First Test. Tamora Pierce

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СКАЧАТЬ several other Bazhir among the pages, but none looked as kingly as this one.

      When the training master halted, there were only five people left in front of doors on both sides of him: four boys and Kel. Her next-door neighbour, a brown-haired boy liberally sprinkled with freckles, bowed to Wyldon. Kel and the others did the same; then Kel wondered if she ought to have curtsied. She let it go. To do so now, after bowing, would just make her look silly.

      Wyldon looked at each of them in turn, his eyes resting the longest on Kel. ‘Don’t think you’ll have an easy time this year. You will work hard. You’ll work when you’re tired, when you’re ill, and when you think you can’t possibly work any more. You have one more day to laze. Your sponsor will show you around this palace and collect those things which the crown supplies to you. The day after that, we begin.’

      ‘You.’ He pointed to a boy with the reddest, straightest hair Kel had ever seen. ‘Your name and the holding of your family.’

      The boy stammered, ‘Merric, sir – my lord. Merric of Hollyrose.’ He had pale blue eyes and a long, broad nose; his skin had only the barest summer tan.

      The training master looked at the pages around him. ‘Which of you older pages will sponsor Merric and teach him our ways?’

      ‘Please, Lord Wyldon?’ Kel wasn’t able to see the owner of the voice in the knot of boys who stood at Wyldon’s back. ‘We’re kinsmen, Merric and I.’

      ‘And kinsmen should stick together. Well said, Faleron of King’s Reach.’ A handsome, dark-haired boy came to stand with Merric, smiling at the redhead. Wyldon pointed to the freckled lad, Esmond of Nicoline, who was taken into the charge of Cleon of Kennan, the big redhead. Blond, impish Quinden of Marti’s Hill was sponsored by the regal-looking Bazhir, Zahir ibn Alhaz. The next pairing was the most notable: Crown Prince Roald, the twelve-year-old heir to the throne, chose to show Seaver of Tasride around. Seaver, whose dark complexion and coal-black eyes and hair suggested Bazhir ancestors, stared at Roald nervously, but relaxed when the prince rested a gentle hand on his shoulder.

      Only Kel remained. Wyldon demanded, ‘Your name and your fief?’

      She gulped. ‘Keladry of Mindelan.’

      ‘Who will sponsor her?’ asked Wyldon.

      The handsome Zahir looked at her and sniffed. ‘Girls have no business in the affairs of men. This one should go home.’ He glared at Kel, who met his eyes calmly.

      Lord Wyldon shook his head. ‘We are not among the Bazhir tribes, Zahir ibn Alhaz. Moreover, I requested a sponsor, not an opinion.’ He looked at the other boys. ‘Will no one offer?’ he asked. ‘No beginner may go unsponsored.’

      ‘Look at her,’ Kel heard a boy murmur. ‘She stands there like – like a lump.’

      The blond youth at Wyldon’s side raised a hand. ‘May I, my lord?’ he asked.

      Lord Wyldon stared at him. ‘You, Joren of Stone Mountain?’

      The youth bowed. ‘I would be pleased to teach the girl all she needs to know of life in the pages’ wing.’

      Kel eyed him, suspicious. From the way a few older pages giggled, she suspected Joren might plan to chase her away, not show her around. She looked at the training master, expecting him to agree with the blond page.

      Instead Lord Wyldon frowned. ‘I had hoped for another sponsor,’ he commented stiffly. ‘You should employ your spare hours in the improvement of your classwork and your riding skills.’

      ‘I thought Joren hated—’ someone whispered.

      ‘Shut up!’ another boy hissed.

      Kel looked at the flagstones under her feet. Now she was fighting to hide her embarrassment, but she knew she was failing. Any Yamani would see her shame on her features. She clasped her hands before her and schooled her features to smoothness. I’m a rock, she thought. I am stone.

      ‘I believe I can perfect my studies and sponsor the girl,’ Joren said respectfully. ‘And since I am the only volunteer—’

      ‘I suppose I’m being rash and peculiar, again,’ someone remarked in a drawling voice, ‘but if it means helping my friend Joren improve his studies, well, I’ll just have to sacrifice myself. There’s nothing I won’t do to further the cause of book learning among my peers.’

      Everyone turned towards the speaker, who stood at the back of the group. Seeing him clearly, Kel thought that he was too old to be a page. He was tall, fair-skinned, and lean, with emerald eyes and light brown hair that swept back from a widow’s peak.

      Lord Wyldon absently rubbed the arm he kept tucked in a sling. ‘You volunteer, Nealan of Queenscove?’

      The youth bowed jerkily. ‘That I do, your worship, sir.’ There was the barest hint of a taunt in Nealan’s educated voice.

      ‘A sponsor should be a page in his second year at least,’ Wyldon informed Nealan. ‘And you will mind your tongue.’

      ‘I know I only joined this little band in April, your lordship,’ the youth Nealan remarked cheerily, ‘but I have lived at court almost all of my fifteen years. I know the palace and its ways. And unlike Joren, I need not worry about my academics.’

      Kel stared at the youth. Had he always been mad, or did a few months under Wyldon do this to him? She had just arrived, and she knew better than to bait the training master.

      Wyldon’s eyebrows snapped together. ‘You have been told to mind your manners, Page Nealan. I will have an apology for your insolence.’

      Nealan bowed deeply. ‘An apology for general insolence, your lordship, or some particular offence?’

      ‘One week scrubbing pots,’ ordered Lord Wyldon. ‘Be silent.’

      Nealan threw out an arm like a Player making a dramatic statement. ‘How can I be silent and yet apologize?’

      ‘Two weeks.’ Keladry was forgotten as Wyldon concentrated on the green-eyed youth. ‘The first duty for anyone in service to the crown is obedience.’

      ‘And I am a terrible obeyer,’ retorted Nealan. ‘All these inconvenient arguments spring to my mind, and I just have to make them.’

      ‘Three,’ Wyldon said tightly.

      ‘Neal, shut it!’ someone whispered.

      ‘I could learn—’ Kel squeaked. No one heard. She cleared her throat and repeated, ‘I can learn it on my own.’

      The boys turned to stare. Wyldon glanced at her. ‘What did you say?’

      ‘I’ll find my way on my own,’ Kel repeated. ‘Nobody has to show me. I’ll probably learn better, poking around.’ She knew that wasn’t the case – her father had once referred to the palace as a ‘miserable rat-warren’ – but she couldn’t let this mad boy get himself deeper into trouble on her account.

      Nealan stared at her, winged brows raised.

      ‘When I require your opinion,’ began Wyldon, his dark eyes СКАЧАТЬ