First Test

FIRST TEST

BOOK 1 OF THE PROTECTOR OF THE SMALL QUARTET

Tamora Pierce

Copyright

HarperVoyager

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Copyright © Tamora Pierce 1999

Map copyright © Isidre Mones 2017

Jacket design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Tamora Pierce asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008304195

Ebook Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008304201

Version: 2019-06-25

PRAISE FOR TAMORA PIERCE

‘Tamora Pierce didn’t just blaze a trail. Her heroines cut a swathe through the fantasy world with wit, strength, and savvy. Pierce is the real lioness, and we’re all just running to keep pace.’

LEIGH BARDUGO, #1 New York Times bestselling author

‘Tamora Pierce creates epic worlds populated by girls and women of bravery, heart, and strength. Her work inspired a generation of writers and continues to inspire us.’

HOLLY BLACK, #1 New York Times bestselling author

‘Tamora Pierce’s books shaped me not only as a young writer but also as a young woman. Her complex, unforgettable heroines and vibrant, intricate worlds blazed a trail for young adult fantasy – and I get to write what I love today because of the path she forged throughout her career. She is a pillar, an icon, and an inspiration.’

SARAH J. MAAS, #1 New York Times bestselling author

‘I take more comfort from and as great pleasure in Tamora Pierce’s Tortall novels as I do from Game of Thrones.’

Washington Post

‘Tamora Pierce and her brilliant heroines didn’t just break down barriers; they smashed them with magical fire.’

KATHERINE ARDEN, author of The Bear and the Nightingale

Dedication

To Mallory, who totally made it happen

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Tamora Pierce

Dedication

Map

Chapter 1: Decisions

Chapter 2: Not So Welcome

Chapter 3: The Practice Courts

Chapter 4: Classrooms

Chapter 5: Kel Backs Away

Chapter 6: The Lance

Chapter 7: Kel Takes a Stand

Chapter 8: Winter

Chapter 9: Tests

Chapter 10: The Royal Forest

Chapter 11: Spidren Hunt

Cast of Characters

Glossary

Acknowledgements

Read on for a Preview of Page

Also by Tamora Pierce

About the Publisher

Map

CHAPTER 1

DECISIONS

Alanna the Lioness, the King’s Champion, could hardly contain her glee. Baron Piers of Mindelan had written to King Jonathan to say that his daughter wished to be a page. Alanna fought to sit still as she watched Wyldon of Cavall, the royal training master, read the baron’s letter. Seated across his desk from them, the king watched the training master as sharply as his Champion did. Lord Wyldon was known for his dislike of female warriors.

It had been ten long years since the proclamation that girls might attempt a page’s training. Alanna had nearly given up hope that such a girl – or the kind of family that would allow her to do so – existed in Tortall, but at last she had come forward. Keladry of Mindelan would not have to hide her sex for eight years as Alanna had done. Keladry would prove to the world that girls could be knights. And she would not be friendless. Alanna had plans to help Keladry through the first few years. It never occurred to the Champion that anyone might object.

Alanna half turned to see Wyldon better. Surely he’d read the letter at least twice! From this side the puffy scars from his battle to save the younger princes and princess were starkly visible; Wyldon’s right arm was in a sling yet from that fight. Alanna rubbed fingers that itched with the urge to apply healing magic. Wyldon had the idea that suffering pain made a warrior stronger. He would not thank her if she tried to heal him now.

Goddess bless, she thought tiredly. How will I ever get on with him if I’m to help this girl Keladry?

Wyldon was not flexible: he’d proved that to the entire court over and over. If he were any stiffer, Alanna thought wryly, I’d paint a design on him and use him for a shield. He’s got no sense of humour and he rejects change just because it’s change.

Still, she had to admit that his teaching worked. During the Immortals War of the spring and early summer, when legendary creatures had joined with the realm’s human enemies to take the kingdom, the squires and pages had been forced into battle. They had done well, thanks to their training by Wyldon and the teachers he had picked.

At last Lord Wyldon returned the letter to King Jonathan, who placed it on his desk. ‘The baron and the baroness of Mindelan are faithful servants of the crown,’ the king remarked. ‘We would not have this treaty with the Yamani Islands were it not for them. You will have read that their daughter received some warrior training at the Yamani court, so it would appear that Keladry has an aptitude.’

Lord Wyldon resettled his arm in its sling. ‘I did not agree to this, Your Majesty.’

Alanna was about to say that he didn’t have to agree when she saw the king give the tiniest shake of the head. Clenching her jaws, she kept her remark to herself as King Jonathan raised his eyebrows.

‘Your predecessor agreed,’ he reminded Wyldon. ‘And you, my lord, implied agreement when you accepted the post of training master.’

‘That is a lawyer’s reply, sire,’ Wyldon replied stiffly, a slight flush rising in his clean-shaven cheeks.

‘Then here is a king’s: we desire this girl to train as a page.’

And that is that, Alanna thought, satisfied. She might be the kind of knight who would argue with her king, at least in private, but Wyldon would never let himself do so.

The training master absently rubbed the arm in its linen sling. At last he bowed in his chair. ‘May we compromise, sire?’

Alanna stiffened. She hated that word! ‘Com—’ she began to say.

The king silenced her with a look. ‘What do you want, my lord?’

‘In all honesty,’ said the training master, thinking aloud, ‘I had thought that our noble parents loved their daughters too much to place them in so hard a life.’

‘Not everyone is afraid to do anything new,’ Alanna replied sharply.

‘Lioness,’ said the king, his voice dangerously quiet. Alanna clenched her fists. What was going on? Was Jonathan inclined to give way to the man who’d saved his children?

Wyldon’s eyes met hers squarely. ‘Your bias is known, Lady Alanna.’ To the king he said, ‘Surely the girl’s parents cannot be aware of the difficulties she will encounter.’

‘Baron Piers and Lady Ilane are not fools,’ replied King Jonathan. ‘They have given us three good, worthy knights already.’

Lord Wyldon gave a reluctant nod. Anders, Inness, and Conal of Mindelan were credits to their training. The realm would feel the loss of Anders – whose war wounds could never heal entirely – from the active duty rolls. It would take years to replace those who were killed or maimed in the Immortals War.

‘Sire, please, think this through,’ Wyldon said. ‘We need the realm’s sons. Girls are fragile, more emotional, easier to frighten. They are not as strong in their arms and shoulders as men. They tire easily. This girl would get any warriors who serve with her killed on some dark night.’

Alanna started to get up. This time King Jonathan walked out from behind his desk. Standing beside his Champion, he gripped one of her shoulders, keeping her in her chair.

‘But I will be fair,’ Wyldon continued. His brown eyes were hard. ‘Let her be on probation for a year. By the end of the summer field camp, if she has not convinced me of her ability to keep up, she must go home.’

‘Who judges her fitness?’ enquired the king.

Wyldon’s lips tightened. ‘Who but the training master, sire? I have the most experience in evaluating the young for their roles as future knights.’

Alanna turned to stare at the king. ‘No boy has ever undergone a probationary period!’ she cried.

Wyldon raised his good shoulder in a shrug. ‘Perhaps they should. For now, I will not tender my resignation over this, provided I judge whether this girl stays or goes in one year’s time.’

The king weighed the request. Alanna fidgeted. She knew Lord Wyldon meant his threat, and the crown needed him. Too many great nobles, dismayed by the changes in Tortall since Jonathan’s coronation, felt that Wyldon was their voice at court. If he resigned, the king and queen would find it hard to get support for their future changes.

At last King Jonathan said, ‘Though we do not always agree, my lord, you know I respect you because you are fair and honourable. I would hate to see that fairness, that honour, tainted in any way. Keladry of Mindelan shall have a year’s probation.’

Lord Wyldon nodded, then inspected the nails on his good hand. ‘There is one other matter,’ he remarked slowly. He looked at Alanna. ‘Do you plan to involve yourself in the girl’s training? It will not do.’

Alanna bristled. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You wish to help the girl, understandably.’ Wyldon spoke as though the mild words made his teeth hurt. ‘But you rarely deal with the lads, my lady. If you help the girl, it will be said that you eased her path in some special way. There are rumours that your successes are due to your magical Gift.’

‘By the Goddess,’ snapped Alanna, crimson with fury. If the king had not forbidden her to challenge men on personal grounds years before, she would have taken Wyldon out to the duelling court and made him regret his words.

‘Alanna, for heaven’s sake, you know the gossip,’ King Jonathan said. ‘Stop acting as if you’d never heard it before.’ He looked at Wyldon. ‘And you suggest …’

‘Lady Alanna must keep from all contact with the girl,’ Wyldon replied firmly. ‘Even a moment’s conversation will give rise to suspicion.’

‘All contact?’ cried Alanna. ‘But she’ll be the only girl among over twenty boys! She’ll have questions – I could help—’ She realized what she had said and fell silent.

King Jonathan gently patted her shoulder. ‘Is there no other way?’ he asked.

Wyldon shook his head. ‘I fear not, sire. The Mindelan girl will be the cause of trouble as it is, without the Lioness hovering over her.’

The king thought it over. At last he sighed. ‘Lord Wyldon has the right of it. You must stay away from Keladry of Mindelan, Alanna.’

‘But Jonathan – sire—’ she pleaded, not believing he would do this.

‘That is an order, lady knight. If you cannot accept that, say as much now, and I will find you work elsewhere.’

She stared at him for a long moment, lips tight. At last she got to her feet. ‘Don’t tax yourself. I’ll find knight’s work myself,’ she told him. ‘As far from Corus as possible.’ She stalked out of the room, slamming the door in her wake.

The men stared at the door. Each of them was trying to remember if Alanna the Lioness had ever spoken to Jonathan in that tone before.

Baron Piers and Lady Ilane of Mindelan watched Keladry read the reply from the training master. A Tortallan who did not know them well might have thought the man and woman felt nothing, and that their ten-year-old daughter was only concerned, not upset. That was far from true. The family had spent the last six years living in the Yamani Islands, where displays of deep emotion were regarded as shameful. To get the Yamanis to respect them, they had all learned to hide their feelings. Home in Mindelan again, they still acted as Yamanis, hiding uneasiness and even distress behind still faces.

Kel struggled to reread the letter, afraid to say a word. If she did, her shaking voice would give her away. Instead she waited as she tried to control the anger and sense of betrayal that filled her.

‘It is not the reply we expected,’ Baron Piers said at last. He was a short, stocky man. Keladry had his build, delicate nose, and dreamy, long-lashed hazel eyes. Her brown hair was several shades lighter than his. When Kel did not reply he continued, ‘His declaration of ten years ago was that girls could become pages. Nothing was said of probation then.’

‘Keladry?’ asked her mother. ‘You can say what you feel. We are no longer among the Yamanis.’ She was a thin, elegant woman, taller than her husband by nearly a head, with hair that had gone white very early in life and a deep, musical voice. All Keladry had from her was height. At the age of ten the girl was already five feet tall and still growing.

It took Kel a moment to register what her mother had said. She tried a smile. ‘But, Mama, I don’t want to get into bad habits, in case I go back with you.’ She looked at Lord Wyldon’s letter again. She had expected to be a page when her parents returned to the Yamani Islands in eighteen months. From the tone of this letter, perhaps she ought not to count on that.

‘It isn’t right,’ she said quietly, even fiercely. ‘No boys have probation. I’m supposed to be treated the same.’

‘Don’t give your answer yet,’ Baron Piers said quickly. ‘Take the letter with you. Think about what it says. You’re not hasty, Kel – this is a bad time to start.’

‘Reflect as if you have all of time, even when time is short,’ added her mother in Yamani. ‘Be as stone.’

Kel bowed Yamani-style, palms flat on her thighs. Then she went to find someplace quiet to think.

First she went to her room beside the nursery. That wasn’t a good choice. Two of her brothers’ young families lived at Mindelan. With the children and their nursemaids next door, there was enough noise to drown out trumpets. No one had seen her creep into the room, but her oldest nephew saw her leaving it. Nothing would do for him but that she give him a piggyback ride around the large room. After that, all of the older children wanted rides of their own. Once that was done, the nursemaids helped Kel to escape.

She tried to hole up by the fountain in the castle garden, but her sisters-in-law were there, sewing and gossiping with their maids. The kitchen garden was her next choice, but two servants were there gathering vegetables. She stared longingly at her favourite childhood spot, the highest tower in the castle, and felt a surge of anger. Before they had gone to the islands her brother Conal had teasingly held her over the edge of the tower balcony. Until that time she had visited the top of that tower at least once a day. Now the thought of it made her shudder.

There were hundreds of places she might use around the castle, but they were all indoors. She needed to be outside. She was trying to think of a place when she remembered the broad, shallow Domin River, which ran through the woods. No one would be there. She could sit by the water and think in peace.

‘Miss?’ called a voice as she strode through the inner gate in the castle wall. ‘Where might you be going?’

Kel turned to face the man-at-arms who had called to her. ‘I don’t know.’

The man held out a small horn. ‘If you’re not going to the village, you need one of these.’ He spoke carefully. The baron and his family had been home only for three months, and the people were still not sure what to make of these strange, Yamani-like nobles. ‘They told you the rule, surely. Any time you go outside the castle or village, you take a horn. You never know when one of them monsters, centaurs or giants or whatever, will show its face.’

Kel frowned. The legendary creatures that had returned to their world five years before had an unnerving way of showing up when they were least expected. For every one that was harmless or willing to get on with humans, there were fistfuls that weren’t. Bands of men-at-arms now roamed throughout the fiefdom, searching for hostile visitors and listening for the horn call, which meant someone was in trouble.

I’m not going very far, she wanted to argue, but the Yamanis had taught her to obey a soldier’s commands. She accepted the horn with a quiet thank-you and slung it over one shoulder. Checking that Lord Wyldon’s letter was tucked securely in the front of her shirt, she left the road that led from the castle gate and headed through their orchards. Once past the cultivated trees she entered the woods, following a trail down to the water.

By the time she could see a glint of silver through the trees she had worked up a mild sweat. The day was warm and the walk was longer than she had thought it would be. When a rock worked its way into her shoe, she sat on a log to get it out.

‘It’s not right,’ she muttered to herself, undoing the laces that held the leather around her ankle. ‘You’re a page for four years. That’s how it’s been done for centuries. Now they’re going to change it?’ When she up-ended the shoe and shook it, nothing fell out. She stuffed a hand inside, feeling around for the stone. ‘And just because I’m a girl? They ought to treat me the same. All I want is the same chance as the boys. No more, no less. That’s right, isn’t it?’ She winced as a sharp edge nipped one of her fingers. Working more carefully, she wiggled the bit of rock out of a fold in the leather. ‘Probation is not fair, and knighthood training has to be fair.’

The stone was out; her mind was made up. If they couldn’t treat her the same as they would the boys, then she wasn’t going to settle for a half portion. She would have to become a warrior some other way.

Kel sighed and put her shoe back on. The problem was that now she would have to wait. The Queen’s Riders took volunteers when they were fifteen or older. The queen’s ladies, those who were expected to ride, handle a bow, and deal with trouble at Queen Thayet’s side, went to her in their fifteenth year as well. And who was to say Kel wouldn’t be living in the Yamani Islands by then?

One thing she knew: convent school, the normal destination for noble girls her age, was not a choice. Kel had no interest whatever in ladylike arts, and even less interest in the skills needed to attract a husband or manage a castle. Even if she did, who would have her? Once she’d overheard her sisters-in-law comment that no man would be interested in a girl who was built along the lines of a cow.

She’d made the mistake of repeating that comment to her mother, when Kel’s plan to be a page had first come up. Her mother had gone white with fury and had put her daughters-in-law to mending several years’ worth of old linens. It had taken a great deal of persuasion for Kel to convince her mother that her quest for knighthood did not mean she wanted to settle for second best, knowing she would never marry. Getting Ilane of Mindelan to agree to her being a page had been a negotiation every bit as complicated as what her father had done to get the Yamanis to sign the treaty.

And see the good that did me, Kel thought with disgust. Lord Wyldon offers me second best anyway, and I won’t take it. I could have saved my breath talking Mama around.

She was ready to get to her feet when the sound of bodies crashing through the brush made her look up. Gruff voices reached her ear.

‘Hurry up!’ a boy growled from near the river. ‘Do you want us t’get caught?’

‘The Cow’s at home,’ replied a second boy’s voice. ‘She stays there all morning.’

Kel stood, listening. If they were on the lookout for her, then they were up to something bad. In just three months she had taught the local boys she was someone to respect. Kel grabbed a sturdy fallen branch and ran towards the voices. Racing into open ground between the trees and river, she saw three village boys. They were about to throw a wriggling cloth sack into the Domin.

Her mouth settled into a tight, angry line; her hazel eyes glittered. ‘Put that down!’ she cried.

The boys whirled, startled, dropping their burden on a half-submerged tree limb. One of them punched the smallest in the shoulder. ‘Home all morning, eh?’

Kel shouted, ‘I know all of you! And you know the law in Mindelan – no killing of animals without the baron’s leave!’

The biggest, taller than she by half a head, advanced. The other two were right behind him. ‘Who’s to make us stop, Cow?’

The Yamanis had taught her well. She waded into the boys, using her club as an equalizer. She whacked them in the belly so they couldn’t breathe, and on the collarbones and biceps so they couldn’t raise their arms. One youth punched her face; he caught her on the outside of one eye. She changed her grip on her branch and swept his feet from under him, then stood on one of his arms.

Another lad grabbed a branch and swung at her; she blocked it with hers, then rammed the length of wood into his stomach. He doubled over, gasping. Kel shoved him into the third boy. Down they went in a tumble. When they untangled themselves, they ran. Their comrade also chose to make his escape.

Kel looked around for the sack. The current had tugged the tree limb on which it rested out into the deeper, faster water at the centre of the river. She didn’t hesitate, but waded into the water. Kel was a good swimmer and the river here was fairly shallow. She doubted that whatever small creatures were struggling in the sack could swim.

Movement on the far bank made her look up. What she saw made her halt, cold water rushing around her thighs. Something black and strange-looking walked out from under the shelter of the trees. It looked like a giant furred spider nearly five feet tall, with one difference. The thing had a human head. It stared at Kel, then grinned broadly to reveal sharp teeth.

Her flesh crawled; hairs stood up on her arms and the back of her neck. Spidren, she thought, recognizing it from descriptions. Spidrens in our woods.

Like most of the legendary creatures that now prowled the Human Realms, they were virtually immortal, immune to disease and old age. They died only when something or someone took pains to kill them. They fed on animals and human blood. No one could get spidrens to make peace with human beings.