Alanna The First Adventure - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,20

resigned noise. “Lass—it’s restriction to the palace if ye’re caught.”

“I know.”

“All right, then. I won’t bolt the door.” He lay back down and immediately went back to sleep.

It was easy to slip out of the palace and onto the road to the city. Alanna set off at a jog-trot, wishing she was riding Chubby. Still, she knew she couldn’t have ridden out of the palace without being spotted.

The Dancing Dove was bustling. She could barely see through the smoke-filled air, and the noise of the thieves and their ladies having fun was deafening. For a moment she wanted to turn and run, but Ralon was waiting back at home. Better to face George’s friends—who were honest villains—than Ralon the sneak. But how was she to find George in this mess?

A tall, chesty redhead stopped and looked Alanna over. Planting her hands firmly on her hips, the redhead drawled, “A bit young for this place, aren’t you, sonny?”

Her husky voice was teasing, but there was kindness in the lady’s large brown eyes. “I’m looking for George,” Alanna replied. “He said I could find him here.”

The woman made a face. “He did? That sounds like him, tellin’ a bit of a boy t’ come t’ this place at night.”

“I don’t think he expected me to come at night,” Alanna said, always fair.

“Humph. Wait,” the woman ordered. She vanished into the crowded room, to return within minutes. “Come on, then—and have an eye t’ your purse.”

“I didn’t bring one,” Alanna yelled above the din as she followed the redhead.

“Here you be.” The woman shoved Alanna into a clear space before the fire. A table had been set beside the hearth and George sat at its head. Gathered around him were men and women who eyed Alanna curiously.

George had an odd expression in his eyes as he looked her over. Finally he spoke. “Alan, this is Rispah, the Queen of the ladies who follow the Rogue. Alan’s a friend of mine—from the country.”

Rispah gave a crooked grin. “I’m sure he is.” Raising her voice, she called, “Solom, you old dotard, bring lemonade for the boy. Can’t you see he’s parched?” She looked at Alanna. “Unless you want somethin’ stronger, youngling?”

Alanna turned bright red. “No, thank you.”

Rispah went back to her friends. Alanna remained standing. Why was George looking at her so strangely?

At last the man said, “I hear you’re havin’ trouble with the Malven.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she agreed. I shouldn’t have come, she thought.

Solom appeared with a tankard of lemonade. “Welcome back, Master Alan.” He smiled. “I see yer arm be healed.”

“Good as new. Thanks, Solom.” She accepted the tankard and looked at George. “May I?”

“Yes, of course. Sit down.”

Alanna clenched one hand behind her back. Here came the hard part. “Actually—can we go talk alone?” She drew a deep breath. Asking for things was not easy. “I—I need a favor.”

George stood, grim faced. “We’ll go to my chambers.” He put an arm around her shoulders and added, “Solom, we’re not to be disturbed.”

The innkeeper nodded. “As ye say, Majesty.”

George climbed a narrow staircase leading upstairs, Alanna following. “They call you ‘Majesty’?” she asked, shocked.

“Why not? I’m king here—more king than the man who sits atop the big hill. My people wouldn’t give him a word in passing, but they follow my slightest wish.”

“I suppose,” she said doubtfully.

George unlocked a sturdy door. “You’re careless, young Alan, but you’re polite.” He inspected each corner of his two rooms before waving her inside. “Sit.” He lit a branch of candles from the torch in the hall before closing the door. Alanna looked around at the plain wood furniture, noting how neat and clean the room was. She also noted that the candlestick George placed on the table was silver, while the frame on the mirror hanging on his bedroom door was wrought gold.

The thief settled his length into one of the chairs by the table while Alanna took another. “Why am I careless?” she wanted to know. “I made sure no one saw me leave the palace.”

The funny look was still in George’s eyes. “Humph.” He did not sound convinced. “A favor, you say. What’s it to be? A throat cutting? Some of my bully boys taking Ralon into an alley for a chat?”

Alanna stood, shoving her chair from the table so hard that it fell over. “If that’s what you think I want, I’m off,” she snapped. “I—I thought—” She bit a trembling lip. How could he think she would make such