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“Page Keladry.” Lord Wyldon of Cavall, the training master, could pitch his voice to carry through a battle or across the hall easily. Kel faced his table, placed on a dais at the front of the room, and bowed. “A knight who is tardy costs lives. Report to me when you have eaten.”

Kel bowed again and went to get her food.

“Joren of Stone Mountain.” Lord Wyldon’s level tone was the same as it had been for Kel. “Good manners are the hallmark of a true knight. You, too, will report once you have finished.”

Kel sighed. She and Joren had not gotten on during her first year as a probationer. She’d hoped that would change now that she was a true page. If Joren was to be punished on her account, she didn’t think it would improve his feelings about her.

Once her tray was filled, Kel looked around. Hands waved from a table in the back. She walked over and slid into place among her friends. Nealan of Queenscove poured her fruit juice while other boys passed the honeypot and butter.

“So, Keladry of Mindelan,” said Neal, his slightly husky voice teasing, “not even a full day in your second year, and already you have punishment work lined up. Don’t leave it to the last minute, that’s what I say!” He was a tall, lanky youth who wore his light brown hair combed back from a widow’s peak. His sharp-boned face was lit by green eyes that danced wickedly as he looked at her. He was sixteen, older than the other pages, but only in his second year. He had put aside a university career to become a knight. Neal had taught Kel to know the palace the year before, assisting her with class-work and cheering her worst moods with his tart humor. In return she tried to keep him out of trouble and made him eat his vegetables. It was a strange friendship, but a solid one.

“Neal’s just disappointed because he thought he’d be first.” The quiet remark had come from black-haired, black-eyed Seaver. He, too, was a second-year page.

“I’m surprised he didn’t dump porridge on Lord Wyldon this morning, just to get the jump on the rest of us,” joked Cleon. A big, redheaded youth, he was a fourth-year page. “Guess you’ll have to wait till next fall, Neal.” He smacked the top of Neal’s head gently, then went for seconds.

Kel looked to see who else had joined them. There was redheaded Merric of Hollyrose, whose temper was as quick as Cleon’s was slow; dark, handsome Faleron of King’s Reach, Merric’s cousin; and Esmond of Nicoline, whose normal powdering of freckles had thickened over the summer. All were her friends and members of the study group that had met in Neal’s room the previous year. With them were three new first-year pages, boys that Cleon, Neal, and Merric had chosen to sponsor. She wasn’t sure if they were friends or not. They would have been rude to refuse to sit with their sponsors, and thus with The Girl.

Only one of their company was missing, Prince Roald, but that was expected. Roald, now a fourth-year page, was always careful to slight no one. He had eaten with Kel, Neal, and their group the night before. Today he and the boy he had chosen to sponsor sat with some third-year pages.

Lunch passed quickly, the boys’ talk filling Kel’s ears. She had little to say. After living in the Yamani Islands for six years, she had picked up Yamani habits, including a reluctance to chatter or let emotions show. Someone had to listen to all that talk.

At last it was time to hand in her tableware and present herself to Lord Wyldon. Joren was already at the dais, waiting. Lord Wyldon always made it clear when he was ready to speak to his charges.

When Kel reached the dais, Joren stepped away from her. Kel sighed inwardly, her face Yamani-blank. Joren and his cronies had done their best to make her leave the year before. For her part, she had declared war on their hazing of the first-years beyond what she felt was reasonable. Interference with Joren and his clique had often turned into fist fights until her friends began to join her. At year’s end, there were enough of them to stop Joren’s crowd from hazing entirely. Over the summer Kel had let herself hope that Joren would give up now. Glancing at him, she realized her hopes were empty.

Three years older, Joren was just four inches taller than Kel and beautiful. His shoulder-length hair was so blond it was nearly white. It framed pale skin, rosy cheeks, and sky blue eyes set among long, fair lashes. He was one of the best pages in unarmed and weapons combat, although in Kel’s opinion he was heavy-handed with his horse.

Well, I’ve only one more year with him, Kel thought as Lord Wyldon finished cleaning his plate. After he takes his big examination, he’ll be a squire and gone most of the year.

Lord Wyldon drained his cup and set it down sharply. His dark eyes, as hard as flint, inspected first Joren, then Kel. Did he regret that he had allowed her to stay? Kel wondered for the thousandth time. Over the summer she had learned that last year the betting among the servants had been twenty to one against Lord Wyldon’s allowing her to enter her second year.

Now, looking at Wyldon’s hard, clean-shaven face, marred by a scar that stretched from his right eye into his close-cropped brown hair, she wondered why. If she smacked the training master’s bald crown, would the answer pop out of his mouth? The thought nearly made her laugh aloud, the image was so funny, but her Yamani training held. Her lips didn’t quiver; her throat didn’t catch. She blessed the Yamanis as the training master drummed his fingers on the table.

“Joren of Stone Mountain, I will have a two-page essay on good manners by Sunday evening,” he said. As always, the words came reluctantly from his mouth, as if he felt he might be poorer by giving them away. “Keladry of Mindelan, for your lateness, you will labor in the pages’ armory for one bell of time on Sunday afternoon.” It was the standard punishment, no more and no less than he gave any other page for tardiness.

She bowed, just as Joren had. They were not permitted to argue.

“You are both dismissed.” Lord Wyldon picked up his documents. Joren made sure he beat Kel out of the mess hall. She let him have the lead, since he seemed to think it was important. Once he was out of her way, she ran back to her rooms. She needed to collect her books for the afternoon’s classwork.

two
ADJUSTMENTS

The dog was still asleep on her bed. He was not alone. While Kel had to keep the big shutters locked when she was out, the small pair over them were open in all weather so the sparrows that had adopted her could fly in and out. Three now perched on her coverlet, eyeing the dog with interest.

“He isn’t staying,” Kel told the small brown birds. The dog’s tail wagged, though he didn’t open his eyes.

One sparrow flew over and perched on her shoulder with a peep. It was the female who led the flock. A pale spot on top of her head had earned her the name Crown. Kel gave the bird a sunflower seed and gathered her books. Crown flew back to the bed to continue her inspection of the newcomer.

The palace animals were peculiar. They seemed wiser, in the human sense, than most other animals. The difference was caused by a young woman named Daine, the Wildmage, whose magic allowed her to communicate with animals. After she had talked to Kel’s gelding, Peachblossom, the vicious horse allowed Kel to ride him without making her bleed for the privilege. Even Dame’s mere presence affected palace animals permanently. Three months before, Kel’s sparrows had led Kel and a troop of hunters to the lair of the giant, human-headed spider monsters called spidrens, though Daine had not been there to ask it of them.

Might Daine help with this dog? Kel wondered as she locked the door behind her.

Neal had been waiting in the corridor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come, Mindelan,” he said cheerfully, towing her toward the classroom wing. “While you were here riding your evil horse and bending a bow all summer, did you crack a single book?”

“I helped the housekeeper with the accounts,” retorted Kel, letting her friend tow her. “Did you bend a bow or ride a horse all summer?”

“Had to,” Neal said gloomily as they walked into their first class, reading and writing with the Mithran priest Yayin. “Our master at arms kept after me.”

She sat next to him. “We’ll make a knight of you yet, Queenscove.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he retorted.

After class Kel returned to her rooms to find that life had suddenly improved. A full tub of hot water awaited her. She could take a real bath while the ugly dog looked on. As she soaked, Kel realized he, too, had been washed. His fine, short fur shone white between scars. He was still homely. His legs were a little bowed, supporting a barrel chest and thin hips. She had already noticed that twice-broken tail and his torn ear. His whole ear was sharp, pointed, and upright on a head shaped like a thick ax blade. That skull looked too big even for his sturdy neck, but the dog lifted it with pride.

“You will never be a beauty,” Kel informed him as she dried off. He wagged his absurd tail, as if she’d complimented him.

As she put on a brown shift, orange gown, and stockings - she always wore a dress to supper, in case anyone had forgotten that she was a girl - she noticed other welcome changes. Her desk had been neatened, her clothes pressed till not a single wrinkle was left. There was a bowl, empty even of crumbs, and a half-empty water dish: the girl Lalasa had washed and fed the dog. She had also found Kel’s store of seeds and filled the sparrows’ feed and water dishes. No bird droppings could be seen anywhere.

Someone pounded on her door. “Kel, come on!” yelled Neal. “I’m hungry!”

When she opened the door, he poked his head inside. “The cooks say there’s ham and blueberry pies, since it’s the first day. I love blueberry pie - Mithros, that is the ugliest dog in the world.” He stepped inside.

The dog trotted over to sniff him energetically. His crooked tail began to whip. He stood on his hind legs, braced his paws on Neal’s long thighs, and rooted at one of the youth’s pockets.

“Caught me out, old man, didn’t you?” asked Neal with a grin. He crouched, pulling a roll from his pocket, and gave it to the dog. It was gone in three bites. “You know we can’t have dogs,” he reminded Kel, scratching the animal’s rump. “Mithros and Goddess, he is ugly,”

“You said that already. I know I can’t have a dog. Neal, will the Wildmage take him?”

“Daine? Of course,” he replied. “She’s here - I saw her last night. Ask her after supper.”

“Did you maybe want to go with me?” she offered gingerly, afraid that she might cause Neal hurt by asking him along. Last year, he had introduced her to Daine when Kel had needed help with Peachblossom. Kel had seen that Neal was smitten with Daine, though she lived with the mage Numair Salmalin.

“No,” he told Kel nobly, and sighed. “It just tries my heart, to see her with that old man.”

Kel didn’t think Master Numair was so old, but she held her tongue. It did no good to argue with her lovestruck friend.

“Kel, is Neal here?” Merric stuck his head into the room. “Let’s be prompt to supper, shall we?” His blue eyes widened. “That’s an ugly dog. You know we aren’t allowed pets.”

“He goes to Daine tonight,” Kel snapped. She thrust her friends from the room.

The king joined them for supper, as he had the year before. He ate with Lord Wyldon, then spoke to the pages and the few squires present about the importance of their studies. Kel watched and listened, her face Yamani-smooth. While she owed King Jonathan her duty and her service, she still wasn’t sure that she liked him. The king had allowed Lord Wyldon to put Kel on a year’s probation, something no other page had to endure. It had not been fair.

Suddenly she remembered something her father had said when the Yamani emperor ordered the execution not only of a band of robbers but of their women and children as well. “Rulers are seldom nice people, Kel,” he’d remarked, his eyes sad. “Even good ones make choices that will hurt somebody.”

But what if I want him to be nice? she asked her father now as she watched her king smile at the eager boys. What if I want him to be fair?

“You may want anything you like,” her mother would have said. “That doesn’t mean you’ll get it.”

She smiled, but she kept it inside. She didn’t want the king to think she smiled at him.

As soon as the king had gone, Lord Wyldon called, “Keladry of Mindelan.”

Now what? thought Kel, halfway to the door. Has he heard about the dog? She went back to the training master’s table.

At least he didn’t keep her in suspense. “I understand you have taken a maid into your service,” he remarked when she bowed.

Kel heaved an inner sigh of relief. “Yes, my lord.”

“You are permitted to do so. However, a servant is a privilege, not a right, in the pages’ wing. In addition to your obligations to anyone in your service, you have obligations to me and to the palace.” He regarded her levelly, toying with his knife. “She is not to involve herself physically with any page or squire. Her presence is not considered chaperonage for you. If there is a boy in your rooms, the door remains open. If she is ill, you will call and pay a healer. If she cannot read and write, you must teach her. If she misbehaves - is a thief, or lewd, or quarrelsome - you are liable. If she runs off, or stays away overnight without your permission, or disobeys you, do not ask palace guards or servants to find her or to help you to discipline her. That you must do yourself. Am I understood?”

Kel bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

“Do your duty by her, and by us,” Lord Wyldon said firmly. “You are dismissed.”

Kel left, finding that the halls had cleared while they talked. Most of the boys had vanished to begin their studies. Now Kel grabbed the dog and wrapped him in a blanket. “You keep still,” she ordered as she carried him down the hall. The chambers where Daine lived were on the floor above the classrooms. The dog struggled on the narrow stair, finally poking his head out of the blanket. He then stopped fighting and gazed around with interest.

He was so bony, and so light! Couldn’t she keep him until he’d made up for the meals he had missed? Kel stopped on the landing to blink eyes that stung with tears. She knew she was being silly. Daine would feed him well, and she could heal his wounds. She could talk to him through her magic, and understand his replies. In a day or two the dog wouldn’t even remember Kel, he’d be so happy.