Page by Tamora Pierce Page A

leather shrink? The thing had been perfectly comfortable when it was first made.
    She touched her toes again. The seam that had ripped a moment ago tore further. She growled a Yamani curse and tugged the harness again.
    “My lady, that won’t help.” Lalasa walked out of the dressing room, a robe clutched over her bed gown.
    This time Kel thought a whole string of Yamani curses. Keeping her face calm, she said, “You really don’t have to be up. You know I won’t need you till the bell rings.”
    Normally something that close to a reprimand would have sent Lalasa scurrying from the room. Now, however, she strode forward, hands outstretched. “If you please, my lady?” She actually touched Kel, sticking her slim fingers under the shoulder straps of the harness and lifting it off.
    Lalasa inspected the harness in the very dim light, exploring its seams and joins with her hands. Kel, intrigued, poked up the fire and lit candles.
    “I can do nothing about this,” the older girl said, putting the harness down. “You need a new one, and that’s tannerwork. If my lady pleases?” She motioned, and Kel turned. Lalasa touched the ripped seam between Kel’s shoulder blades, then plucked at sleeve holes, collar, and cuffs. She turned Kel and knelt to pull on the gown’s hem.
    “As I thought,” she said at last. “My lady has grown an inch since this was made. I thought you had trouble tying your points yesterday.”
    Kel made a face. “I’ve been having a cursed time getting my hose up high enough for me to tie them properly,” she admitted. “Even my breeches are short.”
    “It’s easy to get new clothing for practice and classes, my lady,” Lalasa said. “We just trade the old things for new at the palace tailors’.” She stood and glanced at Kel, then coughed lightly into her fist. “Um - my lady, you have grown elsewhere, too.”
    “My shoulders,” Kel said gloomily. “That’s why the gown split, and why I can’t settle that harness comfortably. My waist’s a little smaller, though.”
    Lalasa shook her head. “Your shoulders are filling out, but those aren’t the only things.”
    Kel rubbed her nose. Finally she said, “You know, I understand better when people tell me straight out what they’re thinking.”
    Lalasa’s large, dark eyes met hers. She hesitated, then said, “Most girls pray for this, my lady. You’re getting them young. I didn’t show until I was fourteen.” Realizing that Kel still didn’t understand, Lalasa cupped her breasts and let them go.
    Flabbergasted, Kel stared at the front of her nightgown. Sure enough, there were two slight bulges in the proper area for such things. When had this happened? They weren’t large enough to be visible under her loose clothes, but how could she have missed them when she bathed?
    I hurry when I scrub, she thought, fighting the urge to cross her arms and cover her chest. And I’m always thinking about classwork or practice.
    A cold thought overbore everything else: They’ll never let me hear the end of this. She accepted that as soon as she thought it. There was little she could do about the boys’ future comments, except choose her clothes with care and hope her new, inconvenient badges of womanhood grew slowly.
    Lalasa ducked her head. “My lady will need breastbands.”
    “Oh, splendid,” Kel replied. “Just what I need - more clothes.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “When you get those new things from the tailor? Make sure they’re loose, all right?”
    “Most girls rejoice at this,” Lalasa pointed out softly. “They regard it - and their monthly bleeding - as signs they enter womanhood.”
    “Most girls don’t have a covey of boys whacking them with sticks every morning. Most girls don’t want to be knights.” Kel plopped onto the bed. Jump wriggled until he could stick his blunt head under her hand. “If this keeps up, eventually I can stop wearing dresses to remind them I’m a girl. I hope it takes a