Tortall 1 - Song Of The Lioness #2 - In The Hand of the Goddess

by Tamora Pierce

  "Your brother is an interestin' fellow."

  Alanna laughed shortly. "That he is."

  "He'll be powerful protection for Jon. You can go adventurin' without another thought." Alanna nodded. George watched her for a moment before adding, "Was he always so proud?"

  Alanna raised miserable eyes to her friend. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't think so. He was different when we went home to bury our father. I could see then he was turning hard. I suppose that as powerful as he is, he has every right to be proud. Not everyone can harness so much magic. I never tried; I was afraid to."

  "A wise kind of fear," George pointed out. "Besides, what would you be—a fine warrior and a great sorcerer?"

  "It's not that," Alanna protested, realizing George thought she might be a little jealous. "It's that he seems so lonely. And he doesn't even realize it."

  George raised his eyebrows. "Do I believe my ears? Alanna the Heartless talkin' for love instead of against it?"

  "Don't tease, George. He's my brother, I love him."

  "He knows that," George said, hugging her around the shoulders. "And I know I for one envy him. Now, eat up. We've a long ride home."

  THIS time they did not stop at Trebond. They rode past Trebond Way, Alanna stopping only for a moment to look toward her home. More and more the palace felt like home to her, and Trebond was only a place on the map.

  It was sunset the day after they passed Trebond, and they still had a few leagues to go before reaching the next wayhouse. It was George who sensed trouble, pulling his bay up short. His nostrils flared, as if he were sniffing the wind.

  "Unless my city-bred nose betrays me—" He broke off with a cry of pain: an ugly black arrow sprouted from his collar bone. Men were pouring out of the trees, surrounding them. "Ride on!" cried George between gritted teeth.

  Moonlight reared, flailing with her hooves at the two ruffians who tried to grab her reins. George yanked a dagger from its sheath and hurled it into a man's throat. "Ride!" he yelled as four more swarmed down upon them.

  "No!" Alanna cried fiercely. She rode Moonlight straight at a man who was putting an arrow to his bow. The mare trampled him ruthlessly as Alanna drew Lightning, slashing at a third attacker.

  George drew his own sword to kill the man who was trying to pull him from his saddle. His face was pale, and Alanna remembered with horror that the first messenger to Thom had been slain with poisoned arrows. With a yell of fury she cut down two men who were trying to herd her away from George. Wheeling Moonlight, she saw George fling his second dagger into an attacker's shoulder. George pulled his bay to a halt, his face white in the gathering darkness. "Never mind me," he gasped, "the arrow's not poisoned. Find out from that one what you can!" He pointed to the man he had just wounded, the only attacker still standing. Alanna cut the killer off as he tried to run, kicking him down before she dismounted. Furious, she leveled her sword at the man's throat. He stared at her, trying to inch away.

  "Hold still!" Alanna yelled, her voice cracking with rage. This animal and his friends had hurt George! "Who sent you? Who!"

  "You weren't to be hurt," the ruffian babbled, his eyes wide with terror. " 'I want the boy alive,' we was told, and him never sayin' you was a killer, and the man, too! 'They'll be easy game. Jest bring the boy an' kill the man an' there's gold in it for you.' That's what we was told—"

  "Who told you?" Alanna roared. The man opened his mouth and tried to speak.

  He made little choking noises as large beads of sweat rolled off his face. Suddenly he turned pale and screamed, clawing at invisible hands on his throat. His eyes rolled up and he collapsed—dead. Quickly Alanna fumbled for the ember-stone under her clothing. She gripped it, and instantly saw traces of orange fire vanishing from the man's body.

  "Sorcery," she whispered. She turned to look at George. Her friend was swaying in his saddle. There was no time to waste. Alanna grabbed a length of rope from her saddlebags and tied George to his horse's back. Mounting Moonlight, she gave the man her brandy flask while she examined his wound. The shaft had passed through the muscle of George's shoulder; the arrowhead stood clear of his back. Steeling herself, Alanna cut the arrow feathers away and pulled the shaft through the wound. The thief fainted against her as she worked, and she could only be thankful. Leaning George forward on his horse, Alanna took the other animal's reins and set off into the night.

  It seemed like forever came and went before they reached the wayhouse. Once there, Alanna snapped orders to the hostlers, watching anxiously as they drew George off his horse's back and carried him inside. She brushed aside the innwife's offer to send for a healer, explaining briefly that she was a healer herself. A room was quickly prepared for them, and a maid fetched brandy, boiling water and clean linen for bandages. Alanna worked to clean and bind up the wound, putting her most powerful healing magic on it. Then, exhausted by the fight and the magic, she watched George late into the night. She didn't like his color. He'd lost so much blood....

  "Don't die on me," she whispered when the clock struck midnight and he still had not moved. "It's only a little shoulder wound. Goddess, George—don't die on me."

  His eyes flickered open and he smiled. "I didn't know you cared," he whispered. "And why insult me? I won't die for a wee nick like this; I've had worse in my day."

  Alanna wiped her wet cheeks. "Of course I care, you unprincipled pickpocket!" she whispered. "Of course I care."

  FAITHFUL woke Alanna shortly after dawn on her eighteenth birthday. Wake up and get dressed, the cat told her. You don't want the surprise they've planned to be a surprise for them as well as for you. Jonathan says to hurry!

  Alanna was tucking her shirt into her breeches when the Prince rapped on her door. "Are you decent, Squire?" he demanded.

  Alanna yanked the door open. "I'm always decent, overlord," she replied. Then she saw that Gary, Raoul and Alex were with him. "Isn't it a little early for this?" she asked plaintively.

  They filed into her room, each carrying a bulky package.

  "That's all right, grouch," Gary said, thumping her shoulder. "Happy birthday."

  The young men piled their packages onto the bed, then turned to look at Jonathan. He glared back at them. "I thought Raoul was going to tell Alan."

  "You talk better than I do," Raoul said.

  "What they're trying not to tell you," Gary said patiently, "is that we discussed it, and we decided our hero-to-be should be properly outfitted." He gestured to the packages on the bed. "The gifts are from all of us, and Their Majesties, and my father, uh—Duke Baird, Douglass, Geoffrey, Sacherell—did I forget anyone?"

  "I don't think so," Alex said.

  "Myles said he was damned if he would get up at this hour, but if you went down to the stables, you'd find something from him," Raoul added.

  Jonathan handed Alanna the largest, heaviest package. "Go on," he urged when she simply stared at it. "It's for you."

  The package contained the lightest mail shirt Alanna had ever handled, washed with gold. The other packages held a gold-washed helmet, a belt made of gold wire picked out with amethysts, soft kid riding gloves, a gold-trimmed sheath for Lightning and a matching dagger, and gold-washed mail leggings to match the shirt. Alanna opened all of the gifts silently. The smallest package, from her "Cousin George," contained a black opal ring set in pale gold.

  She looked at them, awed and frightened by this show of affection. "I—I don't know what to say."

  "Don't say anything," Jonathan advised. "Go take a look at Moonlight."

  Myles's gift was a complete outfitting for the mare, made of well-worked leather trimmed with gold. Moonlight voiced her pleasure with a high-pitched whinny, while Faithful sat in a special cup for him attached to the saddle, purring with contentment. Alanna had to cry with happiness, but she hid her face in Moonlight's mane. No one noticed.

  No one would accept her thanks, either. The other young men ordered her to be quiet, or, if she had to express appreciation, to do so by teachin
g them the words to the bawdy songs she had learned from the men of Fort Drell.

  "Why are you so confused?" Jonathan asked her late that night. "Can't you see we all love you and want you to succeed—even if you insist on leaving us?"

  "They'll hate me more than ever when they find out the truth," Alanna said miserably.

  "Nonsense. And haven't you thought that some of them may have guessed by now?"

  Alanna looked at her friend and lover. "Myles," she whispered. "I'll bet he knows."

  Jonathan decided not to say anything about the very odd conversation he had had with Myles the day after the Tusaine kidnapped Alanna. "Why not ask him?" he replied instead.

  Alanna was thinking about this when she remembered something else. "Jonathan, I have to have two knights to instruct me in the Code of Chivalry while I take the purifying bath, before the Ordeal. What am I going to do?"

  "I suggest you tell Cousin Gary." Jonathan yawned, falling onto his bed. "He'll think it's a wonderful joke. And I think we can instruct you in the Code after you bathe."

  Alanna grinned, lying down beside him. "You just don't want Gary to see me bare."

  "You're right, I don't! Do you?" Jonathan asked suspiciously, looking her in the eyes. When Alanna only giggled, Jonathan repeated, "Do you?"

  "You're very jealous for someone who isn't serious about me." She grinned.

  Jonathan made her look at him. "I am serious, in my way," he said quietly. "But if I talked of love to you, you'd run off."

  "Don't, Jonathan, please," she whispered.

  "See what I mean?" He yawned again. "Relax. I certainly can't talk about marriage in any case—"

  "I don't want to talk about marriage!" she cried. "I don't want you talk about love, ei—"

  Jonathan silenced her with a hand over her mouth. "I love you, Alanna," he said firmly. "Ignore it if you want, but I do love you." He pulled the covers over them. "Now go to sleep."

  Alanna lay awake for a long time, wishing he hadn't said it, and glad that he had. She was going away when she became a knight. Nothing could change that. He would have to make a marriage that would be good for the kingdom. Nothing could change that, either. And yet—

  She thought he was asleep. "I love you, Jonathan," she whispered.

  A long arm snaked around her, and he pulled her against his side. "I know," he said. "I just wanted to be sure you knew it, too."

  9: The Ordeal

  SOON after her birthday, Alanna and Gary went for a day's ride in the Royal Forest. Jonathan watched them leave, knowing what Alanna wanted to discuss with his big cousin. He was nervous, and he wondered how Alanna, with so much more at stake, felt.

  "Whatever's on your mind, you may as well say it now and get it over with," Gary advised after they had been riding in silence for an hour. "It must be pretty important."

  Alanna wiped a sprinkling of sweat off her upper lip. "It is," she admitted. "Gary, has it—has it ever occurred to you that I might not be the person I seem to be?"

  He shrugged. "I know you've had a big secret ever since I first met you," he admitted. "I always figured you'd tell me what it was, eventually."

  Alanna drew a deep breath. "I'm a girl," she said bluntly. "My—my real name is Alanna. I come from Trebond, and Lord Thom really is my twin brother."

  Gary drew his horse up abruptly, staring at her. "That's not funny!"

  Alanna drew her gaze off the back of Moonlight's neck, where she had fixed it. "Of course it's not funny; it's the truth!"

  "Where are your breasts?" he demanded.

  Alanna blushed. "I bind them flat with a special corset I wear."

  "But when you bathe—" Gary stopped and whistled. "None of us have ever seen you bathe. Or swim, for that matter!"

  "That's right."

  Gary tugged his mustache, deep in thought. "Who else knows?" he asked softly.

  Alanna swallowed hard. He didn't seem to be angry. "Jonathan. George and Mistress Cooper. Coram, my brother Thom. The healing woman at Trebond. Faithful." She petted the cat riding in his special cup on Moonlight's saddle.

  For several long moments she could only hear the birds and the forest animals around them. Gary's face was unreadable, but knowing him as she did, she guessed he was putting together all the odds and ends that had puzzled him about her through the years. Suddenly a broad smile broke across Gary's face, and his eyes crinkled up with merriment. "Oh, I can't wait to see their faces!" he whooped as he burst into laughter.

  "Anyone in particular?" Alanna wanted to know, puzzled by his amusement. Jonathan had said Gary would react this way, but it hadn't seemed possible to her.

  "Everyone," the knight gasped, wiping his streaming eyes. "Just—everyone!"

  He continued to laugh as they rode and talked, Alanna explaining everything to him (with the exception of the love she shared with Jonathan). He was amused and delighted about all of it, and happy to be involved.

  "Of course I'll instruct when you take the Sacramental Bath. I'd be insulted if you asked anyone else," he informed her over their picnic lunch. "Wait a minute! Your squire—have you picked anyone?"

  Alanna shook her head. "I talked it over with your father, and he agreed that it would be a waste of time for me to pick someone when I plan to leave right after Midwinter."

  "Right after you tell them who you are, you mean."

  Alanna nodded. "A squire couldn't go with me in any case, even if the truth weren't to come out."

  Gary cocked an eyebrow at her. "Surely you don't think they'll be glad to be rid of you when they find out the truth."

  "Won't they?"

  Duke Gareth's son was no fool. "Some will," he said finally. "Those who don't know you well almost certainly will feel that way. But your friends? I think you're being too harsh on them." He sprang up, helping her pack their saddlebags once again. "Oh, I can't wait!"

  Jon was relieved, and jealous, when he saw Alanna and Gary that night at dinner, smiling and relaxed. They quickly told him what happened. It gave all three of them something to talk about—and laugh over in secret—during the long summer. Those talks were good for Alanna. So used to seeing her masquerade as a life-or-death matter, she had never learned to laugh about it. Gary, Jonathan and George proceeded to teach her, and she gathered new insights about what she had done and about those closest to her from them. Somehow the prospect of telling the truth seemed less terrifying as a result.

  To everyone who knew her, Alanna seemed to change in the months between her eighteenth birthday and Midwinter Festival. She was still attentive in her classes, performing her duties perfectly, but it was obvious her thoughts were elsewhere. She often sneaked into the city in disguise, going to the Temple of the Great Mother Goddess to meditate. She had a good many things to ponder—Jon, George, Thom, Duke Roger, the proper time to tell the King and Queen the truth—but chief on her mind was the iron door of the Chamber of the Ordeal. What she feared there, or why, she was never quite certain. She only knew that for the first time in her life she wished she could grab Time and hold onto it, keeping it from going forward. Even the thought that she might pass the Ordeal and leave on her adventures gave her no pleasure. She had learned to love the palace and the people who lived there and she knew she would miss them. In fact, she was no longer positive that she wanted to go.

  "So don't leave," Myles advised when she mentioned it to him. "Most young knights fight in the service of the Realm after they get their shields. Certainly Duke Gareth and His Majesty will be more than happy to have you stay."

  Alanna shook her head. The only thing she still looked forward to was the relief of telling everyone who she was.

  She got up and hugged her shaggy friend impulsively. "I love you, Myles," she whispered, blinking back tears. "I'll come back often, I promise."

  Myles patted her back gently and offered her his handkerchief. "I know you will. I may not know much, but that I do know."

  GEORGE watched her pace his chambers, his hazel eyes unreadable. "You're only
wearin' yourself out," he pointed out practically. "How will you be stayin' awake all night if you tire yourself in the afternoon?"

  Alanna wiped her hand over her sweating face. "I don't think I've ever been this scared in my life, George."

  "Not when you fought the Ysandir? Or when you almost drowned while skating?" She shook her head, fingering the ember at her throat. "Not when you faced Dain, or the Tusaine knights attackin' you?"

  "No. Don't you see? I could fight them. Dealing with something I can't see, something I know nothing about—" Alanna boosted Faithful up to her shoulder and went over to the window, staring out at the city. "I can't do anything except let it happen. That—that isn't the way I do things, George. You of all people should know that."

  "Here." The thief pressed a glass of brandy into her hand, sipping from one he had poured himself. "I've been keepin' this bottle by special. And what's more special than now, the day before your Ordeal? Drink up, lass."

  Alanna obeyed, savoring the brandy's rich taste. "This is really good!" she approved. "Normally I just drink this stuff to clear my head, but—this is quite pleasant. You didn't steal it, did you?" she demanded, as suspicious as ever.

  Faithful jumped down from her shoulder as George laughed outright. "Would I serve you or Jon stolen goods?" he asked. "No, don't answer me. Look. There's the tax stamp on it, as clear as day. Vintages like this are better than gold, and better watched."

  Alanna yawned. "It's not that I don't trust you, George." She yawned again, and again. "So sleepy ..." She looked at her friend through rapidly-closing eyes. "You—you drugged it!" she accused.

  George caught her as she sagged, her eyelids fluttering shut. "Did you really think I'd let you fret yourself sick, with such an important night ahead of you?" he asked softly. Alanna muttered and stirred, sound asleep. George scooped her up and carried her into his bedroom, placing her gently on his bed. "You knew," he commented to Faithful as the cat leaped up beside Alanna. "Why didn't you warn her I was puttin' a little extra in the brandy?"