Second Guard (12 page)

“Most every town in the realm has an aviary of bluejackets and a pigeonkeep to care for them,” explained Zarif, after she’d caught her breath. “If you send a bluejacket
message to the town where you expect Nel and your father to dock next, the pigeonkeep will do the rest.”

Tali remembered the small scroll neatly tied with a blue ribbon that she’d found hanging from the latch of her door several days ago. “I suppose so,” she said. “The
Alcazar pigeonkeep certainly knew how to find me among the thousands of guards, pledges, and servants here.”

“Not to discourage you,” Chey said, “but if Nel warned you to be silent before she disappeared…do you think she would want everyone to know she’d received a
bluejacket message? And what if your letter were intercepted?”

Tali frowned and looked at Zarif. “Or what if my father read it? Nel did not want him to know about our meeting in Porto Sol.”

“You could make it sound innocent,” Zarif said, pulling open the heavy side door of the Alcazar. “For example, you could write that you are
anxious
to hear from her,
and that you are
missing the details
of life on board the boat. Surely she will take the hint.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” said Tali. “Let’s find the aviary, then.”

“Shouldn’t we go to the infirmary first?” asked Chey.

“I’ll be fine,” Tali said, tugging on his arm and heading for the nearest stairs. “I’d rather find the birds.” Although each step made her head pound, she
kept going, eager to get word to her sister now that she knew how. After the boat’s stop in Porto Sol, her father would have headed back up the Magda and docked next in Girado. Tali knew that
route by heart. If she sent a bluejacket today, the message might even be waiting for Nel by the time they anchored.

“This way, I think,” said Zarif, waving them forward.

Despite her aches and pains, Tali gave her companions a small smile of appreciation. Every day since arriving at the Alcazar she had thanked Intiq for bringing her these two friends, who each
watched over her in his own way. While Chey guided her every step, his sturdy form a relief to lean against, Zarif walked a few paces in front of them, trying to discern the best and quickest
route. How different these two were from each other in nearly every way, and yet, they had managed to overcome their strained beginnings and fallen into an easy peace, a perfect complement to each
other. Not for the first time, Tali wished she had a roommate of her own.

After climbing several flights of stairs, roaming a dozen hallways, and finally asking for help from a blushing chargirl, they found themselves on the roof of the sprawling fortress. “Why
you two oafs turn the heads of every girl in the Alcazar remains a mystery to me,” Tali teased, surveying the top of the Alcazar. The vast roof spread out in three directions, anchored at
each point by a soaring stone tower, which Tali now knew to be the Men’s Tower, the Women’s Tower, and the Commander’s Tower. In between them arose a sprawling compound of rooftop
gardens, potted fruit trees, large washbasins, drying racks, and several storage sheds. Servants carrying various burdens scurried across pebbled walkways that crisscrossed the roof, obvious
shortcuts compared to the maze of passageways below their feet.

“Now what?” Tali asked.

Chey smiled. “Listen.”

At first Tali didn’t hear anything but the sounds of Second Guard training below her: the clash of weapons, the grunt of pledges, the stern bark of centurios and guards calling out
instructions. But soon enough she heard a low murmur from behind them, like wind rustling through a forest. They turned around at the same time and faced a fat stone turret near the south wall of
the roof, humming with the soft coo of birds. The aviary’s pointed stone top and tiny windows reminded Tali of the toy castle she had played with as a child. A pebble path led from the door
of the aviary across the way to a humble cottage, its crooked blue door hung with a wreath of dried herbs.

“Pigeonkeep?” Zarif called as they approached.

“At your service, young pledges,” an elderly voice replied from behind them, making them all jump. “Forgive me, I’ve startled you,” said the man. He smiled kindly
as they turned to face him. “I am Saavedra, keeper of the Alcazar pigeons.”

Though the man stood tall and unbent, his wrinkled skin revealed the map of a life well lived. His silver hair was cut short and his face clean shaven, further emphasizing its deep lines and
furrows. Some almost looked like scars. Perhaps the bluejackets are feisty here, Tali thought, dropping her chin to hide the grin on her face. The sudden movement of her head renewed the throbbing
ache, and Tali cursed her own stupidity.

“Sir, I am hoping to send a message to my sister,” she said, digging her fingernails into clenched fists to distract herself from the pain in her skull.

“You waste no words,” Saavedra said, “but I wonder if sending this message will improve the ache in your head or make it worse.”

Tali glanced at her friends and saw the same puzzled look on their faces that she wore on her own. The man’s voice held a confidence and authority that belied a simple pigeonkeep. And
though his accent was subtle, the old man before them was not realm-born Tequendian. Tali would have to ask Zarif about it afterward. He would recognize the pigeonkeep’s accent.

“How did you know of my headache?” Tali asked.

“It is written on your face and in the wince of your eyes,” Saavedra answered, his voice awash in sympathy, as if he knew the companion of pain well himself.

“She took quite a blow in the training pit,” Zarif said.

“Old men keep buckets of totora reeds for our loud joints. Would you care for a poultice and some yerba tea?” Saavedra asked, though he did not wait for an answer.
“Come.”

The old man herded them into his tiny cottage like a grandfatherly shepherd. At first it looked like no more than an oversized packing crate to Tali, but when they entered she was immediately
reminded of her family’s living quarters on the tradeboat. The one-room dwelling was small but cozy, with two large windows offering spectacular views of Lake Chibcha. A fire crackled warm in
the stone hearth, where a pot of water boiled. Aside from two cushioned chairs that sat before the fireplace, the room held no other furniture save a narrow cot, a few stools, and a wide table
strewn with parchment and ink. Wooden shelves lined the walls on all sides, neatly stacked with books and scrolls.

Tali glanced at Zarif, who gazed in wonder at the rows of books, one hand hovering over them as if aching to touch them.

“Go ahead, young Arabite,” the old man called out as he added dried herbs to the pot. “You must be missing the library in Fugaza.”

Zarif was about to answer when a young servant entered with a basket of kindling. Tali’s eyes opened in surprise, for the slight, pale Earth Guilder in front of her was none other than
Brindl, her roommate of five minutes who had resigned herself to the kitchens. As Brindl silently busied herself stacking the wood by the fire, Tali wondered if she should address the girl or leave
well enough alone. Their last encounter had been more than uncomfortable. Before she could make up her mind, Zarif interrupted her thoughts with a question.

“Forgive me, sir, but do you mean to say that you have been to the Queen’s Library in Fugaza?” Zarif had turned away from the books and was now staring curiously at Saavedra,
clearly doubtful that a pigeonkeep would know such a place.

“Indeed, I chose many of their volumes myself,” Saavedra replied with a faint smile. Tali studied the old man more closely. His clothing was gray and simple, like that of a servant,
but his leather belt had been hand-tooled, as had his boots. His tall, lean frame stood strong and well-built despite his age, and he moved with precision, almost like a soldier. Zarif, too, was
studying the man, and soon Tali saw recognition dawn upon her friend’s face.

“Wait,” Zarif said. “You are not
the
Saavedra, formerly of Castille, high counselor to queens Nineteen, Twenty, and Twenty-one?”

“No, no, I am but a retired old man now, counselor to bluejackets and the occasional pledge with a lump,” he said, winking at Tali and handing her a mug of steaming tea.

“Castille?” said Tali, before taking a cautious sip of tea. “My father also came from Castille, though he was too young to remember anything of the Far World.”

“So we are links in a chain, my dear. Do you know the village where he was born?” Saavedra asked, placing the back of his fingers against her brow to check for fever. When his
fingers detected none, he patted her cheeks as if she was a little girl. The gesture might have irritated her coming from someone else, but from him it seemed an instant comfort.

“His village was called Santo Domingo, I believe. His parents came to Tequende to start a new life, away from the wars.”

“And I as well.” Saavedra smiled at Tali and pulled some totora reeds from a pail of water.

“But you
were
the high counselor for forty years, advising three queens through the Rose Plague and the Famine of 1572 and innumerable threats of war, were you not?” Zarif
asked, surprising Tali with his insistent manner. It was not the Moon Guild way to question people so boldly.

“I am only the things I do,” answered Saavedra, who now braided the reeds into a poultice. “At present I scribble on parchment and care for messenger birds.”

Zarif opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but Tali shot him a warning look and he managed to summon the cool, reserved emotions of his guild. At Saavedra’s gesture, Zarif took
the other chair before the fire and Chey perched on a stool. Brindl, who kept her head down and avoided eye contact, slipped out.

“Your chargirl, she was to be my roommate this year,” Tali said to Saavedra, as he placed a cool poultice over the lump on her head.

“Chargirl?” replied Saavedra. “Oh, yes, you mean Brindl,” he said, waving his hand toward the door she had just exited. “I plucked her from the kitchens myself.
She’s a bright young woman and stronger than she looks. I prefer to call her my apprentice.”

Though he spoke kindly, Tali felt her cheeks burn. Why did she always say the wrong thing when it came to Brindl?

“I’m sure she is grateful to get a break from the kitchens,” Chey said quietly. It was the first he had spoken. “It is very peaceful up here,” he added, looking out
at the view. “The lake looks like it goes on forever.”

“Only the sea herself is more vast.” Saavedra nodded toward Chey and smiled. “You are from the northern hills?”

Saavedra’s discerning guess produced a smile in return from Chey, who raised his palm to introduce himself properly to the pigeonkeep. Zarif and Tali followed suit, and soon the
conversation turned to a lively discussion of Tequende’s regions, and which was the most beautiful. Tali tried to concentrate on the exchange but soon the words began to sound as if they were
down a tunnel or at the bottom of a well. She realized the tea Saavedra had served her was making her sleepy, and she tried to shoo the fuzzy feeling from inside her head.

It did not work well.

Saavedra laid a wool blanket over her shoulders and Tali slipped into a dream, sung to sleep by the lullaby of one hundred cooing birds.

T
he next morning, Tali awoke in her own room after being put to bed with another cold compress. A sliver of daylight pierced her vision, making her
head throb. She tried to sit up, only to find herself immediately heaving into the small pail by her bed. Luckily, she had not eaten much since the hit from Rona the day before. After a few deep
breaths she began to dress slowly, her head pounding in time to the beat of her heart, especially loud as she bent over to lace her boots. Though she longed to lie down, she would not go back to
bed. Missing a day of training was unheard of at the Alcazar unless a pledge was feverishly ill or seriously injured. And even then, any more than three days’ absence from training could get
you decreed “unfit” and dismissed to the kitchens. Tali would not lessen her chances of making the Guard due to a headache.