by J. D. Vaughn
Xiomara’s hand flew to cover her nose and mouth. “What in Elia’s name is that?”
Brindl pulled a handkerchief out of her apron and used it to gingerly pick up the bundle. As the cloth unfurled, they both gasped.
It was Xiomara’s nightgown. Only it looked like it had been dragged through the vilest of river mud, and not at all gently. The sleeves were in tatters, the hem nearly shredded. It was as if the delicate nightgown had been desecrated, violated almost.
An icy chill ran through Brindl’s spine. “Chey! Tali!” Brindl called, as Xiomara’s face paled. The sight and the smell of the gown were horrific, but the meaning behind them even more so.
Someone had been in their cabin.
And someone had left a very ominous message.
After they’d discovered the gown, Tali and Chey had insisted on keeping watch over their cabin door, taking turns throughout the long, sleepless night. Every few hours, Brindl would hear their low voices outside the door as they relieved each other from their post. Though Brindl and Xiomara had both tried to sleep, the rustling from each side of the cabin came in regular intervals as they tossed in their narrow beds.
A knock on the door sounded then, followed by Chey’s voice. “May I come in, Princess? I have news.”
“Of course,” said Xiomara, as Brindl pulled a blanket over her nightclothes.
Chey entered and Brindl felt his embarrassment at being in such close quarters with them. He seemed relieved to see the princess already up and dressed, and she smiled to put him at ease. “What is it, Chey? No more stinky bedclothes, I hope? We had to burn tagua leaves all night just to get rid of the smell.”
Chey grinned at her attempt at humor, though Brindl knew he did not take the threat lightly. None of them did. Whoever had left the soiled gown in their cabin had either managed to get past the Queen’s guards protecting the caravan or—even worse—didn’t have to. Was someone in their traveling party the culprit? The thought raised the hair on Brindl’s arms.
“It’s good news, or at least Tali and I think so,” said Chey. “The Queen is tired of river travel and has no wish to return to Fugaza by boat.”
“That is good news,” replied Xiomara. “The trip upstream will take twice as long, even with the strongest oarsmen pulling us.”
Chey nodded. “She’s arranging for horses as we speak. We’re to ride back to Fugaza on the Queen’s Paseo, which should shorten the trip by several days. We leave at noon today.”
“I see,” said Xiomara. “I guess my cousin has tired of Soga, though I should have liked to stay another day to see the Mother’s Wood and meet your cousin, Brindl.”
“Another time perhaps. I’ll start packing our things,” said Brindl, suddenly grateful for their urgent departure. “Why don’t you go with Chey and get some breakfast, while I—”
“Sorry, there’s one more thing,” interrupted Chey. “It’s Lord Yonda. He’s leaving.”
“What do you mean?” asked Xiomara. “Leaving where? Why?”
Chey shook his head. “We were told very little. Only that Yonda’s come to some kind of agreement with the Queen and has no further business here. He and his party will ride directly for New Castille. Queen Twenty-two has dispatched some of her guards to accompany them to the border. They leave within the hour.”
Xiomara and Brindl exchanged a long look. What agreement could the Queen have made to end the Treaty Talks so abruptly?
“Well, then, I suppose we must say our farewells,” said Brindl, knowing that this would be her last chance to glean any new information from the regent.
Xiomara nodded. “Please join us as soon as you’re dressed and ready. Your friend Yonda will want to say goodbye to you, I’m sure.”
“I’ll be right there,” said Brindl as they exited the cabin. Something wasn’t right about this. She rose briskly from the bed, trying to shake the feeling away, but inside her head the voice kept repeating one word. Danger.
“May I have a moment, Lady Brindl?” asked Yonda, taking her by the arm and leading her away from the others. The Castillian riding party had gathered at the edge of town, where fresh horses had been saddled and alpacas loaded with bundles. The Queen had made a short speech in which she bid Lord Yonda safe travels, then she and Lady Ona had quickly departed. Xiomara now circulated among the party, exchanging personal words with each man, servant, and guard. Tali and Chey stayed close by her side, though the princess tried to wave them away several times.
Arm in arm, Brindl and Yonda strolled a few paces down the road, dusty due to the movement of the animals, and Brindl stopped to sneeze. Immediately, Yonda withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket. Embroidered wildflowers edged the crisp white square.
Brindl took it and smiled. “This is much too pretty for a nose, Regent. If it were any bigger, I could wear it to the next ball.”
Yonda chuckled. “A pretty nose deserves a pretty kerchief, dear. Keep it. But I have something even prettier for you, and much more useful.”
Brindl watched as the Castillian withdrew a small bundle from the inside of his riding jacket. Glancing behind him, as if to make sure no one was watching, he untied the bundle and presented it to Brindl. Inside lay a belted knife holster made of soft brown leather. In one fluid motion, Yonda slid a silver dagger from the sheath, its delicate yet deadly blade glinting in the early light.
“I don’t understand,” said Brindl, taking a small step backward. “What kind of a gift is this? Are you teasing me?”
Yonda’s lips turned up into a smile, yet his eyes remained steely. “I would not tease you, Lady Brindl. Not in matters such as these. The world as you know it is about to change, I fear, and not for the best. I believe you may be in danger from those who see you as a threat.”
“A threat? But I don’t pose a threat to anyone,” Brindl said, still eyeing the dagger in Yonda’s hands. “I’m a lady’s maid, no more.”
Yonda raised his eyebrows. “And a smart one, Brindl. Observant. Thoughtful. Must I tell you that a trusted lady’s maid can wield just as much—perhaps even more—influence on royal matters than the highest counselors, the most-decorated commanders?”
Brindl’s thoughts raced. Was he speaking about her or Lady Ona? What was he trying to say?
Yonda’s eyes did not leave her as he slid the dagger back into the holster. “It would put an old man at ease if you would wear this at all times, my dear. Strap it to your leg, so it cannot be seen. Trust no one, even those closest to you. And should you ever need my help, you must not hesitate to ask.”
Brindl stood still, unsure of how to reply. Finally, she reached out her hands and took the holster. “Thank you. I’ll do as you say, though I hope never to have need for it.”
“As do I, my dear. Now I believe we must part ways before the riding party leaves without me.”
“Forgive me, Lord Yonda, but may I ask why you’re going so soon?” Brindl tucked the dagger into the deep pockets of her dress. “I thought you would return to Fugaza with the rest of us.”
Yonda gave her another long look, then smiled again. “I’ve done all I can do for the present, and I’ve no wish to antagonize your Queen and Lord Paulin any longer. I’ve secured what I need. My way back to New Castille will be shorter from here, saving me a week’s journey. I’m an old man and miss the comforts of my wife and home.”
“Of course,” said Brindl. “I wish you a safe and fast journey, then. My sincere regards to Lady Yonda and your children, my lord.” Brindl gave a small curtsy and dipped her head.
Yonda took her hands in his. “I shall miss your company, Lady Brindl. May your Tequendian gods protect you.”
It had been a long day in the saddle, and Brindl was sore though the ride had given her many quiet hours to puzzle over the nightgown, and to replay her conversations with Manco and Yonda. She turned them this way and that, trying to piece together any hint she might’ve missed. Occasionally, she would look up to offer an apologetic smile at the travelers they passed, who scurr
ied down the ditches to make way for their entourage.
An hour before sunset, the Queen’s party stopped for refreshment to let the servants go ahead with the carts to set up camp for the evening. They dismounted their horses alongside the Paseo to stretch weary legs and admire the view. The landscape of east Tequende looked to Brindl like the staircase of the Gods. The farmers had carved lush green terraces into the foothills to rotate their crops among the curved steps.
“How ingenious,” Paulin had noted, then peppered Zarif with questions concerning crop yields and profits until the group made ready to leave.
They mounted their horses again and had traversed the Paseo for less than a league before they were halted by a dray, which had broken down in the middle of the road. A rear wheel had obviously come off its axle, spilling a full load of syrup from the looks of it. The barrels had tumbled all over the path, oozing their tarlike liquid everywhere. The driver, who had his hands full trying to unharness his mules from the dray, looked at them in apology.
The Queen was not pleased. “How far is it to our camp?” she asked one of her guards, who had dismounted to assess the situation.
“Just a few minutes’ ride, Your Majesty, once this cart’s out of the way.”
Zarif rode up to get a closer look. “Is that cordillo tree sap?” he asked the driver, who nodded warily. “I thought so. That will ruin our horses’ hooves for certain. We’d have to reshoe them. Best we go around, Your Majesty.”
The Queen frowned. “Through the ditch?”
“Unless you’d prefer to wait, though from the looks of it, that could be hours.”
The Queen turned her frown to the cart driver, whose eyes flew to the ground. “Very well,” she said, then led her horse off the road.
A moment later her curses could be heard through all Tequende.
The ditch, it turned out, had been flooded by a faulty irrigation stream, converting it into a knee-high trench of mud. As the horses picked their way through, they kicked up muck everywhere, covering the party head to toe in dark brown splatters.
Brindl, whose horse had balked at the commotion, fell behind with the Queen’s rear guard, who muttered curses as colorful as the Queen’s. A big clot of mud had just landed on his cheek.
Brindl tried not to laugh. “I do hope there’s a good bathhouse at the campground,” she joked, as he ran a sleeve over his face.
“And a laundryhouse as well,” he said, looking meaningfully at Brindl’s white Moon Guild attire now turned to brown. “First the Queen’s nightdress, now this. Servants will be busy tonight.”
Brindl snapped her eyes open. “The Queen’s nightdress? What of it?”
The guard shrugged. “Somehow got dropped in the mud. Twenty-two was furious last night. Almost dismissed every last servant.”
Brindl looked back at the dray, whose driver now stood by his mules, watching their retreat. Then she looked over at the irrigation stream, where someone had diverted its course into the ditch by digging a little furrow through the ground. The cause for all the discord. There was so much mess, all the mud and…dirt.
Everyone was covered in dirt.
“I see,” said Brindl.
“‘I’ve secured what I need,’” whispered Xiomara. “What do you suppose Yonda meant by that?”
Brindl shook her head, the candlelight casting shadows on the tent curtains behind her. After cleaning themselves up, the Queen’s riding party had gone straight to bed, exhausted by the day’s long ride. A small tent had been assembled for Brindl and the princess to share, and Brindl was finally able to fill her in on the earlier conversation with Yonda.
“Maybe he simply meant that he secured some kind of trade agreement,” Brindl replied, turning in her camp bed. “What else could he mean? Though it does seem as if Lord Paulin has gained the majority of the Queen’s favor…if not all of it.”
“They do seem taken with each other,” Xiomara agreed, “though my cousin isn’t the type to be won over by a pretty face. She already has a hundred handsome men in Fugaza vying to be her consort.”
“Yes, but none of them wields the power that Paulin does,” Brindl replied, remembering her conversation with Yonda. “He’s the chosen regent of the Queen of Andoria. That makes him the most important man in the Nigh World right now.”
“True. So perhaps their growing alliance is a good thing for Tequende?” asked Xiomara, though her voice betrayed her doubt.
“Possibly…” Brindl chewed on her lip. But that’s a lie. Their alliance will not bring justice to the Earth Guild. And the Shadow Guard will fight back. The nightgowns, the muddy ditch. Those were warnings.
“What is it, Brin?”
Brindl opened her eyes in surprise at the use of her shortened name. Xiomara, always so formal, now almost felt like a sister. They had been through much since leaving Fugaza. And Xiomara was in danger. Brindl owed her the truth.
Even if she had to break another oath to do so.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Xia.”
A lady’s maid must never offer her own opinion unless directly requested to do so by a Royal. If a Royal has previously stated her own opinion on the matter, defer to that opinion.
—CH. N. TASCA, Palace Etiquette
A week later, Brindl stood at the back of the Queen’s receiving room with Zarif. Twenty-two’s throne, placed on a dais, elevated her at least a foot higher than the tallest person in their assembly, Maita Khuno, chief paymaster of the Sun Guild. He was a slim man with pointed features, who obviously liked clothes and wore them well. Brindl found the fashions of most Sun Guilders jarring and garish, but his were understated with a few colorful flairs. A woven belt clasped by a copper sun around his sleek tunic reminded Brindl that he was a native of Porto Sol, center of the Sun Guild’s trade and commerce.
Paulin sat by the Queen’s side, though his chair was placed on a lower tier, slightly behind her. In the far shadows behind them both stood Lady Ona, no doubt observing the assembled crowd with her usual scrutiny. Brindl had not seen any of them since their return to Fugaza.
“Surely we should tell the Queen?” Xiomara had said that night in the tent, after Brindl had told her about the Shadow Guard.
Brindl shook her head. “We can’t, Xia. She’ll see them as a threat.”
“But aren’t they?”
“No, not if we can convince the Queen to treat with them. And if she sees them as rebels she won’t. She needs to see them as her people—as loggers, quarrymen, miners—just as they want to be heard by their Queen.”
“But what if she won’t listen?” asked Xiomara. “Then what?”
Brindl took a deep breath. “Then we go find the Diosa.”
The two had not spoken of the matter since, but Brindl knew it was not far from either of their minds. Xiomara had requested an audience with Twenty-two several times since their return, but had been denied. Nor had Xiomara been invited to any counsel meetings until now.
The assembled crowd had remained quiet, standing along the perimeter of the room once they had knelt before the Queen. Twenty-two now summoned Maita Khuno and Jaden before her. The two men strode forth and stood at attention.
“I’ve asked you here today for historic reasons,” Twenty-two began, clasping her hands in front of her. “Lord Paulin, on behalf of Oest Andoria and his sovereign Queen, Beatríz of Andoria, has proposed a trade agreement between our two realms, which I have accepted. It will mean great changes for Tequende, but I expect you will embrace them as I have, and fulfill your duty as leaders of this realm.”
This will not be good news, Brindl realized. Though she could not see their faces, she knew that Jaden and Paymaster Khuno must have felt the same, for their bodies both tensed before the Queen.
“At sunrise tomorrow, the Second Guard will take control of the pearlstone quarry, the gold mine, and the Mother’s Wood on behalf of the Crown. All quarry workers, miners, and loggers will begin round-the-clock shifts to increase production. Jaden, you will
install Second Guard centurios and guards at each location to oversee all operations and ensure compliance.”
“Your Majesty—” Jaden began, but the Queen put up a hand to silence him.
“Paymaster, you are to instruct your Sun Guild merchants that they will no longer be trading in these three commodities. All pearlstone, gold, and Mother’s Wood now belong to the Crown for commerce with Andoria.”
“But, Your Majesty, please, this goes against all prior agreements!” exclaimed Maita, his gloved hands raised in distress. “The guilds have worked in harmony for centuries with careful allegiance to each guild’s warrants and labors. The Sun Guild has always been responsible for trade and commerce, both within Tequende and with our neighboring realms. Surely you don’t mean to strip us of our Gods-given right to the realm’s most valuable commodities?”
“Those commodities belong to Tequende, of which I am sovereign,” replied Twenty-two, her face hardening. “The guilds swear an Oath to me above all else.”
“The Oath of Guilds promises every second-born child of the realm to your service. Is that not enough, Your Highness? You would now take our livelihood as well?”
The room became deathly still as the Queen narrowed her eyes at Maita. “You will notify the Sun Guild of this new arrangement, Paymaster, or I will send my guards to do it for you.”
Maita stood perfectly still as the color drained from his face. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he finally said, looking down at his boots.
Jaden stepped forward, his eyes flashing. “As Commander of the Second Guard and your sworn Sword, I beseech you to reconsider, my Queen. The Guard serves to protect Tequende’s borders from foreign dangers,” he said, his eyes flickering to Lord Paulin, “not to oversee Earth Guild operations. Like the Sun Guild traders, I’m afraid the Earth Guilders will not take kindly to us meddling in their labors, especially if we mean to work them like slaves. They will protest.”
