Alanna The First Adventure - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,21
a disgraceful request?
“Easy, lad. Here.” George picked up the chair and pressed her back into it. “I misjudged you. Forgive me. I’ve known many nobles who take advantage. How was I to know you aren’t one of them?”
Alanna frowned, puzzled. “What d’you mean, ‘nobles who take advantage’?”
George sighed and sat down. “I’ve known nobles who thought I should be grateful for their friendship—grateful enough to do them all sorts of favors. They wanted a kept thief, not a friend. I thought at first that’s what you came for. Now I see you’re here as a friend, askin’ a friend’s help. It isn’t a beatin’ for Ralon that you want? It’s a beatin’ he needs.”
“That’s what I want,” she said grimly, “but I want to be the one to beat him.”
“Better and better. Why come to me, then?”
She stared at her hands. “Coram’s been teaching me boxing and wrestling, but Ralon already knows those things. He’s a squire. I hoped you might know some hand fighting they don’t teach us at the palace.”
George thought about this. “Haven’t they a Shang master up there? The Shangs know more tricks than anyone can hope to learn—unless you started as young as they do.”
Alanna shook her head. “The last Shang master left a few days after I arrived. Sir Myles says they don’t like to settle down.”
George nodded. “He’s right. They wander from the day they leave Shang till the day they die. Peculiar folk, Shang warriors. So.” He leaned back, watching her. “Why d’you think I can teach you better than a man who cut his eyeteeth on a sword?”
“But that’s it. Coram is a swordsman. I bet you win your fights bare-handed, or with a knife.”
George grinned. “You’re right at that.” He stood, removing his vest and boots. “Take off your cloak, then, and the shoes. Your first lesson starts now.”
For weeks Alanna worked with Coram and George. She began to surprise her masters with her ability to keep going when bigger boys were exhausted. Alanna’s silence bothered Ralon, but he never realized what she planned for him. He continued to pester her when he got the chance; and when a chance didn’t turn up, he made his opportunities. Alanna said nothing. She knew the older boys suspected the feud was still going on, but this was her fight. She would show everyone—including that part of her that was always wondering—that she was as good as any boy in the palace.
Shortly before Midwinter Festival, in December, Alanna was relaxing with George after a lesson. The thief pushed a tankard of ale at her. “Drink up,” he ordered. “Are you waitin’ till you’re a man grown before you give Malven what’s comin’ to him?”
Until now George had never let her have anything but lemonade. “You think I’m ready?” she asked in a very small voice.
“’Tis not my opinion that matters. The only way you’ll win is if you think you’re ready.”
She saw what he meant. Smiling grimly, she raised her tankard to him and drank the ale down.
The next day all the boys were exercising in the indoor practice courts. Alanna watched Ralon all afternoon as she waited for her chance. She was scared: her face felt hot, her hands shook. If she failed, she would leave Court. She couldn’t be a knight if Ralon continued to beat on her. And today was her day. She had never felt so strong and so prepared.
The teachers left. Ralon was in a corner, punching a straw dummy. Alanna drew a deep breath and walked out into the center of the floor.
She announced clearly, “Ralon of Malven has beggars and thieves for ancestors.” Excuse me, George, she added silently. “He’s the son of a lizard and a demon. He has all the honor of a weasel. He can’t even fight in the open like a man and a noble. He picks his fights in back halls—so no one can see him cheat.”
The boys were open-mouthed with surprise. Suddenly Gary beat on Jonathan’s shoulder, grinning savagely. “I knew it!” he whispered. “I knew he’d do it!”
Ralon was staring at Alanna, gasping for words. “What did you say?” he finally squeaked.
“Liar. Sneak. Coward. Bully.” She threw the words at him. “You disgrace your name. D’you want me to write it down for you? Oh—I forgot. You can’t read, either.”
“Shut up!” Ralon screamed, his eyes bulging. “You pig! You wouldn’t be so brave if your friends weren’t here to do your fighting—”
“I fight my own battles!” she snapped. “I