Tamora Pierce - First Test

Kel nodded again. This time, when he strode off down the hall, she trotted to keep up with him.

When they passed through an intersection of halls, Nealan pointed. ‘Note that stairwell. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s a shortcut to the mess or the classrooms. It heads straight down and ends on the lower levels, underground.’

‘Yessir.’

‘Don’t call me sir.’

‘Yessir.’

Nealan halted. ‘Was that meant to be funny?’

‘Nossir,’ Kel replied, happy to stop and catch her breath. Nealan walked as he spoke, briskly.

Nealan threw up his hands and resumed his course. Finally they entered a room filled with noise. To Kel it seemed as if every boy in the world was here, yelling and jostling around rows of long tables and benches. She came to a halt, but Nealan beckoned her to follow. He led her to stacks of trays, plates, napkins, and cutlery, grabbing what he needed. Copying him, Kel soon had a bowl of a soup thick with leeks and barley, big slices of ham, a crusty roll still hot from the oven, and saffron rice studded with raisins and almonds. She had noticed pitchers of liquids, bowls of fruit, honey pots, and platters of cheese were already on the tables.

As they stopped, looking for a place to sit, the racket faded. Eyes turned their way. Within seconds she could hear the whispers. ‘Look.’ ‘The Girl.’ ‘It’s her .’ One clear voice exclaimed, ‘Who cares? She won’t last.’

Kel bit her lip and stared at her tray. Stone, she thought in Yamani. I am stone.

Nealan gave no sign of hearing, but marched towards seats at the end of one table. As they sat across from one another, the boys closest to them moved. Two seats beside Nealan were left empty, and three next to Kel.

‘This is nice,’ Nealan remarked cheerfully. He put his food on the table before him and shoved his tray into the gap between him and the next boy. ‘Usually it’s impossible to get a bit of elbow room here.’

Someone rapped on a table. Lord Wyldon stood alone at a lectern in front of the room. The boys and Kel got to their feet as Wyldon raised his hands. ‘To Mithros, god of warriors and of truth, and to the Great Mother Goddess, we give thanks for their bounty,’ he said.

‘We give thanks and praise,’ responded his audience.

‘We ask the guidance of Mithros in these uncertain times, when change threatens all that is time-honoured and true. May the god’s light show us a path back to the virtues of our fathers and an end to uncertain times. We ask this of Mithros, god of the sun.’

‘So mote it be,’ intoned the pages.

Wyldon lowered his hands and the boys dropped into their seats.

Kel, frowning, was less quick to sit. Had Lord Wyldon been talking about her? ‘Don’t let his prayers bother you,’ Nealan told her, using his belt knife to cut his meat. ‘My father says he’s done nothing but whine about changes in Tortall since the king and queen were married. Eat. It’s getting cold.’

Kel took a few bites. After a minute she asked, ‘Nealan?’

He put down his fork. ‘It’s Neal. My least favourite aunt calls me Nealan.’

‘How did His Lordship get those scars?’ she enquired. ‘And why is his arm in a sling?’

Neal raised his brows. ‘Didn’t you know?’

If I knew, I wouldn’t ask, Kel thought irritably, but she kept her face blank.

Neal glanced at her, shook his head, and continued, ‘In the war, a party of centaurs and hurroks—’

‘Hur – what?’ asked Kel, interrupting him.

‘Hurroks. Winged horses, claws, fangs, very nasty. They attacked the royal nursery. The Stump—’

‘The what?’ Kel asked, interrupting again. She felt as if he were speaking a language she only half understood.

Neal sighed. There was a wicked gleam in his green eyes. ‘I call him the Stump, because he’s so stiff.’

He might be right, but he wasn’t very respectful, thought Kel. She wouldn’t say so, however. She wasn’t exactly sure, but probably it would be just as disrespectful to scold her sponsor, particularly one who was five years older than she was.

‘Anyway, Lord Wyldon fought off the hurroks and centaurs all by himself. He saved Prince Liam, Prince Jasson, and Princess Lianne. In the fight, the hurroks raked him. My father managed to save the arm, but Wyldon’s going to have pain from it all his life.’

‘He’s a hero, then,’ breathed Kel, looking at Wyldon with new respect.

‘Oh, he’s as brave as brave can be,’ Neal reassured her. ‘That doesn’t mean he isn’t a stump.’ He fell silent and Kel concentrated on her supper. Abruptly Neal said, ‘You aren’t what was expected.’

‘How so?’ She cut up her meat.

‘Oh, well, you’re big for a girl. I have a ten-year-old sister who’s a hand-width shorter. And you seem rather quiet. I guess I thought the girl who would follow in Lady Alanna’s footsteps would be more like her.’

Kel shrugged. ‘Will I get to meet the Lioness?’ She tried not to show that she would do anything to meet her hero.

Neal ran his fork around the edge of his plate, not meeting Kel’s eyes. ‘She isn’t often at court. Either she’s in the field, dealing with lawbreakers or immortals, or she’s home with her family.’ A bell chimed. The pages rose to carry their empty trays to a long window at the back of the room, turning them over to kitchen help. ‘Come on. Let’s get rid of this stuff, and I’ll start showing you around.’

Salma found them as they were leaving the mess hall. She drew Kel aside and gave her two keys. One was brass, the other iron. ‘I’m the only one with copies of these,’ Salma told her quietly. ‘Even the cleaning staff will need me to let them in. Both keys are special. To open your door, put the brass one in the lock, turn it left, and whisper your name. When you leave, turn the key left again. The iron key is for the bottom set of shutters. It works the same as the door key. Lock the shutters every time you leave, or the boys will break in that way. Leave the small upper shutters open for ventilation. Only a monkey could climb through those. Don’t worry if any of the boys can pick locks. Anyone who tries will be sprayed in skunk-stink. That should make them reconsider.’

Kel smiled. ‘Thank you, Salma.’

The woman nodded to her and Neal, and left them.

Neal walked over to Kel. ‘If they can’t wreck your room, they’ll find other things to do,’ he murmured. When Kel raised her eyebrows at him, he explained, ‘I learned to read lips. The masters at the university were always whispering about something.’

Kel tucked the keys into her belt purse. ‘I’ll deal with the other things as they come,’ she said firmly. ‘Now, where to?’

‘I bet you’d enjoy the portrait gallery. If you’re showing visitors around, it’s one of the places they like to go.’

After leading Kel past a bewildering assortment of salons, libraries, and official chambers, Neal showed her the gallery. He seemed to know a story about every person whose portrait was displayed there. Kel was fascinated by his knowledge of Tortall’s monarchs and their families; he made it sound as if he’d known them all personally, even the most ancient. She stared longest at the faces of King Jonathan and Queen Thayet. She could see why the queen was called the most beautiful woman in Tortall, but even in a painting there was more to her than looks. The girl saw humour at the back of those level hazel eyes and determination in the strong nose and perfectly shaped mouth.

‘She’s splendid,’ Kel breathed.

‘She is, but don’t say that around the Stump,’ advised Neal. ‘He thinks she’s ruined the country, with her K’miri notion that women can fight and her opening schools so everyone can learn their letters. Anything new gives my lord of Cavall a nosebleed.’