Alanna The First Adventure - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,8

that what you’ve been doing—kissing pigs? Or being kissed?”

Ralon threw her against the wall, hard. Alanna charged, ramming into his stomach and knocking him to the floor. Ralon yelled and shoved her off him.

“What is this?”

The young male voice was clear and forceful. Ralon froze; Alanna slowly got to her feet. The watching boys made way for a dark-haired page and his four companions.

Ralon was the first to speak. “Highness, this boy was acting as if he owned the palace,” he whined. “King of the castle, he was, and he insulted me like no gentleman insults another—”

“I don’t think I spoke to you, Ralon of Malven,” the boy called “Highness” said. His bright blue eyes fixed on Ralon’s. The two boys were about the same height, but the dark-haired boy seemed to be about a year younger and much more commanding. “Unless I’m mistaken, I told you not to talk to me at all.”

“But, Highness, he—”

“Shut up, Ralon,” instructed one of the boy’s friends. This one was big, with tightly curled brown hair and coal-black eyes. “You’ve got your orders.”

Ralon stepped out of the way, red with fury. The boy who seemed to be running things looked around. “Douglass.” He nodded to a boy who had been there all along. “What happened?”

A stocky blond page stepped forward. His hair was still wet from washing. He was the one who told Ralon to let Alanna alone.

“It was Ralon, Jon,” Douglass said. “The new boy was just standing here. Ralon started on him—called him a country boy, said he was a farmer’s son. The new boy said he thought we were here to learn manners. Ralon grabbed him and said the new boy had to do whatever Ralon told him to do, and say ‘Yes, Lord Ralon.’”

The boy called Highness looked at Ralon with disgust. “I’m not surprised.” He turned his bright eyes back to Alanna. “Then what?”

Douglass grinned. “The new boy said he’d as soon kiss a pig.” The pages started to giggle. Alanna blushed and hung her head. Ralon’s behavior was bad, but hers wasn’t much better. “He said it looked as if Ralon had been kissing pigs. Either that or being kissed himself.”

Most of the boys listening laughed outright at this. Alanna could see Ralon’s fists clench. She had made her first enemy.

“Ralon threw the boy against the wall,” Douglass continued. “The new boy tackled him and knocked him down. That’s when you came, Jon.”

“I’ll speak with you later, Ralon,” the darkhaired boy instructed. “In my rooms, before lightsout.” When Ralon hesitated, Jon added in a soft, icy voice, “You’ve been dismissed, Malven.”

Ralon hurled himself out of the hallway. The boys watched him go before returning their attention to Alanna. She was still studying the floor.

“You have good taste in enemies, even if you do make them your first day here,” Jon said. “Let’s have a look at you, Fire-Hair.”

Slowly she looked up into his eyes. He was about three years older than she was, with coalblack hair and sapphire-colored eyes. His nose was straight and slightly hooked. His face was stern, but a smile touched his mouth, and a glimmer of fun slipped from his eyes. Alanna linked her hands behind her back, giving him stare for stare until the large boy who had silenced Ralon whispered, “This is Prince Jonathan, lad.”

She bowed slightly, afraid that if she bent over any more she would fall. It wasn’t every day a person met the heir to the throne. “Your Royal Highness,” she said. “I’m sorry about the—the misunderstanding.”

“You didn’t misunderstand,” the Prince told her. “Ralon is no gentleman. What’s your name?”

“Alan of Trebond, your Highness.”

He frowned. “I don’t remember seeing your family at Court.”

“No, your Highness.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my father. He doesn’t like it, your Highness.”

“I see.” There was no way to tell what he thought of her answer. “Do you like Court, Alan of Trebond?”

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I could let you know in a couple of days.”

“I look forward to your views.” Was he laughing inside? “Have you met the others?”

With royal permission given, the others all tried to introduce themselves at once. The big friendly boy who had given her Jonathan’s name was Raoul of Goldenlake. The large young man with chestnut hair and eyes was Gareth—Gary—of Naxen, the Duke’s son. The slim, dark boy beside him was Alexander of Tirragen, and Raoul’s shy blond shadow was Francis of Nond. There were ten others but these four—and the Prince—were the leaders.

Finally Jonathan said, “Now that