“G-g-gyrefalcon’s Marches,” he gulped, looking as if her sympathy had made him long for a comfortable shoulder to weep on, but not daring to fling himself on a strange adult.

“Can I share that pillow?” she asked, solving the problem for him. When he moved aside, she settled in with one arm comfortingly around his shoulders, projecting a gentle aura of sympathy. That released his inhibitions, and he sobbed into the velveteen of her jerkin while she soothingly stroked his hair. He didn’t need her Gift, really. All he needed was a friend and a chance to cry himself out. While she gentled him, she pummeled her memory for who he could be.

“Are you Robin?” she asked finally, when the tears had slowed a bit. At his shaky affirmative she knew she’d identified him correctly. Robin’s parents, who held their land of Lord Orthallen, had prevailed on Orthallen to take their only child to the safest haven they knew—Court. Understandable, even laudable, but poor Robin didn’t see their reasoning. He only knew that he was alone for the first time in his young life.

“Haven’t you found any friends yet?”

Robin shook his head and clutched her sleeve as he looked up to read her expression. When he saw that she was still sympathetic and encouraging he took heart enough to explain.

“They—they’re all bigger an’ older. They call me ‘tag-along’ an’ they laugh at me . . . an’ I don’t like their games anyway. I—I can’t run as fast or keep up with ’em.”

“Oh?” She narrowed her eyes a little in thought, trying to remember just what it was she’d seen the pages playing at. You took them so for granted, they were almost invisible—then she had it.

“You don’t like playing war and castles?” That was understandable enough, when fighting threatened his parents.

The flicker of the oil-lamp opposite their alcove showed her his sad, lost eyes. “I—I don’t know how to fight. Da said I wasn’t old enough to learn yet. That’s all they want to do—an’ anyway, I’d rather r-r-read—but all my books are still at h-h-home.”

And if she knew the Seneschal, he’d strictly forbidden the pages to enter the Palace Library. Not too surprising, seeing as most of them would have played catapults using the furniture, with the books as ammunition. She hugged his slight shoulders, and made a quick decision.

“Would you like to be able to read and take lessons at the Herald’s Collegium instead of with the pages?” Selenay had all of her pages schooled, but for most of them it was a plague to be endured or a nuisance to be avoided.

He nodded, his eyes round with surprise.