Page. Tamora Pierce

she put on a brown shift, orange gown, and stockings – she always wore a dress to supper, in case anyone had forgotten that she was a girl – she noticed other welcome changes. Her desk had been neatened, her clothes pressed till not a single wrinkle was left. There was a bowl, empty even of crumbs, and a half-empty water dish: the girl Lalasa had washed and fed the dog. She had also found Kel’s store of seeds and filled the sparrows’ feed and water dishes. No bird droppings could be seen anywhere.

      Someone pounded on her door. ‘Kel, come on!’ yelled Neal. ‘I’m hungry!’

      When she opened the door, he poked his head inside. ‘The cooks say there’s ham and blueberry pies, since it’s the first day. I love blueberry pie – Mithros, that is the ugliest dog in the world.’ He stepped inside.

      The dog trotted over to sniff him energetically. His crooked tail began to whip. He stood on his hind legs, braced his paws on Neal’s long thighs, and rooted at one of the youth’s pockets.

      ‘Caught me out, old man, didn’t you?’ asked Neal with a grin. He crouched, pulling a roll from his pocket, and gave it to the dog. It was gone in three bites. ‘You know we can’t have dogs,’ he reminded Kel, scratching the animal’s rump. ‘Mithros and Goddess, he is ugly.’

      ‘You said that already. I know I can’t have a dog. Neal, will the Wildmage take him?’

      ‘Daine? Of course,’ he replied. ‘She’s here – I saw her last night. Ask her after supper.’

      ‘Did you maybe want to go with me?’ she offered gingerly, afraid that she might cause Neal hurt by asking him along. Last year, he had introduced her to Daine when Kel had needed help with Peachblossom. Kel had seen that Neal was smitten with Daine, though she lived with the mage Numair Salmalín.

      ‘No,’ he told Kel nobly, and sighed. ‘It just tries my heart, to see her with that old man.’

      Kel didn’t think Master Numair was so old, but she held her tongue. It did no good to argue with her lovestruck friend.

      ‘Kel, is Neal here?’ Merric stuck his head into the room. ‘Let’s be prompt to supper, shall we?’ His blue eyes widened. ‘That’s an ugly dog. You know we aren’t allowed pets.’

      ‘He goes to Daine tonight,’ Kel snapped. She thrust her friends from the room.

      The king joined them for supper, as he had the year before. He ate with Lord Wyldon, then spoke to the pages and the few squires present about the importance of their studies. Kel watched and listened, her face Yamani-smooth. While she owed King Jonathan her duty and her service, she still wasn’t sure that she liked him. The king had allowed Lord Wyldon to put Kel on a year’s probation, something no other page had to endure. It had not been fair.

      Suddenly she remembered something her father had said when the Yamani emperor ordered the execution not only of a band of robbers but of their women and children as well. ‘Rulers are seldom nice people, Kel,’ he’d remarked, his eyes sad. ‘Even good ones make choices that will hurt somebody.’

      But what if I want him to be nice? she asked her father now as she watched her king smile at the eager boys. What if I want him to be fair?

      ‘You may want anything you like,’ her mother would have said. ‘That doesn’t mean you’ll get it.’

      She smiled, but she kept it inside. She didn’t want the king to think she smiled at him.

      As soon as the king had gone, Lord Wyldon called, ‘Keladry of Mindelan.’

      Now what? thought Kel, halfway to the door. Has he heard about the dog? She went back to the training master’s table.

      At least he didn’t keep her in suspense. ‘I understand you have taken a maid into your service,’ he remarked when she bowed.

      Kel heaved an inner sigh of relief. ‘Yes, my lord.’

      ‘You are permitted to do so. However, a servant is a privilege, not a right, in the pages’ wing. In addition to your obligations to anyone in your service, you have obligations to me and to the palace.’ He regarded her levelly, toying with his knife. ‘She is not to involve herself physically with any page or squire. Her presence is not considered chaperonage for you. If there is a boy in your rooms, the door remains open. If she is ill, you will call and pay a healer. If she cannot read and write, you must teach her. If she misbehaves – is a thief, or lewd, or quarrelsome – you are liable. If she runs off, or stays away overnight without your permission, or disobeys you, do not ask palace guards or servants to find her or to help you to discipline her. That you must do yourself. Am I understood?’

      Kel bowed. ‘Yes, my lord.’

      ‘Do your duty by her, and by us,’ Lord Wyldon said firmly. ‘You are dismissed.’

      Kel left, finding that the halls had cleared while they talked. Most of the boys had vanished to begin their studies. Now Kel grabbed the dog and wrapped him in a blanket. ‘You keep still,’ she ordered as she carried him down the hall. The chambers where Daine lived were on the floor above the classrooms. The dog struggled on the narrow stair, finally poking his head out of the blanket. He then stopped fighting and gazed around with interest.

      He was so bony, and so light! Couldn’t she keep him until he’d made up for the meals he had missed? Kel stopped on the landing to blink eyes that stung with tears. She knew she was being silly. Daine would feed him well, and she could heal his wounds. She could talk to him through her magic, and understand his replies. In a day or two the dog wouldn’t even remember Kel, he’d be so happy.

      Thoroughly miserable and determined to hide it, Kel resumed her climb to the second floor. Walking slowly, she checked engraved name plates on the doors until she found the one that read: ‘Numair Salmalín, Veralidaine Sarrasri’. Wrestling a hand free of the blanket, Kel knocked.

      The door opened. For a moment Kel was confused – she saw no one. A sharp whistle drew her gaze, and the dog’s, down to the floor. A young dragon, just two feet tall, was looking up at them. Her scales were dusty blue, her large, slit-pupilled eyes sky blue. She had draped her foot-long tail over a forepaw, like the train on a gown.

      ‘Aren’t you pretty,’ Kel said, admiring the small creature. She had seen the dragon Skysong, nicknamed Kitten, before, though at a distance. ‘Is Daine about?’ Dragons, even very young ones like Kitten, were supposed to be as intelligent as human beings.

      The dragon tilted her slender muzzle and voiced a trill, then raised herself on tiptoe to inspect the dog. Kel knelt politely so the two could look at each other.

      ‘Keladry, hello!’ the Wildmage said cheerfully as she came to the door. ‘Welcome back!’ She was just three inches taller than Kel and slender, with tumbling smoky curls and grave, blue-grey eyes. She was dressed for rough work in breeches and shirt. Feathers clung to her hair. Her shirt was speckled with bird droppings and a streak of green slime that had to have come from a horse or donkey.

      Kel got to her feet and smiled at Daine. ‘It’s good to be back, my lady.’

      ‘Who’s this?’ Daine stretched out her hands.

      As Kel handed the dog over, she explained how she had met him. ‘My maid gave him a bath and some more food, so he doesn’t look as bad as he did,’ she finished. ‘But I can’t keep him. Would you? He likes you already.’ It was true; the dog was gleefully licking Daine’s face. When she set him down, he offered Kitten the same attention. Kitten stepped back with a shrill whistle. Scolded, the dog looked up at Kel and panted, tongue lolling.

      ‘I can try to keep him,’ Daine said, a doubtful look in her eyes. ‘He needs patching up, and something for worms. He’s barely more than a pup.’ She crouched beside the dog, running her hands over his scrawny frame. ‘He says his name is Jump.’

      Kel backed up. ‘Name him as you like, my lady,’ she said, clenching her hands behind her back. She was not going to get upset over a dog she’d known less