Alanna: The First Adventure

by Tamora Pierce

  Sklaw looked at them and snorted. “Before you likely-looking lads touch a blade, you’ll make one. Guardsman Smythesson will instruct you there, poor man. I leave them to you,” he told Coram, and walked out after the Duke.

  Coram sighed, his face grim. “Well, lads—let’s be off to the forge.”

  It was the beginning of a long, hard winter. After the practice swords were made to Coram’s satisfaction, Sklaw took over. He instructed them in the stances and passes that were such an important part of fencing. He taught them how to get a sword from its sheath quickly—a feat that looked much easier than it was. Always Sklaw hovered nearby, criticizing, growling, complaining. The boys learned to do everything while wearing their practice swords, because there was no telling where Sklaw would turn up. The only place it was safe to take the blade off was in one’s room, when one was bathing—and even then the door had to be locked. Alanna made sure her door was locked.

  Sklaw singled her out for special treatment, perhaps because she was the smallest of the group. She did nothing right, or even better than last time. She was clumsy; she was lazy; she didn’t practice because where were her muscles? She was a midget; she had been dropped on her head at birth; she would never be a full-fledged knight, only a “Lord,” fit to do nothing but sit at home and write poetry. Alanna took the abuse and practiced doggedly, trying to deafen herself to the old villain’s talk.

  “How d’you expect me to be confident if you’re bellowing at me all the time about how bad I am!” she yelled at him once.

  Sklaw grinned without humor. “Well, laddie, if you’ve let an old buzzard like me hurt your confidence, you couldn’t have had much in the first place.”

  Alanna bit her lip rather than answer him back, after that.

  Spring came, and Duke Gareth returned to their class.

  “We’re trying something new today, girls,” the Guard Captain growled as the Duke of Naxen took a seat. He tossed two sets of padded practice armor at Geoffrey and Douglass. “Meron. Veldine. Let’s see if you can use what you’ve learned on the move.”

  The two boys put on the padding and assumed the “guard” position. “Begin!” Sklaw barked.

  After a few moments Alanna closed her eyes. She had seen Duke Gareth fencing with Alex, who was the best swordsman among the squires. This was a mockery of that kind of fencing. Geoffrey would lurch forward and swing his sword at Douglass. Douglass would hurry to block the swing, stumble back, then lurch forward to try a swing at Geoffrey. After a while Duke Gareth called a halt. Between them, he and Sklaw went over the duel, showing each boy how he could place his feet better, how he could move quickly without stumbling, how he could improve his balance. Finally they were permitted to strip off their now sweat-soaked padding.

  “Wellam. Trebond.” Sklaw shoved two fresh suits of padding at them. “If you can do as well, I’ll be much surprised.”

  Alanna assumed the “guard” position, feeling her knees trembling. It was like taking any other kind of test, only ten times worse. A knight lived or died by his swordsmanship. Without a mastery of swordplay, she would be no knight, have no great adventures. Suddenly Sacherell, who was a friend and a sometimes companion, looked like a menacing ogre—a tall, bulky, menacing ogre.

  “Begin!” Sklaw ordered. Alanna stumbled backward as she tried to avoid Sacherell’s lunge. Recovering her balance, she brought her sword up just in time to block Sacherell’s down-coming swing. She stumbled again and recovered only in time to block another swing—and another—and another. She stumbled and blocked, without making any swings of her own and without really getting her footing. The boy lunged forward suddenly, his sword point headed straight for Alanna’s throat. She tripped and fell over her own feet, dropping her sword. When she looked up, Sacherell was standing over her, his sword in the “kill” position at her throat. She closed her eyes as Sklaw let out a full-throated roar of laughter.

  That night she lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Over and over she “fought” the duel with Sacherell in her mind. What had gone wrong?

  She heard Coram moving around in his room, getting ready to take up the predawn watch. When he left the chambers, she went with him, a small, silent shadow. Wordlessly she accompanied him down to the kitchens, sitting beside him as he flirted with a sleepy scullery maid and ate his breakfast. Still silent, she followed him up to his post on the castle walls. Together they watched the sky over the Royal Forest go from gray to red-orange as dawn came.

  At last Coram remarked, “Sleep at all?”

  Alanna shook her head.

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  “You were there?”

  “Aye.”

  Alanna closed her eyes and shivered. The humiliation for Coram would have been terrible, and that made her own humiliation worse. It was bad enough to look like an idiot in front of her friends and Duke Gareth. But Coram was the man who had taught her how to use a dagger as a weapon, to shoot an arrow, to ride her pony. Coram had encouraged her all this way, had made himself a wall between her and the people who might have discovered who she really was. She had failed Coram, and he had seen it.

  “I don’t understand it,” she whispered finally. “It—it was like—my body wouldn’t do anything I told it to. My mind was saying, ‘Do this! Do that! Do something!’ And my body just wasn’t connected. Sacherell—”

  “Sacherell was well enough.” Coram yawned. “He’s a bit of a natural. Ye’re just not a natural with a sword, Master Alan. Some are born to it, like me. I never knew aught else, and I never wanted to. Now, some—some never learn the sword at all, and they don’t survive their first real fight. And then there’s some—”

  “Yes?” Alanna asked, grasping at this straw. She was obviously not born to the sword, and she had no plans for dying in her first fight.

  “Some learn the sword. They work all the extra minutes they have. They don’t let a piece of metal—or Aram Sklaw—beat them.”

  Alanna stared at the forest and thought this over. “It’s possible to learn to be natural?”

  “It’s just as possible as it is for a lass t’ learn t’ beat a lad, and the lad bigger and older than she is, and in a fair fight. Well—ye fought fair.”

  It had taken weeks of training in secret to beat Ralon. The long hours, the bruises and her constant exhaustion were fresh in her mind. But it was worth it, Alanna thought. More than worth it.

  She stretched, yawning widely. “Can I borrow your sword?”

  Coram looked at the weapon hanging from his belt. “This? It’s bigger than ye are!”

  “Exactly.”

  Coram stared at her for a moment, then slowly unbuckled his belt. He handed the sword to Alanna, his face expressionless.

  Alanna hefted the weapon in her hand. It was the largest, heaviest sword she had ever handled. It would be work to wield it with only one hand. “Thanks. I’ll return it later.”

  She trotted off to find an empty practice room with plenty of mirrors. Coram was right. A sword could not beat her—and neither could Aram Sklaw.

  6

  WOMANHOOD

  IT WAS THE FIFTH OF MAY. ALANNA AWOKE AT dawn, ready for another session with Coram’s big sword. She got out of bed—and gasped in horror to find her things and sheets smeared with blood. She washed herself in a panic and bundled the sheets down the privy. What was going on? She was bleeding, and she had to see a healer; but who? She couldn’t trust the palace healers. They were men and the bleeding came from a secret place between her legs. Hunting frantically, she found some bandage and used it to stop the red flow. Her hands shook. Her whole body was icy with fear. The servants would be coming to wake the pages soon. She had to do something in a hurry!

  She gnawed her thumb until it bled. Coram was on guard duty. Besides—she couldn’t tell him. This wasn’t something she could confide to the old soldier.

  She could trust only one person to help and keep quiet. There were those who might wonder just how trustworthy the King of Thieves could be
—Alanna wasn’t one of them.

  With no time to waste, she couldn’t afford to sneak from the palace and run all the way to the city. She would have to ride and take the consequences. A quick word to Stefan, and Moonlight was saddled. The hostler even lured a guard away from one of the smaller gates. Alanna rode out for the city at a full gallop. Within minutes she was hitching her mare to a post behind the Dancing Dove.

  Swiftly she clambered onto the kitchen roof and pried one of George’s shutters open. George himself had taught her how to make a second-story entry. When Alanna slid into the man’s room, she was seized from behind. A very sharp knife pressed against her throat.

  “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to enter by way of the door?” a voice drawled softly.

  Alanna held very still. That knife was no joke. “George—it’s me! Alan!”

  The man let her go and made her face him. He wasn’t dressed—he always slept bare. “So it is.” He put his knife on the table. A smile lit his eyes. “And what makes a noble sprout break into the Rogue’s bedroom?”

  “I need your help.” She twisted her hands together. “I’ve got to see a healing woman right away.”

  “A healin’ woman, is it? You’ll have to give me more than that, lad.” George crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. He had always known there was a secret to Alan. “Why a woman? And why a city healer? The best in the land are at the palace.”

  Alanna swallowed hard. “I’m not a boy.” It was incredibly hard to say. “I’m a girl.”

  “You’re a—you’re a what!” George yelled.

  “Hush! D’you want everyone to hear?” She scuffed her boot against the floor. “I thought you’d guess. You have the Gift.”

  “And your Gift shields you. Alan, if this is a jest, it’s a poor time for one.”

  She glared at him. “D’you want me to take my clothes off?”

  “No—great Mithros. Turn around whilst I get clothed.”

  She obeyed, arguing, “That’s silly. I’ve seen you naked before.”

  George hunted for his breeches. “This is different. All right—turn about. Why d’you need a woman?”

  Her eyes were pleading. “Don’t ask. Please.”

  The thief made a face. “Come on, then.” He hustled her down his back stair and into the street. “I know just the lady—she was a priestess in the Temple of the Mother here in the City before she married, got trained there. She’s my own mother. She wouldn’t talk if you pried her jaws apart.” He spotted Moonlight waiting patiently. “You’re little enough—the mare will carry us both.” He swung himself into the saddle behind Alanna. “We’re ridin’ for the Street of the Willows.”

  Alanna nodded and urged her horse forward. George’s warmth at her back was oddly comforting.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked again.

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be so damned scared,” she snapped.

  “That’s true—I’ve never seen you overset,” he said thoughtfully. “We’ve got to talk, you and I.” They turned down a small street lined with walled houses. George dismounted and unlocked a gate marked with the healer’s sign—a wooden cup—circled once in red and once in brown. “What are you called, then?”

  She hesitated. “If I tell, you might forget and let it slip out later.”

  “Not me, youngling.” He motioned for Alanna to ride into the courtyard and then closed the gate. “I let nothing slip.”

  She dismounted. Moonlight butted her affectionately. “It’s Alanna,” she whispered.

  George’s mother came to the door of the house. She was a tall woman, with her son’s twinkling hazel eyes and an air of command. Only a single streak of white in her chestnut hair revealed her to be a little more than middle-aged.

  “A patient for you, Mother,” the thief announced. “I’ll be stabling the mare.”

  Mistress Cooper showed Alanna into a small, neat room. Healing plants of all kinds hung from the rafters, giving the room a fragrant smell. A small wooden table covered with a clean sheet sat in the room’s center.

  “Sit there,” Mistress Cooper ordered. “Now. What’s the problem?”

  Alanna explained quickly that she was a female, not a male, and that she was a page in the palace. Mistress Cooper raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Alanna drew a breath and added, “I—I’m bleeding.”

  “Bleeding?” was the calm response. “Where?”

  Red with embarrassment, Alanna pointed. George’s mother began to smile. “Has it happened before?” Alanna shook her head. “Did you injure yourself there? No? When did it start—this morning? No pain?”

  Too ashamed to speak, Alanna either shook her head or nodded, depending on the question. There were others so personal she wanted to hide when she thought about them. Her embarrassment only tripled when Mistress Cooper began to laugh.

  “You poor child,” she chuckled. “Did no one ever tell you of a woman’s monthly cycle? The fertility cycle?”

  Alanna stared. Maude had mentioned something, once—

  “That’s what this is? It’s normal?”

  The woman nodded. “It happens to us all. We can’t bear children until it begins.”

  “How long do I have to put up with this?” Alanna gritted.

  “Until you are too old to bear children. It’s as normal as the full moon is, and it happens just as often. You may as well get used to it.”

  “No!” Alanna cried, jumping to her feet. “I won’t let it!”

  Again Mistress Cooper raised her eyebrows. “You’re a female, child, no matter what clothing you wear. You must become accustomed to that.”

  “Why?” Alanna demanded. “I have the Gift. I’ll change it! I’ll—”

  “Nonsense!” the woman snapped. “You cannot use your Gift to change what the gods have willed for you, and you would be foolish to try! The gods willed you to be female and small and redheaded, and obviously silly as well—”

  “I am not silly!” Alanna wailed. “I just—” She rubbed the back of her hand against burning eyes. She knew Mistress Cooper was right. She had tried to use her Gift once to make herself grow, and her head had ached for days.

  “Well, then, perhaps not silly.” A comforting hand was laid on Alanna’s shoulder. “Listen to me. Your place in life you can always change, whether you have the Gift or not. But you cannot change what the gods have made you. The sooner you accept that, the happier you will be.” She led Alanna into the kitchen and put a tea kettle on the fire. “You’re not used to your body doing things you haven’t asked of it, are you?”

  Alanna made a face. “It’s bad enough my chest keeps growing. Now something like this happens.” She put her head in her hands. Finally she looked up and said, “What do I have to know about this—this thing?”

  “Your cycle comes once a month, and lasts five days or so. Bathe each day. Bandage yourself, of course. The cycle will not come if you lie with a man and he gets you with child.” The woman made a cup of tea and handed it to the girl. “Here. This will make you feel better.”

  Sipping it did make Alanna feel calmer. “Will it slow me down?”

  “Not so long as you stay out of men’s beds. A babe will certainly slow you down.”

  Alanna shook her head. “I don’t plan on children.”

  “Many girls don’t.” Mistress Cooper poured herself some tea. “Do you know what happens when you lie with a man?”

  Alanna blushed. “Of course.”

  The woman smiled. “You know the man’s side of it, I see. Well, a woman enjoys it too, and one time is enough for you to get with child.” She looked at Alanna carefully. “I’ll give you a charm against your getting pregnant, then. If you change your mind, you can throw it away.”

  “Pigs might fly,” the girl muttered.

  The look in Mistress Cooper’s eyes was skeptical. “We’ll see. Now—George will have a few questions. Shall I bring him in? It’s best he knows all.” Alanna nodded. The woman opened the kitchen door, calling, “Stop listeni
ng at keyholes, my son.”

  George walked in and lounged against the kitchen table, looking anxiously at Alanna. “All’s well then?”

  “She’ll be fine,” his mother replied. “Tea?”

  “Is it that calming tea of yours? Gods know I need it. So, youngling—the truth, now.”

  Alanna told them everything. “I can’t stop now,” she finished. “I didn’t ask to be born a girl. It’s not fair.”

  George waved an impatient hand. “Hush your nonsense,” he ordered. “Bein’ a girl hasn’t slowed you down yet. And surely you don’t plan to stay a pretty young man all your life?”

  “No, of course not. I’ll tell them the truth when I’m eighteen and I have my shield.” She sighed. “If they hate me—well—I’ll have proved I can be a knight, won’t I? I’ll go into the world and have adventures. They needn’t ever see me again.”

  George raised his eyebrows. “I haven’t heard such foolishness in all my life. Are you tellin’ us Jon will hate you? Gary? Raoul? Or your friend, Sir Myles? My ears are deceivin’ me!”

  “But I’m a girl,” she cried. “I’m lying to them. I’m doing men’s things—”

  “And you do them better than most young men,” George replied firmly. “Hush yourself. Think of them hatin’ you if it comes to be. And don’t worry. Your secret is safe with us.” He hugged her around the shoulders.

  Alanna rested her head against his chest, her eyes filling with tears of gratitude. She blinked them away and whispered, “Thank you, George.”

  “I’m callin’ you Alanna, when we’re alone,” he said. “I think you should be reminded of who you are.”

  Alanna remembered her monthly cycle and said bitterly, “Fat chance I have of forgetting.”

  Mistress Cooper chuckled, guessing what had prompted Alanna’s remark.

  Alanna shrugged. “I suppose you insist—”

  “I do,” was the calm reply.

  “Just don’t let it slip. I’ve come too far now.”

  “He doesn’t forget details,” Mistress Cooper said dryly. “He must get it from his father, for he never had it from me.” She went into the room where she had first talked to Alanna.