Alanna The First Adventure - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,15
Rogue. The Court of the Rogue,” he explained to Alanna, “is all of us who make our livin’ by our wits. It’s ruled by a king—me, right now. Sometimes he’s called just ‘the Rogue.’ But mastery don’t last very long here. Who knows when some young buck will do for me what I did for the King before me, just six months back? I’ll need friends, when that comes.” He shrugged. “Still, it won’t happen soon. Till then, why look a gift thief in the mouth? I can be a good friend to those who keep faith with me.”
Gary looked him over, then nodded. “I like you—for all you’re a thief.”
George laughed. “And I like you, Gary—for all you’re a noble. Friends, then?”
“Friends,” Gary said firmly. They shook hands across the table.
“And you, Alan?” George asked. Alanna had been watching and thinking, none of her thoughts clear on her small face. With his magic, would George know her secret? Then she remembered what Maude had taught her—having the Gift instantly shielded you from the magic vision of someone else with the Gift. For the moment George wouldn’t be able to guess her secret, and even if he did, Alanna suspected a thief wouldn’t tell his own mother the time of day unless he had a good reason.
“I’d like some more lemonade,” she said, pouring her tankard full. “The Gift must be pretty useful to you.”
“It’s gotten me out of more than one tight place,” George admitted. “It helps me keep tabs on my rogues, so maybe I’ll last longer than the king before me.” He drained his own tankard and set it down. “You need never worry about your pockets, or those of the friends you bring here. But be careful who you bring. One word from them and my Lord Provost gets my head for certain.”
“We’ll be careful,” Gary promised. “Don’t worry about Alan. He keeps his mouth shut.”
George grinned. “As I can see. Few sprouts—even ones sealed to the Rogue—could listen to all this and say nothing. Well, you’d best be gettin’ back. If you need anything, send word through Stefan—he works in the palace stables. You’ll find me here most of the time, and if not, ask old Solom.” He jerked a thumb at the innkeeper. “He’ll fetch me quick enough.”
Alanna rose. She and Gary shook hands with their new friend. “You’ll be seeing us, then,” she promised. “Good day to you.”
The two pages strolled out into the street. The King of the Thieves watched them go, smiling.
Several weeks later Duke Gareth called Alanna out of her mathematics class. Confused, she went to meet him.
He handed her a letter. “Can you explain this?”
Alanna scanned the much-blotted parchment. It was from her father. The letter was short, saying only that he trusted Thom would continue to do well.
Luckily she had her story planned. Looking up, she shrugged, her face a little sad. “He forgets, you see, I don’t think he’s ever been able to tell my brother and I—”
“My brother and me,” the Duke corrected sternly.
“My brother and me,” she repeated obediently, “apart.” She crossed her fingers behind her back and tried a guess. “I don’t think he even let His Majesty know when we were born.”
The Duke thought this over and nodded. “You’re right—he didn’t. He hasn’t changed.” The man sighed. “I hope your brother does as well as you. If your father cannot tell you apart, at least he can be proud of both of his sons.”
Alanna hung her head, hating herself for having to lie to someone like Duke Gareth. “Thank you, your Grace,” she whispered.
“You may go. Don’t forget to write your father yourself.”
Alanna bowed. “Of course, sir.” She let herself out and closed the door. In the corridor she sagged against the wall. With luck, now Duke Gareth would believe all such letters were due to Lord Alan’s bad memory.
She returned to her class, still feeling wobbly. There were real advantages to having a father who didn’t care what she did.
But if the advantages were so wonderful, why did she feel like crying?
three
Ralon
Alanna had not forgotten Ralon of Malven, and he had not forgotten her. Usually they didn’t meet, since he was beginning his training as a squire while Alanna was training as a page. When they did meet, Ralon made it clear they were enemies. He was simply awaiting his chance to get her.
On summer afternoons squires and pages alike ended their lessons with swimming as well as riding. They returned to