Chapter 7: New Lessons
Adalia woke up surprisingly early the next morning. It was so early that it was even before Kula started her morning glaive practise; which had become a ritual for them both.
She forced herself out of bed and stretched. She was thankful for this chance to contemplate the events of last night.
Adalia quickly threw on some practise clothes and exited her room, thinking that a run would do her well.
Adalia thought as she ran. For her, running was a time to relax; a time that she felt nothing could touch her. When she lost herself to the rhythm of her run, she turned her mind to working out the Goddess's words.
The Goddess had wanted her to convince the Conservatives to change their minds and accept the new direction that Tortall was taking. But she had also said that there wouldn't be much need for a great deal of prodding, as by just being there changed their views.
Adalia tried to work out the reasons that the Mother would deem it necessary to speed up the process of converting those hardheads into progressives, and a very interesting thought came to her. She must be wary of a repeat of what happened in the Copper Isles; she would not want to loose more land to other gods!
Oh well, I was only breaking in the boys to the idea that girls as pages was not bad, -she grinned wolfishly - but it seems the Mother has expanded my playing field.
The only plan that she could think of was to simply accustom the stubborn men to her presence by introducing herself and regularly proving them wrong by excelling at her lessons. She would teach them to think females unfit for combat!
There must be something particularly special about me that the Goddess would bother showing herself and extracting a promise to extend my attentions beyond my peers. Adalia thought, irritated.
After all, there has already been Kel and Kula before me, not to mention the Lioness, who was successful in opening the door to female knights in the first place. The problem is that the girls are afraid of being seen unwomanly, and of course there is the trouble of the extra problems faced by the girls; what with usually normal and level-headed men irrationally set against them.
After observing this thought, she could only hope that the Mother did not expect her to change the girl's minds at being seen as marriageable. She snorted in derision; I don't have any plans for marriage, and I can only hope that I convince the boys of that as well. Just as well I am much too young to even be considering it, even if I happened to be a court lady.
Hearing the bell ring, Adalia was pulled out of her reverie. Glancing about, she spotted an old man that was part of the small Conservative group strolling along the wall that she found herself on. She ambled up to him, "Good morning, Lord…"
"Clearwater." The man replied strongly, not unpleasantly. Then he turned to face her and she caught a barely concealed scowl flit cross his features. "What are you doing here?" He questioned briskly.
Knowing that she had to be polite in the face of the man's rudeness, she said pleasantly, "Just going for a morning run, Lord Clearwater." Before he could question her further, she bowed politely and said; "I must be off, but thankyou for your time, my lord." She smiled pleasantly at him again and ran off.
That was a good morning's work. Adalia thought to herself. He didn't know what to do in the face of my politeness. I am far from convincing him, but still, a nice start. Adalia sighed to herself; changing the way people think is such a slow task.
Adalia joined Kula to learn the glaive, making a flimsy excuse as to why she was late.
That morning Kula watched Adalia following a moderately hard pattern dance that she had taught her. She couldn't help marvelling at the quick progression of her friend's abilities. Once one got to know Adalia; you could see past her Player's acting to her amazing determination and intelligence. Once she had her mind set on doing something, she wouldn't stop until she had done it.
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That morning the lessons progressed as usual. Once lunch had finished, however, Lord Padraig stood up, and waved the older pages to go on to their sword practise, which they had while the younger pages were supervised doing extra practise on their weakest combat or weapons training.
Once they had all left, he addressed the five first year pages - Adalia, Dameon, Kaden and two others. "Okay. We are all going to do something different today, and we will continue doing this for the rest of your years as pages. It is time for you to learn the art of fencing."
The pages all stood up a little straighter; they had been waiting for this. "You will not be let near a sword, however, until you learn to craft one." At this, he gestured to a large man with muscles like wire cables. "For this, Seamus Briskly, one of our palace smiths, has volunteered to teach you the basics."
The man nodded and scrutinised their faces, although he didn't say anything. Lord Padraig continued, "I hope you have the patience." He bowed to the man and the pages, and then stomped off.
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The pages spent the next three weeks with the weaponsmith, first learning how to put a keen edge on a bade and how to keep a fire at the same heat for an hour or more, and then moving on to make rough practise swords. Once they had all produced a fit sword, Lord Padraig had them gather in the inside training courts at the time that they had formally been spending in the weapon-smiths.
Pacing up and down the line, he surveyed their efforts and pronounced them acceptable. He then cleared his throat and loudly said, "These practise swords are to stay be your side always. If I ever catch you, or are informed that you ever leave your rooms without them, you will receive punishment work mucking out stalls in the stables. -" The pages winced – "This is not wrestling or tilting. You might go all of your lives without having to do those, when you are knights. However, you may safely bet you'll have to defend yourself – or someone else – with a sword at least once before you die."
The pages stood soberly at this, and waited for Lord Padraig to continue. He seemed to be waiting for something, and they saw what when Duke Gareth and Alanna entered and walked over to join him.
Lord Padraig cleared his throat again and said to the newcomers, "It is nice to see you, Your Grace, Lioness."
They greeted him, and turned to the pages. Gary said, "Now, I have come to view your first lesson. I have a feeling it could be entertaining." He added, a thin smile creeping across his face. "You may be wondering what our Lioness is doing here. She has expressed her boredom, and has volunteered to help teach you the art of swordsmanship."
The pages just stood there, astonished. The finest sword master of all of Tortall - and possibly the world - would be teaching them.
Alanna just cackled at the looks on their faces "oh, you are happy now, but wait until after this session."
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Her words were proved brutally true over the first weeks of their swords practise. They first learnt how to quickly draw a sword from its sheath; something that they rapidly discovered much harder than appearance would have it.
After a while, all of the pages started training together: new and old, under the precise eye of Alanna and Lord Padraig.
It was around then that she turned 11 years old, but she didn't tell anyone – she did not want a fuss.
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Adalia found herself enthralled by the complexity of wielding a sword. She found secluded places to practise her favourite disciplines – swordsmanship and tilting – for she could not seem too good to the training masters, it would be suspicious if she did everything perfectly.
The spot she chose for sword practise was something she just happened to come across while in crow form. It was a flat section of the roof of the palace that was large enough for one to practise the movements. The tricky bit was finding out how to access it in human form. She would open her third story window, quickly look around to check that the coast was clear, and then jump onto the roof and precariously climb across to her spot. From there, no one could see her, but she had a breath taking view of the palace.
It became her place to think, as well as her hiding place whenever Lord Padraig was on the warpath.
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Without noticing, the memory of the Goddess's visit faded from her thoughts as her first year as a page ended.
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Next Chapter: Break
I am NOT Tamora Pierce
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