Alanna The First Adventure - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,54

did this every day, but Alanna guided Moonlight to a spot between Myles and the guard captain and stayed there.

“What’s the matter, youngling?” the soldier chuckled. “Shy?”

Alanna blushed. He was right. But there was something else. “Myles?” she asked softly. “Do the Bazhir always stare so?”

The knight tugged his beard thoughtfully. “Actually, they try to ignore us northerners. Perhaps it’s Jonathan.”

“Urn.” Alanna’s nervous grip on the reins made her horse fidget. She tried to relax. The Bazhir were staring at her, too.

A formal banquet began in the castle late in the afternoon. Everyone wore their finest. There were toasts and long-winded speeches. Myles downed glass after glass of wine, and Alanna hid in a corner unless summoned.

“There you are.” Myles was only a little unsteady on his feet. “Are you jealous because Jonathan’s the center of attention? He’s the prince, lad. He’ll be the center of attention for a long time.” He drew a dark, well-dressed man forward. “Here’s someone who can tell you more about the Bazhir. Ali Mukhtab, this is Alan of Trebond, our page. Ali Mukhtab is the governor of Persopolis Castle. He is also Bazhir. You two talk—I’m off to a real bed at last.” Myles tousled Alanna’s hair affectionately and left her alone with Ali Mukhtab.

The page and the man sized each other up carefully. Alanna saw a tall Bazhir with walnut brown skin, glossy black hair and a trimmed black mustache. His large dark eyes were framed with long black lashes, and Alanna was to learn he rarely opened them wide. He did so now, and she shifted uncomfortably. There was power in Mukhtab’s gaze. He half closed his eyes once more, smiling sleepily.

“You are not comfortable in this setting,” he remarked quietly.

Alanna was never fond of personal remarks. She changed the subject. “I like your vest,” she announced. The vest was an elegant garment, red velvet trimmed with gold. He smiled, and she knew he had seen through her tactic.

“Sir Myles tells me you are curious about the Bazhir. Why? Surely a young man from a northern fief can have little interest in the desert.”

“A person can never tell where he’ll end up,” she said bluntly. “I understand northerners. I don’t understand the Bazhir.”

“So. A cat’s curiosity, as well as a cat’s love of privacy. Is it permitted to ask why only one page travels in your group?”

Alanna decided she liked this odd man. “His Highness asked if I could come, specially. We’re friends—he and I and Gary and Raoul—the two big squires. And Alex—”

“The dark, secretive one,” Ali Mukhtab interrupted. “He, too, is like a cat—but not one I would like to know. I am very fond of cats. At least three live in my chambers.”

“Alex isn’t secretive, precisely,” Alanna demurred. “He’s just—he’s always been that way. Can you answer something for me? I know it’s a little rude, but I’ve got to ask.”

The Bazhir smiled and accepted two glasses filled with green liquor being passed by a footman. He gave one to Alanna. “Drink,” he told her. “You’ll like it. By all means, ask me your ‘little rude’ question.”

Alanna sipped the green stuff carefully. It tasted wonderful. “I—uh—I couldn’t help but notice that Lord Martin—uh—doesn’t much like the Bazhir. I mean, he’s supposed to be fair and all—”

Ali Mukhtab grinned outright. “You are right. He is painfully correct with us, and he cannot stand the sight of us. Go on.”

“If that’s so, why are you a—a Bazhir—the governor of his castle?”

Mukhtab turned his glass in his fingers. “Your friend Myles said you were intelligent. He did not say you were blunt.”

Alanna blushed. “Myles said that about me?” Her blush deepened. “I never said I was tactful,” she added.

“The post of governor in the castle of Persopolis goes by right to a Bazhir,” Ali Mukhtab explained. “Lord Martin cannot change that, although I know he has tried to. It is in the treaty with the Old King. I think our people would rise up if the king in the north tried to change the custom.”

“Over one castle position?” Alanna asked. “That seems a little—well, extreme.”

“There is a very good reason for that tradition,” the Bazhir explained. He looked out the window at the dimming sky. “In fact, if you and your friends can leave discreetly, I will show you all something interesting.”

Within a few minutes Alanna and her friends had assembled in a back hallway. Jonathan was the last to arrive; he had more difficulty sneaking away.

“If I hear one more noble