Neal looked up. “It’s missed anything vital— Kel, you’re hurt!”
“Stay with Merric,” she snapped. “It’s just a graze.” She went to the front of the cave. Seaver was lookout; he lay flat to peer over the ledge. Prosper was beside him, also staying low. He looked exhausted.
“Let up for a bit, Prosper,” Kel told him. “Eat something. And thanks.” Prosper nodded and crawled away from the opening. He dug in his belt-purse for the dried meat and fruit Lord Wyldon made them carry when they left the palace.
Keeping under cover, Kel had a look outside. The raiders were working up their courage, arguing as they approached the trail that led to the pages’ sanctuary. Kel retreated into the cave, using her dagger to hack strips from the hem of her shirt. When she had enough to make a bandage, she tied it firmly around the graze in her leg. “How many arrows have we got?” she demanded.
The archers counted. The answer was not bad, but not good, either. “From now on, pick your shots,” she told them. “Think twice before you do shoot. Faleron, did you blow the horn while I was out there?”
He gave her a shaky grin. “Of course. I take it you were thinking of other things.”
Kel smiled ruefully. “I believe I was. Crown?”
While Faleron went to the opening and sounded the distress call yet again, the single-spot female sparrow flew over to perch on Kel’s hand. There was red on her beak and tiny claws, and a warlike gleam in her round black eyes. “Crown, it may be they can’t hear the horn, back at camp,” Kel explained. “Will you fetch help?”
Crown peeped. Away she flew, two males and a female with her.
“Next time maybe we should bring paper and ink,” suggested Owen. “They could carry messages.”
Kel went over to crouch beside Merric and Neal. “All this noise you’re making, I can’t think,” she teased the redheaded boy gently.
Merric smiled tightly at her. Normally pale-skinned, now he was so white that his freckles looked like paint on wax. Sweat rolled down his face. “We’re in enough of a spot without me yelling,” he said tightly. “Besides, it’s not so bad. Neal stopped most of the ouch.”
“Can you do more than stop the ouch?” Kel whispered to Neal.
He shook his head, shamefaced. “I don’t have the training,” he replied.
“But you can heal,” she began.
“Within limits. I was to start learning about arrow, knife, and sword wounds this year, if I’d stayed.”
Kel shook her head. “You should get proper training!” she said indignantly.
Neal made a face. “When?” he wanted to know. “Most people either go for knight or for healer, not both.”
Kel began to argue, then closed her mouth. The hurt that showed in his eyes for just a moment made her feel like a brute. “Sorry, Neal,” she said ruefully.
“That’s all right.” He smiled crookedly. “Gods know I keep thinking I was crack-brained to leave the university.”
“But if you hadn’t, I’d be a lot worse off now,” Merric reminded him. “I like you where you are, thanks.”
Kel gripped Neal’s shoulder in another, silent apology, and went back to the entrance. “Why don’t you rest in back?” she suggested to Seaver. “I’ll spell you for a time.” He nodded and passed his bow to her. Kel took his position, lying flat so only the top of her head showed when she peered out. Looking gave her the sweats, but she made herself do it. She had to know if the outlaws would give up, or keep coming. Right now they seemed to be arguing, but a couple looked at the trail as if they were of a mind to climb it.
Go ahead, she thought coldly. You won’t get far.
Two did try. Kel shot one man in the collarbone—it was hard to sight from this awkward angle. Owen, who had come to watch beside her, rose on his knees and shot the second man through the eye. An arrow soared over his head just as he lay flat again. As Kel scolded him for making a target of himself, she heard the sound of horses at the gallop. It was the entire company of pages and teachers, armed for battle, with Lord Wyldon in the lead. The raiders fled.
Kel sent the unwounded pages down to Lord Wyldon, then helped the two Shangs improvise a stretcher and lower Merric to the ground. “We can do the same for you,” Hakuin offered. “You are hurt.”
Kel shook her head: she had her pride. “I’ll climb down.” She let them and Neal go first, however, and sent Jump after them. Only when she stepped onto the path did she realize that by waiting until last she had created an audience for her descent.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think herself stone, then faced the cliff. At least this time she didn’t have to negotiate the path while keeping anyone below in view. The worst this audience could do was laugh. She did hear some chuckles as she sidled along, one eye on the ground just ahead of her right foot, her nose as close to the cliff face as she could put it.
At last she was down. Peachblossom and Jump both nuzzled her; the sparrows swirled around her, but did not land. They know what’s coming, Kel thought weakly. She waved her dog and horse off, then threw up.
When she stood, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she turned to face a dark dun horse’s inquiring eye. “Well, Page Keladry,” the dun’s rider, Lord Wyldon, said dryly, “now you realize combat isn’t woman’s work. I hope you’ve thought better of this experiment of yours, now that you’ve seen blood.”
“Sir, that isn’t fair,” protested Owen.
Kel closed her eyes, thinking, not for the first time, Why don’t I have friends who know when to be silent?
“What is not fair, Owen of Jesslaw?” demanded Lord Wyldon.
Kel tried to signal Owen to hush, but the plump boy’s eyes were fixed on the training master. “Sir, you talk like Kel couldn’t handle the fighting. She’s the one who saved our bacon. Sir,” he added, in case he wasn’t sufficiently polite. “She’s just sick from the climbing. The fight didn’t bother her, even when she killed that man.” He pointed to the raider who lay nearby, Kel’s spear in his belly.
I wish he hadn’t reminded me, Kel thought. She unhooked her canteen from her belt with trembling fingers, unstoppered it, and poured water over her head. She also took a gulp and swilled it around to clean her mouth, then spat it out.
Faleron spoke up. “We might be dead but for Kel, my lord. I froze when they came at us. Kel’s the one with the cool head. She found that cave when we all thought we were trapped.”
The other members of their hunting party chorused agreement.
Lord Wyldon’s mare shifted on her feet, as if she reflected her master’s uncertainty. Finally Wyldon said, “We’ll take Merric to the army post for treatment and shift our camp there. I want a word with the district commander”—Kel had the feeling that word would not be “blessings”—“and then I expect a report from each of you. Page Keladry?”
“Sir?” she asked, looking at him. It was impossible to tell what he thought; his clean-carved face was emotionless.
“Mount up,” Lord Wyldon ordered.
Kel looked at Peachblossom, who wore only a halter. There hadn’t been time to saddle him before they left camp, she realized. Wyldon had simply taken the horses of the missing pages to keep them from being stolen while they were away.
She led the gelding to a stone and climbed onto his broad back. “Try not to spill me,” she whispered. “You’re slippery.”
His ears flicked back and forward in acknowledgment. He did seem careful not to dump her as Lord Wyldon gave the command to ride out. He also didn’t object as those sparrows who couldn’t fit on Kel or Neal settled onto his mane.
Looking at them, Kel recalled how valiantly the birds had fought. Were any hurt or dead? She did a count and sighed with relief. Eighteen sparrows had come south with her. Eighteen rode with them now.
As they rode out of the little valley, Kel realized it was her twelfth birthday. She couldn’t help it— she began to laugh. Remembering the man she had killed, she got hold of herself before she started to cry. Hysterics—
that’s all I need for them to think I’ve gone completely female, she thought, biting the inside of her cheek until it bled. And what’s wrong with being hysterical, if no one is hurt by it and it makes you feel better? I’ll just wait and have my hysterics where no one will see or hear me.
Owen rode up beside her, keeping a watchful eye on Peachblossom. “Are you all right?” he asked, his gray eyes worried. “It was a jolly fight, except for you and Merric getting hurt and us not knowing if we would die and all.”
Kel looked at him for a moment, startled, then shook her head in admiration. “It won’t bother you that we left dead men back there.”
“Never a bit,” he said cheerfully. “They were bandits. I hate bandits. They killed my mother. I’m going to be a knight and hunt bandits for real. You could hunt ’em with me,” he offered with a generous smile. “With you and me at the job, there won’t be a bandit in the country in ten years.”
eight
MESSAGES
The healer at the army outpost was able to patch Merric up and to teach Neal a few new tricks. Neal had time to master them as the pages spent the remainder of the summer camp at the outpost, housed in one of the barracks. Lord Wyldon made sure that they helped the captain, who had claimed the district was cleared of bandits, to actually do the work. It wasn’t as jolly, as Owen put it, as the valley fight. The pages were carefully watched and never allowed to be anything but backup archers and scouts. They were paired with soldiers, who made them keep quiet and out of the way.
Kel agreed with Owen, bandits should be caught and taken before the law. Still, she also saw the poverty in their camps. Only the best fighters owned shirts without holes; their children were naked, hollow-eyed, and big-bellied with hunger. Despite the rivers and lakes in the area, the pages were told, this was the second year of a drought. Farmers who couldn’t pay their rent were thrown off their farms. Many thought banditry was the only way to feed their families, but their victims were as poor as they. There were no easy answers, and Kel was glad to ride north and put it out of her mind for the time being.
Whatever Lord Wyldon thought of her taking command in the Battle of the Cliff, as her friends had named it, he kept it to himself. Those who thought they could tease the pages who had let The Girl take over were corrected in a series of quick, quiet fights. Kel told her friends they weren’t doing her any favors by settling matters that way; her friends ignored her.
On their arrival in Corus, they disbanded for two months. Kel, Lalasa, and Jump went to Kel’s parents’ house in the city, which they and the house servants had to themselves. Kel’s parents, Adie, and Orie were away on the summer visits paid by nobility, particularly when nobility had daughters to marry off. Kel did get to spend the last two weeks of September with them when they returned. There was no mistaking her parents’ pride—Eda Bell, it seemed, had written to tell them what their daughter had done over the summer.
They took Kel to supper at one of the city’s eating-houses to honor her. Over the meal they got the tale of the fight and its aftermath from Kel, listening intently and embracing her at its end. They also drew the events of Kel’s second year from her, asking questions that showed a great deal of interest. She only left out two major occurrences, and those she told her mother as her father left their private parlor to settle the bill.
Ilane smoothed Kel’s hair with a gentle hand. “My poor dear! Breasts and monthlies in the same year, and you not even twelve. Was it very upsetting?”
Kel nodded. “I don’t need ’em, Mama,” she pointed out. “I’m not looking to have babies, ever.”
“I don’t recall the gods ever asking women if we want these things,” her mother pointed out.
Kel sighed. “No, I suppose not. How old were you when all that happened?”
“I didn’t start monthlies until I was fourteen— the healer told Mama it was because I was such a beanpole. Mama said she wasn’t much of a healer.” Ilane smiled at the memory. Kel did, too: her grand-mother would not let anyone speak ill of her children. “I didn’t have much of a bosom until I got pregnant,” Ilane went on. “Your sister Patricine, though, she developed at twelve.” As Kel’s father returned, Ilane added, “Remember—you may be able to do so, but no one can force you to have babies. You do have a choice in these things. I’ll get you a charm to ward off pregnancy until you are ready for it.”
“Ready for what?” asked Baron Piers, holding the parlor door for his wife and daughter. Kel and Ilane shook their heads, and changed the subject.
After two quiet months in the city, Kel’s return to her palace rooms was like coming home. Even though she had visited her sparrows and Peachblossom every day, and trained in the practice courts, it was still good to settle in at the pages’ wing. After she and Lalasa finished unpacking, Kel flung herself on the bed with a happy sigh.
“I dread the ruction,” Lalasa commented as she rearranged the animals’ food dishes, “but you’re glad to be back with all these noisy menfolk, aren’t you, my lady?”
“They don’t mean any harm,” Kel replied without thinking.
“Not this lot,” said Lalasa darkly.
Kel sat up. “You’d tell me if anyone bothered you, right?” she demanded.
Lalasa smiled. “What, your crowd? They’re as good-hearted a bunch of lads as ever I saw.”
At that moment Owen peered in through the open door. “Kel, you’re back!” Running down the hall, he yelled, “She’s here already!”
A year before, Lalasa would have squeaked and fled to the dressing room. Now she sat in the window seat, laughing softly as she stitched on a shirt.
Owen raced back with two boys, first-years, in tow. “Say, Kel, will my lord let me sponsor my cousins? One of my cousins? This is Iden of Vikison Lake, and Warric of Mandash. They’re both my cousins. This is the tremendous girl I told you about, Keladry of Mindelan.”
Kel rose and bowed, trying not to grin at Owen’s tumbling chatter. When she straightened, she was startled to see his eyes bulge. “Mithros’s spear, Kel!” he exclaimed. “When did you turn into a real girl?”
“You said she was a girl already,” muttered one of his cousins—was it Iden or Warric? Kel hadn’t gotten them straight.
“But not a girl-girl, with a chest and all!” protested Owen.
Kel looked down. That summer Lalasa had talked her into donning lighter shirts than her palace wear. These were still cotton, but thinner, and they draped like silk—as Owen had noticed. “I’ve been a girl for a while, Owen,” Kel informed him.
“I never realized,” her too-outspoken friend replied. “It’s not like you’ve got melons or anything, they’re just noticeable.”
“Master Owen!” Lalasa cried. “Think shame to yourself for saying such things!”
To his cousins Owen said, “That’s Lalasa, Kel’s maid. She sews, and she knows all kinds of ways to hurt you.” To Kel and Lalasa he added, “I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“You can be rude without trying,” Neal drawled from the doorway. “The Stump would penalize you for talking so loud and free.” He looked at Kel, his cheeks pink. “It’s your own fault for encouraging him when he was a first-year, you know. Now he thinks he’s a human being.”
Owen threw himself at Neal. They tussled briefly before they found seats. Kel, meanwhile, wished herself at the bottom of the ocean. Of all the subjects she didn’t want discussed around Neal, her bosom had to be at the top of the list. She could barely look at him.
“I was thinking maybe I could sponsor Iden and you could sponsor Warric, Kel,” Owen suggested, tipping his chair back until it leaned against the wall. Now it was his cousins’ turn to blush.
“He never learned tact, Lady Keladry,” one of the new boys explained. “His papa—my uncle—he’s every bit as bad.”
“Then I will stay away from Jesslaw,” Neal said firmly. “It must be a madhouse.”
“You’ve no idea,” said the other first-year with feeling.
“I’d like to s
ponsor Warric,” Kel said. The boys looked at her. “But I’m not going to. Somebody very wise once said it wouldn’t do me much good to be sponsored by someone at the bottom of Lord Wyldon’s list.” She smiled crookedly at Neal, who had told her that; he nodded soberly. Kel went on, “It’s the same here. You’ll do better with someone my lord likes.”
Boys continued to drop by over the course of the afternoon: Seaver, Esmond, Merric, Faleron (a glorious fourth-year now), Prosper. Yancen of Irenroha even stopped in. Lalasa disappeared, and returned bearing a basket of pastries and a pitcher of juice. The pages welcomed her with cheers. Lads, she told Kel, were always hungry.
Once the others had gone to wash up for supper, Kel turned to Lalasa. “There, you see?” she asked. “They aren’t so bad after all.”
Lalasa’s smile had a bitter edge. “They’re boys,” she replied at last. “I doubt they’ll be so sweet when they’re men.”
“You have to start looking at the bright side of things, Lalasa,” Kel told her sternly.
Now Lalasa really did smile. “If I’m with you long enough, my lady, I don’t see how I can escape it.”
Once cleaned up, the pages joined Lord Wyldon in the hall outside, to choose sponsors for the new-comers. Owen took Iden, as he had threatened. Merric, after a nudge from Kel, picked Warric.
Then came supper, and Lord Wyldon’s speech advising all of them to enjoy their last day of freedom. Afterward Kel remembered that her harness was at the leatherworkers still. She’d dropped it off a week before, to have it let out—it had gone tight on her shoulders over the summer. Now was a good time to retrieve it. She might not have another free hour for months.
She was cutting through the palace grounds, the harness over her shoulder, when she saw a nobleman with a sheaf of papers in his hand. He was tall, heavyset, and pale-skinned even at the end of summer, with brown hair that continually flopped into his eyes. Kel recognized Sir Gareth the Younger, the king’s closest adviser and friend.
In his turn, he seemed to know her station if not her name. “You’re one of the pages, aren’t you?” he asked, brown eyes alert.
Protector of the Small Quartet Page 27
