Page by Tamora Pierce Page B

while. A long while.” She tucked her chin to look at her front. Lalasa muffled a noise with her hands. It sounded remarkably like a laugh. “I’m glad you find it funny,” Kel told her with a wry grin.
    “I have to take my lady’s measurements afresh,” Lalasa said, going into the dressing room. “And I need to draw coin from Salma to buy cloth,” she called as she opened the box where she kept her sewing things. “I can let out many of your personal garments, but nightgowns, and breastbands, and stockings must be paid for from your own purse.”
    Kel went to her desk and wrote a note to Salma on her message slate. When she had finished, Lalasa approached with a measuring cord. As she slid it around Kel with brisk efficiency, Kel was startled to see they were exactly the same height. She had grown an inch in three months.
    “I don’t know when I can get that harness let out,” she commented.
    “Leave it for me when you come for your bath,” Lalasa assured her. “I will take it to the tanner.”
    “You’ll need to give him some encouragement,” Kel remarked. If people wanted fast work from palace servants, they paid bribes. “In fact - ” She wiped out her note to Salma and wrote a fresh one, asking her to give Lalasa Kel’s pocket money for the quarter. “This way you don’t have to apply to me, and I don’t have to apply to her. You can keep it here and draw what’s needed.” She handed the slate to Lalasa, who held it with a stunned look on her face.
    “What is it?” Kel asked, picking up her glaive. The bell would ring soon; she had to start her practice dances. When Lalasa didn’t reply, Kel looked sharply at her. “What’s wrong?”
    Lalasa was trembling. “Aren’t you afraid I will steal it?”
    “No,” Kel said, trying deep knee bends to loosen her legs. Each bend was marked by another tiny rip. It seemed her nightgown had decided to give up completely. “You didn’t run off when I paid you for the year.”
    “All nobles think that servants steal.”
    Kel tucked her nightgown’s skirt into the side of her loincloth. “People who believe servants will steal usually get servants who do.” She swung her glaive. “You never give me any reason to doubt your honesty.”
    For a moment Lalasa said nothing. Then she uttered a soft “Oh” and set a pot of water over the fire to heat.
    For the first time since Kel had taken her as a maid, she stayed in the room as Kel performed the complex swings, thrusts, turns, and rolls of a practice dance. She put out fresh seed for the sparrows and laid out Kel’s morning clothes. Only when the water on the hearth began to steam did she collect the pot and take it into the dressing room so Kel could wash when she was done.
    That afternoon, in the pages’ class on magic, Tkaa the basilisk began to speak of how the Yamanis practiced magic. Knowing of Kel’s six years there, he called on her. When Kel mentioned that she had a spirit bag, an amulet created for her by a Yamani shaman, Tkaa asked if she would let the class see it. Kel bowed to him - she had gotten over the strangeness of having an eight-foot-tall gray lizard as a teacher months before - and went to her rooms.
    About to turn into the pages’ hall, she felt an itch and halted, making a face. The breastband she had on was crisp new linen, and it itched. She glanced around: no one was there to see. Hiking up her tunic, she scratched her ribs through her shirt.
    From the pages’ wing she heard a man say, “Don’t be shy. If you’re nice, I’ll get you a better place than working for that crazy Mindelan girl.” He spoke quietly, but he couldn’t have been far away. “You waste your prettiness toiling after a mad page.”
    There was a reply, in a female voice far softer than the man’s. It was Lalasa and she was frightened. Quickly Kel tugged her tunic over her hips and walked into the pages’ wing. A man in servant’s clothes had backed Lalasa up against Kel’s door. He leaned