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The boy stepped back and knelt. “I yield,” he said. He looked up at her and grinned. “Well fought, Alan! Very well fought!”
She stared at him, gasping, feeling as if her lungs were on fire. Then she realized the sound in her ears was cheering. Her friends, in fact all of the pages and squires, were cheering for her.
“Very good, Aram,” Duke Gareth murmured to Captain Sklaw. “You’ve turned out a matchless swordsman.”
“’Twasn’t me, yer Grace,” Sklaw growled, staring at the page who was fumbling at his armor ties. “’Twas the lad Trebond, and he did it all by himself.”
* * *
That night Jonathan paid a visit to his uncle. “Sir?” he said politely. “I have a favor to ask. It’s about this trip to Persopolis in Fief Meron.”
The Duke of Naxen grinned. “You know you have only to command me, Jon.”
Jonathan chuckled. “But will you obey? Uncle, I’d like Alan to come with us. You said the pages will be going out to Naxen this summer. He could stay behind then, to make up for it.”
The man looked into Jon’s face. “This is very unusual, Jonathan.”
“I know,” was the calm reply. “It’s just—Alan spends more time with Gary and Raoul and Alex and me than he does with the pages. I think he’d have more fun if he went with us. And Sir Myles is going, and he’s—” The Prince stopped, then went on when he saw an understanding look on his uncle’s face. “Myles is a better father to Alan than the Lord of Trebond is. I know we’re supposed to speak well of our elders, and Alan never complains, but—we’ve all got eyes and ears.”
The Duke took a nut from a bowl and cracked it. “Does Alan want to go to Persopolis?”
“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. “Probably, since we’re all going. If you mean does he know I’m asking you, no, he doesn’t. Knowing Alan, he can’t imagine I would ask such a favor for him.”
“Hm. Have you chosen a squire yet, Jonathan? In case you pass the Ordeal?”
“I’m thinking about one,” Jonathan replied calmly. “It isn’t an easy decision.”
The man thought this over, finally nodding. “As long as the other boys aren’t resentful, I don’t see why he can’t go with you.”
Jon smiled. “They won’t resent it. Sometimes it seems as if he’s just a small squire who takes a lot of interest in what the pages do.”
“Very perceptive of you. Will you notify Alan, or do you want me to?”
“You’d better tell him, Uncle. And thank you—from the bottom of my heart.” Jonathan kissed the Duke’s hand. He was half out the door when the older man’s voice stopped him.
“Why does this mean so much to you, Jon?”
The Prince turned. “Because he’s my friend. Because I always know where he stands, and where I stand with him. Because I think he’d die for me, and—and I think I’d die for him. Is that enough?”
“You’re being pert, nephew,” Gareth said with mock sternness. “Have Timon find Alan for me then.”
Duke Gareth’s news shocked Alanna—she had never expected to be so singled out. She paid careful attention to all his instructions as to her duties during the trip. Since she was to be the only page in the company, she would wait on Lord Martin, Myles and Jonathan and run errands for the troop captain and the squires. She would continue her lessons with Myles as her instructor.
Coram too was pleased with the honor, and his orders to her were as strict as the Duke’s. She was to behave. No pranks was to be her watchword.
Alanna tried not to let the news go to her head, although she couldn’t help but be excited. It surprised her that the other pages were glad for her, rather than jealous. She didn’t realize they did not see her as another page—only, as Jonathan had said, as a very small squire.
The night before they rode out, the boys and Myles were summoned to a meeting with Duke Roger. He gathered them in the Great Library, waiting for them to settle down comfortably before speaking. Alanna, tucked down between the large Raoul and the equally large Gary, where she wouldn’t attract notice, thought the Duke looked both handsome and impressive, dressed all in sleek black velvet. A strangely designed chain with a sapphire pendant hung around his neck, accenting his eyes.
“Doubtless you lads don’t know why I’m talking to you,” he said with his easy smile. “I daresay no one’s ever mentioned the Black City to you when they’ve discussed this trip you’re taking tomorrow.” He shook his dark head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to take you all so close, but—well, I was overruled.” Alanna was blinking as lights bounced off the sapphire. The shimmering of the jewel was making her sleepy. Angry at herself, she gave her arm a strong pinch. That woke her up. “The Black City is just barely within eye’s view of Persopolis,” the sorcerer went on. “In fact, the Bazhir have a room specially designed in the western wall of the Persopolis castle. It’s called the Sunset Room, and the rumor is the Bazhir had it built so they could always keep an eye on the Black City. As if sheepherders and desert men knew about such things!” He sighed. “You won’t be permitted near the City, of course. No one is. It’s claimed there’s a curse on it, that no mortal being returns from the place alive—especially if he’s young. Bazhir stories again, told around the campfires to frighten the children, I’ve no doubt.”
The big man paced the room, a shadow panther with all eyes watching him. “I am certain the Bazhir have created wonderful monsters for their bratlings to fear. That is not why I am cautioning you. There is evil power in the Black City, an immense power that dates far back in time. I do not know its nature. I have never been so foolhardy as to think myself strong enough to fight whatever waits there.” Roger had stopped pacing. His eyes were fixed on Jonathan’s. “I don’t need a seer’s crystal to feel the evil in that place from as far away as Persopolis, just as a fisherman doesn’t need a special glass to smell a hurricane approaching. If I dare not risk it, none of you—untrained, untried—would stand a chance. Don’t venture near the Black City, under pain of death and, perhaps, under the pain of losing your souls.” He smiled, his eyes locked with Jonathan’s. “I know when a sword is too heavy for me to lift.”
Whe
n Alanna got into bed that night, she was as puzzled as she had ever been. It looked to her as if Roger had dared Jonathan to prove he was more of a man than his cousin, to prove he could brave the Black City that Roger feared. And yet, that couldn’t be true. Not even Roger would have the nerve, and the coldness, to send his young cousin to certain death—would he?
7
THE BLACK CITY
THE RIDE SOUTH WAS THE LONGEST AND MOST demanding Alanna had experienced. They were just a day away from Corus when the countryside changed. The hills were rockier. The trees were shrunken and twisted, and the ground plants seemed to fight for each drop of water they took from the earth. The ground itself was brown and dry, torn with cracks. Lizards, snakes and an occasional rabbit looked at the riders as if they were invaders, and the sun felt ten times hotter. By the end of the second day’s ride, the cracked earth had turned to sand, and the hills into long dunes. They had reached the Great Southern Desert.
At night Alanna waited on Lord Martin, Myles and the guard captain. She spent several hours of the day riding at Myles’s side, learning about the lives and customs of the people of this land. Myles was an interesting teacher, and he knew much about the Southern Desert. Often she caught Lord Martin glancing at the knight with respect in his hard eyes.
Alanna was not the only one taking lessons. Lord Martin lectured them all on survival in such barren land. Someday their lives might depend on knowing which plants stored water inside or how to find an oasis.
The closer they came to Persopolis, the more Bazhir they encountered. The desert people were hard riders and relentless fighters. They hid their women in goatskin tents. But all, men and women, she sensed, watched the strangers through proud black eyes. Since she had already guessed Lord Martin didn’t like his Bazhir subjects, Alanna went to Sir Myles.
