The Shadow Guard

by J. D. Vaughn

  Brindl stepped aside to allow a woman pushing a handcart of maize to pass by. “May Machué bless you!” the woman called, as the small girl toddling beside her did the same. “Bess you!” the tot sang.

  Brindl paused to look around and find her bearings. So many buildings! The white structures all looked alike to her, scattered among the green hillside like giant cubes of sugar. She shook her head to think that this entire village—every stable, every shed, every outbuilding—existed for the sole purpose of serving the Queen and her palace. Just like the Alcazar, she thought, remembering the fortress where she had been assigned as a second-born servant last year. Only prettier, she decided.

  A young boy scurried past then, a handful of mountain berries spilling from his pail.

  “Excuse me, which way to the grainery, please?” Brindl asked him, bending to collect the fallen berries.

  “Left at the tailor’s, right at the spinner house,” the boy replied, barely slowing down. “Keep them!” he added with a wave, as Brindl reached out to return the berries to his pail.

  Brindl blew the dust off the fruit and popped them past her parched lips. The explosion of juice filled her mouth and she sighed deeply again, happy to have escaped her tower for a short time. She would have to find reasons to come outside more often.

  The clank of hammer on steel grew louder as Brindl passed the smith, pulling her out of her thoughts. Left at the tailor’s, right at the spinner house, she said to herself, trying to figure out which building was which. Some of them were obvious. Alpacas poked their funny faces out of the windows of a nearby shed, vying for a chance to be fed scraps. Brindl could not resist scratching a baby one behind the ears, much to his delight. The next building housed a brood of chickens, squawking and complaining as one by one their eggs were stolen by two young girls.

  As she came to a small intersection of walkways, Brindl pivoted in a circle, searching for anything that might resemble the tailor’s shop. Surprised by a voice behind her, Brindl turned and faced a young man about her age, wearing an apron over his simple clothes. His friendly eyes sparkled in a face that was golden brown like a native Tequendian, yet sharply angled and foreign somehow.

  “Lost?” he asked, smiling.

  “Quite lost I’m afraid.”

  “Where do you need to go?”

  “The grainery,” Brindl replied, lifting the pail on her arm as if offering proof. She immediately felt silly. This is what happens when you talk to no one but birds all day, she scolded herself.

  “You’re in luck. I’m going to the mill, which is right next door. We can walk together.”

  “Thank you. I’m Brindl Tacora of the Zipa Salt Miners,” she said, offering her palm to him in the traditional greeting.

  “Tonio Rossi of the Palace Bakers,” he answered, placing his hand on hers. “You’re far from home,” he continued, as they began to walk. “Here for your second-born service to the Queen, I gather. Kitchens?”

  Brindl tried not to be offended by his remark. It was a logical guess, of course. Under the Oath of Tequende, every second-born child of the realm upon reaching the age of fifteen was either sworn to six years of servant duty to the Queen or four years of Second Guard service. The vast majority of female Earth Guilders usually wound up as stable girls, scullery maids, or kitchen help.

  Brindl shook her head. “I’m the pigeonkeep for Princess Xiomara,” she answered, lifting the pail again. “We seem to have run out of food.”

  “Pigeonkeep? That sounds like an interesting job,” he said. “But I thought the bluejackets had all been killed by Telendor’s men.”

  “Most of them were,” admitted Brindl, her voice quieting. It still pained her to think of that day. “But we’re breeding new ones. I have twelve little chicks in my charge now.”

  “So you’re the mama bird,” Tonio said, bringing a smile to her face. It was not hard to like this baker boy. He had an open, comfortable way about him that put her at ease. “How did you come to be a pigeonkeep? Forgive my ignorance, but I don’t see how you could learn much about bluejackets down in the mines.”

  “No, not in the mines. When I reported to the Alcazar last year, I was placed in the service of the pigeonkeep there.”

  “You must have learned quickly if they chose you to serve the princess after only a year of training.”

  Brindl hesitated, unsure whether to explain the circumstances that had brought her to Fugaza.

  Tonio noticed her discomfort. “If you were at the Alcazar last year, you must have been there for the battle,” he said, his voice now solemn.

  Brindl pressed her lips together. “I was.”

  Tonio nodded. They walked for a time in silence.

  “Princess Xiomara asked my friends and me to serve her after we had won,” Brindl finally said, suddenly wanting—needing—to explain herself. “We had all been friends with her former tutor, Manuel de Saavedra. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He was counselor to the past three Queens, a brilliant man. He’s the one who taught me how to pigeonkeep.” Brindl stopped then, aware she hadn’t spoken so many words in a row for a long while.

  “My father used to read Saavedra’s history book to me at night,” Tonio said. “Lucky you to learn from such a man. And your friends, they are pigeonkeeps, too?”

  Brindl let out a small chuckle. “Not in the slightest. Tali and Chey are personal guards to the princess. Zarif is her advisor and librarian.”

  Tonio raised his eyebrows. “Your friends are very important people, I see.”

  “Oh, yes, and they’re kept quite busy,” Brindl said, abruptly ready to talk about something else. “Have you always lived here in Fugaza?”

  “I have, though my father came from the Far World,” Tonio said. “Fiorenze.”

  So she had been right about his foreign features. Handsome, but different.

  “In fact, he’s the one who brought the Fiorenzan cake-making tradition to Tequende,” Tonio continued. “My mother and I bake cakes for the palace.”

  “Cake? I have tasted one of your amazing cakes! It was a practice one they said.”

  “Did they feed it to your bluejackets?” Tonio joked.

  “No, no, of course not! I met with my friends the other night and Tali brought the most exquisite cake. It looked just like the palace!”

  “Ah, that one. I’m glad someone enjoyed it. We’ve been trying to perfect the icing to be as stable as it is delicious.”

  “It was certainly delicious.”

  Tonio nodded, seemingly pleased by her enthusiasm. “The grainery,” he said then, stopping in front of a white building that looked just like the others. “Stop by the bakery when you’re done and I’ll give you a slice of cake fresh from the oven. I guarantee it will be even better than the practice cake.”

  “If only I could!” Brindl said, for she truly did wish to spend more time with him. “But I should get back to my birds.”

  “Tomorrow morning, then? My mother makes the sweetest breakfast rolls you’ve ever had. Seven bells?”

  “It would be a pleasure,” Brindl answered happily. She would have to feed the birds earlier than usual, but it would be worth the effort. Finally, she seemed to be making a new friend. “Thank you for helping me.”

  Tonio smiled, his eyes sparkling again. “It was nothing. The bakery’s not far from the palace. Just follow your nose tomorrow.”

  “I will,” she answered, and turned with a wave.

  After she filled her pail and grabbed an additional bag of grain from the stacks inside the building, Brindl followed two white-clad kitchen maids back to the palace. The maids walked quickly, and Brindl struggled to keep up. The grain bag shifted on her hip like a jostling baby while the full pail banged painfully against her knee.

  Once inside the palace, Brindl slowed so as not to spill grain on the freshly scrubbed floor, though all the other servants seemed in a panic, rushing through the halls. Judging from snatches of conversation, someone important had arrived unexpectedly and th
ere was to be a formal dinner that night. When Brindl finally arrived on the rooftop, out of breath from all the stairs, she found an invitation tacked to her tower door.

  Queen Twenty-two

  Requests the presence

  of Brindl Tacora

  At dinner

  This very evening, upon the 7th bell

  In the Lilac Room

  To celebrate the arrival of

  The Queen’s Sword,

  Jaden Telendor

  Do not observe too closely those whom you serve. It is a breach of their privacy. Hold your eyes to the floor whenever possible.

  —CH. N. TASCA, Palace Etiquette

  Glued in place, Brindl read the invitation several times to be certain it was for her. When she realized what must be done to prepare for such an event, the rest of the day passed in a blur. In addition to her regular duties with the bluejackets, readying her simple uniform to look presentable for dinner with the Queen was no small task. Brindl scrubbed spots out with white powder, hemmed a frayed edge, and sewed a button on the cuff.

  Next she washed her hair in a basin and sat in the sun—thank Intiq he’d decided to appear today!—to dry it. She scraped her fingernails clean and filed their jagged edges with volcano stone. Using a hand mirror and a few pins, she attempted to pull her hair into a tidy bun. Finally, she scoured the chamberlain’s etiquette book, hoping to glean information she might need as a guest of the Queen. But no. Nothing. Apparently palace servants were not supposed to make eye contact with Royals unless directly addressed, let alone dine with them. Why in three Gods was I invited anyway? She had scarcely seen the Queen since her arrival and had certainly never spoken to her. Only twice could she remember catching a glimpse of the monarch swishing down a palace hallway, nearly hidden by her entourage.

  Though Brindl left the roof with plenty of time to spare, several false turns later she entered the Lilac Room just as the bells tolled seven. The well-named room had been opulently appointed. Six enormous bay windows looked out to the Sentry Hills, which nearly matched the sublime purple color of the room as dusk settled over them. Each window had been draped with multiple yards of painted silk fabric, and Brindl calculated the price for a single window dressing would have easily fed an Earth Guild family for a year or more.

  She turned her attention to the people then, hoping to find a friendly face. Fortunately, it was a small party and she quickly spotted Chey and Tali. Thank Machué. Friends. She made a straight path to them, but before she got there a serving maid jingled a small bell, signifying that dinner would begin. Everyone made their way to the long table in the center and stood behind the chair where their name had been indicated by a place setting. Near a far window, Queen Twenty-two seemed in no hurry to end her conversation with Jaden.

  Finally, she strode elegantly across the room, her royal white gown almost glowing, as if to match the glass torches lining the walls. The dress was a simple Moon Guild design, though embellished with thousands of tiny seed pearls. She wore little face paint, but her eyes had been outlined to striking effect. Despite her beauty, Brindl thought, there is a glint of cruelty in her gaze.

  When the Queen reached the table, the entire company bowed before her. Two finely dressed servants pulled out her chair and she took her place at the head of the table. She nodded to signal the others to sit. Relieved to be seated with Tali and Chey at the farthest end of the table from the Queen, Brindl pressed her hands to her knees, willing herself to be calm. You have faced dark tunnels miles below the earth on your own. She may be a Queen, but she is still a person, a woman.

  Brindl took a quick look around the table, trying to identify everyone. Princess Xiomara sat to the Queen’s left, Jaden to her right. Next came Larus, centurio of the palace guards, and several other men, who, judging by their robes, would be the royal counselors. Zarif was among them, and he nodded briefly in Brindl’s direction. A handsome, well-dressed woman sat on the other side of Chey.

  A servant came by then and placed a tiny bowl of melon-colored soup in front of each of them. Brindl looked down in consternation at the three different spoons at her place setting. She felt someone nudge her foot and looked across the table to see Chey picking up the smallest spoon. “It is to stir your appetite,” he said in a soft tone, “as if I ever need help with it.”

  Another servant leaned over Brindl’s shoulder and poured a sparkling liquid into a tall flute. It looked as if fairies had blown bubbles inside the glass. As Brindl reached for the glass, it clinked loudly against her soup bowl, giving pause to the conversation. Brindl felt her face heat as the Queen’s eyes flashed irritation down the table. The monarch smiled thinly, then turned back to Jaden.

  Brindl put her glass down without taking a sip. “The Queen is not pleased with my presence,” she said quietly to her friends.

  “You’re being too sensitive. It gets easier, trust me,” Chey said.

  “I’d prefer to hunt kitchen rats than attend these dinners myself,” Tali muttered, “but you won’t find a better meal anywhere in the palace, so at least there’s that.”

  Brindl feigned a smile as Tali and Chey turned back to their discussion of the palace stables and the merits of various breeds of horse. She had little to add to the conversation, so she looked at the woman on Chey’s right. “We’ve not been introduced,” she said, forcing another smile. “I’m Brindl, Master of Messages to Princess Xiomara.”

  “I am Ona, lady’s maid to the Queen,” the woman replied with a curt nod. Though pretty, her face showed no trace of emotion or warmth. She reminded Brindl of an empty plate. Pristine and flat.

  “You must be a member of the royal family, Lady Ona,” Brindl continued, determined to be polite even if Ona was not. “You share a resemblance to both the Queen and the princess.”

  “Cousins,” the woman said, then deliberately turned her attention to the other side of the table.

  Brindl gave up and listened to her friends speak of horses instead. “Why is Lady Layna not here to attend Princess Xiomara?” she asked Tali during a break in their conversation.

  “Layna doesn’t feel well,” Chey answered, but it was Tali who gave away the truth, muttering, “Again,” and rolling her eyes as she took a sip of the bubbly beverage.

  “Is she often ill?” Brindl asked.

  “No, but Layna hates these dinners. She’s afraid of the Queen,” Chey whispered.

  “She’s afraid of her own shadow,” Tali corrected.

  Though Brindl grinned, she did not blame Layna. She’d happily return to her tower to eat porridge at present. The soup was removed and a beautifully arranged plate of beef and root vegetables was placed in front of her. Brindl took her lead from Chey once more, waiting to pick up her utensils until he did.

  At the end of the table Jaden laughed and Brindl watched him for a moment. Compared to the other men around him, he seemed warm and lively, while the Queen’s counselors remained stern and arrogant in their speech. Jaden, a tall man even when seated, had assumed his role of Queen’s Sword with confidence, despite the shadow he must have felt from his father’s dark legacy. Tali, Brindl noticed, could not keep her eyes from trailing over to him. He, too, occasionally glanced down the table at Tali, his searching expression difficult to read.

  Lost in thought, Brindl suddenly realized that Jaden was now looking at her expectantly. Chey nudged her under the table. Machué save me, she thought, as all eyes turned to her.

  In the end, it was Tali who saved her. “Can you repeat your question, Commander? I don’t think Brindl heard you above my exclamations of joy over these fried yucca rounds.”

  Jaden smiled at Tali, then Brindl. “I asked how our young heroine is adapting to life in Fugaza?”

  Brindl looked at him in confusion. Was he talking about her?

  “Young heroine?” the Queen asked, voicing the same question Brindl had.

  “Brindl here was crucial to our victory in the Battle for the Alcazar, Your Majesty,” Jaden explained. He turned back to Br
indl then. “I never did have a chance to thank you. That’s why I asked the Queen to invite you here tonight.”

  “But I deserve no thanks,” Brindl said, trying to keep her voice from quavering under the attention of the entire table. “I handed fiery arrows to a guard on the wall. It was the smallest of tasks. Nothing compared to what you did, Commander, nor to what Tali, Chey, and Zarif did,” she said, looking around at her friends.

  “They were indeed crucial to the battle,” Jaden agreed. “Yet it was you who freed them, was it not? They would’ve remained locked in the dungeon if not for you.”

  “But I—” Brindl tried to object.

  Jaden waved a hand at her. “You also got word to the Diosa at the critical hour. Without her aide, I would not have arrived in time. Without the packhounds and miners, we would have fallen. Some might say we owe the realm to you.”

  “I am honored you think so,” Brindl said, clasping her hands under the table, “but I deserve no praise.”

  “Nonsense,” said the Queen then, raising her glass. “To Brindl, for her service to Tequende,” she toasted, her voice festive though her eyes remained cool.

  “To Brindl!” repeated the rest of the party, lifting their drinks at once.

  Willing her hand not to tremble, Brindl raised her own glass and forced herself to look at everyone. The many faces around the table reflected a newfound recognition of her presence, a respect, she supposed, that had not been there before. Even Lady Ona looked at her differently, her eyes betraying not only surprise but a thin icing of jealousy.

  Thankfully, the conversation soon turned back toward broader matters of the realm. “I have empowered Centurio Jessa with the reins of the Alcazar in my absence,” Jaden said, in response to one of the counselor’s questions.

  “Is it wise to leave it unattended, given the recent attack?” Princess Xiomara asked. She had not said much throughout the evening, letting the Queen and Jaden do most of the talking.

  “I believe it’s more important that I’m visible as the new Queen’s Sword rather than squatting at a post that is well prepared to defend itself.”