by J. D. Vaughn
“They are not my people if they disobey me!” the Queen hissed, her eyes narrowing. “They are traitors, deserving death, no better than Telendor. We will not bear such weakness again. Ever.”
“Still, all Tequendians deserve a trial if accused of treason. As it has always been…”
So it shall always be, Brindl thought, though she did not say the words aloud. Invoking the sacred response would only infuriate the Queen more.
“Get out of my sight!” the Queen yelled, throwing her arm across the assembly before her. “Attend to business of your own.”
At a slight nod from Xiomara, Brindl wasted no time scurrying from the throne room and directly to the bakery. She had to warn Tonio and the Shadow Guard. She only hoped her words could convince them to stand down tomorrow. Otherwise, blood would certainly spill in the quarry. Brindl skipped down the steps to the last level of the palace, then raced out the door to the outer building.
Turning the corner toward the bakery, Brindl barely avoided a collision with a girl carrying a basket of loaves. Finally, she opened the bakery door and was relieved to see Tonio, his hands deep in a trencher of dough, his face animated as he spoke to another baker across from him. Brindl hesitated for one moment longer. She hoped it wasn’t the last time she’d ever see him happy.
As Brindl approached Tonio, the bustling of the great bakery hushed, people standing poised to complete their tasks, heads turning in abject curiosity. Brindl inhaled deeply, hoping to keep the color off her cheeks, her distress carved in the lines around her forehead, her mouth. Tonio spotted her last of all, and his eyes widened.
“I must speak with you,” Brindl said, wasting no time.
“Can we meet at the top of the bells?” Tonio asked, turning the dough once more in his hands. This small action caused everyone to resume their task and the chatter sparked once more, like the notes of a small band finding its tune.
“I’m afraid not,” Brindl said. “It’s quite urgent.”
With a nod, Tonio pulled his hands from the dough, wiping them on the splattered apron he wore over his clothes, then headed toward the corridor. Brindl realized he was moving toward the enclave where he kept his pearlstone sculptures. For several minutes she followed him into the darkness, the air becoming cooler and damp but still smelling vaguely of cake.
“Burnt bread! I forgot the key. Should I turn back?” Tonio asked, turning to face Brindl.
“There’s no time, and I have much to tell you.”
Quickly, Brindl told him about the earlier encounter at the quarry and the Queen’s response to it.
“So the Queen means to seize all the pearlstone from the very people who mine it?” Tonio said, shaking his head.
“It’s worse than that. You must warn the Shadow Guard.…Get word to Moth.”
“Why? Has he been discovered?”
“He defied Centurio Larus today, who would have retaliated, but Xiomara stopped him. She won’t be able to do so again. The Queen has authorized military force tomorrow, and Larus will not be afraid to use it. You must tell Moth to stand down.”
“No one tells Moth to stand down. But I’ll warn him of the Queen’s orders. He’ll decide best how to respond.”
“Then hurry! There’s no time to lose. I worry not only for him, but for all the quarry families, truth be told.”
“I’ll go straightaway. Will you tell my mother I won’t return until late?”
“Yes! Go.”
Tonio squeezed Brindl’s hands. “Thank you, Brindl. You did the right thing by telling us.”
Then he was gone, racing through the corridor and out of sight. Brindl pressed herself against the rough, cold stone. At least she had managed to do this one thing. She turned to go back to the bakery and noticed the toe of a slipper peeping out from a dark corner. A Moon Guild slipper.
Lady Ona stepped out from the darkness.
“Why, Lady Ona, what brings you to these dark halls?” Brindl tried to keep her voice light, a casual greeting.
“I think you know, traitor,” replied Lady Ona, stepping into the corridor.
Black tunnels.
“I’m no traitor. But I am an Earth Guilder, concerned for her people.”
“You wear the gown of a Moon Guilder now, or have you forgotten?” Lady Ona’s lip snagged at one corner, as if she smelled something putrid.
Brindl looked down at her white gown. She often forgot she was wearing it these days. But she was no more Moon Guilder than a bird with a cat’s tail was a cat.
“I was just trying to help. People, even children, could get hurt tomorrow,” Brindl said, trying to reason with Lady Ona.
“You have no right to interfere with the Queen’s commands.”
“I’m not interfering with her commands. I’m merely informing those who might suffer from them.” Brindl sounded more confident than she felt.
“Stand aside,” Lady Ona demanded, “in the name of Queen Twenty-two!”
Brindl had not realized until then that she had blocked Ona’s path, but now she deliberately widened her stance, hands on her hips. “I don’t work for Twenty-two,” Brindl said, “I work for Twenty-three.”
Lady Ona slapped Brindl across the face, then bolted down the hallway.
Brindl, bewildered, placed a hand on her cheek. Though her face stung, the punishment to come would be worse. Surely Ona would go straight to the Queen with Brindl’s treason. Still, she had to tell Mama Rossi about Tonio’s sudden disappearance. She owed him that.
If the bakery staff had stared at her before, they were enthralled now. They must think Tonio slapped me, Brindl realized. She found Mama Rossi in her own quarters, looking out the window.
“Mama Rossi?”
“Oh my! What happened to your face, Brindl?”
“It’s no matter.”
“Of course it is! Who would do this to you?” Mama Rossi bustled to a cupboard to grab a rag. She dipped it in a large bowl of water and wrung it out in her hands, then placed it on Brindl’s stinging cheek.
“Truly, Mama Rossi, I need to be brief.”
“What is it? Why is Tonio not with you? Tell me he did not do this.…”
“No, no. Of course not.”
“A small mercy. Still, I cannot—”
Brindl interrupted. “Mama Rossi, Tonio has gone to speak with Moth at the quarry. He’ll be back as soon as he can.”
“Who is Moth?” Mama Rossi asked, and Brindl knew then that his mother had no inclinations of her son’s activities outside the bakery.
“A friend. A friend in trouble. What matters is that Tonio needed to go to the quarry to warn him.”
“Warn him of what?”
“I’m sorry, Mama Rossi, I’ve no time to explain.” Brindl handed the rag back to the woman and turned to go.
“But, my Tonio…he will be safe?”
“I pray to the Gods it is so.”
“These are not comforting words for a mother.”
“I’m sorry. I promised him I would get word to you, but now I must go.”
Brindl walked back to the palace as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. As she bustled up the stairwells toward the rooftop aviary, she put a hand over her face to hide the mark so no one would stop to ask her about it. She’d paused long enough in a hallway mirror to see the telltale signs of splayed fingers and palm tattooed on her pale face. Just as she reached the top of the last stairwell to the roof, two guards grabbed her.
“We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Unhand me!” Brindl said, trying to maintain her composure.
“We take no orders from traitors!” the smaller one said, pinching her tightly under the arm, making her wince in pain.
“Where are you taking me?”
They practically dragged her across the roof, her white slippers barely touching the ground. She feared they would force her back down the stairs to the dungeons, but instead they headed toward her old tower. They opened the door and pushed her inside. Brindl hit a wall and slid do
wn it, crumpling on the cold floor.
She heard a bolt slide outside the door.
Second-born servants shall have no leave from the palace until their service is complete, six years hence. Anyone caught leaving the palace grounds without explicit permission from a Royal—via the chamberlain—shall be subject to the harshest punishments and ramifications thereof.
—CH. N. TASCA, Palace Etiquette
Brindl paced her small room like a bluejacket with clipped wings. She thought about each scene that had brought her to this terrible place. Have I made things worse with all my meddling?
The rest of the day passed in agonizing beats of her heart as a hundred questions raced through her mind. Had Tonio been able to spread the warning before it was too late? Could the people of Quarry Town protect themselves, if not their property tomorrow?
Brindl looked out the narrow window to the aviary. What had happened to Lili and Farra? Were the birds being taken care of?
As night fell, she tried to sleep, but her thoughts would give her no rest. She finally gave up and continued her pacing until she heard a noise at the door. She stepped back as the outer bolt slid open.
“Tali!” Brindl rushed to her friend and they quickly embraced. “How did you get here? Are there no guards posted outside?”
“Not anymore. Larus has them all summoned to ready them for tomorrow.”
Brindl shivered despite herself. “So the Queen will go through with this.”
Tali paused. “And worse.”
“Worse? What is it, Tali? Tell me!”
Tali placed a hand on Brindl’s shoulder and gently pushed her into a chair. “The Queen has ordered a public execution in the quarry tomorrow. To remind others what happens to traitors.”
Brindl could barely get the word out of her mouth. “Who?”
“Moth.” Tali knelt down and took Brindl’s hands in hers. “And your friend Tonio.”
Brindl’s breath caught in her throat and she stifled a sob. “This is my fault. I was trying to warn them. Instead I gave them away.”
Tali squeezed her hands. “There’s more, Brin. Zarif and Chey…”
“Dear Gods. Tell me they are safe?”
“For now, yes. But they’ve embarked on a dangerous task. Xiomara sent them after Jaden.” Tali’s voice shook, her face betraying her feelings for the ousted commander. “The Queen’s soldiers plan to kill him before he ever reaches the border.”
“The Queen ordered this?” For a second an old godtale flashed through Brindl’s mind, about a woman so bewitched by riches the Gods turned her into pearlstone.
Tali nodded, and Brindl watched her face transform from fear to anger. “A guardsman loyal to Jaden overheard the plan and told Xiomara. I would have gone myself, but Zarif and Chey insisted I stay here. Someone needs to look after Xiomara, and I can stay in her chambers with her.” Tali closed her eyes, then stood. “In fact, I must get back to her now. I don’t like to leave her alone.”
Brindl rose from the chair. “Wait, I’m going, too,” she said, reaching under the bed for her old Earth Guild clothes.
“Going where?”
“To the Diosa.” Brindl pulled on the soft leather boots of her former life. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed them until she slid them on.
“You’re the Queen’s prisoner, Brindl. You risk your life if they catch you escaping.”
“Then I will risk it. But I won’t sit here while they kill Tonio tomorrow. You know I can’t.” Brindl buckled the belt around her tunic. “My hair,” she said suddenly.
“What of it?” Tali asked, confused.
“Too fancy.” She pulled the pins out with impatient fingers.
“Have you any shears?” Tali asked.
Brindl shook her head but ran to a drawer and pulled out Lord Yonda’s parting gift to her. She had almost forgotten about it until now. “Here,” she said, handing the dagger to Tali and strapping the leg holster underneath her tunic.
Tali paused, then hacked off Brindl’s long tresses to chin-length. “There,” she said, pulling back to examine her work. “With a little soot on your face you’ll look just like a char girl from the kitchens.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Brindl said quietly, as Tali rubbed ashes on her cheek.
“Not that long ago, I was the prisoner and you had the key,” Tali said, with a small, sad smile.
“May the Mother protect you.”
“May she protect us all.”
Brindl pushed through the bakery doors and followed a dim light flickering from the family quarters. Of course Tonio’s mother would be awake. How could she sleep? Mama Rossi sat at the table, a full cup of coffee in front of her, an untouched biscuit on her plate. Her eyes looked like they were focused across a wide sea.
“Mama Rossi?”
The woman looked up, her face etched with worry. She stared at Brindl in confusion until recognition finally dawned.
“You? Why are you here? And dressed like those you betray.”
Brindl opened her mouth, then closed it again. Mama Rossi appeared to have aged a decade or more. The pleasant play of a smile on her lips was long gone, as if it had never been there. Her hair, usually tidy, lay in tangles against her scalp. How vulnerable she looks, Brindl thought. I did this to her.
“It’s your fault Tonio is inside this mess!” Mama Rossi said, rising from the table. She waved a hand from side to side as if trying to shoo away a pest. “This Shadow Guard”—she paused, trying to find the words—“you brought this…this nonsense to my son.”
“That’s not true,” Brindl said, defending herself. “Tonio introduced the Shadow Guard to me.” She reached out a hand to place on Mama Rossi’s arm, but Tonio’s mother stepped backward and shook her head.
“That couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be involved with those people. Tonio’s always been such a good, honest boy. What did you do?”
“He still is a good, honest boy, Mama Rossi,” Brindl said, her voice softening. “He was only trying to improve the lives of Earth Guilders in Tequende.”
“With treason?”
“That may be what the Queen calls it, but most anyone else would not.”
“Does anyone else matter if he loses his life tomorrow?” Mama Rossi said, a sob escaping her lips.
“That’s what I’m trying to prevent, but I must get to the Diosa before it’s too late. Will you help me? I don’t know how to get to the salt mines from here.”
“You know the Diosa?”
“No. But she knows me.”
“Can she save my Tonio?”
“I don’t know,” Brindl answered truthfully. “But I mean to ask.”
Mama Rossi grabbed her shawl and threw it around her shoulders, suddenly full of resolve and vigor. “Come.”
Brindl followed Mama Rossi down the stairs and through the dark corridors where Tonio had once shown her his secret sculptures. They turned down several hallways and descended more steps before they finally came to a heavy stone door. Mama Rossi pulled on the forged handle but could not budge it. Brindl added her strength until it opened at last.
The stairs leading down to the mines were narrow and damp, but a series of torches lit the way.
Mama Rossi grabbed Brindl and pulled her into a fierce hug. “You must save him, Brindl. You must.” The woman’s voice caught then and she could say no more, her eyes wet with tears.
“I will do everything I can.”
“Machué bless you then, child.”
Brindl moved as nimbly as she could on the slippery steps into the darkness. Her eyes adjusted quickly, accustomed to the dim light from years of teaching first-year salters in the mines. The torches illuminated her path, the spaces between their arcs a place to gain speed in the flickering light. Most people would be frightened to delve into the crust under Machué’s great apron, but it felt like coming home to Brindl. Her pulse slowed and breathing steadied with each step.
The cave walls were a deep orange rather than the pale sand of
home in Zipa, but the rich loamy smell of things being born and dying, the bumpy texture of stone beneath her hand, all felt the same. Brindl closed her eyes, and felt peace, unequivocal peace, for the first time in months.
Time was impossible to measure inside the tunnels. Brindl knew only that hunger pulled on her twice, and her legs wobbled after hours of following the signs to the Diosa’s cave. The paths were clearly marked above each tunnel where crossways intersected, and when she passed the symbol for Zipa, a candle for the Festival of Light, her heart ached with the desire to follow it. But she turned to the tunnel marked with the Diosa’s own symbol, a single eye, and smartened her pace.
She passed few people and knew it must still be nighttime above the earth, for the miners had not started working yet. Though that will change soon, if the Queen gets her way, Brindl thought, shaking her head in dismay. Round-the-clock production. As if the miners don’t work hard enough already.
Finally, she found herself at the entrance of the Diosa’s cave. The largest man she’d ever seen stood sentry at the covered entrance.
“Brindl Tacora of the Zipa Salt Miners, late of the Fugaza palace,” he intoned, with a slight bow.
How did he know?
“The Diosa is expecting you.”
The Queen must never be defied, for she has been blessed by the Gods. Charged by Machué to care for her children, educated by the light of Elia, and made wealthy by the coin of Intiq, she is the sole divine presence in Tequende, and godly in her own right.
—CH. N. TASCA, Palace Etiquette
Brindl pushed aside the tapestried curtains and walked into the chamber. On her left, life-sized statues of the three Gods stood in a row. Intiq, Elia, and the simple yet beautiful Machué were revealed in their human forms, crafted from the finest salt and glowing despite the darkness. Brindl knelt before the Mother, who held a miner’s pick in one hand, a hoe in the other, and touched her bare feet, worn smooth from all those who came before to give homage. As she stood, she kept her eyes on the floor rather than look to the sculptures of the Gods on her right, depicted in their divine form, an act of humility for her Guild.