Fire Sower

by Callie Kanno

  Idris chuckled. “So do my sisters.”

  “Would you like to get a box for them?”

  He quickly shook his head and then turned his attention to the area where the street performers were gathered.

  Two boys, probably no more than seven or eight years old, were juggling and tossing balls back and forth. Their young faces were pinched with concentration, but merry grins lit their features.

  A wizened man stood in the center of a wide circle, setting off sparks of brilliant color. Idris had heard of fireworks before, but had never seen them. He rushed forward to join the circle. The cylinders seemed so ordinary, but the shower of glittering light that burst forth set the crowd cheering. After setting off two or three of the fireworks, the man would pause and offer to sell the audience small bundles of firecrackers. Once the snaps and pops of the purchases died down, he would put on another display to draw in the masses.

  Palti tapped Idris on the shoulder. “Have you ever had sweet ice?”

  Idris was so enraptured by the fireworks that he answered before thinking. “No, I have not.”

  “Good,” responded Palti. “I will get some for us.”

  Idris turned toward Palti, meaning to stop him, but he was already out of earshot. Idris rubbed his hands together anxiously as he waited for his friend to return, mentally berating himself for not being open about his lack of money.

  Palti appeared moments later with two cups made from twisted leaves. The cups were heaped over with shaved ice that smelled like sweet fruit. Palti handed one to Idris with a wide smile on his face.

  “I think you will like this,” he said confidently.

  Idris stared down at the cup in his hand and spoke quickly. He could feel his face burning with embarrassment. “I should have been more clear, Palti, but I do not have any money. I cannot pay you back for this.”

  He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear, but it certainly wasn’t the burst of laughter that rumbled out from his friend.

  Idris looked up in surprise. “What?”

  “Idris, you are a member of the Royal Guard,” Palti said, as if that explained everything. When it was plain that the young man didn’t understand, he went on. “The king covers all of our expenses. Most of these vendors will give us anything we want for no charge, but those who wish to be reimbursed can send a bill to the palace and rely on getting paid.”

  Idris stared at him dumbly. “They can?”

  Palti laughed even harder and slapped him on the shoulder. “How do you think we support ourselves? Not all of us come from rich families like Roth and Hildar.”

  Idris felt foolish that he had never given it much thought. “I suppose I assumed we would be given a wage once we finished our training.”

  The older Guard shook his head. “None of us are given wages, no matter how long we serve. Instead, the king covers all of our expenses and provides us with food and shelter.”

  Idris could hardly believe what he was hearing. “So, if I wanted to, I could go and hire a gold palanquin to take me around the city?”

  They both guffawed over the idea.

  “You could,” allowed Palti, “but I would not advise it. Jerin oversees expenses to make sure no one is abusing the king’s generosity.”

  Idris lifted the hand that was holding the cup of sweet ice. “But this is fine?”

  Palti grinned and shrugged. “It is a holiday. We are allowed to indulge a little.”

  After that, Idris felt he was able to enjoy himself more fully. He savored each bite of the cool, delicious ice without any guilt on his mind. He selected small gifts for each of his family members, paying close attention to Palti’s suggestions of what was most popular.

  Each vendor did nothing more than glance at Palti’s uniform and the bejeweled partisan on Idris’s back before handing them whatever they asked for.

  Idris was in the middle of choosing some pretty beaded necklaces when he looked up and saw Aherin and Demas approaching them.

  “Gifts for the lady of your favor?” Demas asked jovially.

  Idris smiled. “My sisters.”

  Demas nodded his approval. “They are a good choice. I got one for my lady fair.”

  “You are betrothed?” Idris asked in surprise.

  The young man laughed. “Well, not quite yet. She understands that everything has to wait until I am finished with my training.”

  Idris had never considered if any of the Royal Guards had families—spouses and children of their own.

  “Are we allowed to marry?” he questioned Palti.

  The older man shrugged. “If we wish. It is complicated, though. We are required to live in our quarters, regardless of marital status.”

  “Soldiers should not marry,” Aherin said with conviction. “Either their duties suffer or their families do.”

  Palti and Demas exchanged understanding glances and turned to go about their shopping, leaving Idris and Aherin by the beaded necklaces.

  Idris cleared his throat uncomfortably. “So… your father…”

  “He was rarely at home,” Aherin responded, trying to appear unconcerned. “When he was, he only seemed to care how my training was progressing. He told me when I was very young that I was to join the military like him. He wanted me to be the best.”

  Idris nodded and looked down at the jewelry in front of him. “He must have been proud when you were chosen to be a member of the Royal Guard.”

  Aherin snorted softly. “He seemed more concerned in making sure I did nothing to disappoint his expectations.”

  Silence settled between the two boys, and Idris had no idea how to break it. Aherin solved the problem by forcing a laugh.

  “If becoming a Royal Guard cannot make him proud, then I should assume that nothing will.”

  Idris gave a halfhearted smile in return. “My father did not approve of my decision to come here and train. He felt I should stay at home on the farm where I belonged.”

  Aherin gave him a searching glance. “Do you agree with him?”

  Idris chuckled wryly. “Usually. But when he left me here, he basically told me that if I did not give my training my best effort I would not be welcomed back home.”

  Aherin laughed outright. “He did?”

  Idris joined him. “My father never does anything by halves.”

  “Neither does mine,” Aherin replied.

  The two boys smiled at each other openly, and Idris had the feeling that he had made another friend. The knowledge meant more to Idris than he could have expressed, and his enjoyment of the day increased tenfold.

  “How many sisters do you have?” Aherin asked, turning back to the necklaces.

  “Three,” Idris answered.

  Aherin raised his eyebrows. “Do you have any brothers?”

  “Three,” Idris answered again, with a grin.

  A wistful expression crossed Aherin’s face. “It must be nice to come from such a large family. I have no siblings. It was just me and my mother most days.”

  Palti and Demas returned in time to hear that, and Demas slapped Aherin on the shoulder.

  “Well, you have brothers and sisters aplenty now that you joined the Royal Guard.”

  Aherin looked at his three companions and his eyes widened slightly. “I suppose I do.”

  Idris gave a definitive nod. “Yes, you do.”

  Chapter Eighteen: The Ball

  Idris and the others were due back at their quarters by late afternoon. Once they arrived, they were given the order to dress in the formal uniform of the Royal Guards.

  “Tonight is the king’s anniversary ball,” Cowan said. “The entire royal family will be present. You are to remain unobtrusive, but do not let your charges out of your sight.”

  Idris felt a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach. From the captain’s tone of voice, one would think that they were marching into battle. He had never been to a ball—he didn’t even know what it was—but he assumed from the name that it was some sort of competitive game. He kne
w from growing up with Meic that there were those who would take advantage of a sport to cause harm to others. Idris would have to be vigilant.

  He went into his room and unbuckled the partisan. Then he pulled off his black training tunic and put on the scarlet one that was neatly folded on his bed. The fabric was stiff and the gold embroidery on the chest was scratchy, but Idris felt unusually impressive wearing the uniform. He returned the partisan to its place across his back and then stood in front of the mirror.

  Idris almost didn’t recognize himself. For the first time, he felt that he actually looked the part of a Royal Guard.

  He allowed himself a pleased smile before returning to the hallway where Demas was waiting for him. Aherin and Hildar soon joined them, and the four of them walked briskly toward the palace.

  “Captain Cowan makes it sound like there will be assassins hiding under the robes of the Nobles,” Hildar said with a smirk.

  Demas gave a small shrug. “There is always more danger when there are more people gathered. Also, the captain was present when King Nikolas’s uncle was assassinated, so his caution is understandable.”

  Idris had never heard that story and he looked to Aherin for an explanation.

  “King Nikolas’s uncle was the eldest and heir to the throne,” Aherin whispered. “A week before his coronation he was murdered.”

  “By whom?” Idris asked as quietly as he could.

  Aherin shook his head. “No one knows the man’s true identity, and no one knows who paid him to do it. He committed suicide before he could be questioned.”

  Hildar looked over at them and arched an eyebrow. “What are you two whispering about?”

  “Nothing,” Aherin said indifferently.

  Idris was grateful for that. He was tired of Hildar making comments about his ignorance.

  They walked up the stairs of the Water Palace and through the main floor. Then they made their way to the main entrance of the royal chambers, where the golden doors stood open and servants bustled in and out.

  Several harried-looking guards looked as though they were trying to keep tabs on everyone coming and going, but without success.

  “What a disaster,” muttered Demas. “They should not be allowing so much traffic into the antechamber.”

  They strode past the guards without slowing and found that the antechamber was packed with people.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Demas demanded of one of the king’s personal assistants.

  The slender man looked supremely annoyed. “The queen has made several last-minute changes, and she insists on overseeing them herself.”

  As if summoned, Queen Arminell appeared in the doorway from the royal chambers and glided into the fray. Palti and Farah followed close behind her, scanning each face that approached the queen.

  Demas bowed at the waist, and Idris and his fellow recruits did the same.

  “Your majesty,” Demas said respectfully, “is there anything that we can do to be of assistance to you?”

  The queen’s gaze lingered on Idris for a split second before she shook her magnificent golden head.

  “No, Demas, go see to the children.”

  They did as they were told and entered the royal quarters. It was much more orderly beyond the reinforced doors, and the noise ceased abruptly as the doors closed.

  Demas led the way into the nursery, where Jerin and Roth were already waiting. They stood near the crown prince, but their eyes were on all three of the children.

  Prince Aribold was sprawled on a chaise with a disgruntled expression on his young face. When he took note of the entrance of the Royal Guards, he stood up with a huff.

  “It is about time,” he snapped. “I have been forced to wait here until you arrived and I am bored.”

  He said it as if it were the worst possible fate.

  Demas and Aherin bowed to the prince. “Forgive us, your highness,” Demas said politely. “Where would you like to go?”

  “Out to the city,” the boy said immediately.

  Demas shook his head solemnly. “I apologize, your highness, but that is against the queen’s wishes.”

  Aribold must have been expecting that answer, but he rolled his eyes all the same. “Fine,” he grumbled. “We can go out to the stupid garden.”

  “As you wish, your highness.”

  The boy stomped out of the room, followed by his two Guards. Princess Zorina looked up from the book she was reading and called out, “Ari, can I come, too?”

  “No,” was the petulant reply.

  Zorina made a face at the back of her retreating brother, but didn’t seem otherwise put out. She turned her sweet little face toward Idris and Hildar, studying them. She was younger than Idris’s youngest sister, Adwen, but had unusual focus for a six-year-old.

  “Mommy told me your names,” she said after a moment. “You are Hildar and you are Idris,” she stated, pointed to each of them.

  “Yes, your highness,” Hildar said in a patronizing tone. “What an exceptional memory you have.”

  Idris darted a glance at Hildar, wondering if he was expected to treat the princess that way, too. There must have been something in his expression that was amusing, because Zorina giggled when she saw it.

  “I am not a baby,” she teased Hildar good-naturedly. “You do not need to talk to me that way.”

  Hildar’s cheeks tinted pink. “Of course, your highness,” she said stiffly.

  If Zorina was aware that she had embarrassed Hildar, she showed no sign of it. “This is my first ball. Mommy said I am finally old enough to attend one, and she had a special dress made for me.”

  The princess stood and twirled to show off the magnificent gown. The silk robe was emerald in color, which complemented her auburn hair beautifully. The embroidery was gold, forming flowers and birds all along the full sleeves and skirt. The sash was also gold, wrapped around her tiny waist and tied elaborately in the back. Zorina wore a headdress of gold and small emeralds, which looked like a bouquet of bejeweled flowers on her head.

  “You look very pretty, your highness,” Idris said sincerely.

  She cocked her head with a coy smile. “Only pretty?”

  He couldn’t help but grin. She reminded him very much of Adwen. “I said very pretty.”

  Zorina seemed satisfied.

  Evening soon fell and it was time for the ball to begin. King Nikolas led the way with his queen on his arm. The crown prince escorted his little sister, and Prince Aribold brought up the rear. Every member of the Royal Guard was present. Idris made sure to follow his instructions to keep out of the way, but his eyes continually scanned for any sign of danger.

  When they entered the grand ballroom, Idris’s eyes widened in shock. Gold glittered on every surface and a dozen crystal chandeliers twinkled overhead. The room was crowded with Nobles wearing their finest, and an orchestra played from a platform above.

  Trumpets sounded the entrance of the royal family, and every person bowed respectfully. King Nikolas stood on a raised dais, which also held a smaller version on his throne.

  “The Nobility have always been the friends and family of the ruler of Calaris, and I can think of no better way to celebrate the fifteenth anniversary of my coronation than to be surrounded by such people. Thank you for being here and please enjoy yourselves.”

  Several faces in the listening crowd looked immensely self-satisfied with the king’s words, as if he were talking to them specifically.

  Once the king was finished speaking, he sat down and signaled for the music to resume. The Nobles paired off and began walking together to the tempo of the music, making elaborate circles across the floor. The rest of the royal family took their seats, and the Royal Guards stood in a line behind them.

  Idris stared around the room in confusion. This gathering was nothing like he had expected. He turned to Hildar and asked quietly, “What is this?”

  She looked at him as if he had said something silly. “This is a ball. A dance. Surely you have
heard of them.”

  Idris snorted. “This is a dance?”

  Hildar frowned. “Of course.”

  He shook his head. “No, this is not a dance. If you ever go to Rest Stone Valley, I will show you what a real dance is like.”

  Hildar tossed her head haughtily. “How are your country dances better than the king’s ball?”

  Idris merely smiled. He couldn’t explain to someone like Hildar what she was missing. He couldn’t put into words what was lacking in the well-ordered movements of the Nobles walking around the dance floor.

  Princess Zorina turned to the crown prince. “Nik, I want to dance. Please dance with me?”

  Prince Nikolas II looked irritated by her request. “It is not polite for girls to ask boys to dance.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Please, Nik!”

  “No,” he said flatly.

  “Mommy!”

  “Zorina, darling,” Queen Arminell said gently, “if you are old enough to attend a ball, you must also be old enough to act as you should. Do not make a scene.”

  The little girl pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. “Nik, I have been practicing my dancing for weeks now. Will you please dance with me just once?”

  “No.”

  Queen Arminell intervened. “Nikolas, dear, it is expected that both you and Aribold should dance with your sister. There are no other children here, and it would be sad if she did not get to dance.”

  Idris could see the boy’s anger welling up.

  “I did not ask to come to this stupid ball, Mother,” he hissed. “You made me come.”

  Arminell’s eyes flashed, but her voice remained calm. “You will dance with your sister once, and then you may retire if you wish.”

  The ten-year-old boy walked stiffly out on the dance floor, leaving Zorina to hurry after him. The Royal Guards assigned to the two children all moved to new positions so they could follow the two as they danced.

  Idris and Hildar had barely been off the dais for a minute when a girl about their age flounced over. Her face was painted and her nails were long and lacquered. Her headdress and clothing were fussy and overly elaborate, making her look almost comical.

  “Oh, Hildar,” she said in a high, false voice, “I did not recognize you. I did not know that you were working tonight.”