by Evan Winter
“Follow me, my queen,” he said, walking toward the path leading to the Guardian Keep.
She did not follow. She was rooted in place, and not knowing what else to do, Tau reached out to her, took one of her too-cool hands in his own, and gently guided her to movement.
“If it please you, Majesty,” he said.
She nodded and walked with him, Nyah joining them immediately, and the Queen’s Guard shadowed them.
The crowds parted, letting them through, but Tau saw reluctance on many of the Noble faces around them. He saw a weighing on those faces as they considered the cost of stopping their queen in the circle.
“Let’s hurry,” Tau said, moving faster, getting them to the exiting path and exhaling in relief as they arrived.
“No,” the queen said, taking her hand from his.
“My queen?”
“Not like this,” she said, her back straightening and her mask sliding back into position, as if it had never moved at all.
She turned back toward the circle and the crowds and she called out to the women and men she ruled over. “Let it be known that we will retake Palm City and that all traitors, no matter their birth, will be given justice. This we promise you for we are the Goddess’s voice on Uhmlaba and our will shall be done!”
The same silence from the crowd, a thousand mouths and not a tongue among them.
“We go to begin our preparations to retake our capital. We go to meet with our general, who will lead us all to victory and a return to the Goddess’s grace. We go to Grand General Hadith Buhari to give him our orders that he may relay them to you!”
The queen gave the circle her back and walked out of it. As she went, the crowd found its voice and Tau could see the Nobles in it trying to confirm what they’d heard. Buhari? That was a Lesser’s name. The women and men closest to the path the queen had taken moved forward like a cresting wave.
To discourage the crowd’s advance, the Queen’s Guard put their hands on their sword hilts.
“Stay back!” shouted one of the Queen’s Guard, hitting someone from the crowd with the hilt of his sword.
The violence had the opposite of its intended effect, and the shouts and protests from the nearest Nobles were deafening.
Grimacing, but having had enough, Tau drew both his blades and stepped up beside the Queen’s Guard.
“Let any who wish to discuss the queen’s will bring their concerns to me,” he shouted as loud as he could. “Come forward, Noble or Lesser, so that we may have this talk.”
There was still pushing and rumbling, but it came from those farther back. The women and men in the front came no closer.
“Did she name a Lesser as grand general?” a woman asked Tau, eyeing his black swords.
“Hadith Buhari is grand general,” he told her.
“And who is he?” another voice called out.
“The one chosen by your queen, and my sword brother,” Tau answered.
“And your sword brother can take Palm?” a third Noble asked.
Tau sheathed his blades and let his eyes roam the crowd. “If you knew Grand General Buhari as I do, you would not need to ask. Palm City was ours the moment Queen Tsiora placed him in command of her military. All that’s left is that we go and take it.”
In the sudden silence that followed, Tau turned on his heel and stalked out of the circle, praying that his belief in his friend hadn’t doomed them all.
REST
Tau caught up to the queen and Nyah in the Guardian Keep. The Queen’s Guard, who had followed her when she left the circle, had fallen into a two-columned marching line a respectful distance behind her, and as Tau made his way past the guards, he happened to catch one of their eyes.
The guard, an Indlovu, gave him a tight nod. “It was a mercy, Champion.”
“Neh?”
“The crowd may not have seen it that way, but they are not military. You stopped General Otobong’s suffering and it was mercy.”
Tau watched the guard, unsure if the Indlovu’s words were sincere. Choosing to treat them as if they were, he returned the man’s tight nod and walked past, trying to catch up to the queen. He felt uneasy about having what he’d done called mercy. It had felt necessary, but Tau wasn’t sure it’d been merciful.
“… need to know if it’ll always be like this between you and the Lesser.”
Tau didn’t need to guess which Lesser Nyah was talking about.
“He’s our champion,” the queen said.
They were several strides ahead, their backs to him as they walked through the keep’s hallways, and Tau knew he should announce his presence.
“He’s little more than a boy.”
“And Mirembe called us a girl. Do you feel she was right as well?”
“Tsiora …”
“Nyah.”
“How can I keep you safe if you won’t take my counsel?”
“How can we lead if our councillors doubt our every decision?”
“You let him make this decision.”
“No, it was the Goddess’s choice.”
“Don’t do this—”
“She brought him to us for a reason. Our faith is in Her, always.”
“He does not speak for the Goddess.”
“He does not, but She chose, in that moment, to speak through him.”
“Tsiora,” Nyah said, “the more we want something, the harder it is to separate our own desires from Hers.”
The queen stopped walking and turned to face her vizier.
“My queen,” Nyah said, dropping her head and eyes.
Queen Tsiora opened her mouth, Tau saw her eyes slide toward him, and her head followed. “Champion,” she said, “you are here.”
It was his turn to drop his head. “I have just arrived.”
“Of course you have,” she said, turning from them both and continuing to walk down the hall.
Nyah hurried after her and Tau did the same, catching up to them in a few limping strides.
“We heard the crowd questioning you as we left.”
“Yes, my queen.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth,” Tau lied. “I told them Palm City is as good as ours.”
Tau could feel Nyah staring at him. He pretended she didn’t exist.
“Nyah, Grand General Buhari will need time to recover, but we cannot wait long. You mentioned other potentials for the role of general. See to it that they are put in appropriate positions below our grand general.”
“It will be done, Your Majesty,” Nyah said.
“Also, send the rations master to the east council chambers. We will meet with her to confirm that we have the necessary supplies for the march and siege of Palm City.”
“If it please you, I’ll meet with her,” Nyah said. “You need rest.”
“An army lives and dies on its supply lines. We may be little more than a girl, but we remember that much from our studies, and so we will be there for the meeting with the rations master.”
“Tsio … Queen Tsiora, you’ll be useless to yourself and your people if you do not rest. When was the last time you slept?”
“We can go a little longer.”
“But you shouldn’t.”
The queen offered her vizier a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. “And how will we sleep? How, when we see knives in every shadow?”
She was scared and Tau couldn’t blame her.
“You’ll be guarded,” Nyah said.
“Where are our handmaidens?”
The shift from the queen’s safety to her comfort threw Tau. Maybe he’d misread her intent and she wasn’t afraid?
“They’ve yet to arrive, my queen,” said Nyah.
“We won’t feel safe without them, and that means we won’t get any rest. So we may as well work.”
Nyah looked down her nose at the young woman she was sworn to advise and protect. “Do you think to go without sleep until they arrive?”
Crossing her arms and
staring back at Nyah, the queen was the picture of headstrong determination and youthful confidence, and seeing her like that gave Tau some small sense of what others might see when they looked at him.
To the Indlovu, to the councils, and to all the Nobles in positions of power, the queen and he were risky unknowns lacking the experience, and in his case, the right, to hold the roles to which they laid claim. The queen and Tau were climbing a rock face without rope, and they were a single missed handhold from a fatal fall. Climbs like that were far too dangerous to make when tired.
“The queen can rest safely,” Tau said. “I’ll guard her door.”
He was exhausted, but it was more important for her to sleep. She needed to be sword sharp. Her decisions would mean the difference between life and death for them all.
“You will do no such—”
“Thank you, Champion,” the queen said. “That would help.”
“Queen Tsiora, I must insist that—”
“We thought you believed that we should rest.”
Nyah balked. “I do, but …”
“But?”
Nyah’s cheek was twitching and the queen turned down a corridor that ended in stairs to the keep’s second floor. Nyah pointed to the Queen’s Guard, indicating that they should follow the queen, and as she did, Tau noticed that Nyah’s mouth had joined her cheek in its twitching.
“It’s this way, Champion Solarin,” the queen said, leading him to her chambers.
LOCKS
The hallways on the second floor were tight, cramped, and windowless. The inelegant design surprised Tau until the Queen’s Guard joined them. The Indlovu couldn’t stand two abreast, and that was the clue. The hallway to the queen’s chambers was made for defense. Attackers would have to fight one by one, and if the defending swordsman was the stronger fighter, they could hold the passage until their heart gave out.
“What is it?” the queen asked.
“Why didn’t you stay here, Your Majesty?”
Behind them, the Queen’s Guard spread out along the thin hallway, securing its length.
“Stay here?”
“When Odili began the coup.”
The queen pressed her lips together as her eyes moved up and to the left. She wasn’t looking at anything in particular. She was remembering that night. “Days before his coup, Chairman Odili had scheduled an appointment with us in the sunroom. He pressed Nyah, pushing her to give him time with us. We believed he would make a final argument for rejecting peace. We intended to tell him that our decision was final.”
“He made sure you were somewhere he could get to you?”
The queen blinked, perhaps to chase away the memory. “He did,” she said, rounding a corner and stepping out of sight of the guards lining the hallway.
In front of Tau, five strides distant, the hallway ended at a small door.
“The door, it’s made from Osonton wood,” Tau said.
Her hand was on the door’s latch, but she was looking at him. They were of a height, he noted as she nodded at him. She didn’t move and Tau didn’t know if there was something he should do or say, some ceremony or tradition he might be missing. He swallowed, and in the relative silence, he was certain she heard him do it.
“We shall go in now.”
“Uh … of course, my queen. I’m with you.” She tilted her head at that and Tau felt heat creep up the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ll be out here for you. I’ll be outside your door, guarding it … guarding you, I mean.”
The edges of her mouth snuck upward, but she made the movement vanish and he couldn’t be sure if he was seeing things.
“Thank you, Champion,” she said.
“My queen.”
She stayed standing there and Tau’s scalp was itchy. He wanted to scratch but didn’t want to do it with her there.
“We’re going in,” she said finally.
“My queen.”
She manipulated the latch and pulled the door. It opened without a whisper and Tau saw that the wood was as thick as he was. The door’s hinges had to be powerfully and expertly built. That much Osonton wood would weigh more than two Greater Nobles, and she’d moved it without effort.
She stepped past the door, and again, she waited.
“We are … we’re going to close the door and you will hear it lock.”
“Uh … yes, my queen.” Tau didn’t know what to say or where to look. She was being strange. Or maybe she wasn’t and this was how she behaved. He didn’t know her well enough to be sure.
“We trust you, Champion. Take nothing from us locking it.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Tau saluted. He had to do something.
She pulled the door shut. Tau sighed in relief and scratched his head, and the door swung open again. Tau froze, hand still on his head.
“Is it safer, for you to guard us, if we leave the door unlocked?”
“My queen?” Tau said, lowering his hand.
She brushed down the front of her dress, smoothing it. He didn’t know why; it looked perfect. “That was a poor question,” she said.
“No … it’s a good one,” Tau said. “Are there windows inside?”
“Windows?”
“Could someone access your room other than through this door?”
“Ah, windows. No. Do you need to see the room?” she asked.
“See it … uh … no. Not if there are no windows.”
“There are no other doors either.”
“Yes, that’s good. I—I should have asked if there were other doors.”
“So, we should lock it?”
“This door?”
“It’s the only one,” she said.
“Yes, I think perhaps you should lock it.”
“We will, then. We’re going to change and go to sleep.”
Tau didn’t think he should salute that, so he stood there, doing nothing.
“Um … continue on, Champion.”
That didn’t help. He didn’t have anything to do but stand there. She seemed to realize that because she ducked behind the door and pulled it closed. A breath later he heard the lock turn.
“Cek, what was that about?” Tau muttered, scratching the rest of his scalp. His leg was hurting again and he’d have loved to take some weight off it, but he didn’t dare lean against the door. Goddess forbid the queen hear him do it and come out again.
Instead, he shuffled the two steps to the wall and leaned against it. He tried massaging his leg around the bandages. It didn’t help.
Tau grimaced as a stab of pain lanced through him. He couldn’t imagine facing unending and unabated pain like this throughout his whole body. It’d drive him mad. It’d do that to anyone. The priestess, he thought, might have been right. Maybe he should have let her take the leg.
He closed his eyes, rejecting the thought. The dragon blood could spread, if it must. He didn’t need to withstand the pain for long, just long enough to put an end to Odili. Tau opened his eyes. Just that long and he—
In front of him, five strides away, and immediately shy of the hallway’s corner, so out of sight of the guards, was a demon. The creature sat on its haunches, its legs bent wrong at the knees, like a horse’s back legs. On its flat face were three lidless eyes arranged vertically over a snarling mouth brimming with dagger-sharp teeth.
Tau pushed off the wall, swords already to hand when a waft of air struck him from behind. Tearing his eyes away from the threat in front, he swung round, swords moving, and seeing her, he had to wrench both blades upward and away.
Tsiora stepped back. She was wearing nothing but a thin nightdress of a shimmery opaque material. She looked …
The demon!
He whirled for the creature, swords back in position, and found there was nothing to fight. The thing was gone and the hall was empty.
Tau looked over his shoulder to the queen.
“It’s only us,” she said, eyes bouncing between his face and weapons.
Tau exhaled, still s
earching for the monster, but it was gone. Gone like it had never been. Shoulders slumping, he scabbarded his swords.
“I thought I—” First the stables and now the hallway. The visions were getting worse.
“We should have knocked before opening the door. To warn you.”
The idea struck him as odd, her knocking to come out of her own room.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I-I’m not myself.”
“Too much has happened in too short a time. It’s not possible to be as we were before,” she said, excusing him with grace.
Tau lowered his head, feeling shaken, doubting himself.
“We could not sleep,” she said. “We tried, but … Champion, can you … will you come in?” his queen asked, stepping back into the room to make space for him as well.
GRIEF
It was true, the room had no other doors and was windowless, but that couldn’t take away from the rest of its splendor. The ceilings were twice Tau’s height and the walls had been painted a soft green, like new-grown grass kissed by rain. To his right, there was an ornate low table flanked by matching chairs, and the legs on all three pieces had been carved to look like they belonged to a dragon.
Across the room, beyond the sitting area, was a larger furniture piece Tau couldn’t identify. The wooden thing stood as tall as he was and had two closed doors on its face, leaving its contents hidden to all but imagination. The other large piece of furniture was shorter and wider. It had shelves, and upon them lay more clothing than six women could need in three lifetimes.
It was wasteful, he thought, looking away and toward the bed. The bed, at least, he could understand, even if it was an odd one. First, it was huge, both wider and longer than the one in which he and Zuri had …
Tau tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. He turned away from the bed and the memories.
“You see the room, but not those within it,” the queen said.
Her sleeping garb didn’t leave him with many places that felt safe to look, so Tau kept his eyes on her face. “I’ve not seen much like it, my queen.”
“The room, you mean?” she asked.
He nodded.
“It’s uncommon to you, so it holds your attention?”