Tamora Pierce - Page

He sighed. ‘Yancen of Irenroha, pair with Faleron.’ Yancen, a third-year, obeyed. ‘Mindelan, with Prosper of Tameran.’ Prosper was a new page. Kel saw what Lord Wyldon intended: she could defend herself against Prosper even with a bad right arm. As Wyldon continued to rearrange the pairs, Kel glanced at the fence where he’d been. Jump noticed her look and wagged his tail.

Neal saw the dog as they were putting their staffs away. ‘Is that—?’ he asked. Lord Wyldon was scratching Jump’s spine.

Kel nodded.

‘I thought you gave him to Daine,’ Neal murmured.

‘I did,’ she replied. They walked to the archery courts with the other pages. Lord Wyldon and Sergeant Ezeko brought up the rear, Jump trotting beside them.

‘You know, if he doesn’t want to stay, Daine won’t make him,’ Neal whispered.

Kel sighed. She did know. The Wildmage had refused to change the nature of Kel’s contrary mount Peachblossom. ‘ That’s why she said she would try to keep Jump,’ Kel told Neal gloomily as they gathered their bows and quivers of arrows. ‘Because she thought maybe he wouldn’t stay with her.’

When she looked around halfway through the archery lesson, the dog was nowhere in sight. Kel took heart. Perhaps Jump had realized Kel wouldn’t encourage him.

Perhaps he’s off stealing and getting chopped up by that cook, a treacherous voice whispered in her mind. Kel ignored it. She couldn’t solve the world’s problems, after all. Not yet, at least.

Her relief and worry turned to resentment as the boys reached the pages’ stable for their final morning class. Jump sat by the door, scratching one of his scars.

‘Go away ,’ she muttered as she walked by. ‘Go back to Daine!’

As she opened the door to Peachblossom’s stall, the dog trotted in ahead of her. His jaunty air suggested that a horse of Kel’s was a horse of his. Peachblossom instantly put back his ears, retreated until his rump hit the stable wall, and stamped. Jump sat and regarded the horse.

Peachblossom was a horse to regard with care. He was a small destrier who would have been too big for Kel if he had not allowed her to ride him. He was gelded, with strawberry roan markings: reddish brown stockings, face, mane, and tail, and a rusty coat flecked with white. Only three people could handle him without getting bitten, Kel, Daine, and the chief ostler, Stefan Groomsman.

‘Ignore the dog,’ she advised the gelding as she stiffly went over him with a brush. ‘He thinks he belongs to me, but he’s mistaken.’

Peachblossom snorted disbelief, but he’d found the apple Kel had brought, and he did like the brush. He stepped away from the wall.

Despite the pain in her shoulder, Kel put the riding saddle on him and mounted up. This week there would be no work with the lance and the heavier tilting saddle. The pages would be riding only, the seniors to show they hadn’t gone soft over the holiday, the first-years to show they could manage a horse. It was boring, but as the ache in her shoulder spread, Kel decided boredom was preferable.

At least Jump didn’t follow them out, or if he did, he made sure Kel never saw him. She was able to concentrate on putting Peachblossom through his paces until the end-of-morning bell. She returned to the stable and groomed her mount, glad the morning had ended.

Faleron, whose fire chestnut was Peachblossom’s neighbour, leaned on the rail between the stalls. ‘Kel, I’m still not sure about that catapult problem,’ he confessed, embarrassed. He knew more Tortallan law than any other page, but mathematics came hard for him. ‘If I fetch it to lunch, would you take a look?’

Kel nodded. ‘You didn’t have to ask, you know.’

Faleron grinned. ‘Mama raised me polite.’

In a nearby stall Garvey muttered, ‘So, Faleron, you’re friends with her now because you can have her whenever you want?’

Faleron threw down his brush and went for the other boy. Sore shoulder or no, Kel flew out of the stall. She caught Faleron just a foot from the sneering Garvey and hung on to him, putting all of her weight into it.

The older boy fought her grip. ‘Gods curse it, Kel, you heard what he said!’

‘I heard a fart,’ Kel said grimly. ‘You know where those come from. Let it go .’

Faleron relaxed, but she still kept both hands wrapped around his arm. He was easy-going, but everyone had sore spots. At last Faleron made a rude gesture at Garvey and let Kel pull him away.

They had almost reached their horses when Neal’s unmistakable drawl sounded through the stable: ‘Joren is so pretty. Say, Garvey, are you two friends because you can have him?’

Garvey roared and charged, but Joren got to Neal first. Before they landed more than a punch each, Neal’s friends, including Kel, attacked them. More boys entered the brawl, kicking and hitting blindly, striking friend as often as foe. Kel nearly fainted when someone’s boot hit her bruised collarbone.

Above the din made by boys and frightened horses, Kel heard the sound of breaking wood. Realizing she would never reach Neal, praying he didn’t get his silly head broken, she grabbed Merric and Seaver by the collar and backed up, dragging them with her. The press of bodies behind her let up suddenly; she nearly fell over backwards.

Startled, she looked around and saw Peachblossom. His teeth firmly sunk into Cleon’s jacket, the gelding drew the big youth out of the fray. Prince Roald gripped Owen by both arms to keep him out of the brawl; Roald’s horse, the black gelding Shadow, held Faleron by the arm as he slowly pulled him free. Zahir’s bay shouldered through the mob, stepping on no one, but forcing them to move away from him and each other.

For a moment a chill ran through Kel. She thought uneasily, The animals here are so strange. Then she shook it off. The harridan who trained the ladies of the Yamani court to defend themselves had always said, ‘We use the tools at hand.’ These animals, uncanny or not, were the right tools for this mess.

She thrust Merric and Seaver into a ruined stall and grabbed Cleon’s arm. ‘Peachblossom, can you find Neal?’ she asked her horse.

The big gelding released Cleon’s jacket, blew scornfully, and waded into the fight. Unlike Zahir’s bay, he was not careful of feet or fingers. If they were in the way, Peachblossom stepped on them. Several boys rolled clear to nurse bruises and broken bones.

‘You can let go, Kel,’ said Cleon, his voice dry. He watched Cavall’s Heart, Lord Wyldon’s dark dun mare, who had also broken out of her stall. She dragged Garvey out of the pile. ‘Even I’m not stupid enough to argue with horses. Particularly not these horses.’

Kel glared up at him. Cleon was a fourth-year, but he was also a friend. ‘I’m glad you’re smart enough to realize that much,’ she told him.

Cleon slapped her cheerfully on the back. ‘What’s the matter, dewdrop? Don’t you like men fighting to protect your honour?’

‘I can defend my own honour, thank you,’ she replied. ‘I thought it was Joren’s honour at stake. And stop calling me those idiotic nicknames. That joke is dead and rotting.’ She watched as Jump grabbed Vinson by the ankle, stopping the boy’s attempts to kick anyone.

Peachblossom had just seized Neal’s jacket, with Neal’s shoulder in it, when Lord Wyldon, Sergeant Ezeko, and three stable hands entered. They tossed the buckets of water they carried on the pages. Silence fell.

‘I want this place straightened up and these horses groomed afresh.’ Lord Wyldon’s voice, and eyes, were like iron. ‘That includes Heart. You will then wash and assemble in the mess hall. I will address you further there.’ He looked them over, pale with fury. ‘You are a disgrace, the lot of you.’ He turned on his heel and walked out.