The Child Guard

by Lorcan Montgomery

  Sure enough, Erhard had entered the room, fresh off guard duty with the baby-faced Ruban. Kane’s eyes met his, and there was an exchange of the briefest of nods, before Erhard drifted past to sit with a gaggle of noisy boys across the way.

  “If you two play it any cooler you’ll ice over,” Terrell said, with his mouth full.

  Kane had had enough. His control was hanging by a thread, his blood boiling over. How dare Terrell joke around as though nothing had happened, as though he was innocent, as though there weren’t two people who had left the only home they’d ever known due to his actions. He was about two seconds away from climbing across the table, grabbing Terrell by the collar and starting an outright brawl like he’d wanted to last night.

  Eder laid a hand on his arm, on the way towards reaching out for food. It was only the briefest of touches, and seemed like perhaps only a hesitation of what he wanted to pick, but it was enough to pull Kane back from the edge of an irrational and disastrous course of action.

  “When are we going to head to the palace?” Eder asked, picking up a date and nibbling on it. His voice was smooth and calm, but his glance at Kane was a knowing one.

  Kane’s plans to leave were further stymied by the arrival of Cahaya.

  At first he thought Rayner had arisen, as a similar hush fell over the room, but as he looked around he saw Rayner still in his seat, eating and reading a document that had required his attention throughout the meal. The garrison commander looked up from his meal, and even he paused for a moment.

  Led by Davena, Cahaya glided through the mess hall, resplendent in a dress of a deep, forest green cloth. The cut was plain enough, but the way it draped over her body was anything but dull. Though most of the Child Guard around wouldn’t have known to appreciate it, they had stopped their talking in admiration for the dignity of her carriage and her undeniable beauty. In the hot, dusty garrison, it seemed like a breath of forest air had swept through. Her hair was loose, for the first time Kane had seen it so, and the chestnut curls fell like a waterfall down her back. There was a veil draped over the top, but it was a nominal, gauzy thing which did not hide so much as accentuate, like snow on the top of a mountain. She didn’t look like a specimen so much as a princess.

  Kane blinked dumbly a couple of times, resisting the urge to shake his head like a dog. He returned to his meal after a moment, but couldn’t help stealing a couple more glances as she approached. Terrell couldn’t take his eyes off her. Even Eder stared, but the look on his face was different from Terrell’s hungry expression. It was sad, almost longing, and even after he looked away the pensive look remained.

  She sat down awkwardly between Terrell and Sampson and the noise largely resumed. Davena procured food for her, and she looked around with her blank eyes and smiled.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning, Cahaya, are you feeling prepared for the palace today?” Kane asked, trying to keep his eyes on his food and not goggle at her too much.

  “As prepared as I can be,” she said. “I trust Davena has made me suitable for an audience with royalty.”

  “She absolutely has,” Terrell said, tripping over his words in his eagerness.

  Cahaya smiled.

  “I know I might not get another chance to say this once we enter the palace, so I want to thank you, all of you, for the kindness and friendship you’ve shown me on our journey together. I understand it hasn’t been the easiest of roads and I am glad that you weathered them with me. I am happy I met all of you.”

  Nobody seemed to quite know what to say to that. There was a muttered chorus of variations of ‘you’re welcome’, and Cahaya beamed at them and ate her breakfast, carefully and delicately, so as not to spoil Davena’s handiwork.

  Aside from Terrell, who was putting food away like he didn’t know when he would next eat, nobody had a great appetite and it wasn’t long before they left the mess hall and proceeded, as a group, to the courtyard.

  The pony had been gussied up as well, her mane and tail braided and her bridle and tack given a good polish. Kane stepped forward before Terrell could volunteer, and lifted Cahaya onto the beast’s back. She sat side-saddle, awkwardly, but her confidence in her balance had grown over the time they had been travelling, and her spine was straight.

  A dozen Guard emerged into the courtyard, led by Erhard, who looked fresh as a daisy, as though he hadn’t been up and on guard since the small hours of the morning. The boys and girls with him were of similar stature, rangy and sinewy, with sharp, intelligent features.

  “So you’re Rayner’s finest,” Kane said, and Erhard gave a shrug of acceptance.

  “If he says so,” he said, his tone self-deprecating but his expression proud. “Me and this horrible lot will be escorting you to the palace this morning. We’ll make sure you get through these mean streets without getting lost or hassled. Is the lady saddled and ready to depart?”

  “She is,” Cahaya called over, before Kane could answer on her behalf.

  “You heard her,” Kane said, and Erhard flashed him a grin, before turning to the dozen and calling an order. They formed three ranks, four men abreast, and set off through the gates, at a smart pace, led by the Brother-Sergeant. Kane felt slightly embarrassed to follow them, with he and Eder at the lead, followed by Sampson and Davena, who held the reins of the pony in her hands, then Cahaya, with Terrell bringing up the rear.

  They kept pace through the winding streets, and any jostling or rudeness they would have encountered was quickly dispersed by the soldiers at the front. Erhard almost seemed to be enjoying himself as he called for the citizens of Auris to make way for the Child Guard. Kane could have sworn he saw, on the edge of his vision, a glimpse of Avila’s white-blond hair, but when he turned for a better look he couldn’t see her.

  As they approached the palace, the buildings got larger and grander, the streets wider and more airy, and the market traders and people living their lives out-of-doors dwindled away until the wide thoroughfares were almost empty, save for the occasional servant running an errand, who ducked out of their way with a meek bow. The Aurian Guard maintained a steady pace, even as the road inclined upwards, to the palace. Kane was acutely aware Sampson and Davena were not used to a speed like this, but he didn’t dare turn and check on them, lest he be left behind as well.

  The steps of the palace were wide and shallow, and the Aurian Guard fanned out at the top, forming two neat blocks of six, with Erhard in the middle. As they ascended, Kane could see the palace guardsmen, in far fancier uniforms than he and his comrades, blinding in white and gold, flanking the doors, which were huge, made of some pale wood of which he wasn't familiar, and decorated with gold filigree, so they too gleamed in the late morning sun.

  Intimidated beyond measure, he approached, behind Erhard.

  “Who goes there and what is your business?” the palace guard to his left asked, in a condescending tone.

  “Brother-Sergeant Erhard of the Aurian Garrison, escorting Brother-Corporal Kane of the Citadel, for the purposes of presentation of a specimen to the patron of the Aurian Academy, the Golden Prince Fahim,” Kane was saved from having to reply by Erhard, who seemed to be used to dealing with such an attitude.

  “The Prince will receive the Citadel Child Guard and their specimen only,” the right-hand guard spoke, with an equally superior tone. Erhard locked eyes with him for a long, tense moment, then eventually gave up with a sigh.

  “The Commander was expecting this,” he said in an undertone to Kane. “Looks like you're on your own. Sorry.”

  “Thanks for getting us here,” Kane said, and Erhard gave him another brief grin before ordering his squad to return to the garrison, taking Cahaya's long-suffering pony with them. Kane watched them descend the steps for a moment, before someone cleared their throat in the region of the palace doors. There was a woman waiting for them, dressed in a simple black gown with gold trim, her dark hair bound back in a neat bun. She surveyed them with a critical, maternal
air.

  “Welcome to the Golden Palace of Auris, Child Guard,” she said. “My name is Metrodora, and I am here to escort you to your throne room and brief you on your conduct whilst here.”

  “Thank you, Mistress Metrodora,” Kane said, entering through the huge doors and giving her a stiff bow. As they swung closed behind him and the squad, and the noise of the city outside was silenced, the weight of the palace atmosphere seemed to settle on them, heavy as lead.

  Metrodora marched off down the corridor, at a pace rivalling that of the Aurian Guard. She strode through the marble corridors, her feet making little sound on the thick black carpet, which provided a stark contrast to the glaring white and gold of the walls and remaining décor. Kane had to stride to keep up with her, and as he looked back he saw Davena falling behind, helping Cahaya along the hallway.

  “Excuse me, Mistress Metrodora?” Kane said. “My charge is having some difficulty keeping pace – she is blind, and cannot move as swiftly as the rest of us.”

  Metrodora halted immediately, and the rest of the squad almost crashed into each other in their haste to stop.

  “I do apologise, Specimen,” she said, but the tone of her voice was anything but apologetic. She set off again at a much more reasonable pace, and it was easier to keep pace with her the second time.

  The palace was even more labyrinthine than the city or the garrison had been, but it was made to seem less so by the occasional garden visible through the wide windows and screened archways they passed on their route. There were people he assumed to be courtiers, lounging about in in fine, rich clothing made of silk, draped in jewels and delicate gold filigree. The women of the court were veiled, some of them with fine gauze and others with heavy, jewelled mesh that accentuated rather than hid their features. Their eyes were lined in black paint as Sophia's had been, and several of the men sported a similar fashion. The men were richly attired in fine robes, and Kane noticed the majority of the courtiers were also wearing bright, clean white clothing. Occasionally he caught sight of a maid of the palace, clad in the same plain black gowns as Metrodora, attending to the refreshments of the idle courtiers.

  They passed an archway leading to a garden filled with heavy-scented flowers and countless butterflies, and in the middle of it all stood a lovely young woman watering the lilies. She paused in her work and lowered her eyes as they passed, and several butterflies landed on her arms in the sudden stillness. Kane thought it a beautiful sight, and wished instead of their audience with the Prince he could pass the time in the garden with Eder.

  “You are not to speak to the prince unless directly addressed,” Metrodora was saying, as Kane floated back down to reality. “If you do speak to him, you will address him simply as ‘your highness’, don’t get creative.”

  Kane nodded, as though he’d been attentive all along.

  “If the prince asks you a question, answer it promptly and truthfully. He is a very busy man, and has neither the time nor the patience for hesitation.”

  She looked sidelong at Kane, and he wondered briefly if he really was as scruffy as her expression would indicate.

  “I would advise you to treat this similarly to, although not exactly the same as, an audience with one of your senior officers. Stand up straight, do not make direct eye contact with the prince, and leave only when you are dismissed.”

  They reached another huge set of doors which Kane assumed were the doors to the throne room, guarded by another pair of strapping young men in white and gold uniforms. Metrodora turned to survey them with a distinct look of dissatisfaction.

  “And for the love of your gods, don’t salute. The prince is not a military man. Instead, you will bow, with grace if possible.”

  “Thank you for your guidance, Mistress Metrodora,” Kane said, feeling something was expected of him after the lecture. “It is much appreciated.”

  He received a ‘hmph’ in response, but her expression softened.

  “After you,” she said, indicating the door.

  The throne room was immense. Kane thought he'd never been in a room so big in his entire life, the only place that came close to rivalling it was the temple atop the Citadel, and even that would fit comfortably inside. The windows were stained glass, huge tall things that cast lights of shifting colours onto the white marble floor and the carpet which ran up the centre, black as pitch. Pillars lined the room, holding up the vast, arched ceiling, and their thick bases were hidden by gaggles of courtiers. Kane reflected, briefly, that there were a whole lot of people in the palace with a whole lot of nothing important to do, but it was small comfort when there were ladies giggling at him from behind their veils, or behind jewelled fans dripping with gold and pearls.

  “Corporal Kane of the Citadel Child Guard, presenting a gift of a specimen,” a herald's voice carried over the muted gossip and muttering, and fired Kane into gear, even with the mistaken rank. He marched smartly down the thin black line of the carpet towards a golden throne which could have easily seated four people side by side, and bowed low, resisting the twitch in his right arm that wanted to salute.

  After a moment or two, he dared to raise his eyes to see the occupant of the throne, lounging bonelessly as one would on a much more comfortable seat. Prince Fahim looked barely twenty, with dark curls and a fussily-trimmed short beard. An ornate golden coronet rested on his head, and his white robes were similarly ornate and draped in gold. His eyes were lined with black and his expression was bored and slightly sulky. He waved a hand in the direction of a sweet-faced woman in the black dress of a servant kneeling to one side of the throne, and she rose and approached Kane.

  “The Prince bids you thanks for your gift of the specimen,” she said, despite the lack of anything resembling gratitude in the prince's demeanour. “Pray bring her forward that she may be inspected by the Academy's senior professors.”

  Kane took a step back towards where Cahaya waited, and took her arm to lead her closer to the throne. She curtseyed gracefully, and as she straightened the rainbow of colours from stained glass high overhead caught her face. Her chin was lifted high and her face had a regal cast to it. Kane was briefly mesmerised, but stepped back at a gesture from the woman.

  The prince didn't fail to notice Cahaya's looks and bearing. His face lost the sulky look and he leaned ever so slightly forward to look at her.

  A pair of black-robed Academics, both thin, bald men, one with a beard that reached his waist, came from the shadows beside the throne. The woman unfurled a scroll, its crackling loud in the quiet throne room, that Kane recognised from the tally and doodles on the back as his own orders from Cathan, and her eyes skimmed over it rapidly. A quiet conversation with the senior Academics ensued, after which they seemed more eager to accept Cahaya as a suitable specimen.

  The prince was eager to accept her too, for vastly different reasons. The woman stepped away to take her place by the side of the throne and the prince leaned over and mutter something to her. An awkward semi-argument followed, after which the prince settled back in his throne, more sulky than he had been previously.

  Meanwhile, Cahaya was going through a series of examinations; the bearded Academic wanted to look at her eyes through a brass device which hummed and clicked, and the clean-shaven one was standing back, slightly, instructing her through a series of physical movements, raising her arms, touching her nose, all fairly basic and all easily accomplished by Cahaya. It seemed the noises from the device meant more than any of the physical tests, as it began to whistle, ear-splittingly loud and high, and the tests were over.

  The prince, slouching low in his throne, gestured for the woman to step forward and conclude the presentation. The Academics were busy writing something down on parchment, notes of some kind which from their reactions were very exciting.

  “The Prince presents the gift of the specimen to the Academy,” she announced, and there was a smattering of polite applause. The prince made a dismissive hand gesture, and the woman turned to Kane and spoke quie
tly. “If you would follow me, please.”

  They did so, out of a side door between two of the vast pillars of the throne room.

  “My name is Kallistrate,” the woman said, as soon as the door had closed softly behind them. “I am the chief liaison between the palace and the Academy and as such I will escort you to Master Zaman, who will be overseeing the experiments on the specimen.”

  She spoke to Kane, even though Cahaya was standing right there, and a sense of unease grew in his stomach.

  “Cahaya, if you wouldn't mind?” he said, looping her arm through his and leading her along the corridor, following in the wake of Kallistrate. The rest of the squad trooped along behind, silenced by the opulence of their surroundings.

  “What's it like?” Cahaya asked in a whisper. “I don't think I've ever been in a palace before.”

  “The prince seems to really like black and white,” Kane muttered back. “Apart from the gardens, it's actually quite boring.”

  “Would you please describe it to me anyway?” she replied. “I should like to imagine it, later.”

  And so, they strolled along, with Kane describing their extravagant surroundings to Cahaya. Once or twice Kallistrate looked back at them, with the barest hint of impatience, but Kane was in no rush to deprive Cahaya of what might be her last chance at conversation for a while. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable at the thought of putting her into a world where she was a specimen, not to be spoken to or called by name, and was beginning to understand Rayner's antipathy towards the processes of the Academy.

  After a while, they entered a garden, bigger than the small oases of colour which dotted the palace. This one was large enough that from the centre, the walls of the courtyard could not be seen. There were huge lilies in a multitude of colours, lush green vines climbing pillars and trellises, and the occasional butterfly or jewel-bright hummingbird flitted past their heads. It was almost like being in a forest, if an excessively manicured forest with no wildlife larger than the occasional parrot. Kane looked over at Eder, and caught the wonder on his face as he looked at his surroundings. He resolved there and then to let Eder have whatever plants he liked in a garden, regardless of practicalities.