face to face with a tall boy, nearly fourteen-years-old. "Well, what do we have here? Some back-country boy who thinks he's a noble." He shook Thom roughly as he sneered.

"Hey, you leave him alone, Ralon. What'd he do to you?" a voice protested.

The one named Ralon glanced up sharply and glared at the new speaker. "Shut up, you!" He turned back to Thom with menacing blue eyes. "Bet you're some farmer's son trying to pass for one of us, eh boy?" he sneered, shaking Thom once again.

Thom scowled and pushed the youth aside, breaking free from Ralon's grip. "Hey, leave me alone," he grumbled, straightening his gold-washed tunic. "Worthless swine."

The comment brought gasps and whispers among the other pages in the hallway. Ralon looked startled and lunged at Thom's collar, lifting him up to his feet. "You do what you're told until you earn the right to be called a page!" he hissed angrily. "So when I you're some back-country mountain boy, you say, 'Yes, Lord Ralon.'"

Thom looked as if he had just been bitten by Chubby. "Are you jesting? I'm not calling you any title, you tub of guts!" he snarled, trying to wriggle free from Ralon's grip. "Ow! Let go of me!" He moved his legs furiously, kicking Ralon hard on the stomach.

Ralon doubled over and threw the boy against the wall, enraged. "Puny scum!" he yelled, throwing a fist towards the redhead.

Thom, recovering from the impact against the wall, saw the punch just in time and ducked out of harm's way. He was rewarded with a pained squeal from Ralon as his fist slammed into the wall.

"What's going on here?"

The pages watching the fiasco parted silently as a tall boy with coal black hair moved through the hallway, followed by his friends. The boy had an heir of command to him and had piercing sapphire-blue eyes.

Ralon rose to his feet as he caught sight of the boy coming towards him. "Your…Your Highness," he stammered nervously, "this…boy was acting as if he owned the place! Strutting down the halls like he was king and insulting me like–"

"I don't think I was talking to you, Ralon of Malven," the dark-haired boy snapped frostily, interrupting the page.

Thom, smarting a small bruise, peered up at the tall dark-haired boy and blinked. Who's this now? he thought to himself, staring up at sapphire-blue eyes.

"But Highness, he–"

"Shut up, Ralon!" growled one of the dark-haired boy's friends. He was a tall and big youth with dark, muddy-brown eyes and matching hair. Thom guessed he was Duke Gareth's son.

The dark-haired boy glared at Ralon coldly, his sapphire-blue eyes filled with commanding power. For a brief moment he continued to glare at the stammering boy, until he broke his gaze and glanced at a blond boy standing near the wall. "Douglass," he asked, "what happened?"

The blond page named Douglass stepped forward and glanced at Thom for a brief moment. "It was Ralon, Jon. He started it. The boy was just minding his own business until Ralon grabbed him from behind and insulted him, calling him a back-country boy and all," he explained, grinning slightly.

The dark-haired boy nodded quietly, glaring at Ralon with disgust. "Go on," he prompted.

"The boy told Ralon to leave him alone, but Ralon just kept on bullying him. He started ordering the lad around and when the boy refused, Ralon threw him against the wall. Of course, not before the lad got a good kick at Ralon," Douglass replied, his grin widening. "And that's when you come in, Jon."

"I see." The dark-haired boy shook his head and sighed, "I'll deal with you later, Ralon, before lights out. You've been dismissed."

Ralon growled and shot Thom one last menacing look before storming out of the scene. Thom sighed. He knew this wasn't the last he'd see of Ralon of Malven.

"You've got good taste in enemies, fire-hair," the dark-haired boy said, looking at Thom. "Well, let's have a look at you."

Thom looked up into the prince's sapphire-blue eyes and felt the attention directed towards him. There were a few murmurs at the sight of his amethyst eyes. It's like they've never seen a purple-eyed page before, he thought to himself, his gaze calm and collected.

One of the dark-haired boy's followers leaned over to the redhead. "That's Prince Jonathan, lad," he whispered.

Amethyst eyes blinked in disbelief. So this is the prince, eh? He bowed and blushed slightly. Leave it to him to get in trouble with the Royals on his first day. "Your Highness…Sorry you had to see the…misunderstanding," he said, choosing his words carefully.

The prince shook his head and grinned. "There's no misunderstanding. Ralon of Malven is no gentleman," he replied, still to looking at Thom. "And who might you be, fire-hair?"

"Thom of Trebond, your Highness."

"Well believe you haven't met the others yet." The prince glanced at the two large pages standing on beside him. One of them was a friendly looking boy. "This is Raoul of Goldenlake."

Raoul smiled and clapped a hand on Thom's shoulder.

"This is Gary – Gareth of Naxen. He's the duke's son," Jonathan continued, glancing at the other boy to his side. He then turned to a slim dark boy beside Gary. "This is Alex of Tirragen. And the page next to Raoul is Francis of Nond."

Thom glanced at each page's face and gave a polite nod. Although not exactly the social type, he didn't want to upset the prince or his friends. Still, he couldn't help keep a lingering gaze of the shy Francis. There was something about him that Thom could not understand. It's always the quiet ones.

"Well now that that's settled, who would like to sponsor our new page?" Jonathan asked, glancing at his friends.

Gary grinned and stepped forward before the others could react. "I'll do it, Jon," he answered. Glancing at Thom, he gave a wink.

The prince turned his gaze back at Thom and nodded in approval. "A sponsor," he explained, "is someone who keeps you from getting too lost in the palace. I believe Gary's an excellent sponsor for you."

Thom gave no reply and nodded, shaking Gary's hand.

Gary smiled in a friendly way as he shook Thom's hand. "Thom of Trebond, welcome to Court."