In the Hand of the Goddess (The Song of the Lioness) Read online

  “Roger, Duke of Conté.” The Goddess’s voice was low, soft, and deadly.

  Alanna froze. Finally she said carefully (and very quietly), “I have no reason to fear Duke Roger. None at all.” Then she put her head in her hands. “I don’t have any reason to fear him—but I do.” If she had doubted her visitor’s identity, the fact that she was being so frank—almost against her will—convinced her. “I hate him!” she yelled suddenly, lifting her face from her hands. It felt good to say it, after all this time. “You know what I think? The Sweating Sickness. It drained every healer who tried to cure it. It struck only in the capital, nowhere else, and Jon was the last one to get it. They knew it had to be sorcerer’s work. They sent for Duke Roger to help, but none of them—the king, Myles, Duke Gareth, Duke Baird—none of them thought Duke Roger might have created it! Thom says Roger is powerful enough to’ve sent it from as far as Carthak, where he was, and Thom ought to know.” Alanna stood and strode around inside the shelter of the willow, her hands linked tightly in her belt. “When Roger tested me for magic, my head felt all funny, as if someone had been digging through my brain with a stick. Thom wrote me he was being watched up in the City of the Gods. And last summer—”

  “Last summer?” the Goddess prompted.

  “I don’t think Jonathan would have gone near the Black City if Roger hadn’t gathered us all to warn us about how dangerous it was. Jonathan’s very responsible about being the Heir; he wouldn’t risk his life foolishly. But Roger was wearing a great blue jewel around his neck. He twisted it while he talked to us, and the light bouncing off it made me sleepy, till I stopped looking at it. It seemed to me that Roger was talking only to Jonathan, daring Jon to go to a place where Roger knew he could get killed!”

  She sighed and settled back against the tree, feeling better than she had in a long time. “I can’t say anything to Jon. I tried to, once, but he got angry with me. He loves Roger. So does the king. Roger’s handsome, young, clever, a great sorcerer. Everyone thinks he’s wonderful. No one stops to think that if something happened to Jonathan, Roger would be the heir. No one but me, that is.”

  “What will you do about this third fear?” the Goddess wanted to know. She shooed the kitten off her lap.

  “Watch,” Alanna said wearily. “Wait. Mostly watch him as carefully as I can. George—the thief—he’ll help. Thom’s helping, as much as he can.” She had rarely felt this tired in her life. “And if Roger is what I suspect, I won’t stop until I’ve destroyed him.”

  The Goddess nodded. “Then you are dealing with this fear, my daughter. Time will end your fear of the Chamber of the Ordeal, and your fear of love. Well, who knows what may happen to change your mind?”

  “Nothing will change my mind,” Alanna said firmly.

  “Perhaps.” The Goddess reached into the bed of the fire and drew out a single red-hot coal. “My time with you comes to an end. Take this from my hand.”

  Alanna swallowed hard. This was asking a bit much, even for a goddess. She looked up and met the Mother’s eyes with her own. Slowly, trembling, she reached out and took the coal.

  It was cold! Startled, she nearly dropped it. Looking at it, she saw that the ember seemed to burn within a crystal shell. There was even a tiny loop in the crystal, just big enough to permit a chain to pass through. The ember flickered in its shell, its hot red glare fading to a soft glow.

  The Goddess rose. “The Chamber is only a room, though a magical one, and you will enter it when the time comes. Duke Roger is only a man, for all he wields sorcery. He can be met and defeated. But you, my daughter—learn to love. You have been given a hard road to walk. Love will ease it. Much depends on you, Alanna of Trebond. Do not fail me!”

  Remembering her manners, Alanna jumped to her feet. “I won’t fail you,” she promised, her hand closing tight around the ember. “Or at least, I’ll try not to.”

  “A goddess can ask no more.” The Mother looked down at the little black animal sitting now by Alanna’s feet. “Guard her well, Small One.”

  The kitten mewed in reply as Alanna glanced at him. Was there more to her new pet than she had thought?

  The Goddess held out her hand. “Wear my token, and be brave, But remember—I did not jest when I said there are strange tales about this tree. Do not stray beyond your fire!” She smiled. “Fare well, my daughter.”

  Alanna kissed the immortal’s hand, feeling weird energy jolt through her body. She stepped away, shaking her head to clear it. “Fare well, my Mother.”

  The Goddess walked over to Moonlight, caressing the mare for a moment and talking to her in a soft voice. Then she raised her hand to Alanna a last time, and she was gone.

  Suddenly Alanna could barely keep her eyes open. It was a struggle to lay out her bedroll and to bank the fire, but she forced herself to perform the chores. Thinking about the strange conversation she had just had would have to wait. When she tumbled into her bedroll at last, the kitten was already inside.

  “Don’t snore,” she ordered it sleepily. The kitten replied that he would not snore if she did not. Alanna nodded in agreement and went to sleep, tightly clutching the crystal ember.

  It was a relief to get back to the palace the next day, back to familiar places and familiar friends. She still missed burly Coram, managing Trebond for her and Thom until she won her knight’s shield, but there was no help for that. With Lord Alan dead and Thom not caring about anything but his studies, this arrangement was for the best, at least until Alanna was ready to begin adventuring. Then she would want Coram with her.

  On her first night back she was feeding her new kitten his evening meal when she heard voices in Jonathan’s room just before he knocked on her door.

  “It’s your overlord, Squire,” Jonathan called. It was their private phrase that meant There are people with me. “Let me in!”

  Alanna opened the connecting door, and Jonathan entered with their friends Gary and Raoul.

  “We came to see if you wanted to go down to the Dancing Dove with us and visit George,” Gary told her. “How about it?”

  Alanna’s face lit up. She hadn’t had a long visit with the King of the Thieves since just before her father died, nearly six weeks ago. She was pulling on her boots when Raoul exclaimed, “Great Mithros, a cat! What are you doing with one of those? It probably has fleas.”

  Jonathan stopped to let the kitten sniff his fingers. “Can’t you tell a sorcerer’s familiar when you see one?” he joked. “And do familiars have fleas?” Picking the tiny animal up, he saw its face. His own sapphire-blue eyes widened. “Goddess!”

  Raoul and Gary gathered around, staring at the kitten, whose eyes were the same color as their friend Alan’s. Finally Raoul gulped and asked, “What will you name him? Is it a him?” Alanna nodded.

  “‘Pounce,’” Jon suggested.

  “‘Blackie,’” was Raoul’s choice.

  “How about ‘Raoul’?” Gary wanted to know.

  The kitten reached one paw for Alanna, mewing. She took her new pet from Jonathan and set him beneath her left ear—it was her favorite spot. “I rather like ‘Faithful,’” she admitted.

  Jonathan unsheathed his dagger. As if he were knighting the cat, he touched it on both shoulders, then on the head. “I dub thee ‘Faithful,”’ he said solemnly. “Serve honorably and well.”

  True to his name, Faithful followed Alanna everywhere. In the practice yards he claimed a convenient post where he could sit and watch her practice her fighting skills with the other squires and pages. It took him longer to sneak into most classrooms. Myles let the kitten watch from the start, saying cats had the right to learn history as well as anyone. But Alanna’s other teachers—most of them Mithran priests—tried to keep her pet out for days, but by the end of each class he had appeared inside. Finally the masters stopped trying. They even petted the cat absently as they taught.

  There was one class Alanna refused to let Faithful come to: Duke Roger’s class for those Gifted in magic (Alanna and Jo
nathan, among others). She didn’t know what the sorcerer would think of her pet, and she didn’t want to find out.

  For the rest of the time, Faithful stuck to Alanna like a small black bur. Gareth, Duke of Naxen, Gary’s father, let Faithful follow Alanna freely when he saw that the kitten took no one’s attention away from learning. The sight of Alan with his pet under his left ear soon became a familiar one at the palace. While Faithful clearly liked Myles, Jon, and most of Alanna’s other friends (including George) and would stay with them when Alanna was busy, only she was given the privilege of carrying him on a shoulder.

  “Maybe he’s afraid of heights,” Gary suggested one rainy May afternoon, shortly after Alanna’s fifteenth birthday. It was a rare, quiet time for the young knights and Alanna. Gary and Raoul, with the afternoon off, had given their squires Sacherell and Douglass free time as well. Raoul and Jonathan played backgammon, while Alex—the fifth member of their circle and the only one not secretly friends with George—watched. Gary sprawled in a window seat, thinking of a way to escape a visit to Naxen that summer. Alanna curled up in another window seat, listening to Faithful purr into her left ear and thinking about nothing at all.

  “Hm?” Alanna asked sleepily, realizing Gary was talking to her.

  “Faithful. Maybe he won’t sit on our shoulders because he’s afraid of heights.”

  “Maybe he’s right.” Jonathan grinned. “Even Alex is half a head taller than our Alan.”

  “Thanks,” Alex said dryly.

  The door opened, and Duke Roger came in. The family resemblance between him and Jonathan was unmistakable, although the Duke’s eyes were a darker blue than his cousin’s and his hair brown-black to Jon’s coal-black. Both had the fair skin, straight-cut noses and stubborn chins that ran in the Conté line.

  “There you are, Alex,” the older man was saying. “I hate to ask you this, but a truly important package has arrived for me at Port Caynn. You are the only one other than myself I trust to go. Will you?”

  Alex grinned and stood. “It’s my pleasure, Your—”

  “Let go of me, you blasted cat!” Alanna yelped as Faithful’s claws dug into her shoulder. His fur bristled; his back was arched; and he was growling deep in his throat as he stared at the Duke. Alanna tried to pry her pet loose as she said through gritted teeth, “Stop making a scene.” The sorcerer was watching them!

  His attention caught, the big man came forward. “A new pet, Alan?”

  “He was, until he started this.” Alanna worked Faithful loose and held him up. The kitten twisted to keep his eyes on Roger, growling. “What is the matter with you?” Alanna demanded, trying to make him look at her before Roger saw his eyes. “Behave yourself! Sir, he’s never done this before—”

  Roger drew a little closer, and Faithful slashed at him with unsheathed claws. “I think I’m being warned away,” the sorcerer remarked, stopping where he was. He looked Faithful over as Alanna tried to work a large lump out of her throat. “Unusual eyes,” he commented at last, and Faithful yowled. “I have just come from the kennels—perhaps he smells the dogs on me. Or perhaps he knows I have never been a fancier of—” He paused, and Alanna felt her skin turn to ice. “Of cats,” he finished.

  Alanna cradled her still-rumbling pet against her chest. Roger either knew or guessed where her pet came from, but he wasn’t saying. That was fine with her. “It’s probably the dogs, sir,” she agreed. “He likes people and horses, but dogs don’t suit him.” The others looked at her, knowing as well as she did that Faithful left dogs alone, while dogs avoided Faithful. It wasn’t quite a lie, and the Duke seemed to accept it. He nodded to Alex, and they left together.

  When they were gone, Alanna picked the kitten up and read him an impressive lecture on manners. By the time she finished, Faithful was purring, her friends were laughing, and the whole thing had been forgotten—she hoped.

  Nevertheless, that night she wrote her brother Thom in the City of the Gods, sending the letter secretly by way of George. Thom was the sorcerer—not she. He should know about Faithful—and about the cat’s reaction to Duke Roger.

  2

  DUKE ROGER OF CONTÉ

  THAT HOT JULY AN EMBASSY CAME TO COURT FROM Tortall’s eastern neighbor, Tusaine. Important matters were to be discussed. Spies had reported the King of Tusaine was considering retaking the Drell River Valley on the Tortallan border, and King Roald wanted to avoid war at all costs. Unlike his famous father, Roald was not known as “Empire Builder,” but as “The Peacemaker,” He was proud of that title, and he wanted to keep it. Everyone knew that Mikal of Danne, the Tusaine Ambassador, had actually come to see if “The Peacemaker” had the stomach for war.

  The delegation from Tusaine was carefully watched, but its people received the best hospitality Roald could command. As Jonathan’s squire, Alanna was very much in the thick of things, serving at secret meetings and accompanying her prince to what seemed to be an endless number of parties and dances.

  Tension was in the air. In the meetings, Ambassador Mikal became arrogant, thinking Roald was weak rather than quiet. Friendly discussions between Alanna’s friends and the Tusaine knights grew sharp as each group challenged the other to more and more difficult contests of craft and skill. Matters finally came to a head during what was supposed to be a small, quiet evening party.

  Alanna; Gary’s squire, Sacherell of Wellam; and Raoul’s squire, Douglass of Veldine, served the wine at this gathering, following Duke Gareth’s instructions to keep their guests’ glasses full and to report anything interesting they might overhear. Courtiers dressed in their finest chattered and flirted as the three obeyed with enthusiasm, trying to get as much from the Tusaine party as they could. Duke Roger entertained Mikal while the Ambassador’s wife, Lady Aenne, told Queen Lianne and King Roald stories of the Tusaine Court.

  Gary, Raoul, Alex, and Jonathan were talking with some of the younger Tusaine knights, when suddenly everyone was looking at the group. Dain of Melor, a Tusaine knight, was sneering loudly, “Fencing! I’ve seen what you call ‘fencing.’ Back home we call it dancing! Prince Jonathan, our Tusaine three-year-olds handle a sword better than some of your knights!”

  “You are rude in the palace of your host,” Gary replied carefully, his broad shoulders tense. Alanna could tell he was fighting to keep his voice even. “I wish it were possible to teach you some manners.”

  For a moment no one spoke. Nearly every Tortallan knight—with the exception of Myles, who was watching and drinking—had put his hand on his sword hilt. The Tusaines gripped theirs, ready for anything.

  Ambassador Mikal turned to Roger. In the quiet his voice was very clear. “I must apologize for young Dain.” He bowed in Roald’s direction. The king inclined his head, silently accepting the apology. Mikal added with a sly smile, “I fear I must agree, however. We seem to have done better by the martial arts in Tusaine. Perhaps peace has dulled your fighting edge?”

  Alanna touched the ember-stone beneath her shirt, wondering what would happen next. She turned. Raoul, standing by the hearth, was shifting slowly into a fighting stance. His coal-black eyes were snapping with fury, and he gripped his sword hilt with a white-knuckled hand.

  Frantically she signaled Douglass to look at his knight-master. Her friend hurried over to Raoul and shoved a wineglass in the big knight’s hand, talking softly and quickly. After a second’s hesitation, Raoul released his hilt with a sigh.

  “I differ with you, Sir Dain,” Jon was saying, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Even our pages and squires know how to handle a sword against a full knight. But since our honor and our teachers are in question, perhaps we must show you what a Tortallan can do.”

  Dain adjusted his sword belt. “Bring on your champion, Highness. I am sure I can prove Tusaine superiority over any man of your court.”

  Jon glanced at Alanna, smiling ironically, and she immediately guessed what he had in mind. It would be a brilliant tactical stroke if I could pull it off, she thought. I’m a
n unblooded squire in Dain’s eyes. At least, it would be a brilliant tactical stroke if I won.

  She looked the Tusaine knight over. He was a head taller than she was, with broad shoulders and strong arms, but he was overconfident, and he had been drinking. She nodded to let Jonathan know she was game.

  The prince smiled icily at the other man. “Not ‘our champion,’ Sir Dain. I said ‘even our pages and squires.’” He nodded to Alanna. She handed her wine pitcher to Sacherell, who nearly dropped it, and walked quickly over to the group of young knights, her heart thumping in excitement. “Your Highness?” she asked, bowing politely.

  Jonathan beckoned to her. “Tm sure my personal squire Alan here would oblige you.”

  The Tusaine knight stared at the short, slender Alanna, his jaw hanging open. “You want me to fence with a squire?” Dain’s voice rose and cracked; someone giggled.

  “Are you afraid?” Jonathan wanted to know.

  The other man gasped and sputtered before he could speak again. “I’ve fought in six duels!” he snapped finally. “I’ve been killing mountain bandits since I was smaller than him!” He pointed to Alanna. “If I ever was smaller than him!”

  Alanna knew exactly what Jonathan was trying to do, and she knew it was her turn to add fuel to the fire. “Did you need me for something, my Lord Prince?”

  Jonathan shrugged, his eyes never leaving Dain. “I thought you might fence with Sir Dain, Alan, but he no longer seems to be interested. I’m sorry to have called you away for nothing—”