In the Hand of the Goddess (The Song of the Lioness)

by Tamora Pierce

  “Shall I assemble a helping force, Your Grace?” the guardsman wanted to know. “They must be outnumbered—”

  “Don’t be a fool!” Roger snapped. “It’ll be our heads with the king if we further my cousin’s folly.”

  “I doubt His Majesty will have Jonathan beheaded for rescuing a friend,” Myles commented. “I also doubt that he will be so unfair as to punish the prince’s companions.” He disappeared into his wine cup.

  Roger drew a deep breath before answering, finally retrieving his iron self-control. “What my cousin may do, others may not do.” He turned to the guardsman. “Post archers along the riverbank. They can cover Prince Jonathan’s retreat.” He stalked over to his desk to grab his seeing-crystal. “I must inform my uncle. If you will excuse me, Sir Myles?”

  Alanna came to in a small wooden hut. Two other men, Micah and Keel, were there, but they were still unconscious. Glancing at the tiny, iron-barred window, she saw it was well past noon. She drew a dipper of water from the bucket, splashing it in the men’s faces with difficulty. This was due in part to the stiffness in her wounded arm and in part to the fact that she, like the two men, was wearing heavy chains. Calling on the small reserve of magic she had built up over the weeks of rest to stop the pounding in her head and arm, she found herself weak and gasping. There was magic in her chains, magic that bound her Gift as well as the rest of her.

  Micah and Keel came around slowly, still dazed from the sleeping-spell.

  “Sorcery—fah!” Keel growled, spitting on the ground. “No decent warrior uses sorcery!”

  “No decent warrior uses traitors, either,” Micah told his comrade. “And Duke Hilam’s done both. He’ll stop at nothing.”

  They were interrupted by heavy footsteps and the clank of a key ring. The door swung open, revealing a Tusaine captain flanked by two soldiers. He pointed to Micah and Keel.

  “You two. You’ll be paid well and released, if you give information.”

  Micah jerked his head at Alanna. “What about the boy? He’s a noble; he’s got the right to be ransomed.”

  The captain shook his head. “Not that one. His Grace wants to talk with him personal.” He scowled. “A filthy way to fight a war,” he muttered.

  Alanna and her two friends exchanged puzzled looks. What was the man talking about?

  “You will have your lives if you tell us what we want to know,” the Tusaine went on.

  “I’d sell my own mother’s honor first,” Keel snapped. “What are you going to do with Squire Alan?”

  The captain shrugged. “You had your chance.” He nodded to his men, and the three left, locking the door behind them.

  “That was very well said,” Alanna remarked slowly, “but I have a feeling you just gave away your lives.”

  “Mayhap our people will try a rescue,” Keel said hopefully.

  Alanna shook her head. “The king gave orders. Anyone who tries a rescue will be guilty of treason.”

  “Give me a hand up,” Micah ordered Keel suddenly. “I want to see something.”

  Alanna watched as the younger man boosted Micah up to the window. Finally Micah jumped down. “If we could get loose, we’re to the rear of the camp,” he said gruffly. “There’s nothing between us and the trees. “We’re hid away from their main army, Squire Alan.” He shook the chains on his arms. “If we weren’t burdened with these…”

  “Oh!” Alanna hit herself on the forehead. “I’m stupid as well as insane. Here.” She pulled a long strip of metal from its hiding place inside her belt and went to work on the locks. “The second you have a chance, break for the trees and make your way back. That’s an order, understand?”

  “But—,” Micah protested as his chains fell to the ground.

  “Don’t say ‘but.’ It’s me they want. If you get free, they may not chase you very hard. Prince Jonathan has to know what happened.” She began on Keel’s chains as Micah rubbed his ankles, frowning.

  “Where did you learn this?” Keel asked.

  Alanna laughed shortly. “You’d be surprised.”

  Once Keel’s chains were undone, she tried the lockpick on her own. She half-expected the result: The pick turned white-hot. Alanna dropped it on the ground where it lay, melted out of any useful shape.

  “As I thought. Somebody made triply sure I couldn’t leave.” Was it just an accident that her chains alone were sorcerer- and pick-proof? Somehow she had trouble believing it was coincidence.

  More visitors came as sunset was dying from the sky. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Micah and Keel hid themselves on either side of the door, their chains ready for use as weapons. The footsteps stopped.

  “Captain,” a male voice hissed, “if you continue your objections, I will see to it that you’re given a more unpleasant command—under the noses of the foot archers, for example.”

  “I don’t like fighting a war this way.” It was the voice of the captain who had first visited them. “It isn’t honorable.”

  “I believe in results, not honor.” The stranger uttered three arcane words. Red fire burst through the hut, blinding Alanna. Micah and Keel slumped to the floor, unconscious, and the door swung open. Alanna blinked the spots from her eyes as a richly dressed nobleman, accompanied by the captain and two large soldiers, walked in. The nobleman was not much taller than Alanna, with large hazel eyes and a sharply handsome face. His looks were spoiled by the ugly set of his mouth as he prodded Keel with an elegantly shod toe.

  “I thought something like this might occur. Who picked the locks?” His beautiful eyes flicked at Alanna. “You?”

  Alanna stood braced, her arms folded across her chest. “Who wants to know?”

  The nobleman smiled cruelly. “I’ve heard about your bad manners, Alan of Trebond.”

  “Funny. I always heard the men of Tusaine possessed some trace of honor.” She glanced at the captain, who was turning beet red. “Isn’t it odd how rumor lies?”

  Someone else stepped through the open door. “Don’t let him get the upper hand, brother,” Jem Tanner warned. “He’s tricky.”

  Alanna leaped for Big Thor’s murderer. The guards caught her and slung her to the ground, where one of them pressed his spear to her throat. “Don’t do it again,” he advised gruffly. After a moment he raised the spear, letting Alanna sit up. Jem retreated to the door, white under his tan.

  “Kill the viper, Hilam!” he urged. Micah and Keel were coming to. “Before he finds a way to trick you!”

  Alanna looked at the well-dressed man. So he was Duke Hilam, the one responsible for this long, hateful summer. It was hard to believe so much trouble could come from such a small man.

  Duke Hilam covered a yawn. I’ll kill him when I’m ready, brother,” he announced. “Not a moment sooner.”

  Alanna stared. “You’re brothers?”

  “There isn’t much of a family resemblance.” Hilam grinned cruelly. “That’s what made Jemis an ideal spy.”

  Then Alanna remembered that the three royal brothers of Tusaine were King Ain, Duke Hilam, and Count Jemis. Jemis—or Jem—was rarely seen in public because he rode around the land, sending reports to Prime Minister Hilam. A spy indeed!

  Boiling mad, Alanna struggled to her knees. “Forgive me for not recognizing you sooner, Duke Hilam,” she spat. “Your sweet nature should have—”

  Hilam kicked her down. “I’m not amused by you, prisoner. Don’t try my patience.”

  Alanna curled up around the side he had kicked, sweating with pain. No one was watching her two companions; all attention was on her and the Duke. She looked up at him, boiling mad. “You are brave, kicking a chained prisoner. They must sing heroic ballads about you on winter nights!”

  Hilam grabbed her chains, yanking her to her feet. “I’ve heard about your tongue, Squire.” He was smiling calmly; that frightened her. No one as angry as Hilam smiled, unless he was insane. “Perhaps I’ll cut it out.” He threw her against the rear wall and advanced on her.

  Ala
nna struggled to her feet, never taking her eyes off him. “Behavior I’d expect from the goatherd’s bastard, not a nobleman,” she taunted as Micah and Keel inched toward the open door. “Perhaps your mother tricked your father?”

  Hilam hit her again, knocking her to her knees. Micah and Keel bolted out the door, running for all they were worth. When Hilam turned to follow, Alanna grabbed him, wrapping her arms around his torso. The Tusaine was stopped from throwing a spell after the escaping men by the magic that kept Alanna helpless.

  “Don’t follow!” Hilam ordered, yanking out of Alanna’s hold and slapping her. “This is the one we have to worry about!”

  “Let me have him,” Jemis urged. “He’s been an annoyance to me for a long time. I could have killed Prince Jonathan that night if he hadn’t been there.”

  Alanna could hear shouting in the distance. She crossed her fingers and prayed her friends would escape.

  “He’s been an annoyance to many for a long time,” Hilam snapped, his clean-shaven face grim. “Before I let you play with him, he’s going to tell me something about Tortall. He’s going to tell me all Prince Jonathan’s plans and all King Roald’s plans. Then he will tell me things that don’t interest me at all, but he’ll tell them because he’ll say anything to stop the pain.”

  “Pigs might fly,” Alanna snapped. She spat in the man’s face.

  Hilam wiped the spit away, his lovely eyes thoughtful. “You’ll take a while to break.” He smiled suddenly, and her stomach sank. “That will be quite enjoyable. Only think, you’ll have the doubtful fame of being the one responsible for my taking this entire valley. How does that sit with your much-loved honor, Squire Alan?”

  “Perhaps your mother betrayed your father with a warthog,” Alanna said thoughtfully. She would just get sick if she listened to what he was saying. “You both certainly have a warthog’s manners. Jem there even has a warthog’s looks.”

  Jem lunged for her, only to be stopped by one of the guardsmen.

  “Jemis is very rash,” Hilam told Alanna. “I’m not. It’s going to take far more than these little barbs to pierce my armor—”

  “Perhaps my sword will pierce it, then?” Jonathan asked coolly from the doorway. “Thank you, Faithful. You seem to have led us to the right place.”

  Micah, Keel, Gary, Sacherell, Raoul, and Douglass were behind the prince. Faithful ran between their feet to place himself between Alanna and her tormentor, hissing angrily. Hilam, unnerved by the cat’s purple stare—like Alanna’s own—stepped back into Sacherell’s grip.

  Jonathan laid the point of his sword beside Milam’s nose. “Don’t move, please, and don’t try any sorcery. I’ll make you swallow it.” He turned to the three soldiers, who were watching Gary’s and Raoul’s drawn bows with keen attention. “The keys to my friend’s chains. Now.”

  The captain tossed them to Alanna, who grinned at him before setting to work on the locks. “Jonathan, the soldiers are all right. But these two”—she pointed to Hilam and Jemis—are King Ain’s brothers.”

  “Jem Tanner, a king’s brother?” Micah gasped.

  A slow grin spread across Jon’s face. “I think I know how we are going to leave this camp safely. We’re taking two guests with us, two very important guests. And I’m sure we can think of a fair ransom. Don’t you, Duke Hilam? I know King Ain will not think peace is not too small a price to pay, not for his brothers’ lives.”

  King Roald was not pleased, but—as Myles and Jonathan had known—he could scarcely behead his own son. Instead Roald negotiated the Drell Peace, in which Tusaine vowed to relinquish all claims to the valley forever. King Ain was willing to agree to much more: He wanted his brothers back to rule his lands for him. By the end of August the peace was signed, and Alanna and her friends were able to go home.

  7

  WINTER LESSONS

  ALANNA PULLED HER CLOAK TIGHT AGAINST THE wind and knocked hard on the door marked with the healer’s sign. She waited, watching the last fall leaves dance in the street, until Mistress Cooper appeared.

  “Hello,” Alanna said shyly, letting the hood fall back from her face so George’s mother could see who her late-night visitor was. “Can we talk?”

  Mistress Cooper smiled, motioning Alanna inside. “It’s been a long time, little one,” she commented as she bolted the door. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea.” She led the way, her majestic form casting a long shadow in the hallway. “I trust you’re recovered from your wounds? How is your arm?”

  Alanna took off her cloak and draped it in front of the kitchen fire before rotating her left arm obediently. “It’s a little stiff sometimes, but it’s all right now. I wasn’t as badly hurt as people think.”

  Mistress Cooper put on the teakettle. “My son doesn’t feel as you do. But perhaps he has his reasons for worrying?”

  The girl blushed. “George worries about me too much. I hope he gets over it before I go away.”

  “So you still plan to leave us once you have your shield?” The woman moved around the room on silent feet, getting cups and a plate full of cakes. Alanna bit into one of the cakes eagerly; she had only picked at her dinner.

  “Of course,” she said, her mouth full. She swallowed quickly. “I have a feeling that when I tell them I’m a girl, they won’t want me around.”

  “Could be you’re not doing them justice,” Mistress Cooper suggested, pouring out the tea. “George tells me you’re liked and trusted.”

  Alanna frowned. “Not by all.” Shoving Duke Roger to the back of her mind, she cradled the cup of tea in her hands.

  “How is His Highness?” the woman asked, sitting down.

  Stirring the tea with the tip of her finger, Alanna replied softly, “I’m not sure. He’s been—very odd lately. Ever since we returned from the Drell Valley.”

  “How so?”

  “He—he blows hot, then cold. Sometimes I’m his best friend in the world. And sometimes, he acts as if I’m poison. It doesn’t make sense. He—” Alanna blushed. “He kissed me, this summer. I think he wants to do it again, except he doesn’t. Sometimes he talks as if he doesn’t like George, except I know that isn’t true, because he comes into the city to see George when I’m occupied. He expects a lot from a person!” Alanna burst out, getting up to pace. “If I go to social events with him—and he makes me go—I have to have every hair in place. I have to have better manners than everyone else. I have to dance with all the ladies, as he does, even though no one else has to. I tell him I feel like a fool, and he tells me it’s better to be a fool who’s considerate than a fool who isn’t. But if I really talk to a lady—or even to Gary or Raoul—for a bit, he gets angry! He says I mustn’t lead the ladies on, and he accuses me of flirting with Gary and Raoul in the same breath!” Alanna sat down and gulped her tea, surprised at how the words had tumbled out of her.

  “You seem rather angered with Prince Jonathan,” Mistress Cooper observed.

  Alanna turned a deep red. “I don’t know how I feel,” she muttered. “I just can’t figure out why he’s treating me this way. But that isn’t what I came about.” She drew a deep breath. “Would you teach me how to dress like a girl?”

  Mistress Cooper raised her eyebrows. “Now, this is odd,” she said calmly. “Why such a request?”

  Alanna made a face. “I don’t know. I just—I see all the queen’s ladies wearing pretty things, and I’ve been thinking lately I like pretty things. I’m going to have to be a girl someday. Why shouldn’t I start practicing now?”

  If Mistress Cooper thought Alanna’s sudden wish to look pretty had anything to do with Jonathan, or with George, she knew better than to say so. Instead she agreed to help Alanna with her new project, beginning that very night by taking the girl’s measurements.

  Several days later, Alanna came to Mistress Cooper’s for fittings. As the older woman adjusted a hem, Alanna twisted, trying to see her back in the long mirror. “Hold still,” Mistress Cooper ordered, her mouth full of pins. �
�You’re worse than a city lad getting fitted with his first pair of long breeches.”

  “It doesn’t look right,” Alanna objected, trying to hold her body rigid while she turned her head. “It looks like Squire Alan in a girl’s dress.”

  “That’s because we’ve done nothing with Squire Alan’s hair. Hold still!”

  The dress properly fitted, Mistress Cooper fussed with the girl’s flaming locks and put some cosmetics on her flinching face. “I think you’re wise to start accustoming yourself to women’s gear,” she commented as she brushed dark color over Alanna’s eyelids. “Although you’ve a lot to learn.”

  “If I’d known it was going to be this much fuss, I never would’ve asked,” Alanna muttered. Her friend laughed. “It’s just … I needed an adventure. I’ve been pretty restless lately.”

  “Life in the palace is too tame for you?” Mistress Cooper asked sympathetically.

  “Not too tame, precisely,” Alanna objected. “I just need to go somewhere. I need to get away from—certain people.” She didn’t want to say that Jonathan had kissed her again only the night before. She didn’t want to remember it, because when she did she also remembered the strange and frightening excitement she had felt when he held her. Now she sighed, confused.

  “I need time to think about things.”

  “I see,” Mistress Cooper replied. “Well, stand up, child. Let me look at you.”

  Alanna stood, patting her pinned-up hair and tugging her skirt. Mistress Cooper had a very odd look on her face.

  “Is something wrong?” Alanna asked nervously.

  The older woman made her face the mirror. Alanna swallowed. She was looking at a lady.

  “I’m beautiful,” she whispered in awe.

  Mistress Cooper laughed at this. “You’ll pass,” she said, pushing Alanna into the kitchen. “You’re not as beautiful as Lady Delia, say, or the new lady at Court, Cythera of Elden.”