First Test by Tamora Pierce Page B

wheezed Kel. The new gear was heavy.
    "But you didn't want her to," Stefan repeated.
    Kel shrugged. "It seemed bad. Like, I don't know, like taking his soul."
    "Not that buckle, the one next to it," Stefan told her a minute later, pointing.
    Red-faced, Kel released the strap in her fingers and picked up the right one.
    "He also says you promised not to rowel him."
    Kel stared at the bandy-legged hostler, not sure what he meant. Then she remembered: rowel was another name for the pointed star-shaped type of spur favored by many knights. "That's right," she said, checking the girths.
    "How will you get him to go faster?" Stefan wanted to know.
    "She gave me words to say to him," replied Kel.
    Stefan nodded. "She's clever, that Daine." He cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I didn't think you'd be one for the spur. Try to mount, now."
    That took practice. Kel banged her leg a few times before she managed to clear the high back. "I have to do this in armor?" she asked Stefan, who only grinned. Kel wriggled in the saddle, testing her ability to move once she was seated. Peachblossom waited patiently for her to settle down. "About Peachblossom—I'd like to know who treated him so badly," she added, gathering her reins.
    The little man chuckled. "Don't fret about that," he replied. "Leave it to me. The one that did it, he won't abuse another mount. You have my word." He slapped Peachblossom on the rear, sending the gelding out of the stall.
    Once outside, Kel leaned down and told the horse, "I think I'll stay on his good side. Just in case."
    As usual, she was the last page to reach the long riding yard. Wyldon stood just inside the gate, a row of lances set against the fence beside him. Joren stood there, too. As each page rode by, Joren passed a lance up to him. He even passed one to Neal. By the time Kel reached Joren, only one of the twelve-foot-long weapons remained. Joren ignored her and mounted his horse.
    "Take it," Wyldon ordered Kel, with a sharp nod at the lance.
    Leaning down, she gripped the weapon and dragged it to her. It was like a very long staff in most ways. There was an indented grip cut into the wood eighteen inches from the butt, and the wood above the grip flared out to protect the bearer's hand. This weapon should never slide out of her hold. The lance was heavier than a staff, too. Kel gritted her teeth and settled the butt of the lance on the edge of her stirrup, as Lord Wyldon did.
    The pages lined up. As Kel guided Peachblossom into line beside Seaver, Wyldon rode to stand in front of them.
    "Before the immortals came, there was a clamor to cut jousting from tournaments," he said loudly. "It was said to be too risky. Even with a coromanel, a wide-faced piece, on the lance tip, to soften the impact, it was too dangerous. So few battles are fought between mounted knights, it was said. It was time to retire the lance. Tradition must change to come in step with modern times."
    Wyldon turned his mount toward the far end of the field. There Kel saw five quintains-dummies painted like warriors and set on wooden posts. In place of each quintain's left arm was a wooden shield with a target circle painted on it. In place of the right arm was a pole weighted at the end by a sandbag.
    Lord Wyldon braced his lance under his right arm and lowered it until it was level. Once in place, it pointed at an angle across the mare's withers, into the air on Wyldon's left.
    "My lord?" asked Merric, raising a hand.
    Lord Wyldon raised his eyebrows.
    "Shouldn't it stick out straight in front of you, not across your saddle horn?"
    The older pages chuckled; Merric turned bright red at their amusement.
    "Have you seen many tournaments?" Lord Wyldon inquired.
    Merric shook his head, still blushing. "None, my lord."
    "I could do it that way," the training master said. "Of course, I'd point my knee into the open air at my enemy's side. I'd risk walloping my own mount in the head. I assure you, they don't care for that. And once my