Second Guard (14 page)

T
he next moon passed in a blur of training, listening for clues, walks with Boulder, and their latest ritual, evening tea with Saavedra. At first
the trips to the rooftop served as a way for Tali to check for a return message from Nel and to enjoy Saavedra’s careful ministrations to her head injury, but soon it became part of their
daily routine. Tali loved sitting by the fire in Saavedra’s cozy cottage, listening to the old man answer Zarif’s never-ending questions. It made her feel at home in a way her own stark
sleeping quarters never could, and reminded her of evenings spent in comfortable companionship with her own family.

Most evenings, Saavedra and Zarif did the talking, and Tali found herself fascinated by their discussions. In a few short weeks she understood more about the history of Tequende than she had
ever learned through the tutors her father occasionally hired in the bigger port towns. Like her, Chey remained quiet and rarely commented during their conversations, but when he did, his words
were thoughtful and considered.

Brindl also lingered around the edges of the discussion, though she almost never voiced her thoughts. Her presence both interested and discomforted Tali, and she chided herself for her petty
feelings. The boys seemed to have easily warmed to the reserved Earth Guilder, and Brindl to them as well. But Tali still felt awkward around her, worried she might say the wrong thing and offend
the quiet girl once again.

On the other hand, Tali was usually too tired to do much talking. “I’ve been waiting all day for this moment,” Tali sighed, snuggling under the wool blanket in the fireside
chair that had somehow become hers.

Saavedra handed her a cup of hot tea, which Tali cooled by blowing gentle ripples across the top, rather than drinking it in quick, scalding gulps as she used to. Tali had learned much by
spending time in Saavedra’s company, and tried to emulate his patient approach to even the smallest things, like drinking hot liquids.

Saavedra smiled at her. “I, too, look forward to your arrival each evening,” he said, including Zarif, Chey, and Brindl in his reply.

“But surely we are no substitute for the famous salons of Fugaza,” said Zarif. “You must miss them terribly.”

“Why should I?” Saavedra answered, settling into his own chair. “They’re not nearly as interesting as our own rooftop
salon des oiseaux bleu
.”

Zarif laughed but the others remained silent, puzzled by the foreign words. “The bluejacket salon,” Zarif said, translating for them. “I suppose that’s an accurate name
for us,” he added, grinning at Saavedra.

“I understand the bluejacket part, but what exactly is a ‘salon’?” Tali asked, placing her cup on a frayed napkin.

Saavedra nodded at Zarif to answer.

“A salon refers to a meeting place where maestros and intellectuals gather to discuss the latest scientific theories and philosophies, as well as to share news from abroad,” Zarif
explained, his voice taking on a teacherly tone. “Fugaza has many such salons, some in public venues like libraries and coffeehouses, and others in private homes or laboratories.”

“That sounds amazing,” said Brindl, her voice full of longing. “I would love to sneak in and just listen.”

Zarif turned to her, the surprise obvious on his face. “You would?”

Brindl’s dreamy look quickly changed to one of chagrin. “Of course I would. Or do you suppose I prefer to contemplate the philosophy of dirty dishes or the science of building a
perfect fire?”

“Forgive me, Brindl, I just meant…” Zarif paused. “I didn’t realize you would be so interested.”

“Because I’m an Earth Guilder?” Brindl asked, her voice a dare, as Zarif shuffled uncomfortably in his chair.

An awkward silence swallowed the room, though Tali noticed a slight smile playing on Saavedra’s lips. He’s enjoying this little spat of ours, she thought, and not for the first time.
Saavedra seemed to encourage a bit of discord on occasion, as if eager for them to engage in debate, to argue different sides of an issue. Maybe that’s how they do it at the salons, she
thought, waiting to see who among them would take the bait.

“We Earth Guilders have ways of spreading ideas and news as well,” Chey offered, like a slice of peace. “We call them Counsel Days. But they only occur during festivals when
there is time.”

“Tell us more,” Saavedra prompted.

“Well, someone might share ideas about how to better fertilize the soil so a crop grows better, or someone else will demonstrate a new tool that makes harvest easier.”

Brindl nodded. “In Zipa, someone may introduce a faster way to refine salt or pass on a new technique, a safer way to excavate tunnels.”

“So we should not assume, then, that all discoveries and advancements originate in Fugaza,” Saavedra said.

“Or with the Moon Guilders alone,” Tali chimed in, feeling the need to speak up for her own people. “We Sun Guilders also share information as we travel the rivers.”

“How so?” Zarif asked, his curiosity once again piqued over his embarrassment.

“Traveling musicians often hitch rides with us between ports. In exchange for free transport, they keep us informed
and
entertained,” Tali said. “We like our news
dressed for a party.”

Saavedra chuckled at Tali’s description. “And do the Sun Guilders only share news, or do they contribute knowledge to each other as well?”

“Oh goodness, we contribute all sorts of knowledge,” Tali said, warming to the subject. “We’re the craftsmen and traders of the realm, the ones who make things happen!
Sure, the Moon Guilders have their politics and science, the Earth Guilders have their farms and mines, but the realm would be helpless without the Sun Guild to create goods and transport them.
Look around us! The clothes on our backs, the tea, the pot on the stove…all crafted and sold by my guild. A forest of trees in Sogama, in the hands of my people, becomes a table, chairs,
boats, bridges…this cottage,” Tali continued, caught up in the moment. “All the Earth Guild loggers have to do is cut down the trees. We do all the rest!”

“You’re forgetting that we Moon Guilders are the engineers of those bridges, the architects of this cottage,” interrupted Zarif. “We look at the forest and we see more
than trees; we see ideas, we see possibilities.”

Tali opened her mouth to reply, but Saavedra held up a kind, quieting hand toward her and nodded at Chey to speak.

“It seems to me,” Chey said, hesitating for a moment, “that the other guilds are taught that the Earth Guild is somehow less.”

Brindl nodded in agreement. “All Tequendians, children of our mother Machué, should live as one,” she said. “We are three points of the triangle, none more important
than the other, all of us necessary for the realm’s peace and prosperity. That is how we are brought up in the Earth Guild: to respect each person equally, regardless of guild.”

“But I’ve noticed that most of you Earth Guilders here at the Alcazar stick together,” Tali said. “You go off together, sit together, share secrets….”

“Only because we are often forced together in our menial, endless tasks,” Brindl answered, standing up to fetch the dirty teapot. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return
to the kitchen for my night shift.” She lifted the pot to make her point as she exited the room.

Tali blew out her breath. “What’s gotten into her?” she asked, trying to fill the silence Brindl had left behind.

“I believe they call it the truth,” Saavedra answered, raising his gray eyebrows.

Tali took a sip of tea but it tasted bitter on her tongue. The conversation cooled as quickly as the tea after that. Tali was grateful for once when Saavedra sent them back to their rooms, but
not before wrapping them each in a warm embrace at his door. His strong arms felt as protective as her father’s bedtime hugs, and Tali’s eyes pricked with tears for a moment, thinking
of home. Why had no message come yet?

When Tali arrived at her room, though, she knew sleep would elude her. She dreaded yet another night tossing and turning on the narrow cot, her mind like a tree full of cawing crows, each
thought louder than the next. Not tonight, she decided. If you’re not going to sleep, you might as well do something more useful than fret. She grabbed her mother’s sword, slipped down
the hallways, and exited out a side door of the Alcazar.

The moon was near full and gave plenty of light to see the practice dummy hanging from the wooden structure set up in a small training ring. It looks like a gallows in this light, Tali thought,
shivering in the brisk night air.

She pulled the sword from its sheath and admired it for a moment in the moonlight. At first the sword felt heavy in her hand, but as she began to warm up with a series of moves the maestro in
Porto Sol had taught her so long ago, she reveled in the sword’s perfect heft and balance. Without the impediment of bulky practice pads and the clunky practice sword she normally used in
training, Tali fell into the old movements with an ease and gracefulness she had not felt in a long time. Ten times she ran through the drill, her mother’s sword slicing the air with a crisp
swish
, until her mind cleared and she became one with the weapon in her hand.

“Guard on!” she said, spinning on her heel to face the dummy. His blank face reminded her of the ghost stories some of the trader kids used to tell, and afterward, the nights spent
huddled under the blankets with Nel trying to keep the nightmares at bay.

Tali shuffled her feet, pretending to avoid the dummy’s imaginary expert moves. “Oh, so you think you can fool me with that feint?” she said, then pivoted on her left foot and
pierced the dummy with a thrust from the side. Corn poured out of the fresh hole.

“As you deserve!” Tali said triumphantly to her swinging foe.

“Well done,” a voice called out from behind her.

Tali spun around, embarrassed that she had been discovered at her silly game. Her eyes swept the shadows for the intruder.

“Show yourself,” Tali called. “No one likes a spy!”

“Strong words, my lady,” the voice said.

“I’m no lady, I’m a guard of the realm!”

“Not yet,” Jaden said, stepping into the moonlight. “Though you do hold great promise.”

Tali tried to hide her shock as Jaden’s long stride brought him across the ring in only a few steps. Her voice suddenly seemed locked inside the cabinet of her mouth. All of the things
Chey had told her about Jaden rushed together and rested like a stone on her tongue—that he had taken advantage of young women in his charge,
murdered
a pledge who got in his way.
Though she had protested those rumors earlier, now that Jaden stood in front of her she found herself believing them possible. Something boiled inside of him, she could feel it, just like Chey
said.

Tali willed herself to lift her head and meet his gaze. “I…” she tried.

“You apologize?” Jaden said.

“No…yes,” Tali stuttered, unsure how to respond. She felt her ears burn in embarrassment, though anger now bubbled inside her. “But for
what
exactly am I
apologizing?”

“For speaking in such a manner to a centurio,” Jaden replied.

“But I had no idea who you were. I couldn’t see you!”

“You should recognize my voice by now. If you make such a mistake in battle it could be your head, or even worse, mine.”

“But this is no battle, it’s a training ground,” Tali said, trying not to look as rattled as she felt.

“For now, certainly,” Jaden said, striding over and putting his hand out for the sword. “May I?” he asked.

Tali had no choice but to hand over her mother’s sword. He ran a hand down the side of the blade, nodding in appreciation of the fine craftsmanship.

“What do you mean,
for now
?” Tali asked, watching as he gave the sword a few swipes through the air.

“Any location could become a battlefield, even the Alcazar.” Jaden began a sequence of movements not unlike her own earlier practice, only Tali was sure that he moved much more
smoothly than she had. He almost looked like a dancer, with one movement blending into the next.

“It is true, you know,” Jaden said, pausing to look at her.

“True that the Alcazar could come under attack?” Tali said, her tone disbelieving.

“Well, that’s true as well,” Jaden said, “but I meant the part about you.”

“What about me?” she asked, feeling her fists clench at her side, waiting for the insult.

“You hold great promise, Talimendra. I have high hopes for you.”

Tali opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. He knew her name. Jaden never used anyone’s name during training; he just called them all “pledges” or
“guilders.”

Jaden offered the sword back to Tali, and as their hands met on the hilt, a shock ran through her body. She felt herself sweating though the night was cool, and she had to blink several times to
regain her composure. Was he speaking the truth? Did he really think she was a good warrior?

Don’t be stupid, she thought just as quickly, scolding herself. Is this what happened to the other girls? A handsome man remembers our name, offers a compliment, and we get all weak in the
knees? Tali hated the way she felt in Jaden’s presence, both attracted to him and repulsed. Never had she felt this confusion before, this strange clash of feelings. She pulled away and
turned her back to him, facing the dummy, which continued to sway gently, leaking corn from its side.

“Does your betrothed, Princess Xiomara, approve of your late-night conversations with young pledges?” Tali boldly asked him.

The silence that followed was agonizing, but Tali resisted the urge to turn around and watch his face. Before she could register the meaning of the sounds she heard, Jaden had slid his own sword
out of its sheath and sliced the dummy through the neck, its headless body falling with a thud in front of her.

“Tread lightly, pledge, around matters not of your concern, lest you walk into the jaws of a beast you cannot slay,” he said, sheathing his sword. “I will be away from the
Alcazar until the next moon. I expect you to train hard in my absence, as if I am ordering you myself.” Without another sound, Jaden disappeared back into the night.