Alanna The First Adventure - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,25

the kitchens the next morning.

“Alan,” Timon called.

She looked up from a tubful of pots, frowning.

Coram’s voice was gentle. “Th’ Prince took sick last night. He’s callin’ for ye.”

Alanna put down her dishcloth. Her throat was tight with fear. “How is he?”

“Bad,” Timon said.

Alanna raced to Jonathan’s rooms, the two servants behind her. Opening the door, she froze. She couldn’t believe the scene before her. People were crowding around Jonathan’s bed. The incense in the air made her sneeze. The priests of the Dark God were chanting prayers for the dying while the Chief Healer stood aside. Duke Baird was a beaten man. Jonathan was hallucinating already, and the healer had learned the people stricken badly from the first always died.

Fury made Alanna gasp for breath. How could anyone get well in a menagerie? How could Jonathan breathe? This went against all the commonsense rules Maude had taught her for healing: clean air, quiet, absolute cleanliness, calm and reassuring voices. Didn’t these city people know anything? Alanna opened her mouth—then closed it hard. She had almost ordered these adults to get out! She could guess how they’d greet such an order from a page.

She turned to Coram. “Get Sir Myles. Now.”

The burly soldier looked down at her. He knew that forward thrust of her chin. “Ye aren’t plannin’ somethin’ foolish, are ye?”

“No more foolish than this.” She jerked her head at the crowded room.

Coram sighed and met Timon’s puzzled look. “Sh—he’s Trebond,” he explained. “Stubborn as pigs, all of them. We’d best fetch Sir Myles.”

Alanna went outside and closed the door. She would wait in the hall rather than watch the insanity going on inside. It fortunately wasn’t long before the two men returned with a very curious Myles.

“I need your help,” Alanna told the knight abruptly. “Take a look inside.”

Myles peered into Jonathan’s room. When he closed the door, his eyebrows were raised. “You know there isn’t much hope,” he told Alanna softly. “Not if he’s so ill this soon.”

Her eyes and her voice were as hard as stone. “Maybe there is and maybe there isn’t. Look—I’ve been keeping something back. I have the Gift, and I’m trained to heal. The village woman taught me everything she knew.” When he didn’t laugh, she plowed on. “I may be only eleven, but some things even an idiot knows. You don’t make a lot of noise and fog the air with incense in a sickroom, Myles! And my Gift hasn’t been drained, like the palace healers.’” She saw the doubt in the man’s eyes and added, “Jonathan’s been calling for me. I think he senses I can help.”

Myles tugged at his beard. “I see. And what do you want me to do?”

Alanna drew a deep breath. “Get those people out of there. They’ll listen to you.” She couldn’t say how she knew the people in Jonathan’s room would obey a minor knight—she just knew. “Get them out of there so we can air the room, and so I can talk to Duke Baird.”

“That’s a tall order.” Myles thought it over, then shrugged. “You’re very convincing, Alan. And what have we got to lose?”

She looked at him, her eyes filled with pain. “Jonathan,” she whispered.

That decided him. “Very well.” He nodded to Timon. “Announce me.”

Timon, looking as if his world had turned upside down, opened the door.

“Sir Myles of Olau!”

The crowd hushed and faced the door. The priests stopped chanting. Myles stepped into the room, flanked by Coram and Timon. Alanna—ignored—followed. The change in Myles was stunning. The short, stout knight was suddenly very regal and very angry.

“Have you left your senses?” he demanded. His gentle voice was sharp and clear. “No one can tell me his Majesty knows of this—this folly. I won’t believe it.”

No one spoke.

“Get out,” Myles ordered. “This is a sickroom, not a funeral.” He glanced at the priests. “For shame. The boy isn’t dead yet.”

After a moment the head priest bowed his head and led his followers from the room. Some of the courtiers looked at Duke Baird: he was supposed to be in charge. The healer nodded at Myles, relief on his tired face.

“You can do nothing here,” he told the other nobles. “Myles is right. Go to your gods and pray for our Prince. It is the only way we can help him now.”

Slowly they left. Only Duke Baird stayed. Alanna hurried to Jonathan’s side. Her friend was stark white and sweating heavily. Alanna tucked the blankets firmly around Jon’s body.

“Coram,” she called. “Open the windows.