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“Why do animals lick ice?” Jon asked, his voice odd. Carefully he knelt beside Faithful, keeping an eye on the wide hole in the ice where Alanna had gone through. He rubbed his ungloved hand near the hole and tasted. “Someone threw salt on this part of the ice,” he announced slowly. “Look how it’s pitted and marked right here.”
“Murder,” Alex whispered, looking more closely. “But which of us is a murderer’s target? Could it be just a very bad idea of a joke?”
“I’m not laughing,” Jonathan commented dryly. “Are you?”
Once she had recovered from her icy dunking, Alanna decided to take action. She sent a verbal message, not daring to trust her thoughts to a letter, to Thom through George. She needed her brother’s help. Only Roger could have been behind the mishap on the duckpond, and she knew she wanted no more such “mishaps” happening to her. She also found it interesting that Alex had been there.
Weeks went by without an answer and without the messenger’s return. George finally sent out search parties, and in March Alanna had an answer—of sorts.
“My messenger was slain,” George told her. “Five arrows in his back, all poisoned. Someone was takin’ no chances.”
Alanna frowned. “I’ll have to go myself,” she said worriedly. “Not now, the mountain passes are snowed in. And Jonathan needs me.”
George forced her to look at him. “You’re in love with Jon, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “And me a blind fool not to have seen it before.”
Alanna shook him off. “I don’t know what love is,” she said uncomfortably. “At least, not the kind you’re talking about—the forever kind.”
George laughed and shook his head. “Lass, when will you learn to see what’s before your nose?”
Alanna reached up and tweaked George’s own nose. “When I have something to see,” she teased. “So stop trying to make me see something that isn’t there.”
George smiled. “You’re a stubborn youngling,” he told her. “It’s one of your charms. And if you’re plannin’ any ride to the City of the Gods, I’m goin’ with you.” He silenced her protest by putting a large hand over her mouth. “Didn’t you hear me before? Five poison-tipped arrows in my man, and it’s as well for you he carried a message rather than a letter. He was searched, his things spread all over the snow. It’s good we’ve had a cold winter—everything was frozen just as it was when they killed him. So, miss, like it or no, I go with you when you visit your brother.”
Alanna made a face and kept quiet. When the time came, she would get away without George. She could take care of herself!
Jonathan did not want her to go, but Alanna rode for the City of the Gods in early April, leaving Faithful with strict instructions to watch the prince and to get Myles if anything happened. Saddling Moonlight before dawn, she slipped out of the palace. Few people—no rogues—were about in the city. She thought she had fooled George, since she had given no one more than half a day’s warning of her departure. She was wrong. The thief was waiting for her at the gates, dressed for riding and mounted on a sturdy bay.
“Jonathan told you,” Alanna accused her friend.
“No. Stefan keeps messenger-birds. I’ve got you under tight watch, youngling, and it’s well for you that I do.”
Since there was nothing she could do, Alanna laughed and fell in beside George. Would she ever be able to outwit him?
The ride north was a good one. George was witty and entertaining; he had some wonderful stories to tell. They stopped at Trebond for a night. Coram was shocked to see the company Alanna kept and read her a strong lecture, but Alanna shrugged it off. Instead she spent time with the young man Coram was training as his replacement; he was a nice fellow, with a small family and some education. Alanna knew when she was done talking to him that he would serve her as faithfully as Coram did. Plans were made for Coram to come to the palace in November, in order to be there when Alanna underwent the Ordeal.
Alanna and George rode on to the City of the Gods. Alanna sighed wearily when they finally arrived before the City’s great walls. Gray mountains bare of almost any greenery stretched for leagues around, making for a dull, tiring ride.
“How can Thom live in such a cursed ugly place?” she asked George. “I’d go mad if I had to look at this all the time.”
“He probably doesn’t notice,” her friend replied. “Most scholars don’t.”
The warrior-priests who manned the gates showed them to the Mithran Cloisters. As they passed the Convent of the Mother of Mountains, Alanna shuddered. She had almost spent six years behind those walls. Now, more than ever, she appreciated her escape!
An orange-robed initiate admitted them to the Cloisters; novices took their horses. An ancient yellow man in the black-and-gold robes of a master tottered out to greet them. “We are honored to have you among us, Squire Alan, Freeman Cooper,” he said. “I am Si-cham, Chief of the Masters here.”
Alanna bowed very low; as a sorcerer, Si-cham would be nearly as powerful as Duke Roger. As a priest, he was the head of the cult of Mithros for all the Eastern Lands. “We would be honored if you would join us for our evening meal,” this friendly old man went on. “We get little news of the world.”
“We’d be honored to come,” George said.
“Excellent, excellent. Follow me, if you please. I do not believe Adept Thom is expecting you?”
Alanna smiled grimly. “I wanted to surprise him.”
Si-cham looked sharply at her before knocking on one of the many doors lining a long hallway. “Do you think much surprises Adept Thom?”
Before Alanna could answer such an astonishing question, Thom opened the do
or. He was bearded, taller—older. He hugged Alanna with enthusiasm, crying, “Brother Dear!” Seeing Alanna’s companion, Thom widened his violet eyes. “Not—George Cooper?” He grinned.
“The same,” George replied, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a thing or two about you myself.”
“Surely some of it was good,” Thom quipped, shaking the offered hand. He looked at Master Si-cham as Alanna dazedly realized, He knew we were coming. He wasn’t surprised at all.
“Their things have been taken to the guest’s wing.” The Master’s voice, warm and friendly a moment ago, was suddenly chilly. “And they have accepted an invitation to take the evening meal with us.”
Thom lifted a single coppery eyebrow. “Oh?” he asked, his voice too sweet. “Then I will have to join you—won’t I?”
“It will be a change.” The old man’s voice was as dry as autumn leaves. “I will leave you to talk now.” He hurried away down the long hall.
Alanna was confused. “I don’t get it. He was very friendly a moment ago.”
“They’ve been angry with me ever since I stopped playing the idiot and passed the written examinations for Mastery. Come in; sit down. Wine?” Thom rang a bell, and a servant in the white robe of novice came in. He gave the boy orders, pretending not to notice that Alanna and George were staring at him. When the novice was gone, Alanna sat down hard. Most would-be Masters did not even try for that title until they were at least thirty.
“You passed the written examinations for Mastery?” Her voice emerged from her throat in a squeak.
“Two weeks ago. It was easier than you think.” Thom shrugged, motioning George to take the chair beside Alanna while he sat in the third. “All that’s left are the spoken examinations, and the Ordeal of Sorcery.”
