Second Guard (17 page)

This is no cave, she thought. It’s a chapel. Towering statues of the Tequendian gods lined the soaring chamber on both sides. On the left, the three gods—Machué, Intiq, and
Elia—were depicted in their earthly forms, dressed as members of their Guilds and holding the tools of their trade. Mother Earth Machué was simply robed with painted vines encircling
her arms. In one hand she held a miner’s pick, in the other, a hoe. Across her front she wore a sling with a sleeping babe tucked inside. To Machué’s left stood her son, the Sun
God Intiq, dressed in colorful, embroidered clothes, holding a builder’s hammer and a merchant’s bag of coin. To Machué’s right stood her daughter Elia, the Moon Goddess,
sheathed in a long, white gown, her hair laced with flowers. Her slender, delicate hands held a book and quill.

On the opposite side of the chamber, the three gods stood lined in the same order, only these statues depicted the deities in forms so divine that Tali could barely look upon them. Painted in
gold, silver, and bronze, their perfect faces glowed from within as if made of light, and Tali felt a surge of peace run through her. In front of Intiq, she bent and whispered the invocation that
all Sun Guilders learned as toddlers: “May your light and warmth bless this day and all to come.” Suddenly, she felt the same relief and ease that she used to feel when tucked inside
the small berth below deck with her twin sister. Tali’s breath evened out, her quaking knees stilled. She kissed the palm of her hand, closed her fist in the sign of the sun, and held it up
to Intiq. Finally, with no small regret, she moved past the elegant figures and continued down the room.

As the room opened up, the roof arched higher than she had imagined possible, and life-size vignettes covered the walls, carved right out of the salt itself, glowing a rainbow of colors in the
torchlight. Tali’s eyes danced over them as scenes from her favorite godstories came to life. Here, Mother Earth created animals from the folds of her apron; there, the Moon Goddess crafted
her people from the palms of her hands; there, the Sun God built a boat, much like Tali’s own home. Who had created all this beauty? Who had spent their days—their
years
—uncovering these wonders underground with no more than a chisel?

As she continued forward, longing to reach out and run a hand over the carvings, she caught sight of a woman, a human woman, sitting in shadow at the back of the chamber, and Tali remembered the
reason she had come. The Diosa. As she drew closer, she saw that the woman sat on a throne carved out of the back wall of the room. The throne had been polished smooth, the salt milky white yet
unadorned, as if to better display the beautiful woman within its arms. The Diosa was not anything at all what Tali had expected. If truth be told, she had expected an old crone, a gnarled ugly
woman with knotted hands…
a witch
, Tali admitted to herself, just like the ghost stories she and the other Sun Guild children told when they were younger.

Instead, the Diosa was nearly as beautiful as the statue of Mother Earth Tali had just admired. Her face seemed neither young nor old, but ageless, and nearly as pale as the salt throne she sat
upon. Her hair was so fair it looked white to Tali, and it fell to her shoulders in the style of the Earth Guild, straight, unbraided, and unadorned. Within the pale skin her eyes glowed green as
emeralds, matching the simple tunic she wore. Her body looked strong and sturdy, like those of her people, but instead of sandals and trousers, her legs and feet were as bare as her arms, yet
covered with tattoos unlike any Tali had ever seen before. Not only did the traditional vines of green wrap around her limbs, but flowers of a dozen hues blossomed on every surface of her skin.
She’s like a walking piece of art, Tali thought, kneeling instinctively and bowing her head.

“Arise, daughter of Intiq,” commanded the Diosa, though Tali heard tenderness in the words and immediately felt peace return to her.

Tali offered her palm to the woman, who slid her own painted hand on top, curiosity shining in her green eyes.

“You are not certain you should ask me your questions,” the Diosa offered, gesturing Tali to sit.

“Nor what my questions should be,” Tali admitted, lowering herself to the cushions on the floor at the woman’s bare feet.

“What is it you most desire in all of the realm?” the Diosa asked, placing her hand on the top of Tali’s head. Tali felt a warmth run all the way to her toes. The touch felt
both strong and soft at the same time, and Tali immediately recognized it as a mother’s touch, although it had been many years since she had last felt such a thing. Her words caught in her
throat for a moment.
I want my sister and father to be safe and happy.

“Nothing for yourself?” the Diosa asked. Tali looked up, surprised, for she had not spoken the words aloud. She began to shake her head no, then hesitated. Yes, there
was
something she wanted for herself, something she wanted more than all the salt in the realm. “I want to be the best warrior in the Second Guard. I want to uphold my family’s name and
achieve honor among the ranks.”

“Both are admirable desires, Sun Daughter.” The Diosa reached down and lifted Tali’s chin to meet her gaze. “But what would happen if your goals were at odds with each
other?”

Tali shivered. It seemed that the Diosa had transformed into a goddess herself, power and light pulsing through her like molten iron. “I do not see how that could be so,” Tali
answered. “My service to the Queen can only protect my family.”

The Diosa sat silent for a moment, still searching Tali’s face. “Let us hope that you are right,” she finally answered, “though you may find that sometimes disobeying
orders is the only way to follow them.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” answered Tali, struggling to make sense of the woman’s words.

“Soon you will understand. But for now you request safe passage through the mines to Zipa.”

“Yes, my friends and I need to get to…” Tali’s words faded as she realized that the Diosa had already mentioned her destination.
How does she know?

“It is a dangerous time in the mines,” the Diosa said.

“But I must—” Tali started.

“—be sure that your family is safe and well,” finished the Diosa. “I understand. Though in doing so you risk danger to yourself.”

“My Earth Guild friends said you have the power to grant us safe passage.”

“I can offer peace from my people, yes, but not from the Darkness.”

“Darkness?” replied Tali, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice. “Surely the passage will be lit, won’t it?”

“The Darkness I speak of, daughter of the Sun, lies coiled in the shadows of the deep.” The Diosa’s head dropped then, her eyes closed, and her hands, palms up, trembled
slightly.

Tali held her breath, unsure if the Diosa had gone into some kind of trance or if she was praying.

After a moment, the Diosa spoke again, but her voice seemed different somehow, lower and more gravelly. “Soon the Darkness will emerge with an appetite so enormous, it will swallow
Tequende whole and our people will live in shadows. Only when the puma, the hound, and the condor unite will the Darkness be defeated.”

Tali remained silent, confused by the Diosa’s words and strange behavior. She had no idea what the Diosa was talking about. All she wanted was permission for herself and her friends to go
to Zipa, and for them to arrive there safely.

Finally, the Diosa lifted her head and opened her eyes. “I can grant you passage, Sun Daughter,” she said, once again reading Tali’s unspoken thoughts, “but there are no
guarantees of safety for any of the Mother’s children, and certainly not in the mines.”

“I understand,” Tali said, rising to her feet, “but you will permit our journey?”

“I will do better than that,” the Diosa said, signaling with her hand. A young boy suddenly appeared from the shadows along the wall. Like the Diosa, he was pale of skin and hair,
but his eyes seemed to dance inside their sockets as he observed Tali. Though he wore the plain clothes of an Earth Guilder, a coin-size pendant of polished salt hung from a leather string around
his neck. He seemed perfectly at ease in the presence of the Diosa, and smiled broadly at both of them.

“This is Oryan, son of the Earth,” said the Diosa. “He will guide you through the mines to Zipa.”

“You are all things gracious and kind, my lady,” Tali said, bowing low.

“Though Oryan cannot guarantee your safety, he will certainly improve your chances,” the Diosa said, looking fondly at the boy.

Oryan bowed and offered Tali his palm. Tali slid hers on top of his and bowed in return. Although he looked painfully skinny, his arm belied a wiry strength that surprised her.

“Shall we set off then, Sun Girl?” he said, his eyes bright with excitement. “We need to hurry scurry!”

Tali raised an eyebrow at the mischief-filled face in front of her. “Indeed,” she replied.

O
ryan signaled for the trio to follow him through a small opening behind the Diosa’s giant sentry. The young boy had to point at it twice
before Tali finally saw it. As Oryan disappeared behind a thick curtain the same shade as the surrounding rock, Tali looked back at her two friends in amusement. Apparently, they were just as
surprised by their new guide as she was. Once they were all through the curtain, Oryan smiled widely.

“Crunchnuts! Three toppers! We don’t get your kind down here very often, you know. Call me Ory,” he said. “That’s what all the salters call me…well, when
they’re not calling me something worse!” he said, laughing at his own joke. “I don’t s’pose you toppers ever been down here, you’re all so sun-kissed brown.
Crunchnuts, I’ve never seen anyone as dark as you, you’re like hot chocolate,” he said, examining Zarif’s dark brown skin. “You must never leave the Sun God’s
side.”

“Actually, I’m a Moon Guilder,” said Zarif, smiling at Ory’s nonstop chatter. “Tali here is the only Sun Guilder among us.”

“And our friend Chey is from the farm families of Batenza, an Earth Guilder like yourself, Ory,” said Tali.

Ory waved a pale hand. “Crunchnuts, you’re all toppers to me! If you’re not a salter, you’re a topper, easy as that,” he said, turning to Chey. “Right, my
friend, right?”

Chey nodded. “It is so. To the miners we’re all toppers, those of us who work on the sun side of Mother Earth’s apron,” he explained.

“Ah,” Zarif answered. “So it is a distinction made by where one spends his or her days, not one of guild.”

“That’s it, tall topper!” Ory said. “For the Sun God knows your face, though he rarely finds mine!”

Tali mussed Ory’s hair and grinned. It was hard to resist his merry mood as they walked along the narrow tunnel. Before long, the path opened wider and other people began to pass them
through the tunnels. Some carried mining tools on straps around their shoulders while others pushed small barrows full of the clear, rocky salt that was so valuable to Tequende.

“May your load feel light though she’s heavy as night!” Ory offered in greeting to the miners as they passed. Nearly all of them stopped, despite what they were doing, and
exchanged greetings with the young boy, whom they all seemed to know. Though their eyes showed surprise upon seeing Ory’s “topper” companions, they smiled politely and offered
their palms to Tali, Zarif, and Chey in the traditional greeting of the realm. With Ory, however, instead of sliding their palms one on top of his, they clasped his small hand and gave it a
squeeze.

“Salters have their salty ways, toppers have their toppy ways,” Ory explained when Zarif asked him about it. “It shows we salters stick together and don’t let
go!”