Two hours later, Massard beat on her tent walls with a stick and bellowed at his talon to rise and shine. They managed to rise, but even the sun wasn't shining. Stick in hand, he drove them at a jog-trot on a cross-country run across Neraka's plain to the distant hills and back again.
For a man who had been raging drunk the day before, he had made a speedy recovery and stayed with the recruits every step of the way, pushing them on with curses and insults. He paid particular attention to Sara and kept close to her to make sure she did not falter or fall back. Any time she stumbled or eased off, he slapped her back with the stick.
The run was torture for her. She hadn't run like that in years, and her stamina wasn't used to such long distances. By the time she stumbled into camp, her back was covered with welts and her legs had turned to lead. Sinking to a stool, she gasped for air, her face white. The younger squires watched her worriedly.
In the half an hour Massard gave them to eat, they fixed a rough breakfast and brewed tea for Sara. Jacson breathlessly told them about the general's dinner and Sara's act that saved Mirielle Abrena from the bodyguard's knife. Their growing respect for her jumped up several notches. Derrick brought the tea to her along with a hunk of bread and some hot bacon.
Sara waved her cup at the tent where Massard had disappeared to his own breakfast. "Is he always like this?" she asked wearily.
Derrick curled his lips down in a frown. "Vile or drunk. Take your choice."
"He must have changed," Sara mused, too tired to think carefully what she was saying. "He would not have lasted long under Lord Ariakan if he had been like that ten years ago."
"Why?" Derrick wanted to know.
"Ariakan believed in honor, skill, faith, and discipline. He taught his knights to respect the skills of their enemies and to train their minds and bodies to achieve their highest potential."
The other squires moved closer to listen.
"Like Steel Brightblade?" Kelena asked.
A jolt went through the older woman at the mention of her adopted son. She sipped her strong tea and looked far into the past. "Yes, like Steel…"
Kelena sat down beside her, avid to know more. "Did you know him? My brother died in the Rift with him."
"I knew him. He was everything… everything Lord Ariakan wanted: strong, intelligent, dedicated, and honorable. He had a crooked smile, like yours," she said to Derrick. "And he lived to be a knight. It was all he ever wanted." Her voice trailed off as she stared into the depths of her tea.
She turned at a sound behind her and saw Massard leaning against his tent pole watching her intently through dark, brooding eyes. A tendril of fear crept around her heart. How much had he heard? Could he put her mention of Steel together with an old memory of her? He had only been at Storm's Keep for a short time before Ariakan posted him somewhere else, but he certainly had been there long enough to have seen her.
Finishing her tea with one swallow, she dumped out the dregs and climbed to her feet to face Massard. "What next, Knight Officer?" she demanded.
Massard grunted through his large nose. He had shaved that morning and changed his clothes, but nothing had changed his disposition. "Sword practice," he growled. He apparently had not made the connection yet.
Sullenly the recruits brought their weapons shields to the practice field and paired off to skirmish. After a few desultory minutes of thrusts and parries, Massard shoved his thumbs in his belt and said, "You take them now, Conby," and left.
Sara stared at his back disappearing among the tents. "Who died and made him an officer?" she said incredulously.
"Experience and age," said Jacson glumly. "He's been a lazy brute for as long as we've known him, but now that you're here and competent enough to train us, he figures he can dump all the work on you."
Sara choked on a laugh. She had never taken the blood oath or the test or seriously trained as a knight while she stayed with Ariakan, yet here she was in Neraka, posing as a real knight and doing a better job of it than the officer in charge of her talon. It was ridiculous.
"All right," she sighed. "If that's what he wants, that's what we'll do."
To limber up her sore muscles after the long run, she first practiced every part of her daily sword exercises. The squires followed along, intrigued by the novelty of her maneuvers. Then they showed her some new advances and retreats and some defenses they had learned, and they put the entire regimen together and went through it one more time. Sara laughed. All they needed now was a troupe of musicians to accompany them.
While they finished the exercises, Cobalt appeared and settled down on the edge of the field to watch. Sara was delighted to see him. She paired the squires off again to put their skills to work, and this time she called on Cobalt to advise. The recruits were skeptical of the dragon at first. What dragon paid attention to the technical side of swordplay? Cobalt soon put their doubts to rest by telling Saunder how to use his longer reach to better advantage and telling Marika how to improve her footwork.
They practiced the rest of the dull, cold morning, and that afternoon, under the direction of Massard, they helped several full-strength talons move their gear into barracks in the city. Sara saw General Abrena several times at a distance, and she marveled at the woman's energy and organization. She seemed to be everywhere in the city, checking on everything, talking to knights and civilians, shouting orders, and keeping the work of occupation moving with her own sheer will. Sara envied her endurance.
Her own endurance and patience were nearly at an end. She was exhausted and sick to death of the smells and the endless noise in the city, and she thought if she had to listen to Massard's harsh voice scream at the young squires one more time, she would take his head off with the nearest brick. Half a dozen times she thought about slipping away to find Cobalt and fleeing Neraka.
She just couldn't bring herself to do it-not yet. She had not learned all of Mirielle's plans or discovered the true strength of the knighthood. Nor did she think the sentinel dragons would let them simply fly away. She needed a good excuse to leave the city that would give Cobalt time to put some distance between themselves and the vengeful anger of the knights.
Then there were the five squires. She hated to admit it even to herself, but she was beginning to like them. They were bright, enthusiastic, and searching for something to fill their lives. Although they had chosen the Knights of Takhisis, Sara wasn't convinced they were ready to totally dedicate their souls to the dark goddess. They seemed to lack a certain zeal for the truly evil. She could be wrong, of course; she had only known them for two days. But if there was a chance to show any one of them a different path, Sara asked herself, wasn't it worth staying in Neraka for a few more days?
So she bit her tongue and jumped to obey Massard's orders and kept her anger in check. Fortunately for her self-control, she stood the early watch that evening and afterward went to her bed for a much-needed night's sleep.
The days that followed assumed much the same pattern for Sara. The weather stayed dry and cold and drear. The talon remained in the tent quarter and divided its time between intensive conditioning and training in the mornings under Massard's abusive fist and serving the knights in the afternoons and evenings by performing whatever tasks needed to be done, followed by a turn at sentry duty sometime during the night. The schedule was strict and rigorous and varied little.
Sometimes Sara was able to take the recruits out on the dragons for reconnaissance flights, which everyone enjoyed, and once in a while someone would come to her and ask for help for a sick or injured animal. She appreciated these respites from the constant grind of physical labor, and she decided that if she ever returned home, she would never again complain about cleaning her house or digging her garden.