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

by Tamora Pierce

  “As the accused, I may choose the time,” Roger said quickly. “Let it be now, before Sir Alan’s lies spread and poison people’s minds against me.”

  Alanna felt chilly and very old. She should have known that Roger would want to fight now, while she was still weary and sore from the Ordeal. She looked at her bandaged hands.

  “This time or any other is of no matter to me,” she said, her voice bored. “I believe Duke Roger to be plotting against the lives of my prince and my friends. The sooner this is resolved, the sooner they will be safe.”

  “In one hour,” ruled the king. “We meet in the Great Throne Room.”

  Alanna slipped away and went to her room to change while Faithful watched. Since the rules of trial by combat forbade the wearing of armor, she changed into a soft shirt, breeches, and stockings; she wanted as much freedom of movement as possible. Removing the bandages, she carefully rubbed balm into her sore hands, thinking, Lucky they aren’t stiff. After lightly rebandaging her hands, she tied back her hair.

  Sitting down to clean Lightning, she told Faithful, “I guess I don’t feel so bad about not having spotted what he was up to. But why tonight? That hole in the veil didn’t just happen to be there. Come in!” she called in answer to the knock on her door.

  Jonathan, Myles, Coram, and Thom entered the room. Myles looked at her wearily. “I suppose you had your reasons for acting as you did. I’d like to know what they were.”

  Alanna shook her head. “It’s as if I just broke free of the spell he had us all under. A lot of things just began to add up: why the fog came up that night I was taken after he visited me, why the big Tusaine attack was chiefly aimed at Jonathan’s forces, why the queen never got better. Thom, you must’ve thought I was crazy, never following up on the warnings you and George gave me.”

  Thom shrugged. “I always figured you had your reasons.” Jonathan, Myles, and Coram looked at him, and the young Master added, “I’ve been watched by Duke Roger’s men for several years, ever since you, Highness, and Alan took the Black City. And George has waylaid Roger’s men following Alan any number of times.”

  Coram took over the cleaning of Lightning while Alanna began to stretch. Her body was stiff from the Ordeal, and she had seen Roger enough in the fencing courts to know he would not be easy to beat even if she were feeling her best. That he was a sorcerer and not a trained knight was balanced by the fact that, for all she knew, he was sticking pins into a new image of her at that very moment.

  Jonathan looked down at Alanna, who was touching her toes. “But you had suspicions,” he pointed out. “Even if they were vague ones, why didn’t you talk to me?”

  “I did say something, at the Black City,” she told him frankly. “You said it was nonsense. So I wanted to have real proof before I mentioned it again. And every time I made up my mind to do something about it, I—I lost interest. I know why now—because he had me in the wraps with you and Myles and the others—but I still feel ashamed that it happened. Don’t you?”

  Before Jonathan could say that he did understand, someone else knocked on Alanna’s door. Coram opened it and admitted a heavily cloaked George.

  Jonathan and Myles were clearly astonished by the tall Rogue’s presence. “Stefan has messenger-birds,” Alanna told them. She gave the thief a tiny smile before beginning to stretch again. “I’m glad you came.”

  George reached down to ruffle her hair with a gentle hand. “Do nothing foolish,” he warned her.

  “I think Alan’s used up his foolishness for the day,” Thom said acidly.

  Alanna looked up, impatient. “The masquerade is over. Myles, all these men know, you should, too. I’m a girl.”

  “But I do know,” Myles said quietly. “Thank you for telling me at last, but I have known for years.”

  Timon rapped on the door and opened it. “I’ve been sent to bring you to the Great Throne Room,” he said unhappily. “Squire—Sir Alan, is it true? About His Grace?”

  Alanna tugged on her boots. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. “Yes. It’s true.”

  “Alan and I will be with you in a moment,” Jonathan told the others. They took the hint and followed Timon out into the hall, closing the door behind them. Alanna looked at Jonathan and went into his arms, hugging him tightly.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, fighting back tears. “I know you love him; but I couldn’t let it go on. He was killing your mother.”

  Jonathan held her close. “I love you more.” His voice was breaking. “Don’t let him kill you.”

  Alanna shook her head. “I don’t plan to. Believe me, I don’t.”

  They joined the other men in the hall. No one spoke as they headed for the Great Throne Room. Their only comments were in the tight holds Jonathan and George took on each of her shoulders, and the worried looks Coram, Myles, and Thom wore. Matters now were beyond words.

  Alanna herself could think only that finally it had come to a head, this weird contest of wills between her and the Duke of Conté. The issue would be decided once and for all. She couldn’t be unhappy about that. It’ll be over and settled, she thought as they strode into the Great Throne Room.

  Roger already stood before the two thrones, naked sword in hand. Alanna hugged each of her friends one last time before stepping up beside Roger, Lightning unsheathed and ready for battle. Her heart pounded in her throat as the herald read the challenge. She could barely hear him; her attention was on the king and queen, on Jon, standing beside his father now, and on Duke Gareth, standing beside his sister, the queen. She felt a grim kind of triumph thinking, Even if he kills me, I’ve won. I’ve planted the seed of doubt here; he’ll never be trusted again.

  It was good to know she had accomplished something, even if Roger killed her. And it was good to know her friends were there, wanting her to win.

  “Let the combat begin,” Roald said quietly.

  Alanna and Roger brought their swords up instantly. They circled, watching each other carefully. Roger feinted at Alanna several times, never intending to strike, instead trying to draw Alanna into an attack. Alanna smiled slightly. Roger was older than she was and more experienced in the ways of the world, but she could outwait him.

  She was right. Roger attacked in earnest, thinking she was being overconfident. Alanna blocked his swing and dodged to the side, wincing as Lightning jarred against her sore hands. She would have to be careful; her stiffness and the pain in her hands might get her killed if she wasn’t.

  Roger pursued the attack, trying to use up her energy. Alanna tried to dodge more and block less in order to spare herself, but the sorcerer was too quick. Pain wormed its way up her right arm and into her shoulder. The scrapes on her sword hand were bleeding through the bandages, and weariness put her timing off.

  Suddenly she blinked. Had Roger switched his sword to his left hand, or was he carrying two swords? He couldn’t possibly have two blades! She shook her head, trying to clear her eyes. Dimly she could hear Thom yelling, “Foul! He’s using an illusion!” But she knew no one would try to stop the fight now, for fear of getting her killed.

  Only a lucky step saved her life as the Duke lunged at her. Thom was right: The Duke had placed an illusion-spell on himself so that Alanna couldn’t tell which of his hands gripped the real sword and which held only the ghost of one. Alanna pulled the ember-stone from beneath her shirt with her free hand, thanking the Goddess for it. The illusion-sword now glowed orange in her eyes. She blocked Roger’s real sword and thrust back, corning body-to-body with the Duke. This was a mistake; the larger, stronger man used his strength to force her slowly to her knees.

  Alanna gasped and broke, dropping to the floor and rolling away; Roger struck, cutting her shoulder open as Alanna came to her feet. She dodged back, biting her lip angrily; he had changed his sword to his left hand! She thanked the Goddess the cut was not bad and gripped the ember-stone again.

  The Duke switched hands several times, but she was able to follow the changing of real and imag
inary swords with the help of the stone. They were coming to a time in the battle she was too familiar with: the time when lesser swordsmen began to gasp for air and to make mistakes, the time when she had to reach deep inside herself for strength she rarely needed to draw upon. Forced to admire Roger’s technique as she grimly blocked and thrust, lunged and dodged, she couldn’t help but think it was too bad such an awful man was such a fine swordsman.

  Seizing that brief moment when Roger switched swords, Alanna lunged in, slashing the Duke’s right arm. Roger yelled in fury as Lightning nipped through muscle. Making an impossibly quick recovery, the Duke lunged back and struck. Alanna stumbled, and the tip of Duke Roger’s sword sliced down her chest from collarbone to waist.

  The special corset she often wore in place of bandaging gave way, its laces cut through. It slid and buckled under her shirt, edges of lace-strings and (to Alanna’s great embarrassment) the curves of her breasts showing through. Roger dropped his blade and stood back, his eyes wide with shock.

  “Halt!” the king roared, coming to his feet. The crowded room was buzzing as he stared at Alanna. “What is going on here?”

  “You’d better do something about that thing,” Thom advised, stepping forward. “I’ll explain.”

  All eyes were fixed on the Master in silver-edged black as Alanna ducked behind a hanging curtain, suddenly glad her lie was over with. She slid the ruined corset out from under her slashed shirt as Thom said, “You’ll have to excuse my sister, Majesties.” Shaking her head over her brother’s nerve, she overlapped the ends of the shirt and tucked them firmly into her breeches.

  “You see, she wanted to be a knight,” Thom was explaining. “I wanted to be a sorcerer. We traded places. I think I may have had the better part of the bargain; I didn’t have to lie to people I liked and respected all these years. Here. I brought our birth papers. Her name is Alanna. We’re twins.”

  “Who knew of this?” The king’s voice was low and dangerous as Alanna stepped out from behind the curtain. “Who knew?”

  “I knew.” Jonathan’s voice was strong and clear. “I’ve known since the Black City.”

  “I knew,” Coram admitted in a shamefaced rumble.

  Gary stepped forward. “I knew.”

  “And I knew,” Myles added. “I guessed when Alan—Alanna—cured Jonathan of the Sweating Sickness, Majesty.”

  The king looked at Alanna. “What have you to say for yourself?”

  Alanna met his eyes squarely. “I hated lying to you,” she admitted. “I wanted to tell; but I couldn’t. Would you have let me win my shield if I had told the truth?” The king’s silence was answer enough. “I’ve tried to be honest about everything else. And I can’t regret what I did.”

  Roger’s snarl of fury surprised them all. “You demon!” he screamed. “You lying, cheating—”

  Without warning he lunged at her, his sword raised. Alanna blocked him and fought for her life. Roger attacked like a whirlwind, not giving her a chance to catch her breath.

  Suddenly Alanna’s long-hidden anger toward Roger flared into life. He was her enemy; he had tried to kill the people she loved. And he was acting like the wronged one!

  She set her jaw grimly. She had come here to bring Duke Roger of Conté to justice, and by the Mother, that was what she was going to do.

  She brought Lightning up and around in a wide butterfly-sweep that slicked off a lock of Roger’s hair. Switching her sword to her left hand, she attacked in earnest at last, bringing her blade down and around in a mirror image of the first butterfly-sweep, slicing Roger’s belt. She came around with a back-handed slash that ripped open the Duke’s tunic. Desperate, Roger blocked and fell back as she came on, a grim vision of death.

  Suddenly a large orange cloud formed around the Duke. The watching nobles gasped and moved away as the cloud expanded, reaching for Alanna and for Jonathan and for King Roald beside Jonathan. Alanna saw the danger to the two men and forgot her own.

  “The Goddess!” she yelled, leaping forward. Lightning struck the cloud, slicing it open to find Roger at its heart. The orange mass flared, blinding everyone watching. Alanna felt Lightning quiver. Roger screamed; and she struck again, harder. The sword cut even deeper this time as Alanna opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision.

  Roger stood, trying to pull her sword out of his body. A deep cut in his shoulder was bleeding fiercely. The Duke stared wonderingly at Alanna as he slowly fell to the floor. Alanna jerked Lightning free of him, swaying over Roger’s body, shaking with rage, fear, and exhaustion.

  She looked up. Everyone in the chamber—even Jonathan, even Thom—stared at her with some kind of horror. For a minute she was afraid of herself.

  She had killed the king’s nephew. She had killed her greatest enemy, the most powerful sorcerer in the Eastern Lands.

  EPILOGUE

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU WON’T CHANGE YOUR MIND?” Jonathan asked, taking her hand. The winter breeze whipped color into his cheeks, making his eyes seem bluer than ever. “I really feel I don’t know ‘Sir Alanna’ at all.”

  Alanna smiled and shook her head, “I need to be alone; well, not exactly alone,” she admitted, grinning at the bundled-up Coram. “I need to get away from Court for a while and just think.”

  “If you’re still feeling bad about Roger, you shouldn’t,” Gary said tartly. “You did what had to be done.”

  “I know. But I’ve been planning this journey for a long time, and now I have more reason than ever to take it. I’ll sort out Roger and being a lady knight and what I want to do with my life, and then I’ll come back.” She looked around, making sure that her saddlebags, as well as those on the pack mule, were secure. She glanced up at her worried escort—Jonathan, Gary, Raoul, and George—and smiled at them. “Truly I will. I couldn’t stay away long.”

  Gary tapped the miserable-looking Raoul on the shoulder. “Say good-bye, Raoul,” he said, glancing meaningfully at Jon.

  Raoul took one of Alanna’s hands in a grip that hurt. “I’m like Jonathan; I just don’t feel I know ‘Sir Alanna,’” he complained. “Look out for her, Coram.”

  “I will that.” The burly manservant nodded.

  Alanna leaned over and kissed Raoul on the cheek. “This ‘Sir Alanna’ you keep talking about is just Alan with the truth being told,” she told him. “I haven’t changed. Stay out of trouble Raoul.”

  Gary was next, giving her a brief but strong hug. “If you stay away too long, we’ll come looking for you,” he threatened. “Safe journey, Alanna.” He drew Raoul off a little way, leaving Alanna to talk with Jonathan and George in peace. “Remember the thieves’ sign I taught you,” George warned. “And if trouble threatens, use it!”

  Alanna hugged him, blinking back stinging tears. “I’m going to miss you, old friend,” she whispered.

  George’s eyes were overbright as he smiled at her. “So much more reason for you to return to me, after you’ve thought through all that needs thinkin’. Go with my love, Alanna.” Clucking to his mare, he caught up with Gary and Raoul.

  Jonathan tried to smile in his turn. “And so it’s just you and me again, Lady Knight. Well, you and me and Faithful.” He acknowledged the cat, who sat blinking in his cup on Moonlight’s saddle. Suddenly he reached over and hugged her tightly, holding her for long moments. He kissed her fiercely before letting her go. “You’re riding south?”

  Alanna nodded. “I want to spend the rest of this winter being warm,” she told him. “I’ll write; you know I will.”

  He lifted her face, looking into her violet eyes. “When you come home, all this will have blown over,” he said. “And no one will be happier to see you than I.” He looked over at Coram, who was waiting by the City Gates. “Take care of her, Coram Smythesson!”

  Alanna’s old friend looked surprised. “And here I thought the best part of ridin’ with a knight was that she would be lookin’ after me.”

  Alanna exchanged one last look with her prince before riding out the gate.
Before her stretched the Great Road South, its broad expanse clear of snow and ice. It was almost warm for the first day of New Year; she was dressed comfortably; she had a good horse and Faithful with her and Coram at her side.

  Roger’s death was bad, she thought, but life could be much, much worse. Perhaps I’ll live and be happy after, all.

  She let out a whoop of sheer exuberance and kicked Moonlight into a gallop. “C’mon, Coram!” she cried, galloping past him. “Let’s go find an adventure!”