In the Hand of the Goddess (3 page)

There
was
one class Alanna refused to let Faithful come to: Duke Roger's class for those Gifted in magic
(Alanna and Jonathan, among others). She didn't know what the sorcerer would think of her pet, and she didn't want to find out.

For the rest of the time, Faithful stuck to Alanna like a small black bur. Gareth, Duke of Naxen, Gary's father, let Faithful follow Alanna freely when he saw that the kitten took no one's attention away from learning. The sight of Alan with his pet under his left ear soon became a familiar one at the palace. While Faithful clearly liked Myles, Jon, and most of Alanna's other friends (including George) and would stay with them when Alanna was busy, only she was given the privilege of carrying him on a shoulder.

“Maybe he's afraid of heights,” Gary suggested one rainy May afternoon, shortly after Alanna's fifteenth birthday. It was a rare, quiet time for the young knights and Alanna. Gary and Raoul, with the afternoon off, had given their squires Sacherell and Douglass free time as well. Raoul and Jonathan played backgammon, while Alex—the fifth member of their circle and the only one not secretly friends with George—watched. Gary sprawled in a window seat, thinking of a way to escape a visit to Naxen that summer. Alanna curled up in another window seat,
listening to Faithful purr into her left ear and thinking about nothing at all.

“Hm?” Alanna asked sleepily, realizing Gary was talking to her.

“Faithful. Maybe he won't sit on our shoulders because he's afraid of heights.”

“Maybe he's right.” Jonathan grinned. “Even Alex is half a head taller than our Alan.”

“Thanks,” Alex said dryly.

The door opened, and Duke Roger came in. The family resemblance between him and Jonathan was unmistakable, although the Duke's eyes were a darker blue than his cousin's and his hair brown-black to Jon's coal-black. Both had the fair skin, straight-cut noses and stubborn chins that ran in the Conté line.

“There you are, Alex,” the older man was saying. “I hate to ask you this, but a truly important package has arrived for me at Port Caynn. You are the only one other than myself I trust to go. Will you?”

Alex grinned and stood. “It's my pleasure, Your—”

“Let go of me, you blasted cat!” Alanna yelped as Faithful's claws dug into her shoulder. His fur bristled; his back was arched; and he was growling deep in his throat as he stared at the Duke. Alanna tried to pry her
pet loose as she said through gritted teeth, “Stop making a scene.” The sorcerer was watching them!

His attention caught, the big man came forward. “A new pet, Alan?”

“He
was
, until he started
this.
” Alanna worked Faithful loose and held him up. The kitten twisted to keep his eyes on Roger, growling. “What is the
matter
with you?” Alanna demanded, trying to make him look at her before Roger saw his eyes. “Behave yourself! Sir, he's never done this before—”

Roger drew a little closer, and Faithful slashed at him with unsheathed claws. “I think I'm being warned away,” the sorcerer remarked, stopping where he was. He looked Faithful over as Alanna tried to work a large lump out of her throat. “Unusual eyes,” he commented at last, and Faithful yowled. “I have just come from the kennels—perhaps he smells the dogs on me. Or perhaps he knows I have never been a fancier of—” He paused, and Alanna felt her skin turn to ice. “Of cats,” he finished.

Alanna cradled her still-rumbling pet against her chest. Roger either knew or guessed where her pet came from, but he wasn't saying. That was fine with her. “It's probably the dogs, sir,” she agreed. “He likes people and horses, but dogs don't suit him.” The
others looked at her, knowing as well as she did that Faithful left dogs alone, while dogs avoided Faithful. It wasn't
quite
a lie, and the Duke seemed to accept it. He nodded to Alex, and they left together.

When they were gone, Alanna picked the kitten up and read him an impressive lecture on manners. By the time she finished, Faithful was purring, her friends were laughing, and the whole thing had been forgotten—she hoped.

Nevertheless, that night she wrote her brother Thom in the City of the Gods, sending the letter secretly by way of George. Thom was the sorcerer—not she. He should know about Faithful—and about the cat's reaction to Duke Roger.

T
HAT HOT
J
ULY AN EMBASSY CAME TO COURT FROM
Tortall's eastern neighbor, Tusaine. Important matters were to be discussed. Spies had reported the King of Tusaine was considering retaking the Drell River Valley on the Tortallan border, and King Roald wanted to avoid war at all costs. Unlike his famous father, Roald was not known as “Empire Builder,” but as “The Peacemaker,” He was proud of that title, and he wanted to keep it. Everyone knew that Mikal of Danne, the Tusaine Ambassador, had actually come to see if “The Peacemaker” had the stomach for war.

The delegation from Tusaine was carefully watched, but its people received the best hospitality Roald could command. As Jonathan's squire, Alanna was very much in the thick of things, serving at secret meetings and accompanying her prince to what seemed to be an endless number of parties and dances.

Tension was in the air. In the meetings, Ambassador Mikal became arrogant, thinking Roald was weak rather than quiet. Friendly discussions between Alanna's friends and the Tusaine knights grew sharp as each group challenged the other to more and more difficult contests of craft and skill. Matters finally came to a head during what was supposed to be a small, quiet evening party.

Alanna; Gary's squire, Sacherell of Wellam; and Raoul's squire, Douglass of Veldine, served the wine at this gathering, following Duke Gareth's instructions to keep their guests' glasses full and to report anything interesting they might overhear. Courtiers dressed in their finest chattered and flirted as the three obeyed with enthusiasm, trying to get as much from the Tusaine party as they could. Duke Roger entertained Mikal while the Ambassador's wife, Lady Aenne, told Queen Lianne and King Roald stories of the Tusaine Court.

Gary, Raoul, Alex, and Jonathan were talking with some of the younger Tusaine knights, when suddenly everyone was looking at the group. Dain of Melor, a Tusaine knight, was sneering loudly, “Fencing! I've seen what
you
call ‘fencing.' Back home we call it dancing! Prince Jonathan, our Tusaine
three
-year-olds handle a sword better than some of your knights!”

“You are rude in the palace of your host,” Gary replied carefully, his broad shoulders tense. Alanna could tell he was fighting to keep his voice even. “I wish it were possible to teach you some manners.”

For a moment no one spoke. Nearly every Tortallan knight—with the exception of Myles, who was watching and drinking—had put his hand on his sword hilt. The Tusaines gripped theirs, ready for anything.

Ambassador Mikal turned to Roger. In the quiet his voice was very clear. “I must apologize for young Dain.” He bowed in Roald's direction. The king inclined his head, silently accepting the apology. Mikal added with a sly smile, “I fear I must agree, however. We seem to have done better by the martial arts in Tusaine. Perhaps peace has dulled your fighting edge?”

Alanna touched the ember-stone beneath her shirt,
wondering what would happen next. She turned. Raoul, standing by the hearth, was shifting slowly into a fighting stance. His coal-black eyes were snapping with fury, and he gripped his sword hilt with a white-knuckled hand.

Frantically she signaled Douglass to look at his knight-master. Her friend hurried over to Raoul and shoved a wineglass in the big knight's hand, talking softly and quickly. After a second's hesitation, Raoul released his hilt with a sigh.

“I differ with you, Sir Dain,” Jon was saying, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Even our pages and squires know how to handle a sword against a full knight. But since our honor and our teachers are in question, perhaps we must show you what a Tortallan can do.”

Dain adjusted his sword belt. “Bring on your champion, Highness. I am sure I can prove Tusaine superiority over any man of your court.”

Jon glanced at Alanna, smiling ironically, and she immediately guessed what he had in mind.
It would be a brilliant tactical stroke if I could pull it off,
she thought.
I'm an unblooded squire in Dain's eyes. At least, it would be a brilliant tactical stroke if I won.

She looked the Tusaine knight over. He was a
head taller than she was, with broad shoulders and strong arms, but he was overconfident, and he had been drinking. She nodded to let Jonathan know she was game.

The prince smiled icily at the other man. “Not ‘our champion,' Sir Dain. I said ‘even our pages and squires.'” He nodded to Alanna. She handed her wine pitcher to Sacherell, who nearly dropped it, and walked quickly over to the group of young knights, her heart thumping in excitement. “Your Highness?” she asked, bowing politely.

Jonathan beckoned to her. “I#'m sure my personal squire Alan here would oblige you.”

The Tusaine knight stared at the short, slender Alanna, his jaw hanging open. “You want me to fence with a
squire
?” Dain's voice rose and cracked; someone giggled.

“Are you afraid?” Jonathan wanted to know.

The other man gasped and sputtered before he could speak again. “I've fought in six duels!” he snapped finally. “I've been killing mountain bandits since I was smaller than
him
!” He pointed to Alanna. “If I ever was smaller than him!”

Alanna knew exactly what Jonathan was trying to do, and she knew it was her turn to add fuel to the fire. “Did you need me for
something, my Lord Prince?”

Jonathan shrugged, his eyes never leaving Dain. “I thought you might fence with Sir Dain, Alan, but he no longer seems to be interested. I'm sorry to have called you away for nothing—”

“By Mithros, I'll do it!” Dain snapped. “I fear no child!”

Jonathan bowed to his parents. “If Your Majesties will excuse us we would like to go to the first fencing gallery.”

Turning to look at the king, Alanna saw the oddest look on Alex's face. He looked—eager, for some reason. Surely he wasn't looking forward to her risking her life? They had been friendly rivals for years—each trying to be better at fencing, archery, and the other fighting skills than the other—but it was still
friendly
rivalry.

She forgot about Alex when she heard the king say, “I think this is something we will all want to see. Ambassador Mikal? Lady Aenne? My lady?”

The queen and Lady Aenne nodded as Mikal said dryly, “It should be an interesting entertainment.”

Servants were sent to prepare the largest of the indoor courts, while Duke Gareth's personal man-servant, Timon, went to Alanna's quarters for Lightning.
Everyone moved down to the court, Myles and Roger walking with the young men surrounding Alanna. Myles was upset and made no effort to pretend he wasn't.

“Are you going to throw away
everything
?” he demanded furiously. “He's a head taller than you are!”

Alanna shrugged. “Nearly everyone I fence with is.” She accepted Lightning from Timon and buckled it on as Faithful yowled at her feet. Finally she picked the cat up and perched him on her shoulder. She had made the discovery that her pet's meowing actually sounded like talk to her, and she wanted to hear what he had to say now.

Let the foreigner be stupid
, he advised.
It shouldn't be hard. And don't get yourself killed!

“Are you
listening
to me?” Myles demanded. “This isn't the time to play hero!”

Jon rested a hand on Alanna's free shoulder. “Don't be so upset, Myles. Haven't you seen Alan fence? I have—in the Black City.”

The memory of Alan's and Jon's strange adventure a year before—of the curse removed from the Black City and of thousands of proud Bazhir tribesmen kneeling in the streets of Persopolis—silenced Myles for a moment, but no longer.

“Dain is a practiced knight! It isn't the same!”

“Do you hear Father protesting?” Gary asked. “He's been teaching Alan and Alex privately for months now. Besides, you've got to trust Jonathan's judgment sometime. He doesn't try to get his friends killed.”

Alex dropped back to talk with Duke Roger. “What do
you
think will happen?” the Duke asked his one-time squire. A smile crossed Alex's dark, secret face. “I think Dain of Melor is in for a large surprise.”

Roger shook his head, disbelieving. “Surely you don't mean to say Alan is as good as— well, you, for example.”

“But I do. Alan's as good as I am. Someday he may be better.”

Roger had no chance to pursue this further since they had arrived at the fencing gallery. Far below ground level, it was cool even in this hot weather. Torches in brackets on the walls threw light into all corners. Along one wall three rows of benches were set off from the main floor by a low rail. The courtiers sat down in a rustle of silks, Roger placing himself and Ambassador Mikal just behind the king and queen.

At one end of the floor Dain was removing his boots and stretching himself, joking with his
friends. On the other side a quiet Alanna watched Dain, ignoring her friends' talk. The Tusaine wasn't nervous—good for him. She would teach him how to be nervous.

Handing Faithful to Myles, she stripped off her own shoes and put on the tan fencing gloves Timon was holding for her. She didn't know that she was grinning recklessly, a merciless look in her violet eyes. Jonathan watched her thoughtfully. If he weren't so angry with Dain, he might feel sorry for the other knight. He knew what Alanna could do when she was forced to it.