Alanna

by Tamora Pierce

  Jonathan headed east, to a small oasis they knew was nearer the Black City than Persopolis. Alanna wasn’t about to argue that they were going the wrong way. The oasis was closer than home, and all she wanted to do was lie down.

  The horses contentedly cropped grass while their owners bathed their aching faces and hands in the cool water. Jonathan finally leaned back against a palm tree. “I wish I’d thought to bring food.”

  Alanna lay flat on the grass nearby. “I’m happy just to be alive.”

  They rested in silence for a while, breathing the fresh desert air deeply. They watched the sun set in pools of rose and orange, thinking they had never seen a lovelier sunset. Darkness came, and thousands of stars.

  “Moonrise soon,” Alanna said at last. “We could try for Persopolis then.”

  “We’d never make it.” Jonathan’s quiet voice came from the shadows. “We’re in trouble as it is. Spending the night won’t make it any worse.”

  There was a long silence once again. Finally Alanna said, “I suppose you’d like an explanation.”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “We have time,” he said comfortably. “I don’t intend to move till I hear it. You must admit, I’ve had a shock.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said humbly. “I haven’t wanted to lie to you.”

  “I should hope so. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.” He thought about this a moment, then added, “—or the best. Now I’m all confused. What about your twin?”

  “He didn’t want to be a knight,” she replied simply. “He wants to be a great sorcerer.” She sighed. “Today was more Thom’s sort of thing than mine. Father was going to send me to the convent and Thom to the palace. And I didn’t want to learn to be a lady.” Jonathan’s chuckle gave her courage. “Old Maude knew. She said it was right. And—well, I talked Coram around.”

  Jonathan knew Coram well. “How?” he asked curiously.

  “I threatened to make him see things that were not there. He doesn’t like that.”

  Jon chuckled again, imagining Coram seeing visions. “And your father?”

  “He doesn’t care about Thom or me,” she said flatly. “I want to be a warrior maiden and do great deeds. Thom likes sorcery, and Father hates it. The only way we could get what we wanted—was to lie. I had to pretend to be a boy. I was always better at the fighting arts than Thom anyway.”

  “Whose idea was it to make the switch?”

  “Mine,” she admitted ruefully. “Thom might have thought of it, but he’s the careful one. I knew what I wanted, and I didn’t mind taking a risk or two.” She sighed. “I enjoyed the life.”

  “You could’ve been caught at any time. You could’ve been a weakling; Roger could’ve found out.”

  “There’ve been warrior maids before. They weren’t weak. And—well, I think my Gift protects me from Duke Roger. I’m not sure, but I think so. And you can’t say I haven’t proved myself.”

  “Of course you have, often. You do better than most of us.”

  She picked at the grass. “I had to.”

  “Alanna. It’s a pretty name,” he said thoughtfully. “Thom. Maude. Coram. Who else knows?”

  “George, and his mother.”

  “You trusted George?”

  “He can be trusted!” she said hotly. “Besides—I needed help once, and I knew he’d never give me away. He’s my friend, Jon.”

  “You called me ‘Jon.’”

  “You saved my life, back there.”

  “You saved mine. We wouldn’t have made it without each other. I knew I was right to take you.”

  She lay silent for a while, listening to the sounds in the night. At last she gathered her courage. “What’re you going to do about me?”

  His voice was surprised. “Do? I’m not doing anything. As far as I’m concerned, you earned the right to try for your shield a long time ago.” She heard him moving. “No one will learn your secret from me, Alanna.”

  Her chin trembled. Tears stung her eyes. “Thank you, your Highness.”

  He knelt beside her. “I thought you were calling me Jon. Alanna, you’re crying.”

  “It’s been such an awful day,” she sobbed. Hesitantly the young man put his arms around her and drew her against him. “And now you’re being so kind.” She wept into his shirt.

  “Not kind,” he told her. “Grateful. Admiring. You’re getting my shirt wet.”

  She laughed and straightened, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jon. I haven’t done that for a long time.”

  “I believe it,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “I don’t think you cried even when Ralon was beating on you, and you were just a little boy—girl. Mithros, I’m confused!” he whistled. “Gods, that’s why you never went swimming! All the times you’ve seen us naked—me naked!”

  She gripped his arm. “Jon, you start to act like that, and I’m finished. You’ve got to go on treating me like any other boy, or I’m through!”

  He sat beside her. “What insanity! But you’re right.” She could feel his eyes on her face although it was too dark to see him clearly. “How do you plan to be a warrior maiden if no one knows you’re a girl?”

  “I’m going to tell everyone, on my eighteenth birthday.”

  “What will you do after that?” She could see him grin. “Mithros, Uncle will have fits.”

  She relaxed. “I’m going to travel and do great deeds.”

  He ruffled her hair. “I believe you. Don’t forget your friends when you’re a legend.”

  She laughed. “You’ll be more famous than me! You’ll be king one day!”

  “And I’ll need all my friends. Will you still serve me when you’re doing great deeds?”

  “I’m your vassal,” she said seriously. “I’ll never forget that.”

  “Excellent.” He rose with a slight moan. “I want to keep one of the best fencers at Court on my side. I’m going to bathe. Don’t watch.”

  She grinned. “I never watch.” She turned her back as he walked down to the water. Dreamily she stared at the sky, listening to Jon yelp as he splashed chilly water over his aching body.

  His voice startled her when he spoke. “You’re only that quiet when you’re worrying about something. What’s bothering you now?”

  “Two things,” she admitted. “The Ysandir—we have no way of knowing they’re gone for good or that we got all of them.”

  “I know that we did,” Jonathan replied. “Sometimes a man has to rely on his instincts. The Ysandir are gone forever.”

  “Doesn’t it seem—well, strange—that a boy and a girl were able to destroy the Bazhir demons?”

  “You’re forgetting,” he reminded her gently, “we had help. Even the Bazhir demons couldn’t stand against the gods.”

  “I suppose so,” she said dubiously.

  “I know so.” Jonathan climbed from the pool and hurried into his clothes. “Your turn. And keep talking—it’ll frighten any animals away.”

  “Don’t you watch,” she warned as she stripped and plunged into the chilly water.

  Jonathan chuckled. “Not me. You’re too skinny—and too good with a sword. You said two things were bothering you. What’s the other one?”

  Alanna shook soggy hair from her eyes, trying to decide how she could best say what she was thinking. She was about to tread on very dangerous ground. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd—the way Duke Roger warned us to stay away from the Black City?” She climbed out of the oasis and pulled on the over-large tunic once more.

  “You mean the way he practically dared us—well, me—to come here.”

  Alanna sat beside him, trying to see her friend’s face in the desert night. “You knew?” she whispered, horrified. “You knew Duke Roger was sending you to almost certain death?”

  His grip on her arm was painful. “Now that I do not believe,” he said sternly. “Roger is my only cousin and one of my best friends. He taught me to ride! He would never—n
ever—do the thing you’re suggesting, Alanna. Never. He sent me here because he thought I might have a chance to rid Tortall of a scourge, and I did, with your help. He must have known I’d take you with me; I’m sure by now he has the whole story of what happened the night I had the Sweating Fever. He did Tortall a favor, and he did me a favor. People will think twice before they take on a prince—or a king—who can defeat demons.”

  “Why didn’t he do it himself?” she asked. “Why risk the only heir to the throne?”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t have the—the other powers helping him, as they seem to be helping us. And that’s enough for this discussion. I would trust Roger with my life, and with yours. If he had ever wanted the throne, he could have had it any time all these years past. So let’s change the subject, all right?”

  There are too many perhapses in all that, Alanna thought rebelliously, but she did as she was told. After all, Jon was older, wiser and far better acquainted with Duke Roger. But she still thought the Duke of Conté never expected them to return from the Black City.

  They both found comfortable spots beneath the same tree, stretching out for a night’s sleep. Alanna was gazing at the distant outline of the Black City when Jon said, “Alan. Alanna. Perhaps you’ll help me with a decision I have to make.”

  Relief made her smile. At least he wasn’t angry because she had said what she had about his cousin. “I can try.”

  “What with Gary and Alex and Raoul becoming knights at the same time I do, it makes competition for the squires pretty fierce.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” she said dryly.

  He chuckled. “Who do you think I should pick?”

  Alanna sat up on her elbow. A week ago she would have told him to pick Geoffrey or Douglass. But she had not been to the Black City then. She had not proved to the Ysandir that a girl could be one of the worst enemies they would ever face.

  But what if she had not gone to the Black City? Duke Gareth had mentioned that, with a deal more practice, she could become one of the finest swordsmen at Court. In archery she hit the target every time. The masters who taught her tactics and logic said she was sometimes brilliant—Myles said she was far more intelligent than many adults. She had bested Ralon of Malven, and in some strange way she had won her sword.

  All at once she felt different inside her own skin.

  “Me,” she said at last. “You should pick me.”

  “But you’re a girl.” It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

  “So?” she demanded. “Even Captain Sklaw says I’ll be a swordsman yet. I’m as good an archer as Alex, and he’s a boy and a squire. I’m a better tracker than Raoul. And have I ever failed you? Back there, or when you had the Fever—”

  “I’m glad you agree with my reasons,” he interrupted calmly. “I told Father you’d probably accept.”

  Alanna swallowed hard.

  “Before we left, I told him I wanted you for my squire. He didn’t seem very surprised.” Jonathan wriggled, trying to find a softer spot on the ground.

  “B-but,” Alanna stuttered, “isn’t it different? Now that you know—”

  “That you’re a girl? No, not in the way you mean. Girl, boy or dancing bear, you’re the finest page—the finest squire-to-be—at Court.” He chuckled. “I almost had to fight Gary for you. He said it wasn’t fair, me getting the best because I’m the prince.” He took her hand. “Alanna of Trebond—I will be honored if you will serve as my squire.”

  Alanna kissed his hand, blinking back tears. “My life and sword are yours, Highness.”

  He spoiled the dignity of the moment by ruffling her hair. “Now, get some sleep.” He settled back and closed his eyes. “You know,” he murmured, “I’d almost rather face old Ylon again than Lord Martin in a temper.”

  “I’ll blame it all on you,” she replied sleepily. “See if I don’t.”

  He dozed off quickly. Alanna lay awake a little while longer, watching the dark towers of the Black City in the distance. If there were any more Ysandir about, she was too tired to care. She wished she had Jon’s faith in Duke Roger, but knew she wasn’t going to get it. Still, she could figure out the Duke of Conté later. As Jon said, there was morning and Lord Martin to face, and it was time at last to sleep.

  The Beginning

  TAMORA PIERCE has nineteen fantasy novels for teenagers in print worldwide in English, German, Swedish; and Danish, and audio books in Danish and English, with two more—Shatterglass and the untitled first book in a new Tortallan series—to appear in 2003. Alanna: The First Adventure is her first published book and the foundation of the Tortallan quartets: the Song of the Lioness, The Immortals, and The Protector of the Small. Alanna received an Authors Citation by the New Jersey Institute of Technology’s Seventeenth Annual New Jersey Writers Conference and was on the Recommended Fantasy list of the Preconference on Genres of the Young Adult Services Division of the American Library Association, June 1991. Her other publications include short stories, articles, and her two Circle of Magic quartets. She was also an actor and writer for a radio drama and comedy production company in the 1980s and recently resumed her voice actors motley for Bruce Coville’s Full Cast Audio book company. Tammy has been a housemother, a social worker, a secretary, and an agent’s assistant. She lives in New York with her Spouse-Creature, technoweenie Tim Liebe, three cats, two parakeets, and wildlife rescued.

  Alanna’s adventures have only started …

  In the Hand

  of the Goddess

  SONG OF THE LIONESS BOOK II

  The copper-haired rider looked at the black sky and swore. The storm would be on her soon, and she was hours away from shelter. No matter what she did, she was going to have to spend the night out-of-doors.

  “I hate getting wet,” Alanna of Trebond told her mare. “I don’t like being cold, either, and we’ll probably be both.”

  The horse whickered in reply, flicking her white tail. Alanna sighed and patted Moonlight’s neck—she also didn’t like exposing her faithful mare to such conditions.

  They were on the last leg of an errand in the coastal hills. A forest lay before them; beyond it was the Great Road South and a half a day’s ride to the capital city and home. Alanna shook her head. They could probably find shelter somewhere under the trees, if luck was with them.

  Clucking to Moonlight, she picked up their pace. In the distance thunder rolled, and a few drops of rain blew into her face. She shivered and swore again. Checking to make sure the scroll she carried was safe in its waterproof wrapping and tucked between her tunic and shirt, Alanna shrugged into a hooded cloak. Her friend Myles of Olau would be very upset if the three-hundred-year-old document she had been sent to fetch got wet!

  Moonlight carried her under the trees, where Alanna peered through the growing darkness. If they rode too much longer, it would be impossible to find dry firewood even in a forest this thick. The rain was falling now in fat drops. It would be nice if she could find an abandoned hut, or even an occupied one, but she knew better than to expect that.

  Something hit the back of her gloved hand with a wet smack—a huge, hairy wood-spider. Alanna yelled and threw the thing off her, startling Moonlight. The gold mare pranced nervously until her mistress got her under control once more. For a moment Alanna sat and shook, huddled into her cloak.

  I hate spiders, she thought passionately. I just—loathe spiders. She shook her head in disgust and gathered the reins in still-trembling hands. Her fellow squires at the palace would laugh if they knew she feared spiders. They’d say she was behaving like a girl, not knowing she was a girl.

  “What do they know about girls anyway?” she asked Moonlight as they moved on. “Maids at the palace handle snakes and kill spiders without acting silly. Why do boys say someone acts like a girl as if it were an insult?”

  Alanna shook her head, smiling a little. In the three years she had been disguised as a boy, she had learned that boys know girls as little as girls know boys. It didn’t make sens
e—people are people, after all, she thought—but that was how things were.

  A hill rose sharply to the left of the road. Crowning it was an old willow tree thick with branches. It would take hours for the rain to soak through onto the ground under that tree, if it soaked through at all, and there was room between the limbs and trunk for both Alanna and Moonlight.

  Within moments she had Moonlight unsaddled and covered with a blanket. The mare fed on grass under the tree as Alanna gathered dry sticks, branches and leaves. With some struggle and much swearing—her first teacher in woodcraft, Coram, was a soldier, and she had learned plenty of colorful language from him—she got a fire going. When it was burning well, she gathered large branches that were a little wet, putting them beside the fire to dry. Coram had taught her all this when she was a child at Trebond, planning to be a warrior maiden when she grew up.

  There was only one problem with her ambition, Coram had explained when she told him what she wanted to be. The last warrior maiden had died a hundred years ago. Nobly born girls went to convent schools and became ladies. Boys became warriors, particularly their fathers’ heirs, like Alanna’s twin brother Thom, who was often reading, generally books about sorcery. Thom was no warrior, just as Alanna—who had the Gift of magic as well as he did—was no sorceress. She hated and feared her magic; Thom wanted to be the greatest sorcerer living.

  Alanna frowned and took food from her saddlebags. She didn’t want to think about Thom now, when she was tired and a little lonely.

  She sneezed twice and looked up, sharply scanning the clearing beyond the screen of willow branches. When supernatural things were about to happen her nose itched; she didn’t know why. And now the feel of the clearing had changed. Quickly she shoved the cloak back, freeing her arms. Searching the darkness with wide violet eyes, Alanna loosened her sword, Lightning.

  Moonlight whickered, backing against the willow. “Something wrong, girl?” Alanna asked. She sneezed again and rubbed her nose.

  A sound came from the trees behind her. She spun, unsheathing Lightning in the same movement. The sound was repeated, and Alanna frowned. If she didn’t know better , she would swear something had mewed out there! Then she laughed, sliding Lightning back into its sheath, as a black kitten trotted through the branches sheltering her from the rain. It meowed eagerly when it saw her, its ratlike tail waving like a banner. Staggering over to Alanna, the tiny animal ordered her to pick him up.