by Callie Kanno
Palti smiled and nodded again. “My parents had to bring proof of my birth here in Marath in order for me to be allowed in the Treasury, but allowed I was. And Tahir was waiting for me,” he said with a hand on the hilt of his sword.
Idris grinned. “It must have been a shock to Captain Cowan when you joined the Royal Guard.”
“It was a shock to everyone,” Palti laughed. “The captain at the time was a woman named Cybil, and she was very rigid with tradition. She would have refused to allow me to join the Royal Guard if the king had permitted her.”
The thought was sobering.
“She did let you join, though,” Idris said with a frown.
Palti made a sound of thoughtful agreement. “Yes, but it was a terrible disappointment to her. You see, Roth had joined the year before and he was the eldest son of the Duke of the Hills Province. He gave up his title to join the Royal Guard, and so Captain Cybil was still enjoying the prestige that had come with such a situation.”
Idris could relate. Everyone expected people like Roth, Hildar, and Aherin to join the Royal Guard, but not a farmer or the son of refugees.
“I am glad Cowan is the captain now,” he said fervently.
“Yes,” assented Palti. “Cowan is much more open-minded than Cybil was.”
He turned his back to the ocean and faced Idris directly.
“I have lived in Marath my entire life, but there will always be those who see me as an outsider. There will always be those who resent my success and secretly hope that I fail. I cannot allow their malice to taint what I hope to accomplish with my life.”
Idris understood what he was saying, and he was grateful to hear it.
Palti placed his large hand on Idris’s shoulder. “You were born a farmer, but now you are a protector of the royal family. To some you may always be an outsider, but that does not change the fact that you have been chosen to be a member of the Royal Guard.”
Idris lowered his head. “It feels like everyone wants me to fail, not just some. Even my weapon wants nothing to do with me.”
“I do not wish you to fail,” Palti said softly.
Idris’s throat felt tight and his vision became blurry.
“Those born with more fortunate bloodlines bear the burden of high expectations,” explained the older man. “Those such as you and I, we bear the burden of prejudice. Our triumphs are usually dismissed and our mistakes are attributed to unworthiness.”
“How can we live that way?” Idris asked miserably.
“Because we must,” was the simple reply. “We must work harder than our peers. We must live above reproach. We must surprise those who doubt our abilities and determination.”
Idris suddenly felt weary. “It is not fair that it should be harder for us when we were chosen for this life, just like the other Guards.”
Palti gave his wide smile. “No one said that life is fair, duwado.”
A puzzled expression crossed Idris’s face. “What does that mean?”
“Duwado means ‘little brother’ in the native language of Dia,” Palti explained. “We are family now, and we must help one another. It may not be fair for us to be treated as outsiders, but at least we do not have to face our fate alone.”
A warm sensation flooded Idris’s chest. He liked being called brother again, and he was glad to have someone to call family.
“Come,” said Palti, “let us return. You are missing valuable training, and that cannot be allowed.”
They climbed down from the wall and walked back across the compound.
Idris’s group was working with practice swords, and the trainees were all paired off for sparring. Piton walked among them, making comments and correcting mistakes. When he spotted Palti and Idris, he called for a break.
All of the trainees looked at the arrivals with interest, especially Hildar and Aherin. Their expressions said that they very much wanted to ask what had happened. Meic and his friends appeared nervous, as if they weren’t sure how much trouble they were in.
“I see you found the last of the truants,” Piton said to Palti. “Thank you for returning him.”
Idris probably never would have noticed before his conversation with Palti, but now he saw the dismissive attitude in which Piton addressed his superior. He was certain that if it had been any other member of the Royal Guard, Piton would have saluted and spoken with much more respect.
Palti gave no indication that he noticed anything amiss, but spoke with calm and authority. “I have seen to the discipline of Idris. Did the others speak to you as I instructed?”
Piton waved his hand. “Oh, there is no need. If they choose to fall behind, it is punishment enough.”
Idris could hardly believe his ears, and he could tell that he wasn’t the only one. Aherin and Hildar exchanged dark glances, and a wave of whispers passed through the other trainees. Piton was normally so harsh in his training that he bordered on cruel. Why would he let Meic and the others off without punishing them?
Palti’s eyes narrowed. “What did they tell you happened?”
There was a moment of hesitation as Piton chose his words carefully. “They said there was a… disagreement… with young Idris here.”
“They said he cheated during a challenge,” interjected Palti.
Piton looked decidedly put out. “Well, yes. They said they were having a friendly competition, and Idris cheated in order to win.”
“What?” Idris burst out.
Aherin looked equally insulted. “That is preposterous.”
Palti held up a hand to silence them. “And you felt that it only right that your trainees put the conceited Royal Guard apprentice in his place.”
The instructor squared his shoulders. “I do not condone fighting, but cheating would not be allowed in the king’s army.”
Idris couldn’t understand how Palti could just stand there smiling. He wanted to shout that Cato and Meic had been the ones cheating. He wanted to find a way to rid Piton of the superior expression on his face.
Palti nodded in agreement. “Yes, cheating is a very serious offense. There seems to be opposing stories on what took place, though. Idris will tell you that he did not cheat.”
Piton sniffed and turned to the waiting trainees. He called Meic and his friends forward. “These four tell me that he did. And since there are no uninterested parties to state what happened, I am inclined to go with those who have witnesses.”
Some of the watching trainees nodded their agreement, and others shook their heads. Meic tried to hide his smile as he fixed his gaze on Idris.
“There you are incorrect,” Palti said, raising a finger.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” he went on. “I saw what happened.”
Piton looked as if he had a bitter taste in his mouth. “Did you?”
“I trust you can rely on my statement as unbiased,” Palti said quietly.
The instructor looked as though he would rather do anything than listen to what the Royal Guard had to say.
“Of course,” he said through clenched teeth.
The smug expression melted off of Meic’s face, and his friends exchanged concerned looks.
Palti turned his dark eyes on Meic, and his features became unyielding. “I want you to tell everyone here what happened down at the well. If you say anything that is untrue, you shall be banned from the king’s army and sent home in disgrace.”
“Now, see here,” objected Piton.
The Royal Guard ignored him and continued to pin Meic with his hard stare. The boy swallowed noisily and looked as though he couldn’t decide if he was furious or fearful.
Idris could see Meic weighing his options. Their eyes met for a moment, and the hatred on Meic’s face was apparent.
“I challenged Idris to a fight at the well. He lost his footing and used magic to regain his balance.”
“And why did he lose his footing?” urged Palti.
The silence was thick with expectation.
Finally, Ca
to stepped forward. “Because I knocked one of the stones loose.”
Murmurs broke out among the trainees, and Piton shouted for them to be quiet.
“I see,” Piton said after a pause. “Well, there appears to be equal fault.”
“No,” Palti said sharply. “The fault lies solely with the boy who cheated and the boy who encouraged it. Since you seem reluctant to deal out the proper punishment, I will do so on your behalf. These two boys will be given the choice of either resigning from the army or taking on the duties of servants for a month in addition to their regular training. They will be allowed six hours of sleep each night, but every other moment will be used in training or in serving their fellow trainees. Perhaps this will teach them to respect their peers.”
“Well,” said Piton in a poisonous tone, “it is clear to me that those training to be members of the Royal Guard can do no wrong.”
Palti gave him a level gaze. “I have already said that Idris has been disciplined.”
“How?” Piton demanded.
Several tense moments passed as Palti considered the furious man standing before him.
“I can see that you are unhappy with this situation,” the Royal Guard said mildly, “and perhaps this is not an ideal position for you at this time. I will speak to your superiors and see that your talents are used elsewhere.”
Piton stared at him dumbly, his mouth working silently. Then he snapped his lips shut and spun on his heel. He marched away as if the ground were Palti’s face, and he didn’t look back.
The stunned silence of the trainees extended long after their instructor was gone. Palti seemed completely unconcerned with what had just happened.
“Aherin,” he said calmly, “you will continue with today’s lesson. Tomorrow you will have a new teacher.”
“Yes, sir,” Aherin replied automatically.
As Palti walked away, Idris felt a surge of mixed emotions wash over him. His cheeks were warm and his heart was pounding, as if he was simultaneously happy and relieved and shocked and bewildered. He couldn’t separate the feelings from each other, but he did know one thing—his newfound brother, his fellow outsider, had fought for him and won.
Chapter Seventeen: Royal Anniversary
Time passed quickly for Idris. Each day was packed with physical and mental training, and each night he fell into bed exhausted. Before he knew it, the summer was gone. A sudden reminder of how much time had passed came upon him one evening after his Royal Guard training.
“Before I dismiss you for the evening,” Farah said to Idris and the others, “I have some good news for you.”
Idris paused in wiping the sweat from his face. He could use some good news. His attempts at drawing Iona’s power into a tangible form had not gone well, and his mood was rather sour.
“Tomorrow is the king’s anniversary, marking the fifteenth year of his reign. There will be special celebrations all over Marath, and the four of you have leave to go out and enjoy them.”
Demas grinned widely and clapped Aherin on the back.
Hildar scowled. “What about our duties protecting the royal family?”
“That will come later,” assured Farah. “Tomorrow evening there will be a ball, and all Royal Guards will be required to attend and protect the royal family. Until then, they will be in a confined area making preparations. Captain Cowan believes that the higher-ranking Royal Guards will be sufficient protection.”
In spite of all the frustration that had come with the day’s lesson, Idris found himself smiling along with Demas. He hadn’t left the military compound since his training began, and he was excited to get out and have some fun.
That evening, Idris took the time to wash his uniform and bathe, knowing that he would want to look his best for the celebrations. Aherin walked into the bath house just as Idris was washing his hair.
“You know,” Aherin said casually, “it would save you time if you were to cut your hair like the other military trainees.”
Idris looked up from between the wet strands of hair as he rubbed soap into his scalp. “What?”
Aherin kept his own head shaved clean, and he pointed to it as he gave it a quick wash with a cloth. “You could save time.”
Idris smiled and shrugged. “I suppose.”
“I mean, no farmer keeps their topknot once they become a soldier,” Aherin went on as he washed himself. “Most of the recruits cut their hair within the first week. You are the only one holding on.”
It was said as a joke, but it caused Idris to frown.
“I am?”
Aherin paused and gave Idris an appraising glance. “Have you not noticed? Even your friend Meic finally cut his hair short. I was sure he was going to hold on to his ancient warrior style out of pure stubbornness.”
Idris’s fingers slowed. “I had not noticed.”
There was a small pause.
“Does the king have a preference to how we look?” Idris asked.
Aherin shrugged. “Not really. As long as we look tidy and intimidating.”
The conversation came to an end as Palti and Demas came striding in.
“I see you both had the same idea as us,” the former said with his wide grin.
Idris finished washing quickly and went back to his quarters alone. He was sure that Aherin had meant well when he had commented on Idris’s hair, but it still made him feel uncertain.
What does it matter how you look? asked Iona in a waspish tone. A farmer is a farmer no matter the length of hair.
Idris found himself smiling at her words. She may not have meant to, but she had put his mind at ease. “You are wise, Iona,” he said simply.
Her surprised silence made him chuckle.
Idris slept well that night and awoke with a feeling of excitement. He put on his clean uniform and twisted his long hair into his customary topknot. His anticipation for the day ahead made him rather giddy, and he grinned at his reflection.
“A farmer is a farmer, no matter the change of occupation,” he said lightly.
So true, was the sullen reply.
“Oh, Iona,” he laughed, “do not be so sulky. Today is a day of celebration.”
The voice in his mind simply snorted in response, which made Idris even more amused. He buckled the partisan across his back, and walked out of the room with a bounce in his step.
Palti was waiting in the hall outside and greeted Idris with a friendly expression. “Good morning, duwado. I thought you might like to see the sights of the city with one who grew up here.”
Idris nodded enthusiastically. “That would be great.”
They stopped to eat a hurried breakfast, and then they joined the crowd of other trainees leaving the military compound.
Palti began pointing the moment they passed through the gates. “These gardens around the palace wall are technically open to anyone, but people do not come here often. The increased security does not lend to the aesthetic.”
Idris looked at the patrolling palace guards. He could understand the sentiment. It would be difficult to enjoy a garden while having a soldier stare at your every movement.
Palti went on as they moved farther away from the palace. “Do you see all of these estates surrounding the royal grounds? They are the homes of the Nobles who are too important to live in Marath on a permanent basis. Most of the time these buildings are only occupied by the servants in charge of maintaining them.”
Idris frowned. “That seems like a waste.”
Palti nodded in agreement.
The houses were like small palaces of their own, with sweeping architecture that made the most of the available space. Each one could easily house two or three families.
Idris followed his friend down a road that led southeast.
“These estates belong to the less important Nobles. They have no land or other holdings, so they stay in Marath throughout the year.”
The young man pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If they have no property, what do they live off of?”
“Oh, they have other businesses that bring in income,” Palti said in a slightly pinched tone. “Not all of it is as… worthy… as one might hope, but all of it is profitable.”
The feel of the city began to change as they moved onward. The overly elaborate estates gave way to more moderate homes, and those gave way to shops and open markets. Palti pointed out several buildings that had large bells installed in the roofs.
“Those are public buildings, and can be used for various purposes—weddings, performances, educational lectures, and so forth. The bells are meant to serve as a warning, should Marath ever come under attack.”
They were entering the part of the city where most of the celebrations were taking place, and the difference was marked.
Marath was draped in scarlet and gold, with the king’s banner hanging on every street. Women carried bouquets of red and yellow flowers, and the men wore braided ribbons around their necks. The streets were fairly bursting with people—residents and visitors alike—and the press of bodies all around him made Idris suddenly anxious that he would be separated from Palti.
“What do you think?” asked Palti, shouting over the din.
Idris shook his head in amazement. “I think there are more people on this single street than in the whole of Rest Stone Valley.”
Palti laughed merrily.
They pushed their way forward, passing vendors and food stands. Most of the wares were centered around the royal anniversary. There were the ribbons and bouquets for sale almost everywhere Idris looked. There were also small portraits of the king and queen, carved wooden pendants, sashes, and even specially decorated sweets that were apparently the king’s favorite.
“Do you see anything you like?” Palti inquired.
There were several things that caught Idris’s eye. He would have loved to send home little gifts for each of his family members, but he didn’t have any money. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was hinting for favors, so he didn’t mention it to Palti. Idris merely smiled at the question and turned away.
Palti got a box of sweets from one of the vendors and held it up with a grin. “My mother has a weakness for such treats.”