"THE LANCE," Raoul read, the eagerness clear in his voice! He believed this chapter would include his debut! And he was excited to hear Kel's thoughts the first time she jousted.
That morning, when the pages arrived at the stable, new equipment had been placed beside their normal gear. The most important item, a saddle, boasted a high, padded front and back.
Kel and her year mates groaned at the thought of these saddles which were excruciatingly painful.
Extra hands had come to show the first-years how to handle the new items: saddle, reins, double girths, and breast collars. Kel was glad to see that the man in Peachblossom's stall was the hostler Stefan. He was no common stablehand, yet he didn't seem to mind teaching her. Once he'd put the new saddle on her gelding and fastened every strap, he removed it and told Kel to try. Peachblossom sighed and shifted on his feet, just as Kel did when she was tired of dress fittings.
Lalasa laughed, able to picture all too well how Peachblossom was acting, having fitted Kel for dresses many times.
"Peachblossom says you didn't want Daine changing him," Stefan remarked, eyes following Kel as she positioned the saddle.
"I wouldn't have done it anyway" commented Daine.
"She wouldn't do it," wheezed Kel. The new gear was heavy.
And you were weak, thought Kel. Her sentiment reflected her feelings at the moment. She was drained from her experience with the Chamber, and a little confused.
"But you didn't want her to," Stefan repeated.
Kel shrugged. "It seemed bad. Like, I don't know, like taking his soul."
Daine's grin was wide.
"Not that buckle, the one next to it," Stefan told her a minute later, pointing.
Dom was finding it strange hearing about Kel struggling with Peachblossom, as from the moment he knew her as a Squire, she already had an affinity with him and Hoshi.
Red-faced, Kel released the strap in her fingers and picked up the right one. "He also says you promised not to rowel him."
Kel stared at the bandy-legged hostler, not sure what he meant. Then she remembered: rowel was another name for the pointed star-shaped type of spur favored by many knights. "That's right," she said, checking the girths.
"How will you get him to go faster?" Stefan wanted to know.
"She gave me words to say to him," replied Kel.
Stefan nodded. "She's clever, that Daine."
Daine smiled. She liked Stefan, he had a little horse magic, which made him perfect for a job in the stables, because he could understand the horses.
He cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I didn't think you'd be one for the spur. Try to mount, now."
Kel now realised, that from Stefan, that was quite a compliment!
That took practice. Kel banged her leg a few times before she managed to clear the high back. "I have to do this in armor?" she asked Stefan, who only grinned. Kel wriggled in the saddle,
Kel was embarrassed at her incompetence, but everyone else was enjoying seeing her struggle as a youth, when as an adult she was incredibly talented.
testing her ability to move once she was seated. Peachblossom waited patiently for her to settle down. "About Peachblossom-I'd like to know who treated him so badly," she added, gathering her reins.
Wyldon sighed; why did Kel have to be so damn compassionate about everyone! It made it so hard to dislike her…
"Oh Mother, always looking out for the small, aren't you?" Dom drawled.
Kel simply elbowed him in retaliation.
The little man chuckled. "Don't fret about that," he replied. "Leave it to me. The one that did it, he won't abuse another mount. You have my word."
Daine grinned.
He slapped Peachblossom on the rear, sending the gelding out of the stall.
Once outside, Kel leaned down and told the horse, "I think I'll stay on his good side. Just in case."
As usual, she was the last page to reach the long riding yard. Wyldon stood just inside the gate, a row of lances set against the fence beside him. Joren stood there, too. As each page rode by, Joren passed a lance up to him. He even passed one to Neal. By the time Kel reached Joren, only one of the twelve-foot-long weapons remained.
Hearing this Kel realised how easy it would have been for Joren to switch out her lance for a weighted one.
No one was going to be particularly happy to hear about what Joren did to her lance, but, to be honest, Kel was really appreciative to Joren for weighting her lance. It had really built up her strength and definitely contributed to her skills as a jouster.
Joren ignored her and mounted his horse.
"Take it," Wyldon ordered Kel, with a sharp nod at the lance.
Leaning down, she gripped the weapon and dragged it to her.
It was like a very long staff in most ways. There was an indented grip cut into the wood eighteen inches from the butt, and the wood above the grip flared out to protect the bearer's hand. This weapon should never slide out of her hold. The lance was heavier than a staff, too. Kel gritted her teeth and settled the butt of the lance on the edge of her stirrup, as Lord Wyldon did.
Raoul had read this paragraph with excitement! He couldn't wait to read about jousting, it was really his favourite thing.
The pages lined up. As Kel guided Peachblossom into line beside Seaver, Wyldon rode to stand infront of them.
"Before the immortals came, there was a clamor to cut jousting from tournaments,"
Raoul read this with clear resentment to whoever thought that was a good idea.
He was also reminded that he should challenge Lord Wyldon to a joust soon, he was a good challenge.
he said loudly. "It was said to be too risky. Even with a coromanel, a wide-faced piece, on the lance tip, to soften the impact, it was too dangerous. So few battles are fought between mounted knights, it was said. It was time to retire the lance. Tradition must change to come in step with modern times."
"The Stump, acknowledging that tradition must change to come in step with modern times… surely not" laughed Neal.
Wyldon rebutted him "Well I obviously did not agree, Sir Meathead, for I am a skilled jouster!"
Wyldon turned his mount toward the far end of the field. There Kel saw five quintains-dummies painted like warriors and set on wooden posts. In place of each quintain's left arm was a wooden shield with a target circle painted on it.
Kel laughed heartily in remembrance of the wooden shield with a target circle. If she were to joust know against such a target she would be able to nail it with her eyes shut!
In place of the right arm was a pole weighted at the end by a sandbag.
Lord Wyldon braced his lance under his right arm and lowered it until it was level. Once in place, it pointed at an angle across the mare's withers, into the air on Wyldon's left.
"My lord?" asked Merric, raising a hand.
Lord Wyldon raised his eyebrows.
"Shouldn't it stick out straight in front of you, not across your saddle horn?"
Everyone in the room laughed at this, especially Raoul, Wyldon and Kel.
The older pages chuckled; Merric turned bright red at their amusement. "Have you seen many tournaments?" Lord Wyldon inquired.
Merric was once again bright red, eyes averted from the circle.
Merric shook his head, still blushing. "None, my lord."
"I could do it that way," the training master said. "Of course, I'd point my knee into the open air at my enemy's side. I'd risk walloping my own mount in the head. I assure you, they don't care for that. And once my lance goes past my opponent, what would happen?"
Merric shook his head, speechless.
Current day Merric was also shaking his head, speechless at his ignorance.
"Your horse rams your opponent's mount head on," Prince Roald said quietly. "Chances are you wouldn't be able to get him out of the way in time."
Prince Roald was nodding at his answer.
"Aim for your opponent's chest with the lance pointed straight ahead, and by the time you've hit him, you cannot turn your horse aside," Lord Wyldon told them. "Strike his shield at the right point, and the power of your blow will either break the shield or drive him all the way out of the saddle - and you can still turn your mount away from the enemy. Do you understand now?" he asked Merric.
Merric was blushing fiercely. It seemed it wasn't only Kel who was going to suffer torment from these readings.
The boy nodded.
"Always leave an escape route for your charger," Lord Wyldon said. He turned to face the quintain. Kicking his horse into a run, he thundered down on the target. As he neared it, he stood and leaned forward. His lance tip struck the circle painted on the quintain's shield. The dummy swung a half turn, and Wyldon thundered by. At the end of the yard, he turned his bay gelding, riding back to the line of pages.
"What is the best defense for a lone knight against a giant?" he cried. "The lance!" shouted the older pages.
Raoul also decided to shout out these responses, so enthusiastic to read more and more about jousting.
"What is the best defense against an ogre?" he demanded.
"The lance!" shouted all of the pages.
"What is the best defense against a spidren?" he wanted to know.
"A lance!" yelled his audience.
"Against a charging line of foot soldiers?" Now the riding master joined them, carrying his own lance. "A lance!" cried everyone.
"If the soldiers aren't armed with pikes," Neal muttered.
"If the foot soldiers aren't armed with pikes, anyway," Kel heard Neal mutter.
Wyldon blinked… he was loath to admit it but Neal was right.
Kel blinked. Neal was right. Pikes were heavy spears fourteen feet or longer. Used properly, they were defeat for horsemen, who speared their mounts on the pikes before they got within striking distance of the pikemen.
And it seemed that 11 year old Kel had realised this before him.
Wyldon halted in front of them. "A knight these days relies on the lance as much as the sword,"
Kel considered this, although she used the lance in tournaments, she rarely touched it in the field - it was too cumbersome. The glaive was a much more efficient alternative.
he said quietly. "To use it, you must perfect both horsemanship and weapon. If you hit the quintain" - he pointedto the swinging dummy-"anywhere but that target circle, you will get a buffet from the sandbag to make the lesson stick.
All men (and women) who had trained for Knighthood winced.
And it must stick. Immortals and enemy infantry do not forgive mistakes."
He dismounted and waved a fourth-year page to a line of chalk drawn across the near end of the yard. "I want you new lads up on this line. Watch the older ones as they charge. Notice they change position as they approach the target. See how the lance is couched, and gripped."
The first-years obeyed. They watched sharply as page after page took his place on the line, settled his lance, and set his horse at the quintain. The fourth-year pages hit their target almost every time, but the younger the rider, the more likely it was that the sandbag would spin around and thump him as he rode by. At last it was the turn of the first-year pages. Kel grew more and more nervous, wiping sweaty palms on her sturdy practice clothes. She knew before he struck the target that Neal would miss the circle.
"Thanks Kel…" drawled Neal.
Alanna smiled at the Lady Knight - "I'm glad you were around to humble Neal as a Page!"
She covered her eyes as the sandbag thudded into his back. At least he couldn't be knocked out of the new saddle and onto the ground.
We thank the gods for the blessings we have, she thought gloomily,
"How cheerful, Kel."
and toed Peachblossom over to the chalk line. Behind her the senior pages lined up. They would ride at the quintain again once she was done.
Wyldon strode over briskly. He resettled Kel's grip on the lance with impersonal hands,
How did he not notice it was weighted? Kel thought… I guess he was used to the much heavier tournament lance than a page's practice lance, weighted or not.
checked her saddle, and stood away at last. "The lance will slide back when you strike," he told her as he'd told the other first-years. "Let it. Now, lower it across your chest, till it points out over your mount's left shoulder. Once it's down, keep that point level!"
Kel struggled to raise the lance. It was quite happy to be lowered, and agonizingly hard to raise.
Raoul laughed; "Gods, young Kel, you really were a weakling!"
Kel just smiled meekly, not looking forward to the revelation that Joren had interfered with one of her weapons.
"Go!" ordered Wyldon.
Kel leaned forward, her back and shoulder muscles protesting as she fought to keep the lance tip from sagging.
"It really isn't that difficult, Kel!" exclaimed Raoul again.
"I know, sir, who was it bested you last week 3 times?!" reminded Kel sharply.
Raoul decided his best response was to keep reading.
"Charge," she ordered Peachblossom.
The gelding took off, his speed thrusting Kel against the back of her saddle.
"Get your point up! Get it up!" cried Wyldon in a battlefield roar that cut through the thunder ofPeachblossom's hooves. "Raise your point!"
Kel fought the weapon and her fear of the horse. Never had she suspected that a full gallop on Peachblossom would feel like riding an avalanche.
Kel chuckled at her 11 year old self - how accurate, she thought.
I should have just said, "Go faster," she thought weakly as the target loomed. Wrestling with the lance, she just clipped the shields edge. The quintain spun. The sandbag crashed into her side as Peachblossom thundered by.
Those in the room who had only seen Kel joust as a very talented Squire and Knight were shocked to think that Kel was so incapable as a page. Then again, it was her first time.
Kel dragged on the reins as hard as she would have the day before. Peachblossom, already slowing, reared in protest against the pain in his newly soft mouth.
Poor Peachblossom, thought Daine.
The back on the jousting saddle kept her in her seat, just barely. Peachblossom walked backward, doing his best to keep her from falling. Kel loosened the reins, taking the pressure off the bit. Slowly the horse dropped until all four feet were planted firmly on the ground.
"Haha, what a spectacle," laughed Dom, "I wish I had been there to witness you flailing on that beast of yours… Oh wait, I was!"
Kel could only look embarrassedly at the floor, trying to ignore the laughter of Dom and Raoul.
Kel leaned forward, the weight of her lance dragging at her arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the gelding. "I forgot your mouth. I won't do it again."
"The horse is too big for that page," someone called. "I'm surprised you let him ride that gelding, Cavall."
Kel wilted.
Present day Kel wilted also.
The pages had learned to ignore onlookers in the practice yards. She hadn't even noticed that an audience had gathered or thought that anyone in the audience might care enough to comment.
"The probationer picked that mount herself, Goldenlake," replied Wyldon coldly. "She had a choice of horses, just like the others."
Jon laughed cooly, "Now I understand why you chose her as Squire, Raoul, even as a page she was extraordinarily talented with the lance…"
Kel wanted to die of humiliation from the King's sarcastic comments about her.
Humiliated, Kel braced her lance on her stirrup - once it was upright, she could control the wretched thing - and turned Peachblossom.
A squad of warriors mounted on fine horses watched from outside the yard's fence. They wore the chain mail, blue and silver tunic, and white desert burnoose of the King's Own, the crown's elite guard.
"Yay! It is us, the most elite of soldiers!"
"Oh shut it Dom, you sound like Meathead."
Kel wished she could just sink into the ground and prayed that her Yamani schooling kept thehumiliation out of her face. These men were as admired as knights, and they had seen her disgraceful try. Most were grinning.
"Of course we were, Kel, we loved watching you train as a page. We used to watch often, and make bets on how you'd fair!"
Kel looked, shock evident in her face, at Dom. How humiliating…
One of them, a very tall,
and gallant looking man, with handsome eyes and a delicious complexion,
Buri took the scroll from her husband: "If you won't be sensible reading Raoul, then I will have to take over from you…" she warned.
Raoul got the message, retook the scrolls and kept reading seriously.
big man with rosy cheeks and black eyes, stared at Kel. "This is the girl?" he asked, startled. It was he who had commented to Wyldon.
The training master grimaced. "Keladry of Mindelan. She knows she may exchange her mount for another, and has chosen not to do so. Have you something we may assist you with?"
The big man shook his head. "Not this time. We've reports of a lone tauros
Everyone grimaced. Whilst hurroks and other more vicious immortals had largely been eradicated, tarouses still ran amok around Tortall.
sighted near one of the fishing villages upriver."
Everyone grimaced further. They caused particular trouble near said villages, where they were known to target peasant women, unable to defend themselves.
Kel was trying to remember what a tauros was when a Bazhir with the squad commented dryly, "No doubt it is a strayed bull."
That's it, Kel remembered. Tauroses were creatures with bull's heads and men's bodies, huge, witless monsters who preyed on women.
"Stray bull or not, we'll handle it," said the big rider. "You and your lot will get the chance to help us soon enough, Cavall."
Oooh, Kel thought, she couldn't wait to read about their trip with the Own. It was Kel's final chance to prove herself as a probationary page, and my had she succeeded.
Kel also laughed internally, supposing that even as a page she had belonged with the Own.
Whilst it was unusual for a Knight to ally herself so obviously with a particular group of Tortall's armed forces, ever since she got her Knighthood, Kel would most often be found training with the Own, eating with the Own, so much so that Jon had appointed her to be an assistant of sorts to Raoul, as Raoul had expressed his intention to retire after the Scanran War.
Kel, as a woman in her early twenties, had been the youngest Commander of any group in the armed forces, ever appointed. And also, the first female Commander of the Own.
He touched his fingers to his forehead in an ironic salute, and rode off at the front of the squad.
"If we may proceed?" Wyldon asked the pages. "You will have plenty of chances to gawk at Raoul of Goldenlake in the future."
Kel bit the inside of her cheek. Raoul of Goldenlake was the Knight Commander of the King's Own, one of the realm's finest warriors.
"Raoul! I told you not to embellish Kel's descriptions of you," warned Buri.
"No," Raoul protested, "see here, Kel really said that about me."
Raoul looked at his prodigy lovingly. He had become a sort of father figure to her, and could not be more proud of the woman and warrior she had become.
Kel looked at Raoul affirming this, with respect evident in her eyes.
Neal rode over to her. "Are you all right? You have the oddest look on your face."
Kel shook her head. "I'm just embarrassed. I don't suppose you know how to make people vanish."
"It's not something they teach healers," he said dryly, riding to the starting line with her. "If I could, I'd do it all the time. Don't fret. Nobody hits the mark their first day."
"But in front of Sir Raoul of Goldenlake," she replied in a low voice. "Who fought a giant on foot and won."
Raoul read this with pride; not for his own accomplishments, but for his Squire's recognition of them, and the evidence that she respected him so greatly, even before she knew him. But he realised, that whilst she had had these positive prejudices before they met, during their time in the field together they had developed a wonderful relationship built on mutual respect, which was why he had recommended to Jon that she be appointment Lady Knight Commander, despite being relatively green for a Knight.
"Actually, he's Lord Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak - the king elevated him to the peerage in April," Neal informed her. "And it was only a twenty-foot giant."
"Thanks Neal," Kel said drily, "that was a great comfort.."
"Oh, well, I don't feel half so stupid now," muttered Kel. Time to change the subject. "What was that about us helping the King's Own?"
"The Stump likes us to get battle experience against immortals. If there's something close by, the King's Own takes us along."
Wyldon called, "You older pages practice separately. Get to it." They drifted to the other four quintains, leaving the first-years to practice under Wyldon's eye.
Wyldon beckoned to Quinden of Marti's Hill, indicating he should tilt next. "Excuse me, your lordship, but am I older or younger today?" Neal asked.
"You're such a pest, Squire Neal," Alanna remarked.
Neal stared at her, pleading with her to stop the humiliation of being called a squire, it was almost worse than Meathead. Well not quite…
"One day I will tie that insolent tongue of yours in a knot,"
"That day is yet to come, Sir Stump!" Neal said loftily.
Wyldon could only roll his eyes at Neal's persistent insolence.
replied Wyldon absently as he watched Quinden settle his lance. "You may tilt with the first-years."
Kel saw Neal open his mouth to reply, and swung Peachblossom into Neal's brown mare. The mare skipped away as Peachblossom half turned, ensuring that the gelding caught just a fold of Neal's practice clothes in his teeth instead of Neal's right leg.
"You encouraged that beast to attack me!? Keladry, I thought we were friends." Neal lamented dramatically.
"Oh shut it Neal, I was being your friend, protecting you from becoming a Carthaki skewer on Lord Wyldon's lance!"
By the time Kel had persuaded her mount to release her friend, Neal had forgotten whatever answer he'd been about to give the training master.
Kel rode four more times at the quintain. Each try was a fight with the heavy lance; not once did she manage to keep the point high enough to strike the circle.
By now Raoul was becoming suspicious. Sure Kel had only been an 11 year old girl, but unable to even lift the lance high enough, that was ridiculous.
By her third run, her arms felt as weak as overcooked noodles. Kel dragged as she brushed Peachblossom, cleaned her new tack, cut her name onto her lance, and rubbed oil into it. Only when those chores were done could she return to the castle and her waiting bath.
"What's wrong?" Neal asked as they stood in line for lunch. "You've been quiet all day, not that you ever chatter." He peered at her so worriedly that Kel had to smile.
Kel smiled at Neal, who was peering at her with that exact same look of concern; obviously still anxious about what had happened to her in the Chamber.
"I didn't sleep well, that's all," she told him. "I'm sorry I was grumpy."
"Stop pushing, Esmond!" growled someone behind her. The next minute Kel was knocked out of line. Turning, she saw that the one who'd bumped her was Merric. Beet-red, he mumbled an apology and shoved Esmond in revenge. It gave him a reason to turn his back on Kel as she resumed her place.
Merric's face was flushed to match his hair colour. He was ashamed that he had treated Kel so rudely, but at the time he was so embarrassed he didn't really have a choice!
He can't even look at me, she thought miserably, leaning against the wall. And I can't look at him. Wonderful.
She was leaving to collect her books and papers when Cleon stopped her once again. "Page Keladry," he announced with a broad grin, "my flower, my dove,
"Oh Cleon, not these ridiculous pet names!" exclaimed Kel.
She had forgotten how irritating they had been.
Dom meanwhile was shocked that Cleon's obvious admiration for Kel as a woman had begun so early. He really disliked the red headed oaf, for obvious reasons.
I need more ink. Run along to stores and fetch me some."
"Leave her be, Cleon," said Neal sternly. "She's got enough to worry about without doing your errands."
Cleon stared at him. The senior pages were always cautious when it came to Neal. First-year or not, he was older and taller than all of them, and once he lost his temper, he didn't seem to care if he got hurt.
Especially in defence of Kel, thought Neal. While he now thought of her as his younger sister, at the time he had had a huge crush on Kel! Thank the gods they weren't reading his account of their page and squire years, for he was sure it would have revealed his crush.
Despite those feelings leaving him, Neal was awfully defensive of Kel. As were her other year mates in fact. They had often gotten into brawls and even duels protecting her honour.
Boys who thought nothing of pushing someone like Kel, Merric, or the other first-years around tended to leave Neal alone. "I didn't ask you, Neal," Cleon retorted at last. "She has to get used to running errands sometime."
"Even the nobles hardly ask us to do things for them," argued Neal hotly. "They know we're kept trotting."
Kel ran to do as she was told, shaking her head. Trust Neal to extend the whole matter by debating about it.
Yuki shook her head also, all too familiar with Neal's unreasonable stubbornness.
She made it to their first class just in time, handing Cleon his ink as she rushed to her seat. Only when she was down and had begun to sort out the mess of her own books and papers did she see how little she'd finished the night before. When Master Yayin, who taught reading and writing, requested her work, she stood and admitted that she didn't have it, as tradition demanded.
Kel was sick of all this talk about tradition - then again, she supposed that it would be emphasised even more if she had attended the convent!
The Mithran's thick brows came together in a scowl. "Very well, Page Keladry," he said, "report to us orally on the chapter you were to write about."
Kel swallowed hard, fighting to keep her feelings out of her face. "I did not read it, Master Yayin," she replied, staring past him.
"No sense arguing with a Lump," someone at the back of the room muttered.
Everyone could hear Raoul, Kel's second father really, raise his voice in defence of Kel.
"Silence!" the teacher snapped. His favored prop was a long wooden rod he used as a pointer. In the first week of classes, Kel had learned that the rod also indicated the teacher's moods. Now he tapped its point slowly and steadily on the floor.
"Ouch," Neal articulated, "that's a bad sign."
Bad sign, thought Kel, damp at her temples and palms. Very bad sign.
"Page Keladry, have you an explanation?"
Custom dictated only one reply. Explanations were regarded as excuses. I am stone, Kel reminded herself. "No, Master Yayin." She squeezed the words out of a tight throat.
"Page Keladry, if you cannot perform a modicum of the work required, you do not belong here," the teacher informed her coldly. "Reconsider your commitment to your studies. Tomorrow you will summarize the next three chapters in the book. Sit down."
Kel sat. She could hear snickers from the other pages, but she kept her face as smooth as stone.
In mathematics, she winced when she saw how creased and blotted her sheet of last night's problems was.
At least she was rather good at maths, and was sure to at least get credit for her correct sums and good track record, Kel thought.
She handed it in anyway, and sat through class with shoulders hunched, waiting for a reprimand. Master Ivor liked to correct their work at his desk as one of them solved a problem on a large slate in front of the room; somehow he did both easily. Papers, with his written comments, were handed back atthe end of the class. He gave Kel hers with raised eyebrows, then passed to the next student. She looked down and read the note he'd scrawled on the cleanest part of the paper: "I hardly believe this is yours. Redo it, properly, with tonight's assignment."
She could have kissed him,
"You should have," drawled Neal, "would have made class somewhat tolerable."
she was so relieved. At least he did not want to humiliate her, even though she'd disappointed him. Since mathematics was her favorite class, she hated the idea that he might think her lazy.
Sir Myles did not assign written work, only reading, and didn't call on Kel for anything. The thought that he might kept her nervous through the class - she couldn't even remember what he'd assigned until the boys he did call on talked about the material. On her way out of class, Sir Myles asked, "Keladry? Might I have a word?"
"He probably wants to know what the Yamani emperor has for breakfast," Neal muttered out of the side of his mouth.
Kel frowned at Neal, as did Yuki.
Kel frowned at her friend and walked up to the plump teacher's desk. It took an effort of will to keep her hands flat at her sides, not twisting nervously together. "Is everything well?" Sir Myles wanted to know. "You look wan."
Alanna smiled happily at her foster-father, happy that he was keeping an eye on Kel, for her.
"Sir?" she asked, puzzled by the word and wondering why he'd singled her out.
"I singled you out, Keladry, because you looked horridly ill and tired. And of course, I had a little motivation from my lovely foster-daughter to ask after you, and convey news," explained Myles.
"Tired, pale. Exhausted. Are you getting enough rest? The boys aren't hounding you, are they?"
Kel shook her head nervously. "No, sir. I'm fine. Couldn't be better."
Raoul said this last sentence with a rather ironic tone.
His beautifully curved eyebrows rose. "And of course it would be shameful of you to say otherwise."
Here, at least, Kel was on firm ground. "Yes, sir."
"A page must endure everything that comes."
"Yes, sir." At last - answers that she knew!
"And where did you learn this?" Myles inquired mildly. "From Sir Wyldon, that paragon of knightly virtue?"
Wyldon shot daggers at Sir Myles. How rude! But then again, reading these chapters where his injustices to Keladry were clear, he couldn't help but agree that he had misguided his students on the virtues of being a knight.
Kel frowned. Was Sir Myles being sarcastic? "I learned it from my brothers, and from the emperor's warriors, at the Yamani imperial court. Sir."
The eyebrows lifted another quarter of an inch; Myles tilted his head to one side. He reminded Kel of the sparrow Crown, who had pecked her nose that morning.
Sir Myles tilted his head looking at Kel.
Suddenly her gloom lifted a touch; she ducked her head to hide a smile.
Kel ducked her head at Sir Myles, smiling fondly at her old teacher.
"What does it take to be a Yamani warrior?" Myles inquired. He seemed genuinely interested.
Yuki, Shinko, Ilane and Kel made a mental note to invite Myles to one of their green tea sessions. They were sure he'd love to talk with them about the Yamani culture and history.
"It takes a great deal of running up and down mountains in the rain, and not complaining about it," Kel said instantly, then clapped her hand over her mouth. What if he thought she was being impudent?
Everyone laughed at Kel's worries, which were completely unfounded. Sir Myles would definitely appreciate her cheekiness.
But there was something about him, a sort of waiting kindness that made her want to answer him frankly.
Everyone who had ever been tutored by Myles smiled fondly at the old man.
To her relief, Myles chuckled. "I've heard of this odd behavior," he admitted. "But you admire the Yamanis."
Everyone was greatly enjoying this lighthearted banter.
"Oh, yes, sir!" she replied, nodding. "They keep going through anything."
Myles sighed. "It's my misfortune to be dumped amid so many warrior stoics," he remarked, shakinghis head.
"Sir?" she asked, confused. That sounded like the best company in the world.
Of course Kel would think that…
"Never mind. Run along to Master Lindhall. And, Keladry-"
She turned halfway to the door. "Sir?"
"If you need a friend - if you need someone to talk to - the servants can tell you where to find me."
Alanna grasped her foster fathers hand warmly. His support and advice during her page years had been a huge bolster to her during times of adversity. She was glad that he was extending a hand to young Kel.
She stared at him for a moment. The Lioness's adoptive father was offering her friendship!
"Thank you, sir," she said, and bowed deeply.
Myles waved her on.
"You never did come find me, Keladry." Commented Myles.
Kel looked at him wistfully. She regretted that, she probably could've heard some great tales about young Alanna from him.
So, she replied "Well I guess I ought to find you sometime soon to talk with you!"
Myles smiled, satisfied.
Somehow Kel got through the rest of the afternoon without further mishap. She'd completed her nights work for Master Lindhall and Tkaa the basilisk, and could hand it in with a free conscience. In etiquette Master Oakbridge was still using her as a secondary teacher of Yamani manners, and had not assigned other work to her. She had no awkward excuses to make to him.
People were shocked at how well Kel was keeping up with her class work.
As she changed into a dress for supper, memories of her flight from Joren and his friends, kept at bay by exercise and worry about classwork, came rushing back. Angry with herself, she picked up the practice glaive she'd brought from home and did a series of quick exercises with it.
Alanna looked proudly at Kel, glad that she had started private practice on her own already. Alanna knew from experience that the extra hard work would definitely pay off!
When she finished, her arms - already tired from that morning's work with the lance - were trembling.
Now, Alanna thought, all she needs is a tutor like Coram was to me, to help her deal with her strength. She wished she had been there to tutor her, but knew someone would step up to the challenge!
It was time to go to the mess hall.
Enough fussing, she ordered herself. Next time I'll just say something, is all. Even if it's against tradition. I won't have another day when I go around feeling like a whipped dog because I turned my back on Merric!
At supper, Prince Roald and Neal discussed the problems they'd been set in mage training while Kel considered her problem with the lance. Her second-oldest brother, Inness, had told her loftily that a girl's arms were not as strong as a boy's.
Alanna flexed her arms, wanting to prove this impertinent and ignorant man wrong.
Kel considered this, deciding that she could definitely best Inness in a wrestle, and any fight actually, were she to be honest.
After that morning she had to agree. All of the other first-year pages had been able to keep their lances from pointing at the ground.
Raoul considered this. Kel was a big girl, even as a page. Why did she have such problems holding the lance. He certainly didn't entertain the idea that it was because girls had weak arms. Kel had experience fighting even as an 11 year old. He also didn't entertain the idea that someone had sabotaged her weapon, although he should've.
I have to train harder, decided Kel. I have to strengthen my arms.
She fiddled with her spoon, wondering if she'd ever be able to lift that cursed lance. Then Joren's voicerang out across the room: "I swear, those Shang warriors have an exercise for everything."
Kel silently thanked Joren for giving her the means to succeed.
"If you wish to be a herald, Joren, apply to their college in the morning," Wyldon said, raising his ownvoice.
Unfortunately for Joren, no one could quite imagine him as a Shang warrior.
"Until then, converse in a more seemly way."
A brief hush fell. As Wyldon gave the signal to rise, Neal asked her, "Are you studying with us tonight?"
Ilane smiled at Neal, who she knew her daughter was so fond of. She was glad he was there to look out for her.
She also laughed silently at the idea that Baird's son would become so attached to her daughter - thinking of the time she and Baird used to court, back when she was but a young lady from Seabeth.
"In a while," she promised. "Do you know where I might find the Wildcat?"
Alanna grinned, understanding where Kel was going with this.
For once, Joren had helped her. If anyone would know how to strengthen her arms, it would be a Shang warrior who spent her life fighting men.
Wyldon shook his head at Kel's determination to get better on her own, despite the hindrance he and the boys he had trained had posed to her.
She had to try a couple of the places Neal and Roald suggested, but was successful at last. Eda Bell was happy to show Kel exercises for the arms. The hardest involved lying flat on the ground, pushing the body up with both arms, lowering it partway, then pushing up again. Kel managed only three of these exercises under the Wildcat's eye before her exhausted arms gave out.
Kel laughed out loud at this. Everyone looked at her inquisitively.
Kel explained, "Why I can do about three hundred of these exercises know without collapsing!"
Dom looked proudly at his strong woman.
Eda promised her that if she kept exercising, she would do better soon.
Alanna nodded approvingly.
Feeling hopeful, Kel headed back to the pages' wing.
Everyone agreed that Raoul could keep reading another chapter. He seemed to be the most un-partisan reader, not reacting so violently to Kel's experiences, and also they found his deep voice weirdly soothing.
Raoul hardly paused, eager to read further, keen to read up to Kel's years with him.
"Chapter 7, Kel takes a stand…"