First Test

  She fed her sparrows some of the trail bread that had been with the packhorses. At least the general supplies had been packed in oiled cloth to shed the wet. Everyone hung their blankets near the fires to dry. The cloth was still damp but warm as the weary riders wrapped the blankets around their bodies and went to sleep.

  To everyone’s relief, the next day dawned bright and clear. The group set out after breakfasting on lumpy porridge. It was not quite noon when they entered a broad clearing, startling a herd of deer into flight. There stood a long house built of logs with a rough stable behind it.

  "Home for the next two months," Lord Wyldon said. "Stable your mounts, care for them properly, then assemble with your packs."

  Once they had gathered in front of the house, Wyldon took them inside. It was a shed more than a house. There were two hearths and no chairs, benches, tables, or beds. They could sleep on the floor or in the clearing outside, Lord Wyldon told them. There were chores to be done: the chimneys inspected and cleared, a winter’s accumulation of trash to be swept out. Pages were delegated to fetch water and gather firewood from the forest floor. Sergeant Ezeko showed the first-years how to dig latrines, then ordered Quinden and Seaver to set one up for the boys. Once they had gone, the sergeant turned to Keladry.

  "Find a protected spot on the opposite side of camp from the boys’ latrine, and dig one for use by you and the Shang Wildcat," he ordered. "Also, you are to sleep where she does. If she wants to sleep outdoors, that is what you do. Do I make myself clear?"

  Kel nodded. "Yes, sir."

  Ezeko gave her a shovel. "Dig well away from the stream."

  Kel scouted for a good spot in a clump of bushes and dug a trench as the sergeant had instructed. Once she was done, she found Eda Bell and showed her the latrine. In her turn, Eda showed her where she’d already hung a hammock between two sturdy trees. The Wildcat offered Kel the use of a spare hammock, but Kel preferred to sleep on the ground. A grassy patch close by would make her bedroll as soft as a mattress. Together they stretched a piece of canvas over the area to keep off the wet.

  Lunch came next: cold meat, trail bread, and dried fruit. Lord Wyldon told the pages they might do as they wished for a while, provided they didn’t stray too far from the house. He settled for a long talk with the Shang warriors and Ezeko. Quite a few boys, including Neal, decided to take a nap. Kel was considering a nap of her own, but decided that she needed to try out her latrine first. She headed back to her clump of bushes.

  She was just finishing when she heard footsteps in the brush and giggles. Curse those boys! she thought, trying to pull her loincloth and breeches up.

  They were coming nearer. Her clothes tangled, and she nearly fell.

  Suddenly the bushes erupted in a flurry of whistles and angry bird chatter. One of the boys yelped; another cried, "Where’d these birds come from?!" She heard the boys stumble and crash as they ran, followed by a storm of irate sparrows.

  Kel laughed until she cried. Fixing her clothes, she left her latrine. Her sparrows swirled around her, then settled into a bush. From the way they peeped and cheeped at one another, it was clear they were pleased with themselves.

  On her way back to camp, Kel was about to pass a thick-boled tree when she heard the rasp of cloth on bark. It was enough warning. When Joren lunged at her, wrapping an arm around her throat, she was ready. She slid from his grasp, bringing him up and over her back in a combination twist and pull. Straight into a holly bush he went. It was a throw she had learned in the Islands, not one they’d been taught by the two Shangs.

  You’d think he’d’ve seen by now I have a few tricks to me, she thought as he thrashed in the holly. The sparrows, hearing the noise, came racing to Kel. They darted at Joren in single attacks, screeching in fury.

  "Stop it," Kel told them. "Let the bush peck him." To her surprise the birds obeyed. Kel watched Joren for a few moments, thinking. Finally she walked over to him. "You do no credit to Lord Wyldon mucking about like this," she said, keeping her face Yamani-smooth and emotionless.

  He reached for her with a snarl. Kel stepped back. He was none too pretty now. His fair skin was scratched by sparrow and holly, his flaxen hair a rat’s nest, and rage twisted his face.

  "He’ll prize anyone who rids him of you," Joren snapped, fighting the bush to get at her.

  "He said that?" she asked.

  "He doesn’t need to. Anyone can see it," Joren told her, his voice filled with venom. "You’re going to regret you ever set foot in the palace."

  "You’ll have to get out of that bush first," Kel pointed out coolly, and walked away. When she reached camp, she saw that Quinden and Garvey sported facial scrapes and peck marks. "Nasty scratches," she remarked. "You should have them looked at." Quinden at least had the shame to look away.

  She left them to curry Peachblossom and do some hard thinking. Was Joren right? Did Lord Wyldon want to be rid of her so badly? If that were the case, perhaps she ought to quit now, and go home.

  That made her pause in her grooming. Peachblossom looked at her; when she did not instantly resume work, he gently clamped his jaws around her forearm.

  Kel nodded grimly. Peachblossom was right: she had to hang on. She had to fight even harder. There was still time to convince everyone that she belonged here.

  "Everyone, assemble," Wyldon called as she was putting her brushes away. "Time to get to work."

  Once he’d gathered the pages, he assigned them to groups. There were at least one third-year page and one of the first-years in each. The older pages were to start teaching the new ones how to create maps; the two Shang warriors and Sergeant Ezeko would roam, checking on them.

  Wyldon sent all but one of the groups from the clearing to map different pockets of ground, on the other side of the ridge that sheltered the clearing in the west and south, or on the other side of the broad stream that bordered the clearing in the north and east. The remaining group included Kel, Neal, and Cleon.

  "You’re going to find a vantage point that overlooks this clearing," Wyldon told them. "You’ll map the area, including prominent features such as rock formations and the stream. Once you come down you will pace the dimensions between features and mark them on your map. Cleon’s done it before." Lord Wyldon pointed to a nearby chestnut, one that grew on the clearing’s edge near the stream. "Start climbing," he ordered.

  The two boys scrambled up with ease, finding plenty of hand and toe holds. Kel stared at the tree, shaking.

  "I issued an order," Lord Wyldon said quietly. "That tree will grow no shorter."

  Maybe he won’t get rid of me because I’m afraid of heights! Kel thought. It had been her fear ever since that first run on the palace wall. He’s giving me a chance to handle it. So if I want to convince him I deserve to stay, this is where it starts.

  She made herself walk to the tree and put her hands on it. It was solid, reassuring: an old tree. Where the trunk sank into the earth, the roots were mounded, giving her a step up. She rested her foot against one knob, making sure her foot would not slip, then lunged up to grab the first low-hanging branch that would take her weight. Eyes shut tight, she mounted that branch as she would Peachblossom and straddled it, facing the trunk. She rested her forehead against its bark and felt around for the next-highest branch.

  "Keladry?" whispered Cleon from somewhere high above. "Neal, is she coming?"

  "You boys start mapping!" ordered Lord Wyldon.

  This isn’t so bad, Kel told herself, though she shook so hard that her teeth clicked together. Opening her eyes a hair, she glanced up and saw the next branch.

  "What is the next step, probationer?" demanded Wyldon.

  "Stand," she whispered. She must, if she wanted to grab the upper branch.

  "Then do so."

  Kel took a breath, shut her eyes once more, and clutched the trunk. Wobbling, she got one foot under her and pushed up. She slid her palms higher, jamming her fingertips into her target. Wrapping her arms around it in a death grip, she pul
led herself into a standing position.

  "Mount up," ordered the calm voice below. It steadied her. Without opening her eyes, Kel tightened her grip on the higher branch and swung herself onto it, again as if she mounted a bareback Peachblossom.

  "Next branch," ordered Lord Wyldon. "You’re nowhere near the top."

  "I knew that," whispered Kel to herself. "I did."

  She heard a rustle and a soft cheeping sound. Crown lit on a twig near her face, peering at Kel as if worried. A series of light impacts told Kel the rest of the small flock had landed on her shoulders and clothes.

  "Shoo," whispered the girl. "You can’t help, though I’m glad that you’d want to."

  "Are you praying up there, probationer?" demanded Wyldon from below.

  "Please shoo," Kel told the birds. "Go see Neal. He’d like some company, I bet."

  The flock took off, leaving Crown behind. A moment later Kel heard Neal cry, "Where did these birds come from? They—that tickles!" and Cleon’s startled laugh.

  Looking up to see the boys, she saw the next large branch instead. If I stand, she thought, I can swing myself onto that branch like I did this one.

  "I think I have it now," she told Crown. Looking up was easy. She could at least see where she wanted to go.

  Kel refused to think about how she was going to climb down.

  She inched forward until she could hold on to the trunk. Bracing herself, she stood. One foot slipped. Instinctively she opened her eyes to place it better.

  The ground on one side of the chestnut fell away sharply. Fifteen feet below her position lay the stream that ran along the clearing’s edge. The water, studded with rocks, swayed before her eyes. Her ears rang. Terror swamped her. She wrapped her arms around her branch and froze as Crown chattered in alarm.

  In the end, Neal and Cleon had to climb down to help her out of the tree. When at last Kel stood before Lord Wyldon, he told her, "You have to disarm your fear, or it will make a cripple of you."

  Kel nodded, miserably. Was there a polite way to say that she was about to be sick?

  "You will climb this tree every day. If we cannot cure you of fear, you must learn to work despite it, understand?" Wyldon eyed her, then added, "If you must vomit, bury it when you are done. A knight hides all sign of his presence as much as he can."

  Kel nodded and went behind a bush. When she was done, he ordered the three of them to start mapping the clearing on foot.

  As always, the training master was as good as his word. Each day, in addition to working with her teachers and Peachblossom, he sent her into the chestnut tree. There was no set time for the exercise: he might order her to do it first thing in the morning or even after dark, to report on the animals she heard. Sometimes the boys were off doing other tasks; often they were not. Kel learned to ignore their jokes and listen only for Lord Wyldon’s orders. He always watched when he sent her into the tree. So did the sparrows, unless it was after dark.

  "I’ll never be able to eat chestnuts again," the girl told Neal after a few weeks of climbing. While she had thrown up less as the weeks passed, it still happened. That day a high wind tossed the branches, making her slip repeatedly. Once she was safe on the ground, she brought up what felt like a hundred meals. A fine way to celebrate my birthday, she thought as she buried the mess under leaves. She had remembered that she turned eleven that day as she clung to a swaying branch.

  "This is sheer torture," Neal snapped. "He’s trying to make you quit. That way no one can say he got rid of you even though you do as well as the rest of us."

  It was strange to hear Neal voice the same thoughts as Joren. "He’s teaching me to work through it," she said, rinsing her mouth with a handful of cold water. She had to do it twice: the first time she had trembled so badly that most of the water spilled from her palm. "I climbed twenty-three feet today."

  "With all of the pages watching and making jokes and betting on where you’ll freeze up? He’s trying to make you quit," insisted Neal.

  Kel looked up at him and sighed. "And I’m not going to let him."

  "You don’t have a choice. He hates you," Neal told her, exasperated. "The king forced you on him. He made sure the Lioness couldn’t even go near you—"

  Kel stared at him, not sure that she’d heard correctly. "The Lioness what?"

  Neal sighed. "She told Father. Lord Wyldon got the king to order her to stay completely away from you. He said it would be favoritism, since she’s never shown an interest in the pages before. He even suggested Lady Alanna might—you know"—Neal twiddled his fingers to suggest magic—"to help you."

  It was suddenly hard for Kel to breathe. "You mean—she doesn’t hate me? She isn’t staying away because, because—I don’t know. Because she wants to be the only lady knight?"

  "It’s hard to say how she feels about you, since you’ve never met," Neal pointed out wryly. "But Father says she’s never been so angry with the king for so long."

  "I guess it would seem like she played favorites," Kel remarked slowly. "That wouldn’t be fair. But why did he put me on probation if he meant to be fair to me?"

  Neal looked at her soberly. "Aren’t you begging the question?"

  Kel blinked at him. "Can’t you ever ask something right out, instead of walking all around it?"

  "Begging the question means you state or assume something that hasn’t been proved. In this case, you’re assuming the Stump can actually think."

  "That’s not very useful, Neal," Kel said impatiently.

  "If I were useful, you wouldn’t know it was me," he replied loftily. In a quieter tone he said, "Anyway, now you know why you haven’t seen the Lioness." He patted her shoulder awkwardly and wandered off. Kel found a rock and sat, resting her chin on her knees. She had a great deal to think about.

  Early one morning at the end of June, Eda Bell roused Kel from a sound sleep. "What time is it?" the girl mumbled, grabbing her breeches and struggling into them.

  "Not quite dawn." The Wildcat rolled up her hammock with the quickness of long practice. "Lord Raoul and thirty of the King’s Own rode in not too long ago. Some village has a very bad spidren problem. We’re all going to hunt them down." She passed Kel a small cup of green tea.

  "What’s ’very bad’?" Kel asked between sips. Her head was clearing.

  "The villagers report five, maybe ten of the things. Maybe more. They took a woman and some livestock."

  Kel got to her knees, and folded her bedroll as quickly as her fingers could work.

  eleven

  SPIDREN HUNT

  After a hard morning’s ride, they were given shelter from the light rain in the forest village’s largest barn. Once the horses were tended, everyone gathered around the Knight Commander to eat. At first there was no sound but chewing, they were so hungry that even oatcakes, dried fruit, and water tasted good.

  Finally Lord Raoul cleared his throat. "You young fellows may not know, but rain is good for this kind of work. We can track better in the mud—and with spidrens, we need all the help we can get. We can’t use dogs this time. Unless they’re trained for it, dogs won’t hunt ’em—they just turn tail and run. Maybe they’re smarter than we are."

  There was a quiet chuckle from his listeners.

  "We have talismans to warn us of their presence, but the spidrens have spells to shield themselves. They’re absolutely fearless, too. You first- and second-year pages, you’ll carry staffs. If you’re attacked, use the staff to hold the beast off and yell like mad. I mean it. No heroics."

  "Not against spidrens," commented a blunt-nosed Bazhir. "They’ll gag you in web and hack your arms off before you know your sword is gone."

  "Spidrens will stick to the trees if they’re thick, as they are hereabouts," continued the Knight Commander. "That’s what they prefer. They also go for bare rock. That’s why they’re hard to track. Now, will one of you local fellows give us a map?"

  A young man in a hunter’s greens and browns came forward. He used a stick to draw in the bea
ten earth of the floor, marking out streams, hills, and gorges. Everyone paid close attention.

  At last Lord Raoul got to his feet. There was a lot of him to straighten from a crouch. Seen from close by, his shoulders and chest were as broad as the palace wall. "We hunt spidrens together," he said. "No going off alone because you think you see something. Each of you pairs with one of my men. Tell him if you see anything of interest. Now, arm up."

  "Horses?" asked one of the third-year pages.

  "You heard our guide. A lot of what’s around is boggy. You don’t want spidrens above you when your mount is wallowing. The horses stay here," replied Lord Raoul.

  "I’m just as glad," Kel told Peachblossom, slipping him an apple. "I’d hate to risk you on something when I don’t know what I’m about." Peachblossom slobbered on her tunic, as if he bestowed a horse’s blessing.

  Lord Raoul’s second in command, Captain Flyndan, paired up men and pages briskly. Kel was placed in the charge of the older Bazhir soldier, the one who had mentioned arms getting hacked off. He nodded to her. "I am Qasim," he said, and pointed to her shoulders. "You have a feather rash."

  She blinked, confused, then realized what he was talking about. The sparrows were so light she forgot they perched on her. "Sorry, sir," she said meekly. "I don’t have much control over them. Once we’re moving, they’ll go into the trees."

  To her surprise the hard-faced man offered an open hand to her friends. He had grain in his palm. The grin on his face as the small birds lit on his palm and helped themselves made Kel smile in reply. When the grain was eaten and the sparrows returned to Kel, he was all business again. "Get your staff—what’s your name?" The second in command had made his pairings by pointing to page, then soldier.

  "Kel, sir."

  "I am only Qasim, not’sir.’Get your staff."