“It’s good to see you, brother,” Yaw said, appearing out of the shadows to clap Tau on the shoulder. “You’ve been missed.”
“And you, brother,” Tau said.
“Any chance we were called from our beds to get fancy swords too?” Themba asked. “The color on those blades matches my eyes.”
None of them had their swords, and Tau wondered if there was any merit to Themba’s joke. “It wasn’t me who called you.”
“Themba is just joking,” Hadith said. “Well, not about us being woken up. We were all in our beds when Nyah sent for us. You’re not coming from your rooms, though. Where were you?”
“Neh?” Tau asked, knowing Hadith well enough to guess he’d not missed Tau’s unsteady gait.
Hadith put a hand on Tau’s shoulder. “You look like you’ve been spending time in tight spaces,” Hadith said, too low for the others to hear. “Where are you coming from, Champion?”
The queen and her retinue saved Tau from answering. Queen Tsiora Omehia walked into the large hallway from a smaller side entrance flanked by her vizier and Gifted Thandi. Behind them marched four members of the Queen’s Guard.
Tau and the men with him went to their knees.
“Rise,” the queen said. “We thank you for leaving your rest so early, and you have not been called to us frivolously.” She nodded to Nyah.
“We go to the council chambers,” Nyah told them. “It seems several Greater Noblewomen in this keep have taken it upon themselves to form a ruling council. Their rush to do so I will attribute to a desire to offer our monarch aid and wisdom, since anything else slips dangerously close to treason.” Nyah clipped the syllables on the last word, making it sound even uglier than usual. “You have been asked for specifically. Most of you are Lessers, but you fought for your queen when it seemed hopeless to do so. Greater Noble Kellan Okar, nephew to the last champion, stands with you. He came to his queen’s defense when few other Indlovu would do so.”
Kellan bowed his head, accepting her praise.
Nyah returned the gesture, then turned to Tau, staring him down. “We are also joined by the queen’s anointed champion,” she said. “Champion Solarin, who has sworn to serve his queen for the rest of his days . . . or for as long as she finds his service worthy.”
Tau had little patience for the way she kept needling him, and he stared back, holding her gaze with his own.
A breath passed and Nyah looked away, speaking to the others as she did so. “I do believe this so-called ruling council hopes to tie the Omehi back together, and I find no fault in that,” she said. “However, forming their council in secret and excluding the queen from this gathering suggests that ending our civil strife is not their only aim.
“It’s only been days, but the Noblewomen in that council chamber have forgotten who fought and died to stop Abasi Odili’s coup. Well, you’re going to remind them,” Nyah said. “You’re here because they need to see that the blades that beat Odili back are loyal to Queen Tsiora Omehia II, and not to councils, whether ruling or guardian.”
“They think us too young to lead,” the queen said, stepping forward and catching the eyes of everyone present. “They think the damage Odili has done can only be undone by their hands, hands they’ll call experienced and deserving. But the Omehi have been steered by hands claiming those merits for generations, and yet today, a greater number of our people starve, suffer, and perish than ever before.
“The ruling councils have had their chance,” she said, “and it was squandered on a war without end that slowly grinds our people to dust. That’s the experience to which they lay claim, and we say it’s not enough. We say it was never enough.”
The queen walked by them, leading the way in her midnightblack dress edged in patterns of gold. Nyah, Thandi, and the Queen’s Guard followed, and the rest of them came after.
“From her lips to the Goddess’s ears,” Tau heard Yaw mutter to himself as if in prayer.
“Champion,” Nyah said over her shoulder, lips tight. “Perhaps you’d care to walk alongside your queen, as is customary?”
Feeling a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, Tau sped up, moving past Themba, whose arched eyebrow and twinkling eyes made his face look like it was begging to be slapped. He caught up to the queen and they left the hallway, entering the Guardian Keep’s anteroom.
Tau hadn’t been back to it since the day he’d fought alongside Champion Okar, and it was strange to see the large circular space empty, without the chaos of a dozen life-and-death skirmishes. Otherwise, the strange room was as he remembered.
It had thick columns supporting a high balcony with two staircases offering access, and though such ostentation was still a sight, the columns, staircases, and balcony were nothing compared to the anteroom’s centerpiece.
The anteroom was anchored by a fountain made of chalk-white stone that was filled with a swirling red liquid. Standing in the blood-colored waters was a towering statue of Champion Tsiory, his sword plunged into its depths, and through some artifice, the carmine slurry was drawn up into the statue so it flowed to Tsiory’s sword hand and down the hilt and blade of the statue’s weapon. It was a gory reminder of the costly nature of the Omehi’s first days on the peninsula, and it disturbed Tau almost as much as the memory of the lives that been lost in the room only a few nights gone.
Tau pulled his eyes away and they settled on the corridor where his predecessor, Champion Okar, had fallen. Half-formed figures of gray hid in the murk, and Tau’s hands snapped to his blade hilts.
He thought to draw, almost did, but the shapes remained motionless and the queen placed one of her strangely cool hands on his. Tau had to force himself not to yank away from the unexpected touch.
“We asked a sculptor to render the scene of Champion Okar’s last stand,” she said. “When the work is done, anyone who wishes to enter that hallway must pass the statues of the Queen’s Guard who fell holding it. They must pass the likeness of Champion Okar, who gave his life for ours.”
She watched him as she spoke, and this time, Tau was first to turn away. There was something in the way she looked at him. They were strangers, but she had no trouble letting her gaze linger. It made him feel like less of a person and more of a thing, like a favorite toy, long misplaced and only just found.
“Do you find it fitting?” his queen asked as they walked past the unfinished statues.
“I do . . . my queen. You honor Champion Okar and all who fought beside him.”
“He honored us,” she said, moving down the next hallway and into a part of the keep that was new to Tau.
They were in a short passageway ending at a tall wooden door guarded by two Indlovu. The soldiers snapped to attention when they saw the queen. Tau didn’t pay them much mind. He was looking at the door.
The wood was pale, and even in the dim torchlight, he could see that it was made from brittle Xiddan timber. For all its size, he could kick it down, if needed.
“Open it,” Queen Tsiora ordered, walking toward the Indlovu. “We have something to say to those inside.”
The soldiers hesitated, glancing at each other, but the queen kept to her pace, moving forward as if the door were already open, and the two Indlovu hurried to make sure it would be.