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Alanna shook her head. “Prince Jonathan, this is my friend, George.”
“Alan’s not tellin’ you that my work doesn’t always mean stayin’ right with the law,” George explained. “But come, lads. You’ll be wantin’ to see the beast.”
He led them down another stair to a door that opened behind the inn. Seeing Alanna’s curious look, George said, “It pays to have at least two doors—even three.” He pointed to the roof. Two shuttered windows looked out over the roof of the one-story kitchen. A ladder was even placed against the kitchen wall to make it easier to reach George’s rooms.
“Aren’t you worried about thieves?” Jonathan asked. When his companions broke out laughing, the Prince frowned thoughtfully.
“So Gary kissed Lady Roxanne?” George inquired. “I’d’ve kissed a sweeter armful, myself.”
“It was a bet,” Alanna explained.
“For ten nobles, I’d still have kissed someone prettier,” George replied.
“How’d you know about that bet?” Jonathan wanted to know. “It was a secret.”
“I’ve friends in the palace,” George said. “There isn’t much you can keep from your servants, Highness.”
Jonathan opened his mouth to ask something else, but Alanna distracted George with a burst of questions about her friends at the Dancing Dove. So the Prince kept quiet through the short walk, thinking an idea through.
They turned into a small alley. George stopped and unlocked a tall gate. They entered a stableyard, George locking the gate behind them.
Alanna gasped. Her eye had been caught by a beautiful young mare. The horse’s coat was gold, offset by a flowing white mane and tail. Gently Alanna caressed the mare’s nose. The creature whickered softly, rubbing against her hand.
“George, she’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.” Suddenly Alanna remembered this might not be the horse George had in mind. “George—she is the one you brought me to see?”
George bit back a smile, seeing the dismay in Alan’s violet eyes. “Aye, lad, she’s the one.”
“She’s perfect.” Alanna and the mare watched each other, spellbound.
Jonathan stepped into the stall. He ran expert hands over the mare’s legs and shoulders, petting her absently. Finally he looked at George.
“She’s stolen,” he accused.
George dug his hands into his breeches’ pockets, grinning. “Highness, would I do such a thing?”
“I hope you didn’t steal her, George,” Alanna murmured.
“I’ve a bill of sale. I don’t balk at stealin’ a proper horse, young sprout, but I knew you would.” George handed a paper to Jonathan, who examined it carefully.
“It’s legal,” the Prince said at last, returning it to George.
“How much, George?” Alanna wanted to know.
The thief looked at the page, his hazel eyes guarded. “Eight for the mare, two for the tack—ten gold nobles and she’s yours.” His tone dared Jon to argue. The Prince didn’t take the dare.
Alanna never hesitated, although it was the largest amount she had paid in her life. She counted the money into her friend’s hand and returned to admiring the horse—her horse. “We’re going a long way, you and I,” she whispered to the mare. The horse butted her gently, as if agreeing.
George took down a plain leather saddle and bridle. “Here you go.”
“George, if you ever want my life, you can have it,” Alanna said quietly, meaning every word. “What’s her name?”
“She hasn’t one. The Bazhir who sold her didn’t dare name such a noble lady.”
“I’ll call her Moonlight. D’you like that, girl?”
The mare tossed her head. Alanna laughed and set to work saddling her horse.
Jonathan drew George away from the stall. “That’s not a third of what you paid for that mare.”
George’s voice was low. “Would you have me deny the lad his heart’s desire? He’s been riding that pony all year when the poor beast should be at pasture and Alan on a horse. That care-for-naught he calls Father will never get him a proper mount. Call it a birthday gift, if you will. I’d give her to the boy outright, if he’d take her.”
Jonathan grinned ruefully. He had had his own experience with his small friend’s pride. “I can’t let you take a loss of at least twenty gold nobles. Besides—I owe Alan my life.” He looked sharply at the man. “I suppose you know about that, too.”
“I may,” the thief admitted.
Jonathan drew a sapphire ring off his finger. “That should more than cover the price of the mare.”
George turned the gem over in his long fingers. “It does indeed,” he said slowly, and made a rapid decision. “You’ve no proper horse of your own, I hear. Not a chief mount, a horse you’ll ride above all others. You might have an eye to this.” He opened a closed stall. Inside stood a great stallion, as black as Jonathan’s hair. “The ring would also cover his price, Highness. I don’t take charity.”
Jon hesitated, biting his lip. “Are you trying to buy me off, King of the Thieves?”
George smiled. “If the lad didn’t tell you, how’d you guess?”
“I sit on my father’s Council, remember. I’ve heard about you.”
George smoothed a hand over the stallion’s nose. “I’ve no wish to buy your silence. This is a sale, right and straight. When I bought the mare, I couldn’t let this one go. The dealer was a filthy old Bazhir. These two in his string were like gems in garbage. I figured the lad would want the mare, and I can always find a buyer for this fellow.”
Jonathan examined the stallion. He was more restless than Moonlight, but he quieted under the Prince’s firm hand. “You have an eye for horseflesh, George.”
“I like horses,” the man admitted. “I’ve a chestnut mare of my own, as pretty as you please. I’d be flattered if you’d have a look at her, sometime.”
“I’d like that.” Jonathan looked at George thoughtfully. Suddenly he smiled and offered his hand. “Thank you. A good horse can mean a man’s life.”
George took the offered hand, his eyes searching Jon’s for hidden motives. “You honor my taste, Highness.”
“I’m Jonathan—to my friends. Kings and princes should be friendly, don’t you agree?”
George laughed, but there was respect in his gaze. “I agree—Jonathan. And never fear I’ll use that friendship. My game of wits is with my Lord Provost—no one else.”
“I hope so”—Jon grinned—“or Alan, Gary and I are in a lot of trouble.”
“George,” Alanna said. The other two looked at her. Her face was bewildered. “I—I don’t understand,” she stammered. “Why do this for me? You went to a lot of trouble. Why?”
George looked at her for a long moment. Finally he replied, “And why do you find it so hard to think someone might like you and want to do things for you? That’s the way of friendship, lad.”
Alanna shook her head. “But I haven’t done anything for you.”
“That’s not how it works,” the thief said dryly.
This was confusing, and Alanna said so. George laughed and took them to lunch.
Shortly after this the four youngest pages—Alanna, a new boy named Geoffrey of Meron, Douglass of Veldine and Sacherell of Wellam—were ordered to one
of the indoor practice courts, instead of the staff yards. Awaiting them were Duke Gareth, Coram and Captain Aram Sklaw, head of the Palace Guard. The Captain, a hard-bitten old mercenary with a patch over his missing eye, looked the boys over.
“Hmph!” he snorted. “Not a promising one in the lot!” He pointed a thick finger at Geoffrey. “You—you look like a dreamer to me. Blood makes you sick, eh? You’d rather read than fight. Huh!” He eyed Douglass. “Aye, you like your food, don’t you? Hang around the kitchens, I wager, begging from Cook.” He squinted at Alanna. “You? You’re not big enough for bird feed. You won’t be able even to lift a sword, let alone swing it.” Alanna started to argue and remembered Duke Gareth’s presence. She stored that remark for later—she’d show Sklaw! The mercenary turned to Sacherell. “I’ve seen you on the courts. Lazy, that’s what you are, and slow to boot.” He stood at attention before the Duke. “With your Grace’s permission, I’d like to be excused.”
Duke Gareth’s smile did not quite fit under the hand he used to hide it. “You ask to be excused every time, Aram, and yet you manage to turn out creditable swordsmen—every time.” He looked at the boys, his thin face stern once more. “You are going to learn the art of fencing.” Alanna gulped with alarm—Duke Gareth always made her nervous. “No, don’t look at me like that, Alan—I don’t waste my time on beginners. I don’t have enough for the more promising students as it is. Captain Sklaw and Guardsman Smythesson will be your teachers. You’ll learn how to forge a sword, how to draw it, how to hold it. For the next few months you’ll eat, sleep and study with your sword on. If it leaves your side, you get an overnight vigil in the Sun’s Chapel. This is not wrestling or tilting. You might go all your lives without wrestling, when you are knights. However, you may safely bet you’ll have to defend yourself—or someone else—with a sword at least once before you die. If any of you give the Guardsman or the Captain cause to complain, you’ll talk to me. I know how much you boys enjoy our little chats.” The Duke nodded to the men. “Gentlemen, they’re yours.” He walked from the room.
