Continuation of last chapter :) Enjoy!
"Who will sponsor her?" asked Wyldon.
The handsome Zahir looked at her and sniffed. "Girls have no business in the affairs of men. This one should go home." He glared at Kel, who met his eyes calmly.
Lord Wyldon shook his head. "We are not among the Bazhir tribes, Zahir ibn Alhaz. Moreover, I requested a sponsor, not an opinion." He looked at the other boys. "Will no one offer?" he asked. "No beginner may go unsponsored."
The blond youth at Wyldon's side raised a hand. "May I, my lord?" he asked.
Lord Wyldon stared at him. "You, Joren of Stone Mountain?"
The youth bowed. "I would be pleased to teach the girl all she needs to know of life in the pages' wing."
Kel eyed him, suspicious. From the way a few older pages giggled, she suspected Joren might plan to chase her away, not show her around. She looked at the training master, expecting him to agree with the blond page.
Instead Lord Wyldon frowned. "I had hoped for another sponsor,"
Kel thanked the Gods that Wyldon had been sympathetic at this point; imagine what would have happened if Joren had been the only volunteer!
he commented stiffly. "You should employ your spare hours in the improvement of your classwork and your riding skills."
"I thought Joren hated-" someone whispered.
"Shut up!" another boy hissed.
Kel looked at the flagstones under her feet. Now she was fighting to hide her embarrassment, but she knew she was failing. Any Yamani would see her shame on her features. She clasped her hands before her and schooled her features to smoothness. I'm a rock, she thought. I am stone.
"I believe I can perfect my studies and sponsor the girl," Joren said respectfully. "And since I am the only volunteer-"
"I suppose I'm being rash and peculiar, again,"
Neal found himself interrupting… himself? "And now, my friends, you will see the true meaning of chivalry. You see, when a mature, University-educated page from the Book of Gold makes an offer to be a sponsor, great things shall happen."
The room had silently agreed to ignore Neal and his dramatic tendencies.
someone remarked in a drawling voice, "but if it means helping my friend Joren improve his studies, well, I'll just have to sacrifice myself. There's nothing I won't do to further the cause of book learning among my peers."
Everyone turned toward the speaker, who stood at the back of the group. Seeing him clearly, Kel thought that he was too old to be a page, yet she couldn't help but be taken aback by how handsome this fine specimen appeared. If he were not half-divine then Kel didn't think she knew what the meaning of life was. He was gorgeously coloured, tall and fair skinned, with piercingly stunning emerald eyes and luscious brown locks…
"I did not, and would never say that, Meathead!" Kel rebutted, although silently she was reminded of her huge crush on Neal, and flushed intensely.
Dom noticing Kel's awkward reaction, and feeling a little sorry for the onslaught of humiliation to come, finally cut off Neal's rambling; "Ok Meathead, we get it, you love yourself… lets move on."
"Argh fine, …"
He was tall, fair-skinned, and lean, with emerald eyes and light brown hair that swept back from a widow's peak.
Lord Wyldon absently rubbed the arm he kept tucked in a sling. "You volunteer, Nealan of Queenscove?"
The youth bowed jerkily. "That I do, your worship, sir." There was the barest hint of a taunt in Nealan's educated voice.
"A sponsor should be a page in his second year at least," Wyldon informed Nealan. "And you will mind your tongue."
"I know I only joined this little band in April, your lordship," the youth Nealan remarked cheerily, "but I have lived at court almost all of my fifteen years. I know the palace and its ways. And unlike Joren, I need not worry about my academics."
Kel stared at the youth. Had he always been mad,
Kel's year mates found themselves agreeing with this statement. Neal certainly had a way with the Stump.
Alanna whistled, "I'm impressed Lady Knight! It took me a full hour to realise that Squire Neal was truly mad, but you had him cornered in minutes!"
or did a few months under Wyldon do this to him? She had just arrived, and she knew better than to bait the training master.
Wyldon's eyebrows snapped together. "You have been told to mind your manners, Page Nealan. I will have an apology for your insolence."
Nealan bowed deeply. "An apology for general insolence, your lordship, or some particular offense?"
"One week scrubbing pots," ordered Lord Wyldon. "Be silent."
Nealan threw out an arm like a player making a dramatic statement. "How can I be silent and yet apologise!"
Nealan threw out an arm like a player making a dramatic statement. "How can I be silent and yet apologize?"
Everyone laughed at Neal and his Player-like antics.
For once in her life, Alanna found herself sympathising with Lord Wyldon, having spent 4 years trying to beat the insolence out of Neal.
"Two weeks." Keladry was forgotten as Wyldon concentrated on the green-eyed youth. "The first duty for anyone in service to the crown is obedience."
"And I am a terrible obeyer," retorted Nealan. "All these inconvenient arguments spring to my mind, and I just have to make them."
"Three," Wyldon said tightly.
"Neal, shut it!" someone whispered.
"I could learn-" Kel squeaked. No one heard. She cleared her throat and repeated, "I can learn it on my own."
Wyldon sighed; one of many examples of young Keladry being too bloody good at being a Knight!
The boys turned to stare. Wyldon glanced at her. "What did you say?"
"I'll find my way on my own," Kel repeated. "Nobody has to show me. I'll probably learn better, poking around." She knew that wasn't the case - her father had once referred to the palace as a "miserable rat-warren" - but she couldn't let this mad boy get himself deeper into trouble on her account.
Nealan stared at her, winged brows raised.
"When I require your opinion," began Wyldon, his dark eyes snapping.
"It's no trouble," Nealan interrupted. "None at all, Demoiselle Keladry. My lord, I apologize for my wicked tongue and dreadful manners. I shall do my best not to encourage her to follow my example."
Wyldon, about to speak, seemed to think better of what he meant to say. He waited a moment, then said, "You are her sponsor, then. Now. Enough time has been wasted on foolishness. Supper."
He strode off, pages following like ducklings in their mother's wake. When the hall cleared, only Nealan and Keladry were left.
Nealan stared at the girl, his slanting eyes taking her in. Seeing him up close at last, Kel noticed that he had a willful face, with high cheekbones and arched brows. "Believe me, you wouldn't have liked Joren as a sponsor," Nealan informed her. "He'd drive you out in a week. With me at least you might last a while, even if I am at the bottom of Lord Wyldon's list. Come on." He strode off.
"How kind of you, sir Meathead," Kel remarked faux-loftily.
Kel stayed where she was. Halfway down the hall, Nealan realized she was not behind him. When he turned and saw her still in front of her room, he sighed gustily, and beckoned. Kel remained where she was.
Finally he stomped back to her. "What part of 'come on' was unclear, page?"
"Why do you care if I last a week or longer?" she demanded. "Queenscove is a ducal house. Mindelan's just a barony, and a new one at that. Nobody cares about Mindelan. We aren't related, and our fathers aren't friends. So who am I to you?"
Nealan stared at her. "Direct little thing, aren't you?"
Kel crossed her arms over her chest and waited. The talkative boy didn't seem to have much patience. He would wear out before she did in a waiting contest.
"Hmph… that's not true Kel!"
"Oh really, Neal, wanna bet?"
"Done, see you in the mess after all this is over!"
Everyone just rolled their eyes at the classic Kel-Neal banter.
Nealan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look - you heard me say I've lived at court almost all my life, right?"
Kel nodded.
"Well, think about that. I've lived at court and my father's the chief of the realm's healers. I've spent time with the queen and quite a few of the Queen's Riders and the King's Champion. I've watched Lady Alanna fight for the crown. I saw her majesty and some of her ladies fight in the Immortals War. I know women can be warriors. If that's the life you want, then you ought to have the same chance to get it as anyone else who's here." He stopped, then shook his head with a rueful smile. "I keep forgetting I'm not in a university debate. Sorry about the speech. Can we go eat now?"
Kel nodded again. This time, when he strode off down the hall, she trotted to keep up with him.
When they passed through an intersection of halls, Nealan pointed. "Note that stairwell. Don't let anyone tell you it's a shortcut to the mess or the classrooms. It heads straight down and ends on the lower levels, underground."
"Yessir."
"Don't call me sir."
"Yessir."
Nealan halted. "Was that meant to be funny?"
"Nossir," Kel replied, happy to stop and catch her breath. Nealan walked as he spoke, briskly.
Nealan threw up his hands and resumed his course. Finally they entered a room filled with noise. To Kel it seemed as if every boy in the world was here, yelling and jostling around rows of long tables and benches. She came to a halt, but Nealan beckoned her to follow. He led her to stacks of trays, plates, napkins, and cutlery, grabbing what he needed. Copying him, Kel soon had a bowl of a soup thick with leeks and barley, big slices of ham, a crusty roll still hot from the oven, and saffron rice studded with raisins and almonds. She had noticed pitchers of liquids, bowls of fruit, honey pots, and platters of cheese were already on the tables.
As they stopped, looking for a place to sit, the racket faded. Eyes turned their way. Within seconds she could hear the whispers. "Look." "The Girl." "It's her." One clear voice exclaimed, "Who cares? She won't last."
Kel bit her lip and stared at her tray. Stone, she thought in Yamani. I am stone.
Nealan gave no sign of hearing, but marched toward seats at the end of one table. As they sat across from one another, the boys closest to them moved. Two seats beside Nealan were left empty, and three next to Kel.
"This is nice," Nealan remarked cheerfully. He put his food on the table before him and shoved his tray into the gap between him and the next boy. "Usually it's impossible to get a bit of elbow room here."
Someone rapped on a table. Lord Wyldon stood alone at a lectern in front of the room. The boys and Kel got to their feet as Wyldon raised his hands. "To Mithros, god of warriors and of truth, and to the Great Mother Goddess, we give thanks for their bounty," he said.
"We give thanks and praise," responded his audience.
"We ask the guidance of Mithros in these uncertain times, when change threatens all that is time-honored and true. May the god's light show us a path back to the virtues of our fathers and an end to uncertain times. We ask this of Mithros, god of the sun."
"So mote it be," intoned the pages.
Wyldon lowered his hands and the boys dropped into their seats.
Kel, frowning, was less quick to sit. Had Lord Wyldon been talking about her? "Don't let his prayers bother you," Nealan told her, using his belt-knife to cut his meat. "My father says he's done nothing but whine about changes in Tortall since the king and queen were married. Eat. It's getting cold."
Kel took a few bites. After a minute she asked, "Nealan?"
He put down his fork. "It's Neal. My least favorite aunt calls me Nealan."
"How did his lordship get those scars?" she inquired. "And why is his arm in a sling?"
Neal raised his brows. "Didn't you know?"
If I knew, I wouldn't ask, Kel thought irritably, but she kept her face blank.
Neal glanced at her, shook his head, and continued, "In the war, a party of centaurs and hurroks-"
"Hur - what?" asked Kel, interrupting him.
"Hurroks. Winged horses, claws, fangs, very nasty. They attacked the royal nursery. The Stump-"
"Neal, I command you to stop!" ordered Lord Wyldon.
Neal protested, "But sir, it's in the dialogue! I must read it authentically, the Great Mother Goddess demanded it of me."
Wyldon just glared at Neal until he continued reading.
"The what?" Kel asked, interrupting again. She felt as if he were speaking a language she only half understood.
Neal sighed. There was a wicked gleam in his green eyes. "I call him the Stump, because he's so stiff."
"Don't worry sir, you've really softened up nice and jolly recently!" Came loyal Owen's response.
He might be right, but he wasn't very respectful, thought Kel. She wouldn't say so, however. She wasn't exactly sure, but probably it would be just as disrespectful to scold her sponsor, particularly one who was five years older than she was.
"Anyway, Lord Wyldon fought off the hurroks and centaurs all by himself. He saved Prince Liam, Prince Jasson, and Princess Lianne. In the fight, the hurroks raked him. My father managed to save the arm, but Wyldon's going to have pain from it all his life."
"He's a hero, then," breathed Kel, looking at Wyldon with new respect.
"Oh, he's as brave as brave can be," Neal reassured her. "That doesn't mean he isn't a stump." He fell silent and Kel concentrated on her supper. Abruptly Neal said, "You aren't what was expected."
"How so?" She cut up her meat.
"Oh, well, you're big for a girl. I have a ten-year-old sister who's a hand-width shorter. And you seem rather quiet. I guess I thought the girl who would follow in Lady Alanna's footsteps would be more like her."
"And just what does that mean, Squire?" growled said Lioness.
"I am no longer a Squire thank you very much, I am Sir Nealan of Queenscove!" he protested before continuing to read, eager to get to the juicy parts of Kel's so-far boring tale.
Kel shrugged. "Will I get to meet the Lioness?" She tried not to show that she would do anything to meet her hero.
Neal ran his fork around the edge of his plate, not meeting Kel's eyes. "She isn't often at court. Either she's in the field, dealing with lawbreakers or immortals, or she's home with her family."
"Or she's in self-imposed exile cause she's had a very reasonable and rational argument with her King," Alanna pointed out, internally thinking of their previous disagreement and her self-imposed exile to the deserts of the Bazhir tribes.
A bell chimed. The pages rose to carry their empty trays to a long window at the back of the room, turning them over to kitchen help. "Come on. Let's get rid of this stuff, and I'll start showing you around."
Salma found them as they were leaving the mess hall. She drew Kel aside and gave her two keys. Onewas brass, the other iron. "I'm the only one with copies of these," Salma told her quietly. "Even the cleaning staff will need me to let them in. Both keys are special. To open your door, put the brass one in the lock, turn it left, and whisper your name. When you leave, turn the key left again. The iron key is for the bottom set of shutters. It works the same as the door key. Lock the shutters every time you leave, or the boys will break in that way. Leave the small upper shutters open for ventilation. Only a monkey could climb through those. Don't worry if any of the boys can pick locks. Anyone who tries will be sprayed in skunk-stink. That should make them reconsider."
Kel smiled. "Thank you, Salma."
The woman nodded to her and Neal, and left them.
Neal walked over to Kel. "If they can't wreck your room, they'll find other things to do," he murmured. When Kel raised her eyebrows at him, he explained, "I learned to read lips. The masters at the university were always whispering about something."
Neal paused, waiting for Wyldon's outrage and realisation, but there was silence.
Then he noticed Wyldon open his mouth, and very clearly say silently, "Meathead."
Kel rucked the keys into her belt-purse. "I'll deal with the other things as they come," she said firmly. "Now, where to?"
"I bet you'd enjoy the portrait gallery. If you're showing visitors around, it's one of the places they like to go."
After leading Kel past a bewildering assortment of salons, libraries, and official chambers, Neal showed her the gallery. He seemed to know a story about every person whose portrait was displayed there. Kel was fascinated by his knowledge of Tortall's monarchs and their families; he made it sound as if he'd known them all personally, even the most ancient. She stared longest at the faces of King Jonathan and Queen Thayet. She could see why the queen was called the most beautiful woman in Tortall, but even in a painting there was more to her than looks. The girl saw humor at the back of those level hazel eyes and determination in the strong nose and perfectly shaped mouth.
"She's splendid," Kel breathed.
Thayet nodded graciously in recognition of Kel's compliment of her beauty but was more appreciative of her comments on her strength and personality.
"She is, but don't say that around the Stump," advised Neal. "He thinks she's ruined the country, with her K'miri notion that women can fight and her opening schools so everyone can learn their letters. Anything new gives my lord of Cavall a nosebleed."
"Your Majesty, Commander Buriram, forgive me. You have both more than proven yourselves to me." Wyldon quickly said, before anyone, particularly anyone endowed with purple fire, could retaliate.
"Still determined to go to war with the training master, Nealan?" inquired a soft, whispery voice behind Kel.
She whirled, startled, and found she was staring at an expanse of pearl-gray material, as nubbly as if it were a mass of tiny beads melted together. She stumbled back one step and then another. The pearl-gray expanse turned dark gray at the edges. Looking down, Kel saw long, slender legs ending in lengthy digits, each tipped with a silver claw.
She backed up yet another step and tilted her head most of the way back. The creature was fully seven feet tall, not counting the long tail it used to balance itself, and it was viewing her with fascination. Its large gray slit-pupiled eyes regarded her over a short, lipless muzzle.
Kel's jaw dropped.
"You're staring, Mindelan," Neal said dryly.
"As am I," the creature remarked in that ghostly voice. "Will you introduce us?"
"Tkaa, this is Keladry of Mindelan," said Neal. "Kel, Tkaa is a basilisk. He's also one of our instructors in the ways of the immortals."
Kel had seen immortals other than the spidren on the riverbank, but she had never been this close to one. And it - he? - was to be one of her teachers?
"We basilisks are travelers and gossips," Tkaa remarked, as if he had read her mind. "I earn my keep here by educating those who desire a more precise knowledge of those immortals who have chosen to settle in the human realms."
"Yes, sir," Kel said, breathless. She started to curtsy, remembered that a page bowed, and tried to doboth. Neal braced her before she could topple over. Once she had regained her balance, the red-faced Kel bowed properly.
"I am pleased to meet you, Keladry of Mindelan," the basilisk told her as if he hadn't noticed her clumsiness.
"Tkaa is always such a gentleman! Where is he, George? Is he off on one of your missions?" Daine inquired.
George replied "Well, without revealing the secrets of Your Majesty's spy network, he is visiting a foreign official in the Copper Isles on official and private business."
Those with the knowledge recognised this as George checking up on his daughter and three grandchildren in the Copper Isles.
Things were certainly very interesting at the moment, what with a father battling against his daughter in the eternal espionage wars. Aly had learnt everything she knew from her father, so one would expect George to have the upper hand, but it seemed that Aly had inherited her mother's stout determination to self-teach as well as many of her godsparents and family friends' talents!
Alanna took a moment to think about her daughter and grandchildren. Although they had only recently returned from the Copper Isles, as part of the foreign delegation at Queen Dove's coronation, Alanna desperately wanted to see her daughter again. The fact that she was even considering the lengthy sea trip to the Copper Isles was a testament to that.
"I shall see you both the day after tomorrow." With a nod to Kel and to Neal, he walked out of the gallery, tail daintily raised.
Neal sighed. "We'd better get back to our rooms. Tomorrow's a busy day." He led her back to her room, pointing out his own as they passed it. "We'll meet in the mess hall in the morning," he told her.
Kel used the key as Salma had directed, and entered her room. Everything was in place, her bed freshly made up, curtains and draperies rehung. A faint scent of paint still drifted from the walls. "Gods of fire and ice, bless my new home," she whispered in Yamani. "Keep my will burning as hot as the heart of the volcano, and as hard and implacable as a glacier."
A wave of homesickness suddenly caught her. She wished she could hear her mother's low, soothing voice or listen to her father read from one of his books.
Kel looked lovingly at her parents, who returned her subtle yet passionate gaze. She had missed them greatly the 8 years she was at the Palace and throughout her time in the North, and especially recently as they spent more and more time in the Yamani Isles.
She was glad that they were at the Palace to read about her time as a page, Squire and young knight so they could share this experience together.
Emotion is weakness, Kel told herself, quoting her Yamani teachers. I must be as serene as a lake on a calm day. It was hard to control her feelings when so much was at stake and she was so far from home.
But control her feelings she would. If anyone here thought to run her off, they would find she was tougher than they expected. She was here to stay.
To prove it, she carefully unpacked each porcelain lucky cat and set it on her mantelpiece.
Only when she had placed each of them just so did she scrub her face and put on her nightgown. Climbing into bed, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She imagined a lake, its surface as smooth as glass. This is my heart, she thought. This is what I will strive to be.
Neal rolled the scrolls up, and instead of passing them onto someone else to read, suggested that they take a lunch break: "It's been hours since we started reading, and I for one am famished. Raoul, should we go to the Own's mess, it certainly seems to be the largest hall where we can all dine together and discuss what we've read so far!"
Raoul nodded in agreement and led the party out of the hall.
Kel and Dom lingered so that they could have a private word.