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The dog was still asleep on her bed. He was not alone. While Kel had to keep the big shutters locked when she was out, the small pair over them were open in all weather so the sparrows that had adopted her could fly in and out. Three now perched on her coverlet, eyeing the dog with interest.

‘He isn’t staying,’ Kel told the small brown birds. The dog’s tail wagged, though he didn’t open his eyes.

One sparrow flew over and perched on her shoulder with a peep. It was the female who led the flock. A pale spot on top of her head had earned her the name Crown. Kel gave the bird a sunflower seed and gathered her books. Crown flew back to the bed to continue her inspection of the newcomer.

The palace animals were peculiar. They seemed wiser, in the human sense, than most other animals. The difference was caused by a young woman named Daine, the Wildmage, whose magic allowed her to communicate with animals. After she had talked to Kel’s gelding Peachblossom, the vicious horse allowed Kel to ride him without making her bleed for the privilege. Even Daine’s mere presence affected palace animals permanently. Three months before, Kel’s sparrows had led Kel and a troop of hunters to the lair of the giant, human-headed spider monsters called spidrens, though Daine had not been there to ask it of them.

Might Daine help with this dog? Kel wondered as she locked the door behind her.

Neal had been waiting in the corridor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Come, Mindelan,’ he said cheerfully, towing her towards the classroom wing. ‘While you were here riding your evil horse and bending a bow all summer, did you crack a single book?’

‘I helped the housekeeper with the accounts,’ retorted Kel, letting her friend tow her. ‘Did you bend a bow or ride a horse all summer?’

‘Had to,’ Neal said gloomily as they walked into their first class, reading and writing with the Mithran priest Yayin. ‘Our master at arms kept after me.’

She sat next to him. ‘We’ll make a knight of you yet, Queenscove.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ he retorted.

After class Kel returned to her rooms to find that life had suddenly improved. A full tub of hot water awaited her. She could take a real bath while the ugly dog looked on. As she soaked, Kel realized he, too, had been washed. His fine, short fur shone white between scars. He was still homely. His legs were a little bowed, supporting a barrel chest and thin hips. She had already noticed that twice-broken tail and his torn ear. His whole ear was sharp, pointed, and upright on a head shaped like a thick ax blade. That skull looked too big even for his sturdy neck, but the dog lifted it with pride.

‘You will never be a beauty,’ Kel informed him as she dried off. He wagged his absurd tail, as if she’d complimented him.

As she put on a brown shift, orange gown, and stockings – she always wore a dress to supper, in case anyone had forgotten that she was a girl – she noticed other welcome changes. Her desk had been neatened, her clothes pressed till not a single wrinkle was left. There was a bowl, empty even of crumbs, and a half-empty water dish: the girl Lalasa had washed and fed the dog. She had also found Kel’s store of seeds and filled the sparrows’ feed and water dishes. No bird droppings could be seen anywhere.

Someone pounded on her door. ‘Kel, come on!’ yelled Neal. ‘I’m hungry!’

When she opened the door, he poked his head inside. ‘The cooks say there’s ham and blueberry pies, since it’s the first day. I love blueberry pie – Mithros, that is the ugliest dog in the world.’ He stepped inside.

The dog trotted over to sniff him energetically. His crooked tail began to whip. He stood on his hind legs, braced his paws on Neal’s long thighs, and rooted at one of the youth’s pockets.

‘Caught me out, old man, didn’t you?’ asked Neal with a grin. He crouched, pulling a roll from his pocket, and gave it to the dog. It was gone in three bites. ‘You know we can’t have dogs,’ he reminded Kel, scratching the animal’s rump. ‘Mithros and Goddess, he is ugly.’

‘You said that already. I know I can’t have a dog. Neal, will the Wildmage take him?’

‘Daine? Of course,’ he replied. ‘She’s here – I saw her last night. Ask her after supper.’

‘Did you maybe want to go with me?’ she offered gingerly, afraid that she might cause Neal hurt by asking him along. Last year, he had introduced her to Daine when Kel had needed help with Peachblossom. Kel had seen that Neal was smitten with Daine, though she lived with the mage Numair Salmalín.

‘No,’ he told Kel nobly, and sighed. ‘It just tries my heart, to see her with that old man.’

Kel didn’t think Master Numair was so old, but she held her tongue. It did no good to argue with her lovestruck friend.

‘Kel, is Neal here?’ Merric stuck his head into the room. ‘Let’s be prompt to supper, shall we?’ His blue eyes widened. ‘That’s an ugly dog. You know we aren’t allowed pets.’

‘He goes to Daine tonight,’ Kel snapped. She thrust her friends from the room.

The king joined them for supper, as he had the year before. He ate with Lord Wyldon, then spoke to the pages and the few squires present about the importance of their studies. Kel watched and listened, her face Yamani-smooth. While she owed King Jonathan her duty and her service, she still wasn’t sure that she liked him. The king had allowed Lord Wyldon to put Kel on a year’s probation, something no other page had to endure. It had not been fair.

Suddenly she remembered something her father had said when the Yamani emperor ordered the execution not only of a band of robbers but of their women and children as well. ‘Rulers are seldom nice people, Kel,’ he’d remarked, his eyes sad. ‘Even good ones make choices that will hurt somebody.’

But what if I want him to be nice? she asked her father now as she watched her king smile at the eager boys. What if I want him to be fair?

‘You may want anything you like,’ her mother would have said. ‘That doesn’t mean you’ll get it.’

She smiled, but she kept it inside. She didn’t want the king to think she smiled at him.

As soon as the king had gone, Lord Wyldon called, ‘Keladry of Mindelan.’

Now what? thought Kel, halfway to the door. Has he heard about the dog? She went back to the training master’s table.

At least he didn’t keep her in suspense. ‘I understand you have taken a maid into your service,’ he remarked when she bowed.

Kel heaved an inner sigh of relief. ‘Yes, my lord.’

‘You are permitted to do so. However, a servant is a privilege, not a right, in the pages’ wing. In addition to your obligations to anyone in your service, you have obligations to me and to the palace.’ He regarded her levelly, toying with his knife. ‘She is not to involve herself physically with any page or squire. Her presence is not considered chaperonage for you. If there is a boy in your rooms, the door remains open. If she is ill, you will call and pay a healer. If she cannot read and write, you must teach her. If she misbehaves – is a thief, or lewd, or quarrelsome – you are liable. If she runs off, or stays away overnight without your permission, or disobeys you, do not ask palace guards or servants to find her or to help you to discipline her. That you must do yourself. Am I understood?’

Kel bowed. ‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Do your duty by her, and by us,’ Lord Wyldon said firmly. ‘You are dismissed.’

Kel left, finding that the halls had cleared while they talked. Most of the boys had vanished to begin their studies. Now Kel grabbed the dog and wrapped him in a blanket. ‘You keep still,’ she ordered as she carried him down the hall. The chambers where Daine lived were on the floor above the classrooms. The dog struggled on the narrow stair, finally poking his head out of the blanket. He then stopped fighting and gazed around with interest.

He was so bony, and so light! Couldn’t she keep him until he’d made up for the meals he had missed? Kel stopped on the landing to blink eyes that stung with tears. She knew she was being silly. Daine would feed him well, and she could heal his wounds. She could talk to him through her magic, and understand his replies. In a day or two the dog wouldn’t even remember Kel, he’d be so happy.

Thoroughly miserable and determined to hide it, Kel resumed her climb to the second floor. Walking slowly, she checked engraved name plates on the doors until she found the one that read: ‘Numair Salmalín, Veralidaine Sarrasri’. Wrestling a hand free of the blanket, Kel knocked.

The door opened. For a moment Kel was confused – she saw no one. A sharp whistle drew her gaze, and the dog’s, down to the floor. A young dragon, just two feet tall, was looking up at them. Her scales were dusty blue, her large, slit-pupilled eyes sky blue. She had draped her foot-long tail over a forepaw, like the train on a gown.

‘Aren’t you pretty,’ Kel said, admiring the small creature. She had seen the dragon Skysong, nicknamed Kitten, before, though at a distance. ‘Is Daine about?’ Dragons, even very young ones like Kitten, were supposed to be as intelligent as human beings.

The dragon tilted her slender muzzle and voiced a trill, then raised herself on tiptoe to inspect the dog. Kel knelt politely so the two could look at each other.

‘Keladry, hello!’ the Wildmage said cheerfully as she came to the door. ‘Welcome back!’ She was just three inches taller than Kel and slender, with tumbling smoky curls and grave, blue-grey eyes. She was dressed for rough work in breeches and shirt. Feathers clung to her hair. Her shirt was speckled with bird droppings and a streak of green slime that had to have come from a horse or donkey.

Kel got to her feet and smiled at Daine. ‘It’s good to be back, my lady.’

‘Who’s this?’ Daine stretched out her hands.

As Kel handed the dog over, she explained how she had met him. ‘My maid gave him a bath and some more food, so he doesn’t look as bad as he did,’ she finished. ‘But I can’t keep him. Would you? He likes you already.’ It was true; the dog was gleefully licking Daine’s face. When she set him down, he offered Kitten the same attention. Kitten stepped back with a shrill whistle. Scolded, the dog looked up at Kel and panted, tongue lolling.

‘I can try to keep him,’ Daine said, a doubtful look in her eyes. ‘He needs patching up, and something for worms. He’s barely more than a pup.’ She crouched beside the dog, running her hands over his scrawny frame. ‘He says his name is Jump.’

Kel backed up. ‘Name him as you like, my lady,’ she said, clenching her hands behind her back. She was not going to get upset over a dog she’d known less than half a day, and that dog going to the best home in the palace. ‘Thank you for taking him. If there’s anything I can do for you …’

Daine looked up at Kel. ‘You came almost every day this summer to ride Peachblossom and groom him,’ the Wildmage said quietly. ‘You bring him treats, and go easy on the rein, when last year at this time he could look forward to another brutal master or death. And Crown and her flock say that you always stopped by, though you knew Salma was looking after them. It is I who thank you, Keladry, for them. You treat animals as well as you treat human beings.’ She smiled. ‘I will try to keep Jump. If you find other animals in need, come to me.’

She offered her hand. Kel gripped it gently, mumbled something about appreciation, and fled. She had to stop in the stairwell to collect herself. Daine the Wildmage thought well of her!

Suddenly she heard a boy snap, ‘I don’t understand why I have to.’

She stiffened, her senses alert. Down the steps she went, cat-silent, until she was just around the corner from the ground floor landing.

‘It’s a page’s duty to obey.’ The perfectly chill voice belonged to Joren.

‘You first-year squirts need lessoning.’ That was Vinson of Genlith, one of Joren’s cronies. Kel shook out her shoulders, loosening them up.

‘This is a waste of time.’ The new voice belonged to Joren’s closest friend, Zahir ibn Alhaz. Zahir had stopped helping the others to haze new pages late last winter. ‘We have better things to do.’

‘What?’ demanded Vinson. ‘Are you afraid of the Lump and her friends?’ The Lump, or the Yamani Lump, was their nickname for Kel.

‘When you’re done with children’s games, Joren, let me know,’ Zahir said. Kel heard steps fade into the distance.

After a moment Joren said tightly, ‘Get to work, boy.’

‘But cleaning spilled ink I can’t even see—’ protested the voice Kel had first heard.

There was a thud. ‘We see it,’ drawled a new voice belonging to Garvey of Runnerspring. He and Vinson were Joren’s chief companions in hazing first-years.

Kel flexed her hands. They knew we didn’t expect them to start up the first night of training, she thought angrily. They knew we’d think they were as tired as the rest of us, so they sneaked around and found a victim.

She looked at her clothes. Since she hadn’t expected to patrol the halls in search of bullies, she hadn’t changed into shirt and breeches after supper. Fighting in a dress would be tricky. Rolling up her skirt, she gathered it at one side and knotted it. I don’t care if Oranie thinks that sashes make me look thick-waisted, Kel told herself. Oranie was her sharp-tongued second oldest sister. From now on, that’s what I wear.

Kel walked down the last few steps and into the ground floor hall. Ten yards away one of the new first-years, Owen of Jesslaw, lay on the floor. Vinson, Garvey, and Joren stood around him, leaving him nowhere to run.

They turned when they heard Kel’s sigh. ‘I hoped you’d all realized how stupid this is,’ she remarked coolly.

Joren smiled. ‘My day is complete,’ he said. The three older boys moved apart, then closed in on Kel.

Owen struggled to his feet. He was short and chubby, with plump hands and big feet. His tumble of brown curls looked as if somebody had yanked them. His grey eyes were set under brows shaped like question marks laid flat. Confused, he looked from Kel to the fourth-years.

‘I’m sure you have classwork,’ Kel told him, shifting to put a wall at her back. ‘Get to it. These boys’ – she put a world of scorn into the word – ‘and I have a debate to continue.’

Owen stayed where he was.

Maybe he doesn’t understand, Kel thought. She backed up, to draw the fight away from him.

Garvey came at Kel from the right, punching at her head. She slid away from his punch, grabbed his arm, pushed her right foot forward, and twisted to the left. Garvey went over her hip into Vinson, who’d attacked on her left. Joren, at the centre, came in fast as his friends hit the wall. Kel blocked Joren’s punch to her middle, but his blow was a feint; his left fist caught her right eye squarely. Kel scissored a leg up and out, slamming her right foot into Joren’s knee. Joren hissed and grabbed her hair. Someone else – Vinson – tackled her. Kel let his force throw her into Joren. Down the three of them went in a tumble. Joren let go of her hair, fighting to get out from under her and Vinson. Kel elbowed him in the belly and turned to thrust her other hand into Vinson’s face, encouraging him to get off her by pressing his closed eyes with her fingers.

Garvey waded in and grabbed the front of her gown to haul her to her feet. Owen – forgotten until that moment – struck him from behind. Down Garvey went, face-first, chubby Owen clinging monkey-like to his back as Kel rolled out of the way. Owen beat Garvey wildly about the head and shoulders with one hand.

Not much technique, Kel thought as she got to her knees, but he’s got plenty of heart.

Joren’s arm wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air. Vinson attacked her, cursing, his blows nearly as wild as Owen’s. Kel’s vision was going dark when hands pulled Joren’s arm away. Kel gasped for air. Dark breeches and white shirts on her rescuers told her palace servants had put a halt to things.

Two hands wrapped around her arm and drew her to her feet. Kel looked down a couple of inches into Owen of Jesslaw’s shining grey eyes. ‘That was jolly!’ he said. Apparently a bloody nose and a cut that dripped blood into his ear were not important. ‘Did you learn to fight like that here?’

‘So.’ Lord Wyldon coldly eyed Kel and Owen. ‘Already you instruct the new boys in your brawling ways.’

‘We fell down,’ Kel replied steadily. She knew this play by heart; so did the training master. First he questioned the senior pages, who claimed they had fallen. Then he questioned her – and, for the first time, the boy who’d been the object of the hazing. No other first-years had stayed to help before.

‘Three footmen and a torch boy said you were fighting,’ Lord Wyldon pointed out.

‘They were mistaken, my lord,’ she replied.

Wyldon drummed his fingers on his desk. Finally he said, ‘Owen of Jesslaw, you have made a very poor start. Report to Osgar Woodrow at the forge outside the squires’ armoury for the first bell of time every night after supper for a week. You may cool your passions by sharpening swords.’ His brown eyes locked on Kel. ‘As for you, Mindelan – report to Stefan Groomsman at the same hour. He is to find you work pitching hay down from stable lofts.’

Clammy sweat broke out between Kel’s shoulder blades. ‘St-stable lofts, my lord. Of course.’ At training camp before the summer holiday, Lord Wyldon had made Kel climb every day to deal with her fear of heights. Kel bit her lip guiltily: while she had trained all summer, she had not tried to look down from anything higher than a few steps. I bet he knew, she thought queasily. I bet he knew I didn’t climb anything on holiday.

‘A final word, Page Keladry.’ Lord Wyldon stood, bracing his hands on his desk. ‘This will stop,’ he said tightly. ‘There was never so much fighting before you came. It will end now.’

Maybe you just never heard about all the fights, Kel thought wearily. Big boys picking on little ones just to be mean. Maybe no one made enough of a fuss to bring it to your notice.

From the corner of her eye she saw the red-faced Owen open his mouth. Kel bowed to Wyldon and managed to stumble, banging into the new boy. The training master waited for them to stand at attention once more, then dismissed them.

‘Why’d you do that?’ demanded Owen when they closed the door behind them. ‘Why’d you bump me?’

‘Because you were about to say something,’ she replied calmly. ‘You aren’t supposed to say anything except that you fell down. Whatever punishment he gives you, whatever he says, you take it in silence.’

‘But they started it,’ he argued. ‘You were helping out another noble, like we’re supposed to, and they waded into you.’

Kel sighed. ‘That’s not why I did it.’

Turning into their own hallway, Kel and Owen halted. The prince, Neal, Cleon, and Kel’s other friends stood there, waiting.

‘Good evening, your highness,’ Kel said.

Prince Roald nodded gravely.

Neal strode over to her. ‘What on earth did you think you were doing? I thought we solved all this last year!’

Kel replied, ‘We did.’

‘Then why did you patrol without us? We had a deal. We went with you and we dealt with that lot as a team.’

‘Don’t yell at her,’ Owen snapped. ‘You should have seen her fight. And they started it.’

The prince smiled at him. Roald of Conté was a fourth-year page, quiet and contained, with his father’s very blue eyes and black hair that could have come from either of his parents. He was so polite that he appeared stiff, and he made friends with difficulty, but when he spoke, he was listened to. ‘We have been trying to stop the hazing of first-years,’ he told Owen. ‘And I believe I suggested that you study with our group.’ Roald was Owen’s sponsor, charged with teaching him palace ways.

‘But there was a library, your highness,’ Owen said. ‘A big one. I was just going to look.’

‘And I wasn’t patrolling,’ replied Kel. ‘I had to see Daine. When I came downstairs …’ She shrugged.

‘And got a black eye for your pains,’ Neal said with disgust. He reached towards her, green magical fire shimmering around his fingertips.

Kel stepped back. ‘You’ll get in trouble with my lord if you heal something he can see,’ she pointed out. ‘Fix Owen’s cut.’

Now it was the plump boy’s turn to step back. ‘What?’ Owen demanded nervously.

‘Neal has the healer’s Gift of magic,’ said the prince. ‘Don’t be silly. He can at least make it so that cut and your nose don’t hurt as much.’

Owen rolled his eyes, but let Neal care for his injuries. The cut in his scalp was shallow; Neal shrank that. ‘The nose isn’t worth troubling with,’ he told Owen. ‘It’s not broken. Just be careful how you blow it.’ He looked at Kel with a rueful smile. ‘Might we at least get some classwork done?’

Kel went to her rooms. Gathering her books, she was trying to remember her assignments when she heard a sound behind her. She whirled, dropping her books. Someone gasped and ducked inside the dressing room.

‘Who—?’ Kel began, then remembered: Lalasa. She would sleep in the dressing room, like the servants who attended other pages. Kel had seen Lalasa’s cot and the wooden screen that gave her privacy when she took her bath. ‘It’s just me.’

The older girl peered around the door, then ran forward and knelt to gather Kel’s fallen books. ‘My lady, forgive me, I never meant—’ She glanced up at Kel and gasped again. ‘My lady, your pardon, your poor eye! Who could have done such a thing? Shall I fetch a healer – no, Uncle says only my lord Wyldon may approve healers … A cut of meat, perhaps ice from the ice house if they’ll let me have it. Oh, my lady,’ she wailed, her hands clasped before her.

Kel blinked at her. ‘It’s just a black eye,’ she said. ‘Please don’t dither at me.’

‘But it’s all swollen! How can you see?’

‘Badly,’ admitted Kel. ‘It’ll mend. I’ve had them before.’

‘Doesn’t it hurt?’ begged Lalasa. ‘You act like it’s nothing.’

Kel shrugged. ‘It hurts, yes, but not as bad as some I’ve had. May I have my books, please? I have to study.’

Neal stuck his head in the door. ‘Are you coming?’ he demanded. ‘We only have a bell left before bedtime, and half of us are stumped on that catapult mathematics problem. Who’s she?’

Kel sighed and introduced Neal to Lalasa. The girl who had been so outspoken in her dismay went quiet the moment she saw Neal. Silently she backed towards the dressing room, stopping only to curtsy when Kel gave her friend’s name.

Why hide? wondered Kel as she left the room with Neal. ‘Does she know you?’ she asked as they went to his rooms.

‘No – should she? I mean, I saw her working in the squires’ wing once or twice last year. Timid little creature.’

His chambers were crowded. With the addition of the first-years to their study group, there was a boy on every surface that might be claimed as a seat. The cluster on the bed shifted, making room for Kel. They were all boys who had got her help with mathematics before: it was Kel’s favourite subject, and she was good at it.

Who would believe it was just Neal and me a year ago? she thought. I thought we’d never have any friends, what with Lord Wyldon hating him for being fifteen and educated, and me being The Girl.

About to take the offered place, she had an idea. ‘You know, they do allow study groups to meet in the libraries.’ She smiled. ‘I believe there’s room for us in the classroom-wing library.’ Last year Joren and his friends had made life miserable for any first-year who entered the room. It was only right that their group reclaim it for people who wanted to study.

The boys looked at each other, then at Kel. Without a word they gathered their things and streamed out of Neal’s room. Owen left skipping to a soft chant of ‘Books, books, books!’

Neal threw open his arms as if to embrace his now-empty chambers. ‘What shall I do with all this space in the evenings?’ he enquired airily, waving Kel out ahead of him. ‘Plant a garden, perhaps, begin my eagerly awaited career in sculpting—’

‘If I were you, I’d practise my staff work,’ Kel replied. ‘You need to.’

The bell that signalled the end of their day clanged, and the pages returned to their rooms. By then Kel felt each and every bruise from the fight and from her day’s training with that weighted harness. Stiffly she put her books on her desk, noticing a mild, clean scent in the air.

‘I made willow tea for my lady,’ explained Lalasa as she poured a cup from the kettle on the hearth. ‘And Salma gave me a package for you.’

Kel looked the package over. It was like others she’d received from an unknown benefactor: a plain canvas wrapper tied with string and a plain label. She undid the knots and pulled the canvas away to reveal a small wooden box.

She wriggled the top off to reveal the contents: a pamphlet and three oval leather balls, each of a size that would fit into her palm. Did her mysterious well-wisher want her to learn to juggle? She picked up a ball, which was heavier than it looked. Kel squeezed it. From the texture, it was filled with sand.

‘What on earth?’ she muttered, and leafed through the pamphlet. It was hand-lettered and clearly illustrated. Suddenly she began to grin.

‘What is it, my lady?’ asked the maid.

‘Exercises,’ replied Kel. ‘For my arms, and my hands.’ She moulded the leather ball in her left hand, squeezing hard. ‘This is supposed to strengthen my grip.’ How does he know, or she, what’s needed? Kel wondered, scanning the descriptions of the exercises. Last year it had been a good knife, her jar of precious, magicked bruise balm, and a fine tilting saddle for Peachblossom. Now it was more exercises, small ones she could do any time, that would help to build strength in her hands and arms.

Reminded of the bruise balm, Kel took the jar out of her desk and dabbed a little on her swollen eye. The throbbing ache in it began to fade.

I wish I knew who you were, she thought, sipping the tea that Lalasa had made. I would like to thank you – and ask why you do these things for me.