Tamora Pierce - Page

Kel bowed. ‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Do your duty by her, and by us,’ Lord Wyldon said firmly. ‘You are dismissed.’

Kel left, finding that the halls had cleared while they talked. Most of the boys had vanished to begin their studies. Now Kel grabbed the dog and wrapped him in a blanket. ‘You keep still,’ she ordered as she carried him down the hall. The chambers where Daine lived were on the floor above the classrooms. The dog struggled on the narrow stair, finally poking his head out of the blanket. He then stopped fighting and gazed around with interest.

He was so bony, and so light! Couldn’t she keep him until he’d made up for the meals he had missed? Kel stopped on the landing to blink eyes that stung with tears. She knew she was being silly. Daine would feed him well, and she could heal his wounds. She could talk to him through her magic, and understand his replies. In a day or two the dog wouldn’t even remember Kel, he’d be so happy.

Thoroughly miserable and determined to hide it, Kel resumed her climb to the second floor. Walking slowly, she checked engraved name plates on the doors until she found the one that read: ‘Numair Salmalín, Veralidaine Sarrasri’. Wrestling a hand free of the blanket, Kel knocked.

The door opened. For a moment Kel was confused – she saw no one. A sharp whistle drew her gaze, and the dog’s, down to the floor. A young dragon, just two feet tall, was looking up at them. Her scales were dusty blue, her large, slit-pupilled eyes sky blue. She had draped her foot-long tail over a forepaw, like the train on a gown.

‘Aren’t you pretty,’ Kel said, admiring the small creature. She had seen the dragon Skysong, nicknamed Kitten, before, though at a distance. ‘Is Daine about?’ Dragons, even very young ones like Kitten, were supposed to be as intelligent as human beings.

The dragon tilted her slender muzzle and voiced a trill, then raised herself on tiptoe to inspect the dog. Kel knelt politely so the two could look at each other.

‘Keladry, hello!’ the Wildmage said cheerfully as she came to the door. ‘Welcome back!’ She was just three inches taller than Kel and slender, with tumbling smoky curls and grave, blue-grey eyes. She was dressed for rough work in breeches and shirt. Feathers clung to her hair. Her shirt was speckled with bird droppings and a streak of green slime that had to have come from a horse or donkey.

Kel got to her feet and smiled at Daine. ‘It’s good to be back, my lady.’

‘Who’s this?’ Daine stretched out her hands.

As Kel handed the dog over, she explained how she had met him. ‘My maid gave him a bath and some more food, so he doesn’t look as bad as he did,’ she finished. ‘But I can’t keep him. Would you? He likes you already.’ It was true; the dog was gleefully licking Daine’s face. When she set him down, he offered Kitten the same attention. Kitten stepped back with a shrill whistle. Scolded, the dog looked up at Kel and panted, tongue lolling.

‘I can try to keep him,’ Daine said, a doubtful look in her eyes. ‘He needs patching up, and something for worms. He’s barely more than a pup.’ She crouched beside the dog, running her hands over his scrawny frame. ‘He says his name is Jump.’

Kel backed up. ‘Name him as you like, my lady,’ she said, clenching her hands behind her back. She was not going to get upset over a dog she’d known less than half a day, and that dog going to the best home in the palace. ‘Thank you for taking him. If there’s anything I can do for you …’

Daine looked up at Kel. ‘You came almost every day this summer to ride Peachblossom and groom him,’ the Wildmage said quietly. ‘You bring him treats, and go easy on the rein, when last year at this time he could look forward to another brutal master or death. And Crown and her flock say that you always stopped by, though you knew Salma was looking after them. It is I who thank you, Keladry, for them. You treat animals as well as you treat human beings.’ She smiled. ‘I will try to keep Jump. If you find other animals in need, come to me.’

She offered her hand. Kel gripped it gently, mumbled something about appreciation, and fled. She had to stop in the stairwell to collect herself. Daine the Wildmage thought well of her !

Suddenly she heard a boy snap, ‘I don’t understand why I have to.’

She stiffened, her senses alert. Down the steps she went, cat-silent, until she was just around the corner from the ground floor landing.

‘It’s a page’s duty to obey.’ The perfectly chill voice belonged to Joren.

‘You first-year squirts need lessoning.’ That was Vinson of Genlith, one of Joren’s cronies. Kel shook out her shoulders, loosening them up.

‘This is a waste of time.’ The new voice belonged to Joren’s closest friend, Zahir ibn Alhaz. Zahir had stopped helping the others to haze new pages late last winter. ‘We have better things to do.’

‘What?’ demanded Vinson. ‘Are you afraid of the Lump and her friends?’ The Lump, or the Yamani Lump, was their nickname for Kel.

‘When you’re done with children’s games, Joren, let me know,’ Zahir said. Kel heard steps fade into the distance.

After a moment Joren said tightly, ‘Get to work, boy.’

‘But cleaning spilled ink I can’t even see—’ protested the voice Kel had first heard.

There was a thud. ‘ We see it,’ drawled a new voice belonging to Garvey of Runnerspring. He and Vinson were Joren’s chief companions in hazing first-years.

Kel flexed her hands. They knew we didn’t expect them to start up the first night of training, she thought angrily. They knew we’d think they were as tired as the rest of us, so they sneaked around and found a victim.

She looked at her clothes. Since she hadn’t expected to patrol the halls in search of bullies, she hadn’t changed into shirt and breeches after supper. Fighting in a dress would be tricky. Rolling up her skirt, she gathered it at one side and knotted it. I don’t care if Oranie thinks that sashes make me look thick-waisted, Kel told herself. Oranie was her sharp-tongued second oldest sister. From now on, that’s what I wear.

Kel walked down the last few steps and into the ground floor hall. Ten yards away one of the new first-years, Owen of Jesslaw, lay on the floor. Vinson, Garvey, and Joren stood around him, leaving him nowhere to run.

They turned when they heard Kel’s sigh. ‘I hoped you’d all realized how stupid this is,’ she remarked coolly.

Joren smiled. ‘My day is complete,’ he said. The three older boys moved apart, then closed in on Kel.

Owen struggled to his feet. He was short and chubby, with plump hands and big feet. His tumble of brown curls looked as if somebody had yanked them. His grey eyes were set under brows shaped like question marks laid flat. Confused, he looked from Kel to the fourth-years.

‘I’m sure you have classwork,’ Kel told him, shifting to put a wall at her back. ‘Get to it. These boys ’ – she put a world of scorn into the word – ‘and I have a debate to continue.’

Owen stayed where he was.

Maybe he doesn’t understand, Kel thought. She backed up, to draw the fight away from him.

Garvey came at Kel from the right, punching at her head. She slid away from his punch, grabbed his arm, pushed her right foot forward, and twisted to the left. Garvey went over her hip into Vinson, who’d attacked on her left. Joren, at the centre, came in fast as his friends hit the wall. Kel blocked Joren’s punch to her middle, but his blow was a feint; his left fist caught her right eye squarely. Kel scissored a leg up and out, slamming her right foot into Joren’s knee. Joren hissed and grabbed her hair. Someone else – Vinson – tackled her. Kel let his force throw her into Joren. Down the three of them went in a tumble. Joren let go of her hair, fighting to get out from under her and Vinson. Kel elbowed him in the belly and turned to thrust her other hand into Vinson’s face, encouraging him to get off her by pressing his closed eyes with her fingers.