Beyond the gates was a flat, paved training area, and Okai watched as young men and older boys practised with sword and shield, spear and bow. They were dressed identically in crimson tunics, dark breeches and knee-length boots of shining brown leather. All exercise ceased as the Nadir youngsters rode in with their escort.
A young man with blond hair stepped forward, his training sword still in his hand. ‘I see we are to be given proper targets for our arrows,’ he said to his comrades, who laughed loudly.
The Nadir were ordered to dismount, then led into a six-storey building and up a seemingly interminable winding stair to the fifth level. Here was a long, claustrophobic corridor leading to a large room in which, behind a desk of polished oak, sat a thick-set warrior with a forked beard. His eyes were bright blue, his mouth wide and full-lipped. A scar ran from the right side of his nose, curving down to his jawbone. His forearms too showed the scars of close combat. He stood as they entered.
‘Get in two lines,’ he ordered them, his voice deep and cold. The youngsters shuffled into place. Okai, being one of the smallest, was in the front line. ‘You are here as janizaries. You do not understand what that means but I will tell you. The King – may he live for ever — has conceived a brilliant plan to halt Nadir raids, both now and in the future. You are here as hostages so that your fathers will behave. More than that, however, you will learn during your years with us how to be civilized, what constitutes good manners and correct behaviour. You will learn to read, to debate, to think. You will study poetry and literature, mathematics and cartography. You will also be taught the arts of war, the nature of strategy, logistics and command. In short you are to become cadets, and then officers in the great Gothir army.’ Glancing up, he addressed the two officers who had led the boys into the room. ‘You may go now and bathe the dust of travel from your bodies. I have a few more words to say to these . . . cadets.’
As the officers departed and the door clicked shut, the warrior moved to stand directly before the boys, towering over Okai. ‘What you have just heard, you dung-eating monkeys, is the official welcome to Bodacas Academy. My name is Gargan, the Lord of Larness, and most of the scars I carry come from battles with your miserable race. I have been killing Nadir scum for most of my life. You cannot be taught, for you are not human; it would be like trying to teach dogs to play the flute. This foolishness springs from the addled mind of a senile old man, but when he dies this stupidity will die with him. Until that blessed day work hard, for the lash awaits the tardy and the stupid. Now get downstairs where a cadet awaits you. He will take you to the quartermaster who will supply you with tunics and boots.’
Talisman was jerked back to the present as he heard Zhusai move behind him. He opened his eyes, and smiled. ‘We must move with care today. This area is, your grandfather tells me, controlled by a Notas group called Chop-backs. I wish to avoid them if I can.’
‘Do you know why they are called Chop-backs?’ she asked him.
‘I doubt that it is connected with the study of philanthropy,’ he said, moving past her to the ponies.
‘The study of philanthropy?’ echoed Zhusai. ‘What kind of a Nadir are you?’
‘I am the dog who played the flute,’ he told her, as he tightened the cinch of his saddle and vaulted to the pony’s back.
They rode through most of the morning, halting at noon in a gully to rest the horses and eat a meal of cold meat and cheese. No riders had been seen, but Talisman had spotted fresh tracks, and once they had come across horse-droppings that were still moist. ‘Three warriors,’ said Talisman. ‘They are ahead of us.’
‘That is most disconcerting. Is it not possible that they are merely travellers?’