Second Guard (19 page)

But Ory shook his head. “No, not a cave-in, something worse worse worse, something that makes salters disappear. Some say it is the Saqra himself,” he whispered, his voice husky with
fear.

“Just another ghost story, my friend,” Zarif said, smiling at Ory in reassurance. “The Saqra, like other monsters of lore, is nothing more than superstition and fear of the
unknown.”

“Then why have nine salters never come back from there?” Ory asked. “Grown men and women, disappeared without a trace?”

Tali and her friends looked at each other silently.

“There must be an explanation…” Zarif began, but as they rounded one more bend, Ory’s face began to change again, his cheerful grin returning.

“We’ve made it to Zip Zipa, toppers!”

Thank the Gods, thought Tali. She was more than ready to leave the mines and its monsters behind—real or imaginary.

T
ali felt the welcome warmth of late afternoon sun as she and her friends were hoisted up to the mine exit. Thank Intiq we didn’t have to
climb a million stairs at the end of our journey, Tali thought, her legs stiff from sitting in the cart for hours. The Zipa miners had constructed a pulley device that seemed to descend at least a
league into the earth to transport salt and miners alike. Before their mad dash through the mines, Tali might have felt somewhat hesitant to step onto the swinging platform; instead, she was so
eager to see the sun again that she hopped right onto it, held on tight, and let relief wash over her as they slowly inched upward.

“Close your eyes, toppers!” Ory commanded as they neared the top. “Face the Sun God slow-slow-slowly, or he’ll blast your eyeballs!”

Tali did as her young friend advised, holding her hands over her eyes and letting the bright light slowly seep between her fingers. When her eyes finally adjusted, Tali let out a breath of
surprise. Though she had been to Zipa many times, she had never strayed very far from the docks, where her father emptied their wares in exchange for bags and bags of salt, which they would take
back down to Porto Sol for export. Now for the first time, she saw the immensity of the salt operations in Zipa. The mine opened up into the side of a large hill, surrounded by noisy activity. It
reminded Tali of a red anthill she’d once seen and poked with a stick, much to her regret when the ants swarmed out and bit her bare toes.

Dozens of people lugged handcarts of salt this way and that: from the mine entrance to the heaping piles of salt rock dotting the landscape; from those huge piles to the outbuildings thrumming
with the steady clank of hammers, pounding the salt rock into small crystals; from those buildings to the bagging facilities; and finally, once the salt was crushed and bagged securely, onto sturdy
wagons—pulled by strong draft horses, not packhounds—to the storehouses down by the river.

“If you can find your own way to the docks, toppers, I’ll be off to see my crusher cousins,” Ory said, bouncing on his heels, not exhausted by their ordeal at all.

“Guard your crunchnuts!” warned Tali, grinning in anticipation of the boy’s response.

Ory did not disappoint, first throwing his head backward and cackling loudly, then bending over completely at the knees, his shoulders heaving as he continued to laugh with pure glee. Chey shook
his head and smiled, but Zarif rolled his eyes at Tali.

“It’s called a joke, Zarif.” Tali elbowed him in the ribs.

Ory waved good-bye with a promise to meet them at the mine entrance come dawn.

As they followed the wagons down a dusty road to the river, Tali looked at the mud-colored adobe homes lining their path. Compared to the golden city of Porto Sol, Zipa looked functional and
plain, much like the clothing of its Earth Guilder inhabitants. Soon, however, small snatches of color began to catch her eye—a pot of sun-drenched golden astromelias by a crooked door, a
wind chime strung with dyed salt rock and broken pottery in a window, a small bench covered with hand-painted tiles.

A few children played in the dirt between the houses, stopping every now and then to gaze shyly at them. The residents of Zipa weren’t all as pale as Ory and the Diosa, or the people who
spent most of their working days underground, but they were still paler than most Tequendians, with fair hair and eyes. A curious child toddled out into the walkway and started following Zarif,
staring up at him as if he had fallen from the stars. Zarif squatted before the little girl and let her touch his dark brown face until, seemingly satisfied, she went back to her dirt play. Zarif
made no comment about the interaction, but Tali felt a rush of affection surge inside her for the tenderness he had shown the young child.

A few moments later they found themselves in view of the Zipaqui River, a small tributary of the Great Magda. Like many traders, Tali’s father made it a tradition to be in Zipa for the
Festival of Light, for the Night of Lanterns was unrivaled in beauty. Tali looked out at the dozens of tradeboats anchored along the river, like a parade of well-dressed Sun Guilders. When she
finally spotted her own family’s boat, a surge of love and homesickness fell upon her, making her heart feel like it would burst. The boat’s teal, gold, and orange colors still seemed
the prettiest of them all, with its striped flag of the same colors flapping in the breeze. She reached back and grabbed Chey’s hand, then Zarif’s, and pulled them down the wooden pier,
almost running in her excitement. As she neared the boat, close enough to read the name painted delicately along the side—
Cora’s Heart
—she felt a great rush of longing to
see her father. And then there he was.

“Talimendra!” called her father’s gruff voice, caught with surprise. “
M’ija
, how did you…” His words drifted off as he became aware of the two
young men beside her, whose hands she still held.

“It’s a long story, Father,” Tali said, still pulling the boys behind her. “But first, let me introduce you to my new friends.”

Tali’s father walked down the plank to greet them. Clearly bewildered to find his daughter clasping the hands of both a tall Moon Guilder and a stocky Earth Guilder, he quickly exchanged
his look of surprise for one of welcome. He offered both his palms simultaneously to the boys, and they returned his greeting with their own hands on his. Tali smiled to see all of her favorite men
together, sharing polite words of greeting. Last month she could not have imagined such an opportunity, and yet here it was before her.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Chey said.

“We’ve heard much about you and your fine vessel here,” Zarif added, nodding to the tradeboat.

“It is our humble floating home,” Alondro Sanchez replied, putting an arm around Tali’s shoulders and pulling her close.

“It’s more grand than I’d imagined,” Chey answered.

“You must be starving after such a long journey,” Tali’s father said. “Let us find Nel, and ask her what sup we might share.”

The trio followed Tali’s father onto the boat and through the cabin doorway into the living quarters. Tali tried to see her old home with the fresh eyes of her friends. It was small,
certainly; only twelve paces long and half that many across. Yet here they did much of their living, when they weren’t tucked asleep below. An open trapdoor above them lit the room with
sunlight, revealing floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinets along the walls, filled with a variety of their belongings, including a small, sturdy collection of earthenware pots and plates. A rustic plank
table sat low in the middle of the room, surrounded by wooden benches that doubled as storage lockers. A small cookstove sat tucked in the corner, its metal chimney poking out the ceiling, and with
her back to them, Nel, beautiful Nel, tending to some wonderful-smelling stew on top of the stove.

Nel turned around then, aware of their presence not by the sounds they made but, Tali knew, by the vibrations of their footsteps. Though surely she expects to see trade friends of Father’s
entering, not the three of us, Tali thought, laughing happily at the look on Nel’s face when she saw who it was.

After a long embrace between the sisters, introductions were repeated, and Chey, Zarif, and Nel did their best to look as if they were meeting for the first time. Tali had warned the boys ahead
of time not to reveal their prior meeting with Nel in Porto Sol. Father Sanchez would not be happy to hear that Nel had put herself in danger or meddled in the affairs of elders.

After greetings and inquiries had been made, Father Sanchez offered to give the boys a tour of Zipa’s merchant docks, which Zarif happily accepted. If only Father knew the dozens of
questions he was in for, he might reconsider, Tali thought, smiling behind her hand. Chey insisted on staying behind to help Nel prepare supper, oblivious to the impatient look Tali gave him. Nel,
on the other hand, seemed quite pleased by Chey’s insistence, and gave Tali a quick sign to say they would speak of “matters” later.

Tali nodded in resignation, then excused herself and went down the narrow stairs to her old quarters below deck. Mouser was napping, as usual, in the round patch of sun the porthole provided. He
opened one lazy eye when Tali entered, as if to acknowledge her return, then went back to sleep.

“I missed you too, Mouser,” she said, snorting at the cat’s indifference.

She stretched out on her cot and inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of home. Within minutes, the Zipaqui River rocked her into a sound, dreamless sleep.

A soft knock on the door woke her. “Tali, dear,” her father’s voice said behind the knock. “Supper is ready.”

Tali chided herself for wasting precious time sleeping when she only had one evening to spend with her family. Finding her sister’s brush and looking glass, she made quick work of taming
her mussed hair and cleaning her face.

Upstairs once more, Tali found the boys and her father chatting comfortably on the deck. They sat on crates, cushioned by the colorful pillows Nel had sewn for just such a purpose, and drank
Nel’s strong coffee tamed by sweetmilk and cane sugar. The plank table had been transferred to the deck and set for five. It was already laden with a tray of fruit and cheese, and a basket of
warm corn biscuits fresh from the oven. Nel happily fussed with the small flower arrangements she’d placed on the table. My twin is never more content than when she has people to feed and
care for, Tali thought, her stomach rumbling. How did we get so lucky?

The group sat at the table for hours enjoying Nel’s cooking. More than once Zarif mentioned how Nel’s cooking not only lived up to Tali’s mouthwatering descriptions, but
exceeded them. They feasted on grilled trout and chimichurri sauce, warm potato puffs filled with melted cheese, yucca muffins served with aguaymanto jam, chocolate-covered pecans, and fluffy
cherimoya pudding, savoring each new dish as if it were their last meal.

Chey, who could not keep his eyes off Nel, already seemed able to understand much of her sign language. Though both boys had been more than polite to Nel in Porto Sol, they now seemed perfectly
charmed by her, especially Chey. It’s because she’s in her element here, thought Tali. She was frightened and worried in Porto Sol, but now she’s at home, doing what she
loves.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about Paulo and Larisa’s family,” Tali said, reminded of the last young man who’d been besotted by Nel.

“Fellow traders?” Zarif asked.

Tali nodded. “Their tradeboat suffered a fire the night before I left for the Alcazar,” Tali explained, looking carefully at Zarif. “I believe I may have mentioned it to you at
some point?”

She saw comprehension in Zarif’s eyes, and he played along with her. “Yes, I recall you telling us about that night. How frightening for the family. I hope they are well,” he
said, turning to Father Sanchez, who had been quiet during this exchange.