Second Guard (3 page)

Tali smiled in return and raised her fist in the sign of her guild. “May Intiq warm you.”

The girl dipped her head and placed a small hand over her heart. “May the Mother hold you.”

Tali nodded to acknowledge the blessing, then urged her horse forward. She knew the traditional Earth Guild words were meant to be a comfort, but she could never hear them without feeling a
sense of loss. Mother Earth was no replacement for a real mother, no matter what anyone said.

By midday, she finally reached the Queen’s Paseo, the wide stone-paved loop that connected all the major cities of the realm before running straight down the southern
bridge to the Alcazar. The Paseo had been designed to accommodate a full Second Guard legion: five columns of twenty soldiers on horseback. Tali had seen the legions pass a few times in her life,
and on each occasion a tingle had traveled her spine, knowing that one day she might wear their coveted blue uniform. If she were good enough, she might even be named one of the red-sashed
centurios who helmed the legions, their left arms adorned by iron brassards studded with firestones to signify their years of service.

Tali’s hand now dropped to the hilt of her sword as she remembered her father’s parting gift. The sword had been a surprise. “This was your mother’s, given to her by
Queen Twenty-one,” he’d said, pulling it from a leather sheath and handing it to her. The blade was a bit longer than Tali’s arm and felt heavy in her grip, but not overly so. The
hilt was made of forged steel, but the pommel and crossguard were both plated with silver. The smooth, round pommel had been engraved with the last queen’s mark, XXI, the foreign numerals
another import from the Far World along with horses and ironwork. Intricate filigree decorated the crossguard, intertwining all three guild symbols of earth, sun, and moon.

“I’ve had it polished and sharpened,” her father said as Tali ran her fingers along the flat of the blade. “Take care with it, my girl,” he added, his voice growing
quieter. “This is no practice sword.”

“Yes, Father,” Tali said, replacing the sword carefully. Her father took the sheathed sword and leaned forward to buckle it to her belt, as if she was still a little girl. His eyes
dropped and his face went slack. She wondered if he’d had the same look on his face twenty years ago, when he’d seen his young betrothed off to serve the realm.

When the sword was securely tightened, Alondro Sanchez set his hands atop Tali’s slim shoulders. “You are a brave daughter, an honorable sister. Your sacrifice will not go unnoticed
by Intiq.”

Tali blinked back tears. She did not wish her father to regret his words, to second-guess a decision made long ago. She was ready for this.

He gripped her shoulders tightly then, as if reading her thoughts. “Listen, my child. Do not let pride get in the way of reason. I know you dream of becoming a warrior like your mother,
but there is no shame in service. Your sister and I value your safety above any military honor the Queen could bestow.”

Tali swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to smile. “You worry too much, Father. The Second Guard is a peacekeeping force, not one of those bloodthirsty armies of the Far World.
Besides, you know me, I’d make a terrible servant. I’m much better at fighting than cleaning.”

Though Alondro’s eyes softened, he did not laugh at her attempted joke. “You’re as stubborn as Cora,” he said, shaking his head, as if he wasn’t sure whether to
feel pleased or distressed by what he was going to say next. “She was a fighter, your mother, until the very end, and if she were here, she’d tell you this: If you wish to excel as a
warrior, you must always know what it is you’re fighting for. You must know it, and believe in it. Otherwise you are not a warrior, but a hired hand with a blade.”

Tali nodded. “I understand.” Gods, how she would miss the somber man before her. She threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace. “I will live up to her name, I
promise.”

“I’ve no doubt,” he’d said. “But above all, remember your own name, Talimendra. Do not live as I have these eleven years. The shadow of the dead is no place for a
young girl to dwell.”

Tali’s horse strained at the reins, pulling her back to the present. She heard the sound of another horse’s hooves trotting up from behind, and she turned in her saddle to see who
approached. A young man on a white stallion neared, and when he lifted a hand in greeting, Tali brought her horse to a halt.

As he pulled up beside her, Tali tried to keep her expression neutral, though inwardly she felt a stab of surprise. She had met many Moon Guild men, with their pristine white clothes and closely
shorn hair, but never had she laid eyes on one nearly so striking, or perhaps, she let herself admit, so handsome. His eyes radiated a golden light from within a warm, brown face. His riding
posture was sleek and elegant, his tall, trim form obvious even atop his horse.

“Good day,” he said, smiling as he held out his left palm in greeting. “I am Zarif Baz Hasan, second-born of the Araby Scribes.”

Of course, Tali thought. He’s an Arabite.

Although she had never seen one, she had heard many tales about the sophisticated Far World immigrants from Araby, with dark skin and scholarly minds. They had settled mostly in Fugaza, the
capital city, and registered with the Moon Guild as doctors and scientists, archivists and teachers. Queen Nineteen, it was said, had encouraged and aided their immigration to Tequende after
meeting an Arabite refugee in neighboring New Castille. The man had been her consort for twenty years after that, until her death. And no wonder, thought Tali, if he was as striking as this
Zarif.

Tali returned his smile and reached across to place her palm on his. “I am Tali, second-born of the Magda River Traders.”

“I am honored by your acquaintance, Tali,” he said, bowing his head. “You ride for the Alcazar?” His voice carried the refined accent of the capital, with just a slight
hint of his foreign roots.

“Yes,” Tali answered. “Do you also pledge service to the Second Guard this full moon?”

“I do,” said Zarif. “I believe we’ll catch sight of the Alcazar just beyond that rise.”

“Praise Intiq,” Tali said, patting her horse’s neck, as if the mare too would be comforted in this knowledge. “It has been a long journey.”

Zarif laughed. “And praise Elia. We have also had a long ride, from Fugaza,” he said, reaching down to scratch his own horse.

A few moments later they reached the crest of the rise, and both halted to survey the view. Below them, the Paseo switchbacked down the hill several times until it joined a mighty stone bridge
that extended a quarter league into a vast lake. At the end of the bridge emerged an oval island, dominated at its far end by a sprawling stone fortress that looked as if it had risen straight from
the depths. The Alcazar. Its pale gray stones appeared violet in the afternoon light, reminding Tali of the Moon Temple in Porto Sol, although the building in front of her was many times larger.
From this view, the fortress resembled an arrowhead, with three large towers at each point. The towers, at least ten men high from the ground, were connected by ramparts and battlements, and for a
moment, Tali imagined herself on top of them.

Several smaller outbuildings and fenced areas dotted the rest of the island, each with an obvious function: stables, practice yards, an armory. The entire compound bustled with activity as
servants and guards attended the business of training the realm’s army. The island itself seemed small, however, compared to the lake surrounding it. Lake Chibcha appeared endless. Even from
this high vantage point, Tali could not see across it to the distant shores of Oest Andoria.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” asked Zarif, breaking the silence.

Tali shook her head. “I’ve only seen it from the lakeside, many leagues out.”

“The renderings do it no justice,” Zarif agreed.

Tali held her breath and took one last look at the view below. For as long as she could remember, she had dreamt of this moment, this chance to bring honor to her father and Nel, to prove
herself worthy of her mother’s name. The time had finally come.

“Race you down there!” Tali called, then kicked her horse without waiting for a response. The mare went flying down the road. Tali nearly lost her balance as she looked back to see
if Zarif was following. He and his horse were closing fast, obviously amused by the challenge. Soon their horses ran neck and neck, Tali hanging on for dear life, but exhilarated by the speed.

As they neared the end of the bridge, Zarif raised a hand and shouted “For Tequende!” He gave his horse one last kick, then easily took the lead. Tali was still laughing by the time
she caught up to him at the tall wooden gates of the Alcazar grounds.

“It’s about time you two got here,” Zarif said, already dismounted and smiling widely.

“We demand a rematch!” Tali said, swinging down beside him.

A loud slam interrupted their good humor. “The Queen’s Paseo is no place for games,” barked a burly man who appeared from a small iron door in the gates.

Tali swallowed her smile and dropped her eyes to her boots.
In trouble already and I have yet to set foot on the island. Brilliant.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Excuse us, sir,” Zarif added.

The scowling sentry was in no mood. After finding their names in the leather-bound register he’d pulled from his vest, he proceeded to give them a dizzying number of directions.

Tali’s tired mind tried to keep track of it all: where to stable her horse, how to find her room in the Alcazar, when to report to the Great Hall. Zarif looked equally overwhelmed. When
they were finally ordered off to the stables, the two spoke little as they navigated the busy grounds. Once the horses had been unsaddled and left with the stable hands, the two new pledges
separated with a formal good-bye, palm to palm.

“The Gods’ protection upon you,” Zarif offered.

“And to you,” Tali answered.

Tali made her way to the east entrance of the enormous fortress, as instructed by the sentry. She moved slowly beneath the weight of the packs slung over her shoulder.
Occasionally she would pass a fellow pledge and exchange a polite nod, but everyone was too burdened by bedrolls, packs, and bags to stop for the customary greetings. I suppose there will be plenty
of time for that later, Tali thought, and concentrated on the maze of hallways and stairwells inside the Alcazar.

Sunshine struggled through the building’s small, triangular windows, casting dim patches of light every few feet. The hallways smelled of lavender, which had been strung from the ceiling
to ward off bad vapors, or perhaps the smell of warriors. More than once Tali lost her way and had to backtrack until she could orient herself again. She decided to draw herself a map, if she ever
managed to find her room. Finally, she arrived at a curved wooden door with a tagua tree etched upon it. She shifted her packs and pushed it open.

A sickly, pale girl looked up from across the room. She stood over a cot, her hand atop a tidy pile of clothes. The girl’s simple hair and plain clothes marked her as an Earth Guilder, but
she seemed too young and small to be a pledge.

“Forgive me,” Tali said, closing the door behind her as she let her heavy packs slide to the floor. “I should have knocked. I am Tali of the Magda River Traders,” she
said with a smile, then crossed the room and extended her left hand.

The girl did not return the smile, but placed a bone-thin hand over Tali’s. “Brindl of the Zipa Salt Miners,” she said softly.

A miner, thought Tali. No wonder she looks so small and ghostly.

Both girls bowed, but when they arose Brindl kept her eyes on the stone floor. The silence suddenly felt as thick as the fortress walls surrounding them. Tali struggled to think of something
pleasant to say, but Brindl turned abruptly and started packing her meager items inside a threadbare bag.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Tali asked. “Look, there are two cots, one for each of us. I believe we’re to share this room.”

“Not any longer,” the girl replied, buttoning her pack. “I have been granted my request.”

“Your request?” Tali asked, puzzled by the girl’s odd behavior. “Do you wish to room with another Earth Guilder?”

Color rose in Brindl’s milky cheeks, and she flashed Tali a quick look of resentment.

Oh Gods, can I do nothing right today?
Tali’s mind raced, trying to determine what she had said to offend the strange girl. Picking up one of the satchels at her feet, Tali began
to unpack to cover her discomfort.

“I am moving to the kitchens quarters,” Brindl said stiffly, moving toward the door. “I will serve my six years there.”

“Six years in the kitchens…” Tali said, confused. “Will you not try for a place in the Guard?”

“Why should I?” Brindl asked, her voice resigned and bitter, like someone much older than fifteen. “Girls like me have no training for the Guard. I’ve never even held a
practice sword,” she said, her eyes skipping across Tali’s fine clothes, her Queen’s sword, the bulging packs at her feet.

Tali’s ears suddenly felt hot. “I…I didn’t know, I—”

“It doesn’t matter,” said the girl, pushing open the door. “Even if I could fight, I have my own reasons for staying close to the kitchens. May the Gods bring you
luck.”

“And to you,” Tali said, with a polite bow.

“I need no luck to scrub pots,” Brindl said, and pulled the door closed behind her.