From the shouts of the fighters, she knew the first two ranks were pressing the spidrens back toward their cave. The creatures fought desperately, many armed with swords or axes in powerful forelegs. There would be no surrender; this was a fight to the death.
Kel scanned light-dappled water and shadowed trees. The stream shifted, then bulged. A spidren leaped from the water onto the stream’s bank. It carried twin axes.
"At," she squeaked, her throat bone dry. Four more spidrens climbed onto land in the wake of the first. Kel found her voice and shouted, "At the rear! At the rear!"
Seaver turned—he’d been watching the fight again. He gasped when he saw the leading spidren just yards away. His face hardened and he cried, "You killed my father!"
He charged the enemy. The spidren reared on its hind legs to clear its spinneret. Kel knew that move: she had seen it at Mindelan.
"Neal, Merric!" she cried to the boys on either side of her and Seaver. She reached with her spear to knock Seaver’s feet from under him. He went sprawling as a loop of web lashed at the spot where he’d been. Glancing to Merric’s far side, Kel shouted, "Quinden, all of you! Three steps forward!"
She ran up beside Seaver. The leading spidren dragged back its web, letting it catch on the fallen boy. Kel sensed Neal and Merric come forward as she did, their spears pointed at the foe. Quinden, for all he didn’t like her, was just half a step behind. He and Merric screamed, "At the rear!" when they saw five spidrens were coming at them.
The sight of not one page, but four in a steady line, all armed with spears, made the spidrens hesitate.
Seaver wept in rage as he used his belt-knife to hack at the web that clung to him. He didn’t see five crossbow bolts sink into the spidren that had thrown it. The spidren lurched back and reared again, trying to shoot more web at the short line of pages. The tilt of the ground betrayed it, making it tumble back into the stream. Seaver cut himself free just when the spidren’s web could have dragged him in after its spinner.
"On your feet!" Kel urged him, kicking his spear closer to him. "Come on!"
Seaver grabbed the spear he’d dropped and lurched to his feet as the other four spidrens charged the pages’ line. Kel watched the closest, her pulse hammering in her ears. It came at her with a raised axe in each foreclaw, screeching its fury.
Kel promptly forgot her staff lessons. Holding the spear as she would her glaive, she cut with it in a sidelong arc. The weapon’s slim razor point sliced through the spidren’s chest and arm, releasing a spray of dark blood. Kel reversed the spear and cut back, dragging the blade down. It bit into the spidren at the neck and stuck there as crossbow bolts riddled the immortal.
Kel had to let the spear go. She looked to either side to see how her friends did. Three attackers lay dead, crossbow bolts sticking from their hides like quills in a hedgehog. One had dragged Quinden’s spear from his hand. Merric had cut off the foreleg of another spidren before the archers killed it. One spidren had fallen just a foot away from Neal, its curved sword touching his boot. Neal’s spear transfixed the thing, entering at the chest and emerging through its back.
"Neal," breathed Kel, impressed. "Pinned it like a beetle on a card."
"I’m going to be sick," croaked Neal, and was.
"Back into line!" roared Lord Wyldon from the far end of their row. "Get torches if your spears are gone!"
Kel, Neal, Seaver, Merric, and Quinden obeyed.
When the fight was nearly over, the soldiers found they had one more job. Inside the cave was a clutch of more than thirty young feeding on the body of the village woman. None were taller than eighteen inches, but when they saw humans, they rushed to the attack. The men and pages kept them back with their swords until they could roll a barrel of blazebalm into the nest. A mage whispered, and the blazebalm roared into flames.
Hearing the young shriek as they burned, Kel found it was her turn to vomit.
Two days later they returned to the palace, a quiet and weary group. They had packing to do, and one final supper in the mess hall. To the pages’ surprise, they were joined by the Shang warriors and the men of the King’s Own who had been on the hunt. They all stood by their seats, wondering why Lord Wyldon had not said the prayer and allowed them to sit.
The answer came when the king arrived. As he’d done on the first day of classes, he said nothing before they ate. He dined with Lord Wyldon, Lord Raoul, the two Shangs, and Captain Flyndan at Lord Wyldon’s table. No pages were asked to wait on them. Servants performed that task while the pages and the men of the Own relaxed over their food. There was a treat, pies made from the first berry harvests of the summer. Only when they could eat no more did the king rise to stand at the lectern.
"You’ve had your time of fire," he told the pages quietly. "Lord Wyldon reports that you all did well."
Did he? Kel wondered tiredly. Or did he say the boys did well?
The king went on, "I am glad not to have to tell your parents you will not be coming to help with the harvest."
Soft chuckles passed around the room. King Jonathan waited for them to fade.
"You and these warriors did important work, as bloody, dangerous, and frightening as it was. It is the kind of work knights must do in our modern age. You may get thanks only from me, but I hope you know the value of what you did. Go home, now. Laze in the sun and steal apples. Try not to get too out of practice. The realm needs your arms as strong, your hearts as steady, as when you faced those spidrens." He nodded to them and left so quickly that they were still trying to rise as the door closed behind him.
Lord Wyldon came to the lectern. "I know you all wish to pack. Get to it. Keladry of Mindelan, report to my office at the next bell."
"I’m sorry," whispered Merric. He got up awkwardly and fled the room.
"You saved my life," Seaver added, his voice cracking. He hugged her one-armed around the head as if she were one of the boys, and followed Merric out.
When none of her other friends moved, Kel forced herself to rise and pick up her tray. "Have a good summer," she whispered, and took her things to the servants for the last time.
She had thought she’d resigned herself to being packed off for good. From the way her food turned to a lump in her belly as she trudged back to her room, she hadn’t done it as well as she thought.
There was a letter from her mother on her bed. With all the preparations needed for Kel’s older sisters Adalia and Oranie to be presented when the court social season began that fall, her parents had come to stay at their Corus town house for the summer. They looked forward to seeing Kel there. As Kel read the letter, her gloom deepened. She could not stay in town with her parents and sisters. She might encounter people she knew from the palace. How could she live in the city, watching knights come and go, knowing she would never be one of them?
I’ll ask them to send me home to Anders at Mindelan, she thought sadly. They’ll understand. It was a good idea, but the thought of the "I-told-you-so’s" that her sisters-in-law would hurl at her made her cringe.
Her sparrows were nowhere to be seen as she entered her room. They had rejoined the flock-mates who had stayed behind, whirling around the courtyard to celebrate their return. Now they chattered as they perched in the small tree in the courtyard.
"I’ll miss you," whispered Kel. She would ask Daine if she could still take Peachblossom. With two daughters to present at court, her parents would be hard pressed to also buy a warhorse.
Thinking of the birds and Peachblossom, she felt her eyes sting with tears. I am not going to let Lord Wyldon see I’ve been crying, Kel told herself Fetching her glaive, she did a pattern dance to pass the time.
The dreaded bell finally rang. Kel put her glaive down, combed her hair, and washed her face. Then she walked to Lord Wyldon’s office, feeling like a prisoner on the long walk to the gallows.
The servingman bowed to Kel, then opened the door and announced her. She entered the office, listening to the door as it closed at her back.
/> Lord Wyldon stood with his back to her, staring through a window that opened onto a palace rose garden. Was he looking at flowers, she wondered, or maybe at the nobles who walked there as the skies grew dark?
"You sent for me, my lord," she said.
Lord Wyldon sighed and turned. "Sit down, girl."
Kel hesitated, then sat.
Wyldon absently massaged his right arm. "I want you to listen to me. I speak to you as I would to my daughters."
Kel blinked at him, startled. She supposed she knew that Lord Wyldon had a wife and family, but she had forgotten it. It was hard to imagine him with any life other than that of training master to the pages and squires.
"Now that you have made your point, consider the future. Soon your body will change. The things that you will want from life as a maiden will change. Pursue the course you have, and you might be crippled by an accident." He looked at his right arm and smiled crookedly. "What if you fall in love? What if you come to grief, or cause others to do so, because your thoughts are on your heart and not combat? This year was the easiest."
You think so? she asked him silently. It wasn’t your year, was it? She opened her mouth to reply.
"Not now," he said, raising his hand. "Do not answer me now. Go home and think about it." He sighed. "You are dismissed."
She had to hear him say it. "I can’t come back, then."
The training master shook his head wearily. "Should you desire to return at the end of September, you may do so. I hope that you will choose otherwise."
Now Kel was really confused. She stood, her knees trembling. "I can come back in the fall?"
Lord Wyldon nodded. "That is what I said. You may return. Good night, Keladry."
"Good night, Lord Wyldon." Outside his office, she felt a wave of giddiness sweep over her. She turned and pressed her face against the cool stones of the wall.
Back in her room, she reread her mother’s letter. Now she was glad the family would be in town. She could visit Peachblossom, ride him—maybe practice what she had learned so as to be in shape for autumn.
She threw down the letter and ran into the hall, trembling with excitement. "Neal!" she yelled. "Roald, Seaver, Merric! I can stay! I can stay!"
Two weeks after moving to her parents’ town house, Kel returned there from an afternoon spent with Peachblossom. To her surprise her mother met her as she came in. Ilane looked at her, then shook her head. "I’m still shocked by how much you grew this year. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. How much was it? Three inches?"
Kel nodded. "I’m five feet three inches tall now," she said proudly. "Another inch and I’ll catch up with Papa."
"He’ll be delighted, poor man," said her mother teasingly. "I came to tell you that a crate arrived while you were out. There’s no sign who it’s from. I had a footman pry off the lid, but no one has touched it."
Kel ran up to her room. A large crate filled with heaps of wood shavings waited there for her. Kel worked her way through the shavings until her fingers bumped against something large, wrapped in cloth.
"Well?" asked Ilane.
Kel turned. Both her parents stood in the doorway, looking as puzzled as she felt. "I think I need help getting it out," she said.
Piers came over. Between them, he and Kel wrestled a bulky, heavy parcel wrapped in oiled cloth out of the crate. The minute Kel saw its rough shape, she guessed what it was. Her heart drummed in her chest. Using her belt-knife, she cut away the cords that held the cloth around the thing.
It was a saddle—not just any saddle, but a tilting saddle, made high in the front and back. It was dark wood with brown leather fittings, but the workmanship was beautiful, the materials the finest that could be had. She ran her fingers over the padding, feeling how soft it was.
"And there’s no message of any kind?" demanded Ilane. "It’s such an expensive gift! Not a note? Has anyone mentioned sending you a present?"
As she and her father searched for a note, Kel told them about her belt-knife and the bruise balm. When the crate produced nothing but wood shavings, she decided to take one more look at the saddle itself. This time she did it with her fingers, exploring each bump and crevice. When she pressed a stud set on the top rim, squarely at the center, she heard a click. A section of the wooden rim flipped up. The girl saw a bit of white parchment inside and drew it out with two fingers. On it was written, "Goddess bless, lady page."
CAST OF CHARACTERS
GLOSSARY
Balor’s Needle: a tower, the highest part of the royal palace in Corus, used mostly by astronomers and mages.
basilisk: immortal that resembles a seven-foot-tall lizard, with slit-pupiled eyes that face forward and silver talons. It walks upright on its hind feet. Its hobby is travel; it loves gossip and learns languages easily. It possesses some magical skills, including a kind of screech that turns people to stone.
Bazhir: the collective name for the nomadic tribes of Tortall’s Great Southern Desert.
blazebalm: a thick, sticky substance like paste, which burns when lit (either manually or at a distance) by a mage or archer with fire arrows.
Carthak: the slaveholding empire that includes all of the Southern Lands, ancient and powerful, a storehouse of learning, sophistication, and culture. Its university was at one time without a rival for teaching. Its people reflect the many lands that have been consumed by the empire, their colors ranging from white to brown to black. Its former emperor Ozorne Tasikhe was forced to abdicate when he was turned into a Stormwing (and later killed). He was succeeded by his nephew Kaddar Iliniat, who is still getting his farflung lands under control.
centaur: immortal shaped like a human from the waist up, with the body of a horse from the waist down. Like humans, centaurs can be good, bad, or a mixture of both.
Code of Ten : set of laws that form the basis of government for most of the Eastern Lands.
Copper Isles: slaveholding island nation to the south and west of Tort all. The Isles’ lowlands are hot, wet jungles, their highlands cold and rocky. Traditionally their ties are to Carthak rather than Tortall, and their pirates often raid along the Tortallan coast. There is a strain of insanity in their ruling line. The Isles hold an old grudge against Tortall, since one of their princesses was killed there the day that Jonathan was crowned.
coromanel: a flat, crown-shaped piece fitted over the tip of a lance. It spreads the power of a lance’s impact in several directions, to make the force less severe.
Corus: the capital city of Tortall, located on the northern and southern banks of the Oloron River. Corus is the home of the new royal university as well as the royal palace.
Domin River: runs through fief Mindelan.
dragon: large, winged lizard-like immortal capable of crossing from the Divine Realms to the mortal ones and back. Dragons are intelligent, possess their own magic, and are rarely seen by humans.
Eastern Lands: name used to refer to those lands north of the Inland Sea and east of the Emerald Ocean: Scanra, Tortall, Tyra, Tusaine, Galla, Maren, Sarain.
Galla: the country to the north and east of Tortall, famous for its mountains and forests, with an ancient royal line. Daine was born there.
Gift, the: human, academic magic, the use of which must be taught.
glaive: a pole arm including a four- or five-foot staff capped with a long metal blade.
Great Mother Goddess: the chief goddess in Tortallan pantheon, protector of women; her symbol is the moon.
griffin: feathered immortal with a cat-like body, wings, and a beak. The males grow to a height of six and a half to seven feet tall at the shoulder; females are slightly bigger. No one can tell lies in a griffin’s vicinity (a range of about a hundred feet).
hurrok: immortal shaped like a horse with leathery bat-wings, claws, and fangs.
Immortals War: a short, vicious war fought in the spring and summer of the thirteenth year of Jonathan’s and Thayet’s reign, named that for the number of immortal creatures that fought, but als
o waged by Carthakis (rebels against the new Emperor Kaddar), Copper Islanders, and Scanran raiders. These forces were defeated by the residents of the Eastern Lands, particularly Tortall, but recovery is slow.
King’s Council: the monarch’s private council, made up of those advisers he trusts the most.
King’s Own: a cavalry/police group answering to the king, whose members serve as royal body-guards and as protective troops throughout the realm. Their knight commander is Lord Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak. The ranks are filled by younger sons of noble houses, Bazhir, and the sons of wealthy merchants.
K’mir, K’miri: the K’mir are the matriarchal, nomadic tribes of the mountains in Sarain. They herd ponies and are ferocious warriors and riders. The Saren lowlanders despise the K’mir and are continuously at war with them. There is a small, growing population of them in Tortall, where Queen Thayet is half K’mir and a number of the Queen’s Riders are also of K’miri descent.
mage: wizard.
Maren: large, powerful country east of Tortall, the grain basket of the Eastern Lands, with plenty of farms and trade.
Midwinter Festival: a seven-day holiday centering around the longest night of the year and the sun’s rebirth afterward. Gifts are exchanged and feasts held.
Mithros: chief god in Tortallan pantheon, god of war and the law; his symbol is the sun.
ogre: immortal with aqua-colored skin, shaped like a human, from ten to twelve feet in height.
Oloron River: its main sources are Lake Naxen and Lake Tirragen in the eastern part of Tort all; it flows through the capital, Corus, and into the Emerald Ocean at Port Caynn.
pole arm: any weapon consisting of a long wooden staff or pole capped by a sharp blade of some kind, including spears, glaives, and pikes.
Queen’s Riders: a cavalry/police group charged with protecting Tortallans who live in hard-to-reach parts of the country. They enforce the law and teach local residents to defend themselves. They accept both women and men in their ranks, unlike the army, the navy, or the King’s Own. Their headquarters is between the palace and the Royal Forest. Queen Thayet is the commander; her second in command, Buriram Tourakom, governs the organization on a day-to-day basis.