Pierce, Tamora - Protector 01 by Pierce Tamora

Author:Pierce, Tamora [Pierce, Tamora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-15T16:19:36+00:00

"It takes a great deal of running up and down mountains in the rain, and not complaining about it," Kel said instantly, then clapped her hand over her mouth. What if he thought she was being impudent? But there was something about him, a sort of waiting kindness that made her want to answer him frankly.

To her relief, Myles chuckled. "I've heard of this odd behavior," he admitted. "But you admire the Yamanis."

"Oh, yes, sir!" she replied, nodding. "They keep going through anything."

Myles sighed. "It's my misfortune to be dumped amid so many warrior stoics," he remarked, shaking his head.

"Sir?" she asked, confused. That sounded like the best company in the world.

"Never mind. Run along to Master Lindhall. And, Keladry-"

She turned halfway to the door. "Sir?"

"If you need a friend - if you need someone to talk to - the servants can tell you where to find me."

She stared at him for a moment. The Lioness's adoptive father was offering her friendship!

"Thank you, sir," she said, and bowed deeply.

Myles waved her on.

Somehow Kel got through the rest of the afternoon without further mishap. She'd completed her nights work for Master Lindhall and Tkaa the basilisk, and could hand it in with a free conscience. In etiquette Master Oakbridge was still using her as a secondary teacher of Yamani manners, and had not assigned other work to her. She had no awkward excuses to make to him.

As she changed into a dress for supper, memories of her flight from Joren and his friends, kept at bay by exercise and worry about classwork, came rushing back. Angry with herself, she picked up the practice glaive she'd brought from home and did a series of quick exercises with it. When she finished, her arms - already tired from that morning's work with the lance - were trembling. It was time to go to the mess hall.

Enough fussing, she ordered herself. Next time I'll just say something, is all. Even if it's against tradition. I won't have another day when I go around feeling like a whipped dog because I turned my back on Merric!

At supper, Prince Roald and Neal discussed the problems they'd been set in mage training while Kel considered her problem with the lance. Her second-oldest brother, Inness, had told her loftily that a girl's arms were not as strong as a boy's.

After that morning she had to agree. All of the other first-year pages had been able to keep their lances from pointing at the ground.

I have to train harder, decided Kel. I have to strengthen my arms.

She fiddled with her spoon, wondering if she'd ever be able to lift that cursed lance. Then Joren's voice rang out across the room: "I swear, those Shang warriors have an exercise for everything."

"If you wish to be a herald, Joren, apply to their college in the morning," Wyldon said, raising his own voice. "Until then, converse in a more seemly way."

A brief hush fell. As Wyldon gave the signal to rise, Neal asked her, "Are you studying with us tonight?"

"In a while," she promised.

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