In the Hand of the Goddess

8 FEARS

ALANNA WAS HAPPY THAT SUMMER. DURING THE day she had lessons and duties—fewer lessons now and more duties, because she was entering her last year as a squire. She had Myles to advise her when Coram wrote with a particularly difficult problem at Trebond. She went to Mistress Cooper to talk and to learn more about a woman’s life. At night, Jonathan taught her about loving. She was sorry to see the leaves begin to change color: Somehow she knew her quiet, happy time was not going to last much longer.

Delia of Eldorne paced in front of Duke Roger’s chair, her green eyes glinting with anger. “I don’t understand it!” she snapped for the tenth time. “I had him here—” She held out a slender white hand, palm up, before clenching it into a fist. “And now I suppose I’m to consider myself privileged if he dances with me once at a party!” She threw herself to her knees in front of Roger’s chair, looking up at him prettily. “Master, forgive me,” she begged. “I did everything you told me to. He just—” She stopped and looked downward, fluttering her heavy lashes.

Roger smiled and reached out, stroking her flowing, dark hair. “Don’t fret, pretty one,” he told her. “That young man is proving very slippery indeed. Fortunately, I have other plans ready to be put into action.”

“Other plans?” Delia breathed, her eyes wide. “Master, can I help? Can I do anything to assist you? Only tell me!”

Roger looked off into the distance, still stroking the kneeling girl’s hair. “There is nothing you can do for me now,” he remarked absently. “The next move on the board is mine. “He looked down at her again, his eyes unreadable. “But you must hold yourself ready. If all goes wrong, I will need your help more than ever.”

“Nothing could go wrong!” Delia protested violently. “Not when you have planned it!”

Duke Roger of Conté smiled again. “Perhaps you are right, my dear,” he remarked. “I hope so. In the meantime, be a good child and wait. Give Jonathan to understand that, while he is no longer attentive to you, your affections remain his.”

“And your other plans?” Delia whispered.

The sorcerer tugged his beard. “You will see,” he promised her. “I cannot move carelessly—not yet—but I think you know me well enough to be able to detect what I am doing.” He laughed outright. “No one else will be able to—I’ve made sure of that!”

And in October a fever went through the Eastern Lands, as sicknesses often did. Few died, although many were ill, and the queen was one of the sickest. Lianne had never been strong, and the fever refused to give her up easily. She recovered at last, but she did not get completely well.

During the queen’s illness Alanna and Jonathan were separated for the first time since Alanna’s birthday, as Jonathan sat vigil by his mother’s bedside day and night. Their love affair was not the same after that—Jon was too worried about his mother’s health. He was not the only one. Alanna did not like to see the queen picking at her food and losing weight she did not have to lose. Lianne also developed a cough that refused to go away, despite Duke Baird’s best care.

“Myles,” Alanna began one December night as they were playing chess, “does the queen’s weakness look—right to you?”

“It looks like it’s killing her.” Myles frowned. “Is that supposed to look ‘right’ to me?”

Alanna examined a knight thoughtfully. “Duke Baird’s the finest healer in Tortall. Why can’t he help the queen?”

Myles looked sharply at her. “This isn’t just idle conversation, is it? What’s bothering you?”

Alanna nibbled her thumbnail. “I don’t like it,” she admitted. “I saw how much Duke Baird can do at the Drell. He’s blessed by the gods. A fever, a cough—Duke Baird can heal those things in a moment. But now he can’t. The only other time I saw him this helpless was during the Sweating Sickness.” She moved a pawn forward one square. “There are some people who think the Sweating Sickness was caused by a sorcerer. You were one of them, remember?”

“Do you think there’s a connection?” Myles asked.

“I don’t know what to think,” Alanna replied. Then she nodded her head. “Yes, I do, and I’m going to say it. Too many bad things happen to Jonathan or to people close to him. I think—”

“Alan, the queen was never very strong,” Myles reminded her. “The Sweating Sickness ruined her health. Her weakness now is probably natural. Think carefully before you make any accusations, please.” Myles drew a deep breath. “The enemy you will make is too powerful for you to accuse without evidence—and plenty of it.”

Alanna looked Myles in the eye. “You suspect him, too.”

Myles sighed and tugged his beard. “I have no proof, Alan. He’s too clever to be easily caught. All I have—all you, have—is coincidence. You cannot accuse a man of high treason on coincidence.”

“Demon Grey and his mate weren’t coincidences.” After weeks of wrestling with herself on the matter, Alanna told her friend about discovering that her token could show her when sorcery had been used. She even let Myles hold it. He examined it briefly and returned it to her.

“How did you get this?”

Alanna told him about that meeting in the forest, omitting only that the Goddess had spoken to her as a girl. Men were sometimes chosen by the Mother, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell Myles she had lied about her identity for years. The knight listened, his face expressionless. When she finished, he asked, “Is there anything else you think I should know?”

After keeping her suspicions bottled up for so long, Alanna let them spill out. “Duke Gareth’s horse had a bur fixed in its saddle blanket when it threw the Duke. And the man who saddled the horse disappeared that same day. The night I was kidnapped by the Tusaine? I talked with Duke Roger. He wanted me to be his friend. He said if I was his friend, I’d live to a ripe old age. I told him I wanted my friends to have the same, and I didn’t think that was what he wanted. He left, and the fog came up. You remember the fog and that Faithful couldn’t be wakened? Isn’t it strange that everything happened after he visited me and that the one being that could’ve helped me—my cat—was knocked out magically? The Tusaines were ready for me, Myles. They used special chains on me. Not only that, but they had heard about me, and I wasn’t to be released. Who told them so much about me? Jem—Jemis? I don’t think he knew I had anything more than a healing Gift. And didn’t you ever wonder why the first major attack launched by the enemy separated Jonathan from all the others?”

“You have no proof,” Myles replied steadily.

“Duke Roger isn’t a careless man,” Alanna said bitterly. “I have only what I’ve seen and what I think.” She got up and poked the fire, her jaw tight with anger.

“You hate Roger, don’t you?” Myles asked quietly. He poured them each a glass of wine.

Alanna paused, thinking. “If hate is wanting to crush someone because you know they’re evil, then yes—I hate the Duke of Conté.”

Myles grasped her by the shoulders. “Be careful. He’s too powerful to anger. You could easily be the one to die, and no one would know he was to blame. He can do it. You know he can. And if you’re out of the way, who will keep him away from Jonathan? He’s afraid of you, or he wouldn’t have risked exposure to make a friend out of you.”

Alanna grinned. Myles had just given her an idea. “I think I know someone else he might fear.”

“Don’t be such a ninny,” Alex urged as Alanna struggled with the skates. “Surely you ice-skated at Trebond.”

“Not since I was little,” Alanna replied curtly, eyeing the frozen surface before her. Gary and Raoul were racing their squires while Jonathan helped Cythera of Elden to her feet. Another of the queen’s ladies, Gwynnen, was laughing merrily as she performed figure eights under the January sun.

How had she let herself walk into a stupid bet with Alex? She hadn’t ice-skated since the time she fell in when she was just five. But everyone had called her chicken, and Jonathan had looked at her with “Please?” in his eyes, and Alex had bet her ten gold nobles she couldn’t get around the pond once without falling. Her noble’s pride couldn’t refuse such a challenge, even though she had been wary of Alex ever since the mock duel when he had nearly killed her.

Her friends applauded as she tottered out onto the ice, Faithful yowling encouragement from the land. He had insisted on coming, although—like any sane cat—he hated water, frozen or not. Alanna tried a few steps, relieved to find the ice was firm beneath her. Getting a little bolder, she skated several feet, stopping only to retie a skate lace.

Without warning Geoffrey and Sacherell swept up behind her and seized her by both arms, taking off with her down the pond’s length. Alanna laughed and ordered them to let her go, knowing they wouldn’t drop her. Raoul’s squire was the best skater in the palace, and Geoffrey was quite good for someone born and reared in Persopolis. Grinning, they deposited her in front of Alex.

“Well?” The young knight grinned, pointing to the ice. “A bet’s a bet!”

Alanna set off doggedly around the edge of the pond, her legs pumping steadily. Once she got into the rhythm of it, she had only to watch for bumps and rough spots in the ice. This is more fun than I remembered, she thought, reaching the far end of the pond, many yards away from her friends. Perhaps I should skate more!

At this end of the pond there were several clumps of reeds. She gave them a wide berth, remembering that ice was weaker in such areas. Only a third of the way remained to go when the ice gave way beneath her. She fell into bone-cold water like a stone, biting back a scream of fright. It had happened just this way when she was five, with the skates pulling her down. She fought to get them off her feet, holding her breath and cursing the fear of cold that made her wear so many clothes. There! The skates were off her feet, and she was plowing toward the surface again. Her lungs were bursting. Terror rose up, choking her. She forced herself to think, knowing that if she panicked now she would be dead. Surely the air was just above her …

Her hands contacted ice. She groped, trying to find the hole through which she had come; but it was useless. Shivering helplessly in the water, she felt for the ember-stone. She didn’t even realize it was in her numb hand until its fire blazed out and a hole melted in the ice above her head. She shot to the surface, inhaling a huge gasp of air, before her sodden clothes pulled her under.

Once more, she thought grimly, and she forced herself to the surface again. This time strong hands gripped both her arms, and Jon and Raoul pulled her out onto the ice. “Did someone go for help?” Jonathan asked tensely as he pulled off her jacket. “Get he—get his outer things off!”

“The girls went,” Gary replied, tugging off Alanna’s mittens. “Mithros, Alan, you gave us a—Faithful, get away from there!”

Alanna tried to turn her head. “What’s he doing?” she gasped.

Raoul frowned as he tugged off her remaining boot. “He’s licking the ice. C’mon, Alan, let’s get you onto dry land.”

Alanna enjoyed the unique sensation of being carried by someone who handled her as if she were a kitten. “Licking the ice?” she asked sleepily.

“I’ll be right there,” Jonathan said. He and Alex skated over to the cat. “Come on, Faithful,” he instructed sternly. “You’ll worry Alan.”

Alex was shaking his head. “I don’t understand. This pond’s been frozen solid for weeks. How—”

“Why do animals lick ice?” Jon asked, his voice odd. Carefully he knelt beside Faithful, keeping an eye on the wide hole in the ice where Alanna had gone through. He rubbed his ungloved hand near the hole and tasted. “Someone threw salt on this part of the ice,” he announced slowly. “Look how it’s pitted and marked right here.”

“Murder,” Alex whispered, looking more closely. “But which of us is a murderer’s target? Could it be just a very bad idea of a joke?”

“I’m not laughing,” Jonathan commented dryly. “Are you?”

Once she had recovered from her icy dunking, Alanna decided to take action. She sent a verbal message, not daring to trust her thoughts to a letter, to Thom through George. She needed her brother’s help. Only Roger could have been behind the mishap on the duckpond, and she knew she wanted no more such “mishaps” happening to her. She also found it interesting that Alex had been there.

Weeks went by without an answer and without the messenger’s return. George finally sent out search parties, and in March Alanna had an answer—of sorts.

“My messenger was slain,” George told her. “Five arrows in his back, all poisoned. Someone was takin’ no chances.”

Alanna frowned. “I’ll have to go myself,” she said worriedly. “Not now, the mountain passes are snowed in. And Jonathan needs me.”

George forced her to look at him. “You’re in love with Jon, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “And me a blind fool not to have seen it before.”

Alanna shook him off. “I don’t know what love is,” she said uncomfortably. “At least, not the kind you’re talking about—the forever kind.”

George laughed and shook his head. “Lass, when will you learn to see what’s before your nose?”

Alanna reached up and tweaked George’s own nose. “When I have something to see,” she teased. “So stop trying to make me see something that isn’t there.”

George smiled. “You’re a stubborn youngling,” he told her. “It’s one of your charms. And if you’re plannin’ any ride to the City of the Gods, I’m goin’ with you.” He silenced her protest by putting a large hand over her mouth. “Didn’t you hear me before? Five poison-tipped arrows in my man, and it’s as well for you he carried a message rather than a letter. He was searched, his things spread all over the snow. It’s good we’ve had a cold winter—everything was frozen just as it was when they killed him. So, miss, like it or no, I go with you when you visit your brother.”

Alanna made a face and kept quiet. When the time came, she would get away without George. She could take care of herself!

Jonathan did not want her to go, but Alanna rode for the City of the Gods in early April, leaving Faithful with strict instructions to watch the prince and to get Myles if anything happened. Saddling Moonlight before dawn, she slipped out of the palace. Few people—no rogues—were about in the city. She thought she had fooled George, since she had given no one more than half a day’s warning of her departure. She was wrong. The thief was waiting for her at the gates, dressed for riding and mounted on a sturdy bay.

“Jonathan told you,” Alanna accused her friend.

“No. Stefan keeps messenger-birds. I’ve got you under tight watch, youngling, and it’s well for you that I do.”

Since there was nothing she could do, Alanna laughed and fell in beside George. Would she ever be able to outwit him?

The ride north was a good one. George was witty and entertaining; he had some wonderful stories to tell. They stopped at Trebond for a night. Coram was shocked to see the company Alanna kept and read her a strong lecture, but Alanna shrugged it off. Instead she spent time with the young man Coram was training as his replacement; he was a nice fellow, with a small family and some education. Alanna knew when she was done talking to him that he would serve her as faithfully as Coram did. Plans were made for Coram to come to the palace in November, in order to be there when Alanna underwent the Ordeal.

Alanna and George rode on to the City of the Gods. Alanna sighed wearily when they finally arrived before the City’s great walls. Gray mountains bare of almost any greenery stretched for leagues around, making for a dull, tiring ride.

“How can Thom live in such a cursed ugly place?” she asked George. “I’d go mad if I had to look at this all the time.”

“He probably doesn’t notice,” her friend replied. “Most scholars don’t.”

The warrior-priests who manned the gates showed them to the Mithran Cloisters. As they passed the Convent of the Mother of Mountains, Alanna shuddered. She had almost spent six years behind those walls. Now, more than ever, she appreciated her escape!

An orange-robed initiate admitted them to the Cloisters; novices took their horses. An ancient yellow man in the black-and-gold robes of a master tottered out to greet them. “We are honored to have you among us, Squire Alan, Freeman Cooper,” he said. “I am Si-cham, Chief of the Masters here.”

Alanna bowed very low; as a sorcerer, Si-cham would be nearly as powerful as Duke Roger. As a priest, he was the head of the cult of Mithros for all the Eastern Lands. “We would be honored if you would join us for our evening meal,” this friendly old man went on. “We get little news of the world.”

“We’d be honored to come,” George said.

“Excellent, excellent. Follow me, if you please. I do not believe Adept Thom is expecting you?”

Alanna smiled grimly. “I wanted to surprise him.”

Si-cham looked sharply at her before knocking on one of the many doors lining a long hallway. “Do you think much surprises Adept Thom?”

Before Alanna could answer such an astonishing question, Thom opened the door. He was bearded, taller—older. He hugged Alanna with enthusiasm, crying, “Brother Dear!” Seeing Alanna’s companion, Thom widened his violet eyes. “Not—George Cooper?” He grinned.

“The same,” George replied, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a thing or two about you myself.”

“Surely some of it was good,” Thom quipped, shaking the offered hand. He looked at Master Si-cham as Alanna dazedly realized, He knew we were coming. He wasn’t surprised at all.

“Their things have been taken to the guest’s wing.” The Master’s voice, warm and friendly a moment ago, was suddenly chilly. “And they have accepted an invitation to take the evening meal with us.”

Thom lifted a single coppery eyebrow. “Oh?” he asked, his voice too sweet. “Then I will have to join you—won’t I?”

“It will be a change.” The old man’s voice was as dry as autumn leaves. “I will leave you to talk now.” He hurried away down the long hall.

Alanna was confused. “I don’t get it. He was very friendly a moment ago.”

“They’ve been angry with me ever since I stopped playing the idiot and passed the written examinations for Mastery. Come in; sit down. Wine?” Thom rang a bell, and a servant in the white robe of novice came in. He gave the boy orders, pretending not to notice that Alanna and George were staring at him. When the novice was gone, Alanna sat down hard. Most would-be Masters did not even try for that title until they were at least thirty.

“You passed the written examinations for Mastery?” Her voice emerged from her throat in a squeak.

“Two weeks ago. It was easier than you think.” Thom shrugged, motioning George to take the chair beside Alanna while he sat in the third. “All that’s left are the spoken examinations, and the Ordeal of Sorcery.”

“You call that all?” Alanna demanded weakly.

Thom laughed at her shock. “I was ready for this more than a year ago. And now they can’t wait for me to finish and get out of here. I make them nervous.”

The wine came. Alanna drank hers in one gulp and poured another glass while George told Thom about their ride to the City of the Gods. When Alanna was calmer, Thom turned back to her.

“Now. What brings you two to me the moment the passes are clear? Or rather, sister, what brings you? I believe I guess correctly when I say George came to protect you.”

George smiled and sipped his wine. “Truth to tell, I came for the ride. Surely you know that Alanna can take care of herself.”

Thom smiled cruelly. “You came to protect her from a certain smiling gentleman,” he said. “Or did you think I had forgotten him? He hasn’t forgotten me. There are two people watching me here.”

“It’s just as well you’re getting your Mastery, then, isn’t it?” Alanna shrugged. If Thom could be matter-of-fact about it, so could she. “I need you at the palace.”

“Do you indeed?”

“Don’t take that arch tone with me, brother,” she said tartly. “I used to duck you in the fishpond. I’ll try to do it again if you make me angry. This is too important.”

Thom laughed. “So serious! All right, what’s the problem?”

They talked until the bells called them to the evening meal, and then they talked again until very late. Alanna wanted Thom in the palace to watch over Jonathan when she left. Thom did not refuse; he wanted to live well at Court for a while. With the most important question settled, Alanna and George told Thom everything they knew or suspected about Duke Roger. Alanna had the only surprise for either man as she explained about the ember-stone. She finished telling her brother about the tests she had performed on the charm and sat back, yawning tiredly. She could remember the watch had called midnight, but that had been at least an hour ago.

George shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Have you any more surprises for me, then?” he asked gently.

“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “I would’ve told you before, but the time was never right. It’s not something I think I should talk much about.”

Thom stood and looked down at her. “One of the gods themselves,” he remarked softly. “What I wouldn’t give to have been there with you.”

“I wish you had been there with me,” Alanna said frankly. “I was scared to death. Except maybe she wouldn’t have talked to me if you’d been there.”

Thom stretched out his hand. “Let me see it.”

Her eyes on her twin’s, Alanna slowly pulled the chain over her head. The ember-stone swung in the air, its inner fire burning. Thom took it, holding it up before his eyes. “Does the glow give you away at night?” he asked absent-mindedly. Alanna could see his mind wasn’t on her, but on the problems and questions posed by the Goddess’s token. This was Thom’s other face, his scholar’s face, the one he wore when he was tracking down some ancient spell in rotting scrolls and half-burned books.

“No,” she replied, feeling a little forlorn. This was a place her twin went where she couldn’t follow. “It burns inside, but it doesn’t burn, if you know what I mean.”

George, seeing the loneliness on her face, stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. She smiled up at him gratefully. Was there anything that George didn’t understand about her?

“Fascinating,” Thom whispered. Suddenly his face tightened. He threw the charm into the air and pointed at it, shouting a word neither Alanna nor George knew. There was a great, soundless explosion. The room rocked, and Alanna grabbed George to keep him from falling. All around the Cloisters, lamps flared up and men shouted questions. Alanna glared at Thom. Shrugging, her brother handed back the ember-stone. The chain was gone; a small bead of molten gold clung to the stone’s crystal exterior. “No damage,” Thom reassured her.

Alanna got her wind back. “No damage!” she yelled furiously. “What did you do to it?”

“He used a word of Command,” said a dry voice from the doorway. Si-cham, wearing a crumpled dressing gown over his sleeping robe, stood there. “Is the thing of immortal origin?”

Wordlessly Alanna handed the ember-stone over, mentally promising to get Thom for putting her in this position. The yellow man examined the stone for a moment before handing it back. “He Commanded it to give up its secrets,” the Master explained. “Only a thing made by the immortals could resist such a Command, as I see this has. You shouldn’t give your brother such dangerous toys to play with, Squire Alan.” Si-cham glanced at Thom. “I suppose you realize you’ve disrupted a number of very delicate spells some of the Masters have been working on. It will take many of them weeks to repair the damage.”

Thom shrugged. “It was necessary,” he said coolly. “I had to learn how powerful it was.”

“I see.” Si-cham’s smile was small and grim. “Very well. To teach you the virtues of warning your fellow scholars when you are about to play with the basic forces of Nature, your Ordeal of Sorcery shall be to set to rights the work you destroyed tonight.” The ancient Master nodded to Alanna. “Until tomorrow morning, Squire Alan.”

Alanna turned to her brother when the door closed behind Si-cham. “Couldn’t you make friends with them?” she wanted to know. “I like Master Si-cham. And the others—”

Thom shook his head. “They’re afraid of me because I’m better than they are. They’d hate me even if I went out of my way to be good to them; and I’m certainly not going to do that.”

Alanna frowned, worried. “You’re going to be very lonely,” she said frankly.

Thom laughed. “I have the Gift. That’s enough for me.”

“I wonder. It doesn’t seem as if it would be enough.” She remembered what the Goddess had said about learning to love. Thom would have a lonely life without love or friendship. She at least had friends. Was it possible she had learned to love, as well?

They spent another day in the Cloisters, talking to others while Thom studied and conferring further with Thom. When Alanna and George left at dawn the next day, Alanna knew her powerful brother would soon come to help her protect Jonathan. That at least she looked forward to; it would take a great burden off her shoulders.

They rode for half a day in silence, Alanna thinking about Thom. George waited to break the silence until they halted for the noon meal.

“Your brother is an interestin’ fellow.”

Alanna laughed shortly. “That he is.”

“He’ll be powerful protection for Jon. You can go adventurin’ without another thought.” Alanna nodded. George watched her for a moment before adding, “Was he always so proud?”

Alanna raised miserable eyes to her friend. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think so. He was different when we went home to bury our father. I could see then he was turning hard. I suppose that as powerful as he is, he has every right to be proud. Not everyone can harness so much magic. I never tried; I was afraid to.”

“A wise kind of fear,” George pointed out. “Besides, what would you be—a fine warrior and a great sorcerer?”

“It’s not that,” Alanna protested, realizing George thought she might be a little jealous. “It’s that he seems so lonely. And he doesn’t even realize it.”

George raised his eyebrows. “Do I believe my ears? Alanna the Heartless talkin’ for love instead of against it?”

“Don’t tease, George. He’s my brother. I love him.”

“He knows that,” George said, hugging her around the shoulders. “And I know I for one envy him. Now, eat up. We’ve a long ride home.”

This time they did not stop at Trebond. They rode past Trebond Way, Alanna stopping only for a moment to look toward her home. More and more the palace felt like home to her, and Trebond was only a place on the map.

It was sunset the day after they passed Trebond, and they still had a few leagues to go before reaching the next wayhouse. It was George who sensed trouble, pulling his bay up short. His nostrils flared, as if he were sniffing the wind.

“Unless my city-bred nose betrays me—” He broke off with a cry of pain: an ugly black arrow sprouted from his collarbone. Men were pouring out of the trees, surrounding them. “Ride on!” cried George between gritted teeth.

Moonlight reared, flailing with her hooves at the two ruffians who tried to grab her reins. George yanked a dagger from its sheath and hurled it into a man’s throat. “Ride!” he yelled as four more swarmed down upon them.

“No!” Alanna cried fiercely. She rode Moonlight straight at a man who was putting an arrow to his bow. The mare trampled him ruthlessly as Alanna drew Lightning, slashing at a third attacker. George drew his own sword to kill the man who was trying to pull him from his saddle. His face was pale, and Alanna remembered with horror that the first messenger to Thom had been slain with poisoned arrows. With a yell of fury she cut down two men who were trying to herd her away from George. Wheeling Moonlight, she saw George fling his second dagger into an attacker’s shoulder.

George pulled his bay to a halt, his face white in the gathering darkness. “Never mind me,” he gasped, “the arrow’s not poisoned. Find out from that one what you can!” He pointed to the man he had just wounded, the only attacker still standing.

Alanna cut the killer off as he tried to run, kicking him down before she dismounted. Furious, she leveled her sword at the man’s throat. He stared at her, trying to inch away.

“Hold still!” Alanna yelled, her voice cracking with rage. This animal and his friends had hurt George! “Who sent you? Who!”

“You weren’t to be hurt,” the ruffian babbled, his eyes wide with terror. “‘I want the boy alive,’ we was told, and him never sayin’ you was a killer, and the man, too! ‘They’ll be easy game. Jest bring the boy an’ kill the man an’ there’s gold in it for you.’ That’s what we was told—”

“Who told you?” Alanna roared.

The man opened his mouth and tried to speak. He made little choking noises as large beads of sweat rolled off his face. Suddenly he turned pale and screamed, clawing at invisible hands on his throat. His eyes rolled up and he collapsed—dead. Quickly Alanna fumbled for the ember-stone under her clothing. She gripped it, and instantly saw traces of orange fire vanishing from the man’s body.

“Sorcery,” she whispered. She turned to look at George. Her friend was swaying in his saddle. There was no time to waste. Alanna grabbed a length of rope from her saddlebags and tied George to his horse’s back. Mounting Moonlight, she gave the man her brandy flask while she examined the wound. The shaft had passed through the muscle of George’s shoulder; the arrowhead stood clear of his back. Steeling herself, Alanna cut the arrow feathers away and pulled the shaft through the wound. The thief fainted against her as she worked, and she could only be thankful. Leaning George forward on his horse, Alanna took the other animal’s reins and set off into the night.

It seemed like forever came and went before they reached the wayhouse. Once there, Alanna snapped orders to the hostlers, watching anxiously as they drew George off his horse’s back and carried him inside. She brushed aside the innwife’s offer to send for a healer, explaining briefly that she was a healer herself. A room was quickly prepared for them, and a maid fetched brandy, boiling water, and clean linen for bandages. Alanna worked to clean and bind up the wound, putting her most powerful healing magic on it. Then, exhausted by the fight and the magic, she watched George late into the night. She didn’t like his color. He’s lost so much blood. …

“Don’t die on me,” she whispered when the clock struck midnight and he still had not moved. “It’s only a little shoulder wound. Goddess, George—don’t die on me.”

His eyes flickered open and he smiled. “I didn’t know you cared,” he whispered. “And why insult me? I won’t die for a wee nick like this; I’ve had worse in my day.”

Alanna wiped her wet cheeks. “Of course I care, you unprincipled pickpocket!” she whispered. “Of course I care.”

Faithful woke Alanna shortly after dawn on her eighteenth birthday. Wake up and get dressed, the cat told her. You don’t want the surprise they’ve planned to be a surprise for them as well as for you. Jonathan says to hurry!

Alanna was tucking her shirt into her breeches when the prince rapped on her door. “Are you decent, Squire?” he demanded.

Alanna yanked the door open. “I’m always decent, overlord,” she replied. Then she saw that Gary, Raoul and Alex were with him. “Isn’t it a little early for this?” she asked plaintively.

They filed into her room, each carrying a bulky package.

“That’s all right, grouch,” Gary said, thumping her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

The young men piled their packages onto the bed; then they turned to look at Jonathan. He glared back at them. “I thought Raoul was going to tell Alan.”

“You talk better than I do,” Raoul said.

“What they’re trying not to tell you,” Gary said patiently, “is that we discussed it, and we decided our hero-to-be should be properly outfitted.” He gestured to the packages on the bed. “The gifts are from all of us, and Their Majesties, and my father, uh—Duke Baird, Douglass, Geoffrey, Sacherell—did I forget anyone?”

“I don’t think so,” Alex said.

“Myles said he was damned if he would get up at this hour, but if you went to the stables, you’d find something from him,” Raoul added.

Jonathan handed Alanna the largest, heaviest package. “Go on,” he urged when she simply stared at it. “It’s for you.”

The package contained the lightest mail shirt Alanna had ever handled, washed with gold. The other packages held a gold-washed helmet, a belt made of gold wire picked out with amethysts, soft kid riding gloves, a gold-trimmed sheath for Lightning and a matching dagger, and gold-washed mail leggings to match the shirt. Alanna opened all of the gifts silently. The smallest package, from her “Cousin George,” contained a black opal ring set in pale gold.

She looked at them, awed and frightened by this show of affection. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” Jonathan advised. “Go take a look at Moonlight.”

Myles’s gift was a complete outfitting for the mare, made of well-worked leather trimmed with gold. Moonlight voiced her pleasure with a high-pitched whinny, while Faithful sat in a special cup for him attached to the saddle, purring with contentment. Alanna had to cry with happiness, but she hid her face in Moonlight’s mane. No one noticed.

No one would accept her thanks, either. The other young men ordered her to be quiet, or, if she had to express appreciation, to do so by teaching them the words to the bawdy songs she had learned from the men of Fort Drell.

“Why are you so confused?” Jonathan asked her late that night. “Can’t you see we all love you and want you to succeed—even if you insist on leaving us?”

“They’ll hate me more than ever when they find out the truth,” Alanna said miserably.

“Nonsense. And haven’t you thought that some of them may have guessed by now?”

Alanna looked at her friend and lover. “Myles,” she whispered. “I’ll bet he knows.”

Jonathan decided not to say anything about the very odd conversation he had had with Myles the day after the Tusaine kidnapped Alanna. “Why not ask him?” he replied instead.

Alanna was thinking about this when she remembered something else. “Jonathan, I have to have two knights to instruct me in the Code of Chivalry while I take the purifying bath, before the Ordeal. What am I going to do?”

“I suggest you tell Cousin Gary.” Jonathan yawned, falling onto his bed. “He’ll think it’s a wonderful joke. And I think we can instruct you in the Code after you bathe.”

Alanna grinned, lying down beside him. “You just don’t want Gary to see me bare.”

“You’re right, I don’t! Do you?” Jonathan asked suspiciously, looking her in the eyes. When Alanna only giggled, Jonathan repeated, “Do you?”

“You’re very jealous for someone who isn’t serious about me.” She grinned.

Jonathan made her look at him. “I am serious, in my way,” he said quietly. “But if I talked of love to you, you’d run off.”

“Don’t, Jonathan, please,” she whispered.

“See what I mean?” He yawned again. “Relax. I certainly can’t talk about marriage in any case—”

“I don’t want to talk about marriage!” she cried. “I don’t want to talk about love, ei—”

Jonathan silenced her with a hand over her mouth. “I love you, Alanna,” he said firmly. “Ignore it if you want to, but I do love you.” He pulled the covers over them. “Now go to sleep.”

Alanna lay awake for a long time, wishing he hadn’t said it, and glad that he had. She was going away when she became a knight. Nothing could change that. He would have to make a marriage that would be good for the kingdom. Nothing could change that, either. And yet—

She thought he was asleep. “I love you, Jonathan,” she whispered.

A long arm snaked around her, and he pulled her against his side. “I know,” he said. “I just wanted to be sure you knew it, too.”