Second Guard (8 page)

T
he next day brought new wounds and fresh humiliations. The three pledges met at breakfast though ate little, knowing Jaden would likely make them
lose it anyway. He did not disappoint.

After running them twice around the Alcazar, Jaden ordered them into longboats in pairs and had them row out and around a small island in Lake Chibcha. Though the island did not appear far off
when Zarif and Tali first took up their oars, once on the water it felt as though they would never arrive, let alone navigate their way around it. Despite Tali’s life on the river, the
longboat oars felt clumsy in her hands, so different from the push poles she was used to. Still, she was grateful to be on the water, despite the burn in her arms and shoulders. She had slept
poorly, alone in the stone cold room—no gentle sound of waves to lull her to sleep, no purrs from Mouser, no Nel across from her.

Finally, they neared the island and Tali steered them in a tight arc around it, rapping out orders to Zarif.
At least I know how to do something well.
Chey had followed closely behind
them thus far, but he and his Earth Guild partner struggled to control the movement of their longboat. Several times they were forced to overcorrect, once bumping into another team.

After what felt like hours, Zarif and Tali pulled their boat back into its slip and climbed onto the Alcazar’s sandy shore. Zarif wobbled slightly, his legs seeking to balance themselves
once on land again. It amused Tali to see someone so stately and graceful suddenly look as if he’d had too much firewine. She grinned at her friend, then winced as a sharp flash of pain
coursed across her ribs where a fellow pledge had bested her with a side kick the day before. What she wouldn’t give for some of Nel’s root tea, followed by a long nap.

After Jaden’s demanding workout they headed to the stables, deciding to let their muscles recover for a few hours before facing another brutal beating in hand combat that afternoon. Varah,
the Moon Guilder Tali had met at dinner the first night, had spoken true: Centurio Abelino was a patient instructor. He seemed to care equally for both the horses and pledges in his charge. Not
only did they learn good horsemanship techniques under Abelino’s tutelage, but also how best to care for the animals they were riding.

“If your horse becomes lame, it is of no use to you,” Centurio Abelino explained. “You must care for it as well as, perhaps even better than, you do for yourself.”

Chey seemed to agree with this assessment, nodding slightly at his words.

Abelino ran his hand down the horse’s leg, and the animal lifted its great hoof in anticipation. “Do this to avoid being kicked in the gut,” the centurio said. Then he cleaned
out the space between the shoe and hoof in a few deft strokes with a bent instrument. Next, he showed the pledges how to choose and measure the feed that would provide the most energy to the large
beasts.

Lastly, he brushed the animal down to rid it of dirt so it would not get sores under its saddle. As he followed the natural lay of the beast’s brown coat with a large brush, the horse
nickered with pleasure from the extra care and attention. His withers twitched under Abelino’s firm hand and he stomped a foot now and again, as if asking for more. The slope of the
horse’s strong back and rump reminded Tali of Boulder, and she smiled, remembering the packhound’s antics from the night before. These animals are smarter than I ever realized, she
thought, glancing at Chey, who had relaxed visibly once inside the stables. Even Zarif’s brow seemed less tense, his breath slower inside the stables, calmed by the great, noble beasts.

And so the days of training passed, one after the next, like beads on a string. By tacit agreement, Tali, Zarif, and Chey came to follow the same routine each day, sharing all
their meals together and training side by side. In the mornings, they forced themselves to attend Jaden’s relentless endurance drills to get the worst part of the day over with. They followed
with weaponry, and combat after that, reserving the late afternoon for horsemanship. It felt good to sit down at that point, even in a saddle, and this small reward kept them going through the day.
After supper, while most of the pledges collapsed in their beds until dawn, Tali, Zarif, and Chey would propel their weary bodies to the stables to unleash Boulder.

As the night closed around them and the fog over Lake Chibcha thickened like cream, Boulder would lope through the dusky eve, reveling after being stabled all day. Barreling down to the lake,
his front and hind legs meeting in a wild gallop, he would crisscross their path a dozen times, returning with a variety of finds: a stick, a glove, a dead fish. Boulder would lay these gifts at
Chey’s feet, then dash off again to make a ruckus in the underbrush or waves. The packhound became their balm and jester, for he never ceased to lessen their pain and make them laugh, at
least for a time. And while Boulder played, the three pledges talked, evaluating their progress, assessing the competition, comparing injuries.

“Even my grandfather walks faster than this,” Zarif complained one night as the trio made their way to the stables, moaning and groaning like three elders.

“My great-
granny
walks faster than this,” Chey said, wincing and rubbing a knot out of his shoulder.

“May the Gods forgive us, we’re even starting to
talk
like grannies,” Tali said. “All we ever do is whine about our aches and pain.”

“Then what shall we talk about instead, Your Highness?” Zarif inclined his head to her as if she were royalty. “Agricultural exports to Oest Andoria? Saavedra’s latest
theories on Far World expansion?”

“How about crop rotation in the Batenza hills?” Chey added, trying to mimic Zarif’s sophisticated accent. “Or mayhap the latest remedy for potato rot?”

Tali gave a disgusted snort, though her eyes gave away her amusement. “It doesn’t have to be so serious,” she said, looking pointedly at Zarif, “or so
dull
,” she added, raising an eyebrow at Chey. “Here is what my family did as we supped each night: We told each other one thing that we had learned or observed during the
day.”

“How very spontaneous of you,” Zarif said.

“Just try it, will you? I’ll go first. Today I observed that Centurio Abelino’s mustache looked like a giant woolly caterpillar crawling across his face.”

“Ha! Good one, Tali,” Zarif said. “Today I observed that Jaden added heavy packs to our run for his own depraved amusement.”

“Oh, you poor little pledge!” Tali teased. “You know that Jaden is only trying to prepare us for battle,” she said, defending the centurio, whom she had grudgingly come
to respect. No one could deny that all three of them had grown markedly stronger and faster in the past month as a result of Jaden’s drills.

“Now, Tali, you think he is fine to look at, that is all,” Zarif said, teasing her back.

“I certainly do not, Zarif Baz Hasan,” Tali said, giving him a light elbow to the ribs. “You’re just jealous because you’re not the only man here at the Alcazar the
girls swoon over.”

Zarif smirked and brushed her comment aside, but they all knew there was truth in her words. Zarif’s good looks and manners had won him many admirers among the Alcazar’s female
population.

“Don’t worry, friend,” Chey said, laying a hand on Zarif’s shoulder. “Jaden will soon be out of the running. Didn’t you tell me that he and the future
Queen-in-Waiting have been secretly betrothed for months now?”

Tali turned her head toward Zarif in surprise. “Jaden will marry Princess Xiomara? But if she marries, she won’t be allowed to reign. One of her cousins will become Queen-in-Waiting
instead.”

“It’s just a rumor floating around Fugaza, is all,” Zarif confessed. “I admit, it makes little sense. Not only would Xiomara forfeit her reign, but I don’t see how
Jaden would benefit from such a marriage either.”

“Maybe they truly love each other,” Tali said, then frowned as both young men shook their heads. “Is the idea so far-fetched?” she continued, her voice rising with
impatience. “I’ve heard Xiomara is as beautiful as she is clever.”

Chey turned a serious face to Tali. “Jaden loves no one but himself, Tali.”

“Why do you not like him, Chey?” asked Tali, for it had become obvious in the past weeks that Chey harbored a certain wariness around Jaden, though he seemed to truly like and
respect the other centurios.

Chey looked away without answering. A wide silence perched between the friends until Zarif saved the moment by returning to their previous theme.

“Today,” Zarif began, brushing his hand through the tight curls on his head, “today I observed that the morning gruel was flavored with ground roaches, not cinnamon, as
promised.”

“I’ve never tasted cinnamon,” Chey said, clearly relieved to change the subject. “What does it taste like?”

Zarif and Tali looked at each other, wondering how to describe a taste in words.

“It tastes like home to me,” Tali finally answered. “My sister Nel makes sweets with it, little iced cakes that melt in your mouth, and you can’t help but keep eating
them long after you’re full, they’re so delicious. She serves them warm from the oven with hot chocolate and—”

“Stop! You’re torturing us!” Zarif cried. “Do you ever get the feeling we’ve met the wrong twin?” he said to Chey, who chuckled beside him.

“Frequently,” Chey replied. “Here we are, stuck with the ornery one, while the lovely mistress of sweets remains far away on a boat somewhere. Do you think their father
switched them on purpose? Maybe Nel’s the true second-born,” he said.

Tali stopped in her tracks.

“Let’s switch them back!” said Zarif. “We demand Sweetcakes Nel!”

Tali gave both boys a shove, then laughed along with them. “Perhaps she’ll bring us some sweets next week in Porto Sol. You’re both coming with me, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Chey said.

“Nor would I,” agreed Zarif. “Our first day off in two moons! And a chance to meet the
good
twin finally.”

“Careful, or the bad twin will have your head,” Tali said, pretending to strike Zarif at the neck.

“Are you and Nel identical, Tali?” Chey asked, once the laughter died down.

“In many ways, yes,” Tali answered as they entered Boulder’s stable, “but—”

Her words were cut off as the dog heard their arrival and began to bark excitedly. Chey opened the stall and the packhound leapt upon them, knocking them all in a heap and showering them with
unbridled affection. By this time even Zarif had become used to Boulder’s slobbery greetings, and the three friends couldn’t help but laugh some more as the great animal bounded among
them.

When Chey and Zarif finally picked themselves off the ground to fetch food and water, Tali settled back into a pile of hay, bruised but smiling. She and Nel had had many friends among the trader
families, but those had been friendships formed slowly over a long time, a dozen years of brief exchanges. Her bond with Zarif and Chey felt different. This friendship had been forged like a sword,
pounded into existence with the white-hot fire of the Alcazar and a hammer named Boulder.

T
ali could not wait to see her sister again. It felt like years had passed between them instead of moons. Before she left for Second Guard
training, Tali had never been separated from Nel, not even for a single night. She hoped her twin had fared well without her so far, though last week’s bluejacket message worried her
somewhat. Why had Nel paid for a carrier pigeon, when surely there were plenty of traders who did business with the Alcazar and would have delivered it for free? And the message itself had seemed
odd, asking Tali to meet at the Porto Sol bell tower instead of their boat. Tali shook the puzzling thoughts from her head and focused on the view from the ferry.