Alyn stared at him. His face was suddenly serious, and he was looking straight at her. She dropped her eyes, then looked back up.

"Yes, my lord. But -"

"But?"

"If I have a question..."

"What do you think?"

"I should wait for the right time?"

"Good," Miervaldis said. "Yes. When we're alone, if possible. I will answer as much as I can - truly, I'm not trying to keep you ignorant - but if I'm right, this could be a difficult situation, and I need you to be discreet."

"I understand," Alyn said, and felt that thrill of excitement deepen.

"I'm sure you do," and he smiled, relaxing a bit.

"Can I ask a question, then?"

"Now, yes. Ask away."

"Where is your carriage?"

He smiled again. "I don't keep one. It's expensive, and I rarely use them. This was kindly sent for our use, which is why it looks like it doesn't belong to anyone. Its appearance is deceptive, though."

"What?"

"Look outside."

Alyn did so, not sure what he meant. They were still on the radial road, and the sun was now high overhead. Fields stretched away on either side of the broad, paved surface, with the occasional figure visible at a distance bending to their work. Closer to... closer to the road whisked past at quite a rate, and now she paid attention to it, she realised that the horses' hooves were beating out the cadence of a canter. She turned back, surprised.

"We're going really fast," she said, and felt stupid for not realising it before, given how the carriage rocked and swayed.

"It's built for speed," her lord confirmed. "We'll be changing horses when we reach the ring road, and again before we get to the Fifth Star Court. Hopefully we'll be there before the end of the day."

Alyn wondered again what was so important about Lord Miervaldis - or the situation at Fifth Star Court - that would require such a coach, such a speed. Which would require such discretion. Then the words of the dark man in Miervaldis' rooms came back to her, and she shivered, suddenly a little afraid. There was more going on here than she knew, and she felt out of her depth.

Across from her, Miervaldis shut the book again with a muted thud which emphasised its mass. She looked up at him.

"Alyn," he said, "I must confess, I didn't know I had a page until about two weeks ago. I - well, it doesn't matter. But I know very little about you. Would you mind -" he looked a little embarrassed, she thought - "would you mind telling me about yourself?"

She stared at him. It wasn't such a very odd request, she supposed, but, it did seem a bit strange. And he looked almost apologetic. Mentally, she shrugged.

"My family live in the demesne of the Third Star Court, in the west," she said. "I've got five brothers and a sister who wants to marry a lord as fast as possible." She wondered how that was going; surely a betrothal would have to be arranged for Illiana soon?

"And you chose a different route." It wasn't a question as such, but she answered it anyway.

"Yes, it was all right because of Illiana. And it's a good education, my father says, although he complained about how the lessons work now when my brother told him about them."

"What do you think?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you think it's a good education? You've only been having lessons for six months or so, but what do you think of them?"

Alyn frowned. Why would anyone care what a page thought? How honest should she be? She glanced at Miervaldis; he was watching her with careful interest. Why does he care what I think about the lessons?

"Well... they're a bit boring. I'm sorry! But... well, I suppose if my patron were Lord Fitzhugh, that would be the same, so... and it's better for the lords if their pages are taught all together, it means they can do the important stuff and not be distracted."

"Do you really think that?"

"Think what?"

"That it's better for the lords to have their pages taught together, to keep the pages away?"

"Why wouldn't it be better?"

He said nothing, just shrugged a little in a way that suggested she should keep going. She paused. What is good about having a page? Something Byran had said to her once came back to her mind. What is good about teaching a little brother?

"I suppose... having a page means teaching a subordinate. And it's a good thing to teach because it makes you think about what you're teaching." Her mad plan five years ago to teach Davian and Simman, two and three years younger than her respectively, how to whittle came to mind. She hadn't achieved anything more than a badly cut finger for Davian and a scolding for herself, but she had learned how hard it is to pass on knowledge and techniques that she didn't fully understand herself. Miervaldis nodded, his eyes implying he wanted to hear more.

"Um... it's better for a page to learn directly, too, one to one. That's better than a class." She stopped, not sure what else she could say.

"And what is good about the classes?"

She stared at him. I thought the classes were bad? But he just looked expectantly at her, so she thought again.

"They're good because... because learning from lots of people means learning lots of stuff. I mean... if I attended you all the time, my lord, I'd learn about attending and I'd learn the stuff you know. But if I attended you some of the time and went to lessons, I'd learn about attending and I'd learn the stuff you know and I'd learn more from other lords. And it means people with, um... well, lords who aren't so good at teaching can learn from other people too."

"So which system is better?"

"I... both? Can you have both?"

He gave her a long, thoughtful look, then glanced down. "Perhaps," he said. "That might be best. Thank you, Alyn."

"Can I ask a question?"

"Yes, go on."

"Why didn't you know about me until two weeks ago? And if you think the current lessons are a bad way to teach, why... why didn't you do anything two weeks ago?" He looked surprised, then strangely amused.

"I didn't say I thought the current lessons are bad," he said, and Alyn realised he hadn't said anything about his opinions at all. "But in answer to your question, I didn't realise you were here because I was away until two weeks ago. I was visiting my lands, and then some friends. I'm sure they sent a letter, but it never caught up to me. When I came back, they told me about you and I had to take some time to tidy a few things up. Then the summons to the Fifth Star Court came, and, well, I am sorry. I will try to be a better patron in the future, although you'll have to bear with me. I've not done this before."

That was surprising, given how old he seemed, but the Fourth Star Court was quite small and not very important, so probably got fewer pages than usual. Alyn smiled, almost involuntarily, at his apology, and the conversation lapsed. What he had said about visiting his lands bothered her; she thought about it over again, and realised that if he had been visiting his lands, and his friends, he must have been doing it for almost six months or longer. And in all that time, he had been out of touch with the Court? That didn't seem very likely... or if it was true, it seemed a bit suspicious. She thought about the other things he had said, dissecting his words in her head to think over, and slowly realised that she had done most of the talking, and even when he had spoken, he had revealed very little about himself. And for all that he'd said he wanted to know about her, she'd said hardly anything about herself, her likes and dislikes, her family and her friends. No, he had been after something else. He was asking me that stuff to see how I think. What kind of person I am. He didn't care about my family, or about the lessons. He wanted to know how I think. And... he was very good at getting that out of me while giving nothing away.

What kind of a lord uses questions like that?