After her fun excursion into the Land of the Dead Alanna sleeps for three days, which is a fun way for her to avoid answering any and all awkward questions about her magical lady-voice. Luckily, nobody actually asks any questions at all, not even Jonathan, which leaves the road clear for Alanna’s next big problem: puberty.
The pages are supposed to go on a trip to neighboring city Port Caynn for the day. Hopefully the cooks have all packed them special lunches with treats, as is appropriate for field trips. Alanna is packing in front of the mirror when she suddenly realizes that her chest is moving. In the “it’s perfectly natural” way, not the “an alien baby is clearly about to burst right out of this mother” way.
Yes indeedy, it seems we have a case of SUDDENLY: TITS.
She freaks the fuck out and starts screaming for Coram to get her bandages! Oceans and oceans of bandages! Coram figures out what’s going on (he’s a sharp’un) and he’s like, bro, you can’t fight this shit. You can be a woman and a warrior, it’s fine. No she cannot, Coram, because it is ILLEGAL. Her being a girl was the basis of you wanting to drag her back to Trebond by her hair in the first chapter of this goddamn book. I usually side with Coram whenever Alanna gets crazy, but he’s not being very consistent here. He should just tell her to stop shouting about how much she hates her tits before she wakes up the whole goddamn Palace.
So Alanna is now touchier than every about people trying to take her clothes off (which… happens a lot? Jesus, Alanna, do you needs an adult?), and eventually goes nuts when Raoul tries to get her to go swimming. Raoul’s pretty chill about the whole thing, but Alanna is consumed with guilt and apologizes. Raoul responds thusly:
“I was teasing you,” he admitted. “Sure, you got mad. You’ve a right to do as you want.”
She looked at him in shock. “I do?”
Raoul frowned. “I hadn’t meant to say anything, but since I have the chance- Alan, you seem to think we won’t like you unless you do things just like everyone else. Have you ever thought we might like you because you’re different?”
Which: no, Raoul, most people do not think that their friends like them because they start randomly shouting at them.
The pages all ride back to the Palace, where they run into new arrival Duke Roger of Conte. He is Jonathan’s cousin and seems to be the mysterious “someone” mentioned in the last chapter who is meant to teach the pages magic. He is also clever, charming, and handsome as ballsacks*, and everyone pretty much instantly jizzes their pants over him… except Alanna, who, true to form, has a ~strange feeling and is all “idk I dislike him.” And everyone is like “bro, you trippin’.” BUT IS SHE? (Spoilers: nope.)
Duke Roger calls all the pages in, one by one, to see if they have the Gift or not. Alanna is the last person to be called in, and continues to have ~strange feelings. The Duke asks her about the Sweating Sickness and stares very intently at her; she tells him about being trained by Maude and her healing Gift and tries very hard to master the urge to scratch his eyes out. The Duke is playing with his wizard’s rod (NEEDS AN ADULT) the whole time and it gives Alanna a headache, but she manages to get out of it unscathed, albeit deeply, deeply unsettled. Coram talks to her afterwards and asks if he read her mind. When Alanna says no, Coram says that she must be protected by the gods. Predictably, Alanna’s like “lol no.” Dumbass.
Fun fact: Tamora Pierce originally wrote Song of the Lioness as a single adult fantasy novel. In that novel, Duke Roger was a Depraved Bisexual who would fuck anything, and who also proved himself to be a child molester when he used the above scene as an excuse to make a move on Alanna. I am really glad she cut that part out of this book, because 1) ewww, 2) do we really need any more Depraved Bisexuals? Particularly Child-Molesting Depraved Bisexuals?,** and 3) seriously, ewwwww.
Alright, so after this there’s a bit about George buying Alanna a horse, because she's still riding a pony and ponies are not very knightly mounts. It is very boring and drags on for far too long, so I won’t be recapping it in any detail. Here are the important bits: Alanna takes Jon with her down to the Lower City to meet George; Alanna’s new horse is named Moonlight and she’s really beautiful and graceful and blah blah blah (horses are so dull. SO DULL.); Jonathan and George recognize one another and for whatever reason do not mind that one of them is the heir of the realm and the other is the thieviest thief in it; George gives Jon a horse as well, who Jonathan names Darkness. So yay, everyone is happy and hopefully we never have to hear about bloody horses again. God help me when I eventually do Wild Magic.
Sometime after this the pages are finally due to start sword practice. They are taught by a man named Captain Aram Sklaw, who talks like a pirate and has the eye patch to back it up. He makes fun of all the pages, telling them all that they are fat or lazy or too interested in reading books and thinking and stuff to be any good as swordsmen. His critique of Alanna: she is short. Well played, Sklaw. The pages are made to make their own practice swords and wear them at all times, even in the bath, since if they are caught without them they will be punished. On the practice courts Sklaw keeps picking on Alanna, who is not only short and a closet chick, but- oh shit- really, really bad at fencing.
And, see, this is one of the elements of the Alanna books, and Tamora Pierce books in general, that appeal to me just as much now as they did when I was younger: Alanna is not born fucking good at everything. So often in fantasy novels you find characters who are just born good at things, whether it’s swordsmanship or magic or stealing or making friends with adorable plot devices. There’s never any explanation given for their talents, and they never have to work at them or strive to be better. Tamora Pierce heroines are usually not automatically fantastic at anything. They have skills, sure, but they spend time honing them and becoming good at what they do, instead of just rolling out of bed as fencing masters. They work. Alanna is not as good an example of this as, say, Kel is later on, but she is still, initially, really fucking bad at swords.
So bad that in her fist real practice duel another page beats her in about ten seconds. Yikes.
She’s understandably humiliated- knights are not supposed to be bad at swords, dammit!- so she finds Coram the next morning for dawn watch and talks to him about it. Coram tells her that there are three kinds of swordsmen: those who are born good, those who fail, and those who learn the sword. Her problem is that she is not a natural. Unless she wants to fail, and probably die, she will have to learn the sword, which means practicing all the time. Instead of reacting to this with a temper tantrum, as she would have in the beginning of the novel, Alanna asks to borrow his broadsword. It’s bigger than she is, but if she wants to learn the sword she wants to do it right.
Alanna of Trebond, you may grow up into a fully functional adult.
Will Alanna learn the sword? Is she really trippin’ regarding Duke Roger? Will the onslaught of puberty ever cease? Find out next time in CHAPTER SIX: WOMANHOOD, OR, IN WHICH ALANNA TELLS GEORGE A SECRET, NEARLY DIES, GETS A LETTER, WINS A DUEL, AND IS INVITED ON YET ANOTHER SPECIAL PAGE FIELD TRIP. IT IS AN ACTION-PACKED ADVENTURE THRILL RIDE, BASICALLY.
* Please do keep in mind that this is a Tamora Pierce book, where “handsome” means “tall and old, with unfortunate facial hair.” In this case it is a moustache. Moustaches are always ugly. No one should ever have one, including you.
** This is not to say we don't need more bisexuals! Bring on the bisexuals, particularly in fantasy lit, where they tend to be a bit thin on the ground. Just, you know, make them not evil. Or child molesters. Please.
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