Derrick showed her the tent where he put her gear and, with the group's consent, gave her the brazier from Tamar's possessions. The dead squire must have been from Abanasinia, Sara guessed when she saw it. The brazier was small and beautifully wrought, with an interwoven design of fanciful animals and intertwined knots. She thanked them all and then discovered one reason for their generosity. None of them liked to cook.
Resigned, she helped them put together a quick meal of bread and cheese and baked apples, and she set a pot of soup to simmer in the low coals during the afternoon so the recruits would have something while she dined with the general.
The young men and women were pleased that their junior officer had been chosen to eat with General Abrena. They rarely saw the general, let alone had the chance to accept an invitation from her.
Sara did not have time to give it much thought. Evening was hours away, and there was still much to do. Derrick, Saunder, Jacson, Marika, and Kelena left to attend to their duties as squires to five of the ranking knights in Neraka. Sara was left to unpack and deal with Massard.
Fortunately the man spent most of the afternoon in his tent drinking the ale Jacson had brought him. The respite gave Sara a chance to do some exploring on her own. She walked around the perimeter of the ring of tents to see for herself just how empty it really was. She talked to other recruits, to several goblins who acted as messengers and servants, and to a number of knights who were off duty. It became clear to her that, while the tent city was busy, it was nowhere near filled to capacity.
She found a number of other talons-in-training and spoke to their officers. Those talons, like the Sixth, were being rushed through training, and if the younger knights liked it, the older ones did not. The few original knights she talked to bemoaned the traditions ignored and the precepts of Lord Ariakan that were being forgotten. The day proved to be very informative.
To her intense relief, not a single knight recognized her or doubted her authenticity. To them, she was simply one of the lucky few who had survived. For the moment, it seemed the only ones she had to worry about were Massard and General Abrena. If the ale fumes ever cleared from Massard's head, Sara feared he could remember her.
The problem with Mirielle was just the opposite. Sara knew from the intense scrutiny she had received under the blue gaze of the general that Mirielle was very astute and too observant. She would catch the slightest slip, the first wrong word, the moment's hesitation. She night not know of the renegade dragon rider who once called Steel Brightblade her son, but she would certainly know how to treat an imposter and a spy.
By the time Sara returned to the Red Quarter, the sun was setting behind a dense bank of clouds. The wind whistled mournfully around the tents, and the torches in the quadrangle danced in the gathering darkness.
Massard heard her steps and came out to meet her. His walk was stronger, and his eyes watched her keenly. Only his disposition had not improved. "There's a clean uniform for you in your tent, and that sniveling little goblin is back," he said in a growl Sara thought was probably habitual. "You are to report to General Abrena. When you are finished, you will come back and stand your watch on guard duty. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
His eyebrows lowered like thunderclouds. "What did you say your name was?"
Sara licked her lips, suddenly tense. "Knight Warrior Sara Conby."
He snorted through his large nose. "Bring me some of that soup before you go." Turning his back on her, he stamped back into his tent.
She obeyed in silence. It was better not to draw undue attention to herself too often. She brought him a steaming bowl of soup and backed out before he thought of anything else.
As he said, the goblin was waiting for her in her tent. Gritting her teeth, she took a quick inventory to make sure everything was where she left it in the sparsely furnished shelter, then lit the tiny lamp that hung from the tent pole.
The goblin stood huddled in his torn, filthy tunic. His dull red skin looked like blood in the lamplight. "Message," he mumbled. "Must take you to general."
"Thank you. If you will step outside, I will change my clothes. Then I will come with you."
The goblin was so unaccustomed to polite requests that he simply stared at her, his flat nose quivering.
"Go! Outside. Wait." Sara put it in as simple terms as she could. This time the goblin bobbed his head and scuttled out.
Sara quickly pulled off her own clothes, leaving them in a pile to wash, and put on the black clothes brought by the goblin. The uniform was designed to be worn under armor or alone, to be practical, durable, and generic. Stylish it was not. The black tunic had long sleeves and quilted padding across the chest and shoulders. Blue trim adorned the neckline and the sleeves. The pants laced at the legs and tied at the waist and were too baggy for Sara's taste. She hoped fervently she would not have to wear these too many days.
She shoved her feet into her rider's boots, strapped on her belt and its dagger, and went outside, where the goblin sat picking his nose.
When he saw her, he bounced to his flappy feet and bobbed his head again. "Nice clothes, Knight Warrior. Nice boots. Nice shirt. Look good! Nice-"
"All right!" Sara cut him off rather sharply. "Thank you. May we go?"
Nodding and mumbling to himself, he led Sara across the open field to the main gate of Neraka and into the streets of the inner city. If it were possible, the streets in the evening were even busier and more crowded than in the morning as the laborers and the soldiers finished their work for the day and came to spend their coins. Only the merchants closed their shops before sunset, leaving the streets to the patrons of the houses of pleasure and entertainment. Gangs of draconians roamed from street to street. Ogres jostled for room with mercenaries in the taverns, and goblins seemed to be everywhere.
The small goblin paid scant attention to the throngs. He took Sara through the Queen's Way to a section of Neraka built on the east side between the huge inner walls and the outer wall. Loosely named His High and Mighty's Grandiose Playground of Pleasures by the locals, the area was actually one of the nicer and cleaner sections of Neraka. There the buildings were larger and better constructed, and the streets were relatively quiet.
Most of the buildings had been built by the self-styled Lord Mayor of Neraka-His High and Mighty, a draconian of vile architectural taste-soon after the fall of the Temple of Darkness. The Solamnic overlords had removed the worst of the lord's attempts at "beautification" and had left the main buildings with plain facades, simple columns, and clean windows. Only the lord mayor's personal palace remained a garish eyesore of loud colors and inappropriate decoration.
The Knights of Takhisis under General Abrena had been granted the use of several of the buildings in the "playground." The general promptly moved into one of the larger homes, dubbed the Pink Palace. Her officers took over the municipal buildings for their headquarters, and her personal guards kept the area free of troublemakers. The most recent lord mayor complained a little, but he didn't have the power or the men-at-arms to remove them.
The goblin waved a clawed hand at one of the guards and passed through the gateway into the playground without stopping. He took Sara through the calm torchlit street directly to the general's house. Torches in sconces lit the plain face of the broad two-story building, one of the few built of stone, and the only one built of pink stone-one of the reasons for its name. Lights burned in every window, and guards paced by the wide front door.
Sara turned toward the entrance, but the goblin grabbed her pants leg and tugged her away. "No,no, Front door for guests. You go in back."