Page. Tamora Pierce

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      Garvey waded in and grabbed the front of her gown to haul her to her feet. Owen – forgotten until that moment – struck him from behind. Down Garvey went, face-first, chubby Owen clinging monkey-like to his back as Kel rolled out of the way. Owen beat Garvey wildly about the head and shoulders with one hand.

      Not much technique, Kel thought as she got to her knees, but he’s got plenty of heart.

      Joren’s arm wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air. Vinson attacked her, cursing, his blows nearly as wild as Owen’s. Kel’s vision was going dark when hands pulled Joren’s arm away. Kel gasped for air. Dark breeches and white shirts on her rescuers told her palace servants had put a halt to things.

      Two hands wrapped around her arm and drew her to her feet. Kel looked down a couple of inches into Owen of Jesslaw’s shining grey eyes. ‘That was jolly!’ he said. Apparently a bloody nose and a cut that dripped blood into his ear were not important. ‘Did you learn to fight like that here?’

      ‘So.’ Lord Wyldon coldly eyed Kel and Owen. ‘Already you instruct the new boys in your brawling ways.’

      ‘We fell down,’ Kel replied steadily. She knew this play by heart; so did the training master. First he questioned the senior pages, who claimed they had fallen. Then he questioned her – and, for the first time, the boy who’d been the object of the hazing. No other first-years had stayed to help before.

      ‘Three footmen and a torch boy said you were fighting,’ Lord Wyldon pointed out.

      ‘They were mistaken, my lord,’ she replied.

      Wyldon drummed his fingers on his desk. Finally he said, ‘Owen of Jesslaw, you have made a very poor start. Report to Osgar Woodrow at the forge outside the squires’ armoury for the first bell of time every night after supper for a week. You may cool your passions by sharpening swords.’ His brown eyes locked on Kel. ‘As for you, Mindelan – report to Stefan Groomsman at the same hour. He is to find you work pitching hay down from stable lofts.’

      Clammy sweat broke out between Kel’s shoulder blades. ‘St-stable lofts, my lord. Of course.’ At training camp before the summer holiday, Lord Wyldon had made Kel climb every day to deal with her fear of heights. Kel bit her lip guiltily: while she had trained all summer, she had not tried to look down from anything higher than a few steps. I bet he knew, she thought queasily. I bet he knew I didn’t climb anything on holiday.

      ‘A final word, Page Keladry.’ Lord Wyldon stood, bracing his hands on his desk. ‘This will stop,’ he said tightly. ‘There was never so much fighting before you came. It will end now.’

      Maybe you just never heard about all the fights, Kel thought wearily. Big boys picking on little ones just to be mean. Maybe no one made enough of a fuss to bring it to your notice.

      From the corner of her eye she saw the red-faced Owen open his mouth. Kel bowed to Wyldon and managed to stumble, banging into the new boy. The training master waited for them to stand at attention once more, then dismissed them.

      ‘Why’d you do that?’ demanded Owen when they closed the door behind them. ‘Why’d you bump me?’

      ‘Because you were about to say something,’ she replied calmly. ‘You aren’t supposed to say anything except that you fell down. Whatever punishment he gives you, whatever he says, you take it in silence.’

      ‘But they started it,’ he argued. ‘You were helping out another noble, like we’re supposed to, and they waded into you.’

      Kel sighed. ‘That’s not why I did it.’

      Turning into their own hallway, Kel and Owen halted. The prince, Neal, Cleon, and Kel’s other friends stood there, waiting.

      ‘Good evening, your highness,’ Kel said.

      Prince Roald nodded gravely.

      Neal strode over to her. ‘What on earth did you think you were doing? I thought we solved all this last year!’

      Kel replied, ‘We did.’

      ‘Then why did you patrol without us? We had a deal. We went with you and we dealt with that lot as a team.’

      ‘Don’t yell at her,’ Owen snapped. ‘You should have seen her fight. And they started it.’

      The prince smiled at him. Roald of Conté was a fourth-year page, quiet and contained, with his father’s very blue eyes and black hair that could have come from either of his parents. He was so polite that he appeared stiff, and he made friends with difficulty, but when he spoke, he was listened to. ‘We have been trying to stop the hazing of first-years,’ he told Owen. ‘And I believe I suggested that you study with our group.’ Roald was Owen’s sponsor, charged with teaching him palace ways.

      ‘But there was a library, your highness,’ Owen said. ‘A big one. I was just going to look.’

      ‘And I wasn’t patrolling,’ replied Kel. ‘I had to see Daine. When I came downstairs …’ She shrugged.

      ‘And got a black eye for your pains,’ Neal said with disgust. He reached towards her, green magical fire shimmering around his fingertips.

      Kel stepped back. ‘You’ll get in trouble with my lord if you heal something he can see,’ she pointed out. ‘Fix Owen’s cut.’

      Now it was the plump boy’s turn to step back. ‘What?’ Owen demanded nervously.

      ‘Neal has the healer’s Gift of magic,’ said the prince. ‘Don’t be silly. He can at least make it so that cut and your nose don’t hurt as much.’

      Owen rolled his eyes, but let Neal care for his injuries. The cut in his scalp was shallow; Neal shrank that. ‘The nose isn’t worth troubling with,’ he told Owen. ‘It’s not broken. Just be careful how you blow it.’ He looked at Kel with a rueful smile. ‘Might we at least get some classwork done?’

      Kel went to her rooms. Gathering her books, she was trying to remember her assignments when she heard a sound behind her. She whirled, dropping her books. Someone gasped and ducked inside the dressing room.

      ‘Who—?’ Kel began, then remembered: Lalasa. She would sleep in the dressing room, like the servants who attended other pages. Kel had seen Lalasa’s cot and the wooden screen that gave her privacy when she took her bath. ‘It’s just me.’

      The older girl peered around the door, then ran forward and knelt to gather Kel’s fallen books. ‘My lady, forgive me, I never meant—’ She glanced up at Kel and gasped again. ‘My lady, your pardon, your poor eye! Who could have done such a thing? Shall I fetch a healer – no, Uncle says only my lord Wyldon may approve СКАЧАТЬ