The Woman Who Rides Like a Man (19 page)

Alanna took the handkerchief from him and blew her nose, then wiped her streaming face. "How long have you been able to understand Faithful?" she asked, her voice still choked.

"I understand him only when he wishes me to. Now, what're you cryin' for?" When she shook her head, he probed further, "Did somethin' happen while you were in the desert?"

"Yes," .she said reluctantly, "but it had nothing to do with the Bazhir.
They
treat me with respect."

George's eyes widened. "You had a fight with Jonathan."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"He hinted to me when he was ready t'leave for the South that he was plannin' t'pop the question." Hope grew in the man's face. "Are you tellin' me you refused him?"

"I
really
don't want to talk about it." Her voice was forlorn.

George crushed her in a second massive hug. "And you shan't," he whispered. "Come. Take breakfast with me, and tell me what the Bazhir tribes are like."

Sniffing, Alanna stepped away when he released her, and followed him upstairs. "I can't believe you don't know all about them," she accused. "You've got eyes and ears everywhere else. Besides, surely Lightfingers and his friend gave you a full report."

George grinned as he ushered her into his private rooms. "Ah, don't be holdin' my natural fears for your safety against me. Besides, the lads saw nothin' worth reportin'."

"All right." Alanna sighed as he closed the door. "What would you like to know?"

*

It was an unusual company that George had assembled in House Azik. In addition to Rispah and Marek, there were three other rogues from Corus: two large and muscular brothers named Orem and Shem, and one small, whippy man called Ercole. Another man was also present, Joesh. Alanna didn't know him. He was dark and handsome, slender, with wide shoulders and a walk that indicated almost perfect balance to Alanna's trained eye. She had no idea why he was there; but the other men, as well as Rispah's big female companion Harra, were present to help George deal with insubordination in Port Caynn.

"I don't know why it is," George explained that night as they sat before the fire and talked, "but all of a sudden the lads here thought they could take more than their share, and hold back what was meant for the city and my people. When I gently reminded them of their obligation to me, they actually said they wished t'be free of my rule." He shook his head. "I came here fast enough and dealt with their ringleader and principals."

Alanna, knowing quite well that George collected the ears—and sometimes the rest—of those who disobeyed his orders, hid a grin under her hand. She had no sympathy with thieves in the ordinary way, and none at all from any who underestimated George. "If it's all cleared up, why are you still here?"

"I thought to see if I can ferret out more discontent," he replied. "I also wished to have these rogues see I exist, and how I work. Mayhap I'm too aloof from my folk in the other towns and cities of Tortall, stayin' as I do in the capital." He looked at her frankly. "I've little to keep me there now."

"Don't, George," she whispered, feeling uncomfortable.

"All right, I won't," he said aimiably. Silence stretched between them until Alanna broke it.

"Who is this man Joesh? Is he new? I don't remember him."

George grinned as he settled more comfortably into his deep chair. "Joesh? He's no rogue. He's the Falcon of Shang, and a friend of Rispah's. I trust him to keep his mouth shut, or he'd not be here."

Alanna sat up, started. "Another Shang warrior?" Unlike Jon, she'd never gotten the chance to see one of the legendary fighters in action. Whenever one had made a brief visit to the palace, she had been absent or involved in duties. To actually test herself against a man trained to fight from childhood . . .

George saw the thoughtful gleam in her eyes and shook his head. "Nay, lass, you'll not be challengin' him under my roof. I've no wish to see you killed by accident. These Shang lads are far quicker than the best knight ever lived, and you'll have to trust my word for that. Besides, I intend that you rest from bein' a knight whilst you're here."

"I've done nothing
but
rest from being a knight since I was made one," Alanna remarked bitterly as she sank back into her chair. "I'm probably getting rusty."

"Not you, lass." George laughed. "Never you."

*

Alanna was not to find out if she was as good as Joesh; when she arose in the morning, the Falcon had left. George gave her no explanation for the man's departure, but she knew he had probably requested that Joesh go. She felt a twinge of regret for the chance missed, but only a small one. Life in House Azik was restful, and thoughts of challenging strangers to contests of arms were alien. George and his people went out of their way to keep her and Coram entertained, treating Alanna with a care and consideration she had never known, either as a page or a squire or as the Woman Who Rides Like a Man.

On one crisp fall day Rispah took her to the markets of Port Caynn, where Alanna purchased two dresses, feminine underclothing and shoes, and a pretty shawl, using some of the monies Sir Myles sent as her allowance. Jonathan's taunts about her lack of femininity had stung and stuck, and the look in George's eyes when she appeared in a soft lilac wool dress went far toward healing those wounds.

George, in particular, was attentive to her needs and whims, taking time to walk with her on the beach, spending long evenings in games of chess, or just talking. Before, they had lived their lives under the scrutiny of the inhabitants of palace and city; now it was strange to be alone together, with only the household to know they were in Port Caynn at all. And if George was wooing her again, as he had done in the past, he was going about it very carefully.

"If he
is
courting me, I wish he wouldn't be so subtle about it," she confided to Faithful one night, after the thief had shown her to her bedroom. "But maybe he isn't. Maybe
he
thinks I'm unfeminine, too." Without warning, a tear trickled down her cheek, and she sniffed.

You're feeling sorry for yourself,
Faithful replied without sympathy.
You provoked Jonathan into saying the things he did. You know how proud he is. If you hadn't pushed him, he probably would never have even thought you were unfeminine.

Beet-red with rage, Alanna hurled a pillow at her cat, missing him completely. "You're as bad as Coram!" she yelled, forgetting where she was. "If it's all my fault, why do either of you bother to stay with me? Why don't you go and give Jonathan the benefit of your advice. I'm sure he'd appreciate it much more than I do!" She seized the door handle, intending to slam out of the room, and halted. The door was open, and George leaned against the frame, his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop," she snapped.

"I don't doubt that," he agreed, his voice soft. "On the other hand, if you'd yelled a wee bit louder, perhaps Jonathan himself could've heard he had two unexpected allies here in Port Caynn." Reaching out, he touched her cheek with a gentle hand. "Lass—will you not tell me what passed in the desert?"

Alanna pulled away from his touch, unwanted tears trickling down her cheeks. "I can't, George," she whispered. "Don't ask me to—please."

He sighed. "Very well, then." Turning, he walked away, his feet making no noise at all on the stone floor. Alanna closed the door and let the tears fall, crying herself to sleep.

She slept late the next morning, breaking the habits she had set as a page, and awaking not long before noon. Still tired and bleary-eyed, she padded downstairs. The sound of George's voice coming from his study turned her away from the kitchen: thinking to turn his eavesdropping trick back on him, she crept to a spot where she could hear everything.

"She's that beautiful," George was remarking thoughtfully.

"One of your tall and shapely blondes," Marek's voice replied with enthusiasm. "Queenly, with lips a man would think were on the Goddess herself."

"Ye're certain the Prince returns her regard?" The low rumble was Coram's, making Alanna start with surprise. Why was Coram sitting in on a conference between George and Marek?

"Why, man, he's with her every moment of the day, treatin' her like they was betrothed," was Marek's reply. Realizing what they must be talking about, Alanna put her hand to her suddenly painful throat. "And their Majesties seem to approve. When Princess Josiane's not with him, she's got her head together with the Queen, plannin' the weddin', doubtless."

"But he hasn't asked her yet," George pointed out.

"The betting went from even-odds to her favor the day I returned here," Marek answered. "Stefan at the palace stables says she couldn't've laid siege to him better if he was a castle and she the General of all the King's armies. The minute he returned from that mysterious trip away he had they was introduced; and he's not left Josiane's side since."

"We'll want to keep this from the lass," Co-ram said worriedly. "She's been half-crazy since their fight; I don't want to think of what she'd do if she heard this."

Alanna slipped away from the door, biting a trembling lip. So Jonathan had found a replacement for her, and fairly quickly. She ran out onto the terrace, staring at the sea below. While she had been moping and making her friends unhappy and considering an apology,
he
had been dancing and flirting with an unknown but beautiful princess. He had not been serious about marrying her after all, and she had been acting the fool.

"How much did you hear?" George stepped onto the terrace, his eyes serious.

Alanna flashed a falsely bright smile at him. "Hear? Was I supposed to have heard something?"

He put an arm around her shoulders. "Lass, I'm not blind or stupid. You overheard Coram an' Marek an' me talkin' about Jon's latest conquest. I can tell when you're about, did you know that? It's the only glimpse the Sight gives me of you."

Alanna started, surprised out of her misery. "I forgot you had the Sight."

"When it comes to you or anyone else with the Gift, it's well-nigh useless, since those with the Gift are veiled from those with the Sight. In any case, it's not as strong with me as it is with my mother. Still, I can feel you near me, and so I know you were eavesdroppin'." When she said nothing, he went on, "Will you tell me
now
what passed between you and Jon in the desert?"

Alanna's shoulders drooped, and she let him steer her to a seat on the terrace wall. He sat beside her, hugging her shoulders as she said quietly, "We had a fight." Slowly, haltingly, she told him all the details, not sparing herself. "Perhaps I was being falsely proud," she admitted when she was done. "Perhaps it wouldn't have done me any harm to go along with him and not make a fuss about asking me first. I didn't like the things he was saying, but I didn't want to chase him away, either."

"You're askin' the wrong man." George's voice was oddly hoarse. For the first time since she had begun talking, Alanna looked up and met his eyes. The thief swung her around to face him, resting his large hands on her shoulders. "I'm glad he showed you that nobles are a proud, ungrateful lot, thinkin' of no one but themselves."

"I'm a noble," she whispered, unable to look away from his hungry eyes.

"No. You're my own, sweet lass, and all the woman I could ever want." He kissed her, pulling her close. Alanna struggled for a second, surprised, then relaxed, enjoying the kiss and the feeling of being held tightly and protectively. George pulled away, watching her face closely. "There's plenty more fish in the sea than Prince Jonathan," he told her softly. "And this particular fish loves you with all his crooked heart."

Alanna snuggled close, lifting her face to his again. "I'm glad," she said honestly. "I need to be loved right now. Kiss me again, please."

"Oh, no," George said, drawing in a ragged breath. "If I kiss you again now, one thing will lead to another, and this isn't the proper place for that sort of carryin'-on."