First Test. Tamora Pierce

her mistake.

      With a sigh, she toppled forward, as she had so often in the Islands, and smacked the ground.

      When the next bell of the morning rang, they moved to another practice yard. A short black man in the maroon and beige uniform of the palace guard waited for them beside a barrel filled with long wooden staffs. Each of the pages selected one as he passed by.

      ‘I am Sergeant Obafem Ezeko,’ announced the uniformed black man in unaccented Common. ‘Formerly weapons instructor to the Imperial Guard of Carthak, now serving the crown of Tortall. Lord Wyldon and I will instruct you in the use of various weapons. Pair up. You new ones at this end of the line. Cleon of Kennan and Vinson of Genlith, come up here to demonstrate.’

      Cleon was the big, redheaded boy who was Esmond of Nicoline’s sponsor. He went to stand beside the sergeant, spinning his staff idly in his hands. Vinson faced off with him. He was a bony, tall youth. Kel had seen him eating with the handsome Joren at supper and breakfast.

      ‘Show them a high block,’ instructed the sergeant. ‘Vinson defending, Cleon striking.’

      Cleon pulled his staff back and swung it first up, then down. The blow he’d aimed would have struck Vinson on the head or collarbone if it had landed. Instead Vinson gripped his staff, his hands spread wide apart, and raised the weapon a few inches over his head. Cleon’s staff met his with a loud clack.

      ‘Observe the strike,’ the sergeant told them. ‘Again, Cleon.’ The big youth repeated the strike, moving slowly. Kel nodded, watching the way his hands shifted on the smooth wood as he lowered it to tap Vinson’s skull. From the way Vinson scowled at the bigger youth, Cleon’s tap was a little harder than necessary.

      ‘Your turn,’ barked Ezeko. He watched as the assembled pages did the strike. The newest boys were clumsy, although they should have had staff practice from their family men-at-arms. Kel was comfortable with the move. The only difference between this and the strike of a Yamani glaive, the weapon she knew best, was that she had no razor-sharp eighteen inches of steel at the end of her staff.

      ‘Repeat the high block, Vinson,’ ordered the sergeant. Everyone watched as Vinson moved his hands apart on the staff and thrust it hard into the air, stopping just three inches over his head. He angled the staff down on the right to shield his face as well as his head. The sergeant made everyone do the same movement. He then had Cleon and Vinson demonstrate the middle strike and block, which centred on the chest and belly, and the low combination, to attack and defend the legs. Each time he made the pages try the moves.

      Once they had practised each movement, Ezeko had them stand in two lines. The newest pages were paired together. Neal, who was still new despite having been there during the spring and early summer, was partnered with Seaver of Tasride, the dark-haired, dark-eyed boy who looked as if he had a Bazhir ancestor. Kel was paired with redheaded Merric of Hollyrose. He was short, compact, and intent on their exercise. Kel licked her lips and settled the weapon in her hands.

      ‘Left line strikes; right line blocks,’ the sergeant told them. He walked along the double line of pages, checking everyone’s hold on the staffs. After he’d changed some boys’ grips and nodded approval for others, he stepped back. ‘To my count,’ he bellowed. ‘High! Middle! Low!’ Staffs clacked as the exercise began and wood met wood. ‘High! Middle! Low!’