Disclaimer: All of the recognizable characters and places in this story belong to Tamora Pierce.

A/N: Well, I got chapter three here pretty quickly, all things being equal, even though the chapter is rather short. I've had loads of work recently, and finding time to update doesn't seem to be happening as often as I would like it to. Either way, I got this chapter out much quicker than the last one, though it helps that I finally have some idea as to where this is going. I definitely know how my story will end, and I even have an idea about the middle. Not the little details, mind you, just the big picture. Well, except for Neal's ordeal. I'm positive I know what's happening in that.

Not to be a nag, but I'd love more reviews, and I want to thank those who have reviewed. If you've ever written a story, you know how great it is to get a review, even if the review isn't entirely complimentary. All reviews help the writing of the author, and an author cannot improve without learning first what the reader likes to read about. Okay, long story short, please review.

Chapter Three: Dearest Meathead

The rain fell steadily over Pirate's Swoop, and the hot, moist air made Neal feel sticky and damp though he had not been outside. He flipped the pages of a document on the Bazhir that Alanna had instructed him to read. It had been a little over a month and a half since he had first become the Lioness's squire, and he had learned a lot about his knight-master since then, such as that Alanna disliked being wet, and therefore went out of her way to stay dry. He looked forward to a day of quiet reading, perhaps followed by instruction from his knight-master.

A sharp rap on the door startled Neal out of his book, and he looked up to see his knight-master enter the room. She walked toward Neal, glanced at the document he was reading and smiled, pleased that he was so diplomatic in his studies. "Interesting, isn't it?" she commented.

"It is," Neal answered, "However, I have to wonder if—"

Alanna cut him off. "Not now. We're going into the village now."

Neal looked at her, confused. He had been into the village several times, but he couldn't see what was so urgent that Alanna would need to go out now. "It's pouring," he said wryly. "Have you developed a newfound love of the rain?"

"No," Alanna said irritably. "There's been an accident in town involving a young boy, and we are going to go fix him up. I've been negligent—we've spent much time practicing with a sword, but I haven't even begun instructing you on healing. Besides, the local healer is busy with another case, and I figured you could do with the practice."

Neal put his book down heavily, groaned loudly, and got out of his chair. His arms and legs ached from his practices with Alanna, and he knew that the quicker he left, the quicker he could get back to his book. Neal hurried to put on his rain clothes, and all too soon he and Alanna were out in the rain. The ride was quick, but by the time they arrived at the boy's home they were both thoroughly drenched. Alanna was in a foul mood, and Neal wasn't exactly cheerful. "Let's get this over with," he told Alanna, and refused to listen when she told him, not too politely, to be quiet.

An anxious, and stunned, mother led Neal and Alanna into the house. The house of the injured boy was a small house, carefully decorated on the inside to look inviting. On the couch in the living room lay a boy the age of a beginning page. His hands were scraped and covered in dried blood, he was covered in scrapes, and his nose and arm were broken visibly broken. The arm lay in a makeshift sling, and Alanna let out an impressive string of curses when she saw it. "If there's one thing I dislike, it's a job done sloppily," she told Neal. "Well, you know what to do. Start."

"I don't know how," Neal told his knight-master, embarrassed. He knew how to heal quite well for somebody his age, but they hadn't gotten to healing broken bones before he had left the university to become a knight. "I know how to make him not feel the pain, but I hadn't gotten to the actual healing when I left the university…"

"Goddess!" Alanna exclaimed, and then let out a long string of curse words, more irritated than mad. She stopped when the little boy looked up at her in awe, and said, "Ma told me not to say those words, but if you can, I can too!" This caused Alanna to laugh, and she walked Neal through healing the boy. Neal was a fast learner—she had expected that from him, especially since his father was such a great healer. Neal, to Alanna's amazement, did not make sarcastic comments throughout the whole process of healing the boy, and instead was completely serious and focused on the task at hand.

When he was finished, Neal looked at the boy. "Do you feel better?" he asked. The boy nodded, and thanked Neal. "Your arm will take a bit to heal completely, so be careful with it. What were you doing to get yourself into such a mess?"

The boy, whose name was Jim, grinned. "Climbing a tree—a tall tree. I was way up, in the little branches, when it got windy. It was really fun, swaying around and all, until I fell. But when I'm well I'm going to climb it and not fall."

Alanna and Neal spent the next half hour convincing the young boy not to climb that particular tree again, and when they left they were only half convinced that the message had gone across. It was still raining hard outside, and whatever good mood Neal had obtained from successfully healing the boy evaporated. By the time he got home, Neal looked and felt as if he had taken a shower outside with all of his clothes on; his knight-master was livid, cursing the gods for bad weather in as many ways and languages as she knew.

Neal quickly excused himself and changed his clothes. By the time he was warm and dry his mood had become much more positive, and he decided to return to his book. Neal turned the corner before the library, and there was Alan waiting for him. "Pa told me to give you this," Alan told Neal proudly. "He said it was delivered by a messenger while you and Ma were out."

"Thank you," Neal said, took the letter from Alan's outstretched hand, and turned to leave. He glanced behind, and saw the crushed expression on the boy's face. His brown eyes looked down at the floor, and his head hung low, as if he had just been reprimanded. Neal sighed, turned around, and leaned against the wall. "So…" there was an uncomfortable pause, "What have you done today? I'll bet the rain kept you indoors."

Alan's head perked up, and he smiled. "I've been inside all today with nothing to do. Maude is keeping Aly in bed because she has a cold, and Thom's not being any fun. I was wondering, do you want to play with me?" Alan's eyes looked so hopeful, Neal felt as though it would be mean to politely leave with some phony excuse about work his knight-master gave him. Besides, he had read more of the document than was required.

"Sure," Neal said, resigned.

Alan let out a small whoop of joy, and pulled on Neal's hand. Alan had become quite familiar with his mother's squire by now, and treated Neal as if Neal was his uncle, or older cousin. "Do you want to give me a piggyback ride? Oh, please?" Alan begged.

"I'm a man, a grown man, I'll have you know," Neal drawled, "Not a horse."

"I know that," Alan said.

The rest of the afternoon Neal spent playing with Alan. Though he would have been ashamed if any of his friends from the university saw him, he had been surrounded by those younger than him for so many years that he treated Alan as an equal, to Alan's delight. Furthermore, he was not surprised to learn that Alan had learned a great deal about being a knight and serving the realm; Alan fully expected to someday become a knight and serve the realm as his mother did. It was only after dinner that Neal had time to sit down in his room and look at the letter he had received.

Dearest Meathead, it read,

Your friend, Kel, is getting along quite nicely. She works hard, Lord Raoul is pleased with her, and she's made no enemies that could prove to be fatal on her part. There was a slight tangle with centaur, something involving an infant griffin…but I'll not bore you with such trivial information. It's pleasing to think of the look of vexation that must be on your face right about now, but since I don't want you to hate me forever, I'll tell you to ask your lovely knight-master what I'm talking of. If she doesn't already know, she can find out easily enough.

Speaking of your charming knight-master, how are you getting along? I pray you've held your tongue while around her, though given your history I fear that may be impossible. She'll probably refrain from killing you, though, since your father is a good friend of hers.

I'll contact you again if something important happens, but unless anything does occur, don't expect to hear from me for a while. The Own's been busy lately, and it's hard finding places where letters can get reliably delivered.

Take care,

Dom

"What?" Neal cried, infuriated. "If he wasn't family, I'd actually kill him!" While Neal was angry at his cousin, he was filled with worry for his friend. What did Dom mean by no enemies that could prove fatal? And what had happened to Kel? Clearly she had been hurt—how could Dom even dare joke about matters like that! The only thing that kept him from getting on his horse and riding until he could find his cousin and beet the truth out of him was the fact that clearly Kel was clearly okay at the moment. Dom might be obnoxious, but he wasn't mean spirited, and if Kel had been in any real danger, Neal was sure his cousin would have told him. However, that knowledge did little to calm him, and he flew down the hall into the Lioness's study, not bothering to knock.

"You knew and you didn't tell me!" Neal demanded of his knight-master, who looked at Neal blankly. "How dare you keep information like this from me? You think I don't have a right to know if my friend has been hurt? You know, it wasn't enough to hurt her by picking me over her, but then to act as if she didn't exist—that's worse!" Neal paused for breath. His green eyes blazed, and he was shaking with rage. He opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by his knight-master.

"What are you talking about, Squire?" Alanna questioned Neal, confused. She thought for a split second that perhaps her squire had gone mad, but immediately dismissed the thought. Insanity ran in her family, not his.

"And now you play innocent? That's just repulsive. I can't believe that I looked up to you, that I believed that you could be human; why did my father ever trust you? I mean, if your best friend got hurt, wouldn't you want to know?"

Alanna knew she was missing something—Neal said somebody was hurt, but did she even know the person Neal was talking about? Clearly Neal had some reason to believe she knew, but the only other squire she knew aside from Neal was…

"What happened to Kel?" Alanna's purple eyes shone with worry, and her heart skipped a few beats. Suddenly she was as anxious as Neal—more so, she thought, because at least Neal had some vague idea of what was going on.

Neal cocked his head, puzzled, and stopped yelling. "You don't know?" When Alanna shook her head, she did not know, Neal sighed. "I'm sorry. I assumed…but Dom said it was only a possibility, and I guess since you're not talking to His Majesty at the moment…" Neal trailed off.

"What happened?" Alanna said again.

"Read this," Neal shoved Dom's, now crumpled letter, into Alanna's hand. Alanna smoothed the paper, and then read it. When she was done, some of the worry had left her eyes.

"Obviously she's not dead or in that much trouble," Alanna said, and Neal nodded in agreement, "or else your cousin wouldn't act like that. Either way, if Raoul hadn't assured me several times over that your cousin Dom was a talented commander, I might just go find him now and beat some sense into him. Goddess knows, he's even more infuriating than you, and he's twice as big a flirt. If you acted the way he did, the conservatives would have had you in bed with me within hours of learning you were my squire."

"They did anyway," Neal pointed out. He was rewarded with a glare from his knight-master, who wisely chose to not comment. Besides, the statement was true, and there was no point to deny it.

"But that's beside the point," Alanna continued. "I'm going to contact Jon; I'm sure he'll know what happened. I owe him an apology anyway," Alanna admitted, with a pained expression on her face. "What he said was insensitive, but I did possibly overreact a little bit." Alanna put down Dom's letter on her desk, and walked to the fire.