Read Online In the Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Pierce - Free Book Online

Roald already had the chestnut’s rein in his hand, and his servants were at the fallen man’s side. Jon planted himself solidly in front of Gary, who was going to ride to his father, anyway. “I said , hold formation!”
    The big knight glared at his cousin in helpless fury; for a second Alanna was afraid he might hit Jon. The prince ignored the threat, adding softly, “What can you do for him that isn’t already beingdone? We’re an army, Sir Gareth; let’s try and act like one!”
    For a moment the tension between them held. Then Duke Gareth’s son nodded grimly and returned to his place in the ranks of the knights.
    Duke Baird, chief of the palace healers, was already beside Gary’s father. Duke Gareth’s face was white, and he was biting his lip in obvious pain. Alanna let her hands tighten on the reins until Moonlight fidgeted nervously. She could see the strange angle of Duke Gareth’s left leg. When she heard shortly afterward that the Duke’s leg was broken in three places and that the king would be appointing a new commander-in-chief, her feeling of doom grew. It was all too neat; so neat that she decided to miss the announcement of the new commander and pay a visit to the stables.
    Handing Moonlight an apple, she whistled a brief tune. There was a noise in the hayloft, and her old friend Stefan climbed down the ladder, carrying a blanket.
    â€œThought ye’d be by,” the hostler grunted. “Ye’ve a real nose fer trouble, ain’t ye?”
    Alanna grinned stiffly at George’s man. “What makes you think I didn’t come here to cosset my horse?”
    â€œThen why whistle me up?” the potbellied hostler wanted to know. “Except to chat, which ye do now an’ then. Except now ye’re wonderin’ how Duke Gareth’s beast, what’s gentler even than yer own, happened t’ throw His Grace this mornin’.”
    â€œWell, yes,” Alanna admitted.
    Stefan opened the folded blanket. “Mayhap I’m wrong. An’ then again, mayhap this’s why.” He showed her a large prickly bur stuck firmly in the blanket’s weave. Alanna worked it loose with difficulty. “They’s a cruel scratch in th’ poor beast’s back where it was,” Stefan went on. “An’ who cinched His Grace’s saddle so loose? They be so many new folk here for th’ army, I don’t see all as I should.”
    â€œThen none of the regular hostlers saddled Duke Gareth’s horse?”
    Stefan shook his head. “’Twas a newcomer. An’ mayhap he was that afraid for his life when Duke Gareth was throwed, an’ mayhap not; He’s gone.”
    Alanna mulled this over, handing the blanket back to Stefan. “Thanks for keeping this for me,” she said finally.
    The hostler shrugged. “I knew ye’d be askin’,” he said frankly. “Best be careful, though. Us of th’ Rogue knows what happens to them as asks toomany questions. By the by—have ye heard who leads in Duke Gareth’s place?”
    Alanna shook her head.
    â€œHis Grace, th’ Duke of Conté.” Stefan chewed on a straw, his pale blue eyes fixed on Alanna. “Interestin’, havin’ a sorcerer-general, eh?”
    â€œVery,” Alanna said dryly, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. She turned to go.
    â€œSquire Alan,” Stefan added, “ye might be lookin’ in th’ Lesser Library when ye go back. Ye’ve got a visitor.”
    Alanna hurried into the palace, the bur pricking her hand. She was surprised to find the Lesser Library occupied by a hooded monk. Getting the news from Stefan, she had expected to find someone very different.
    â€œExcuse me,” she began.
    The “monk” drew back his hood and held his fingers to his lips, grinning mischievously. With an exasperated noise, Alanna slammed the door and locked it