Lin-tse sat on a rock sharpening his sword, his face impassive and his anger masked. Of all the men in the world, the lastàhe wished to kill was Dalsh-chin. Yet such was his fate, and a true man never whined when the Gods of Stone and Water twisted the knife! The whetstone slid along the sabre's edge and Lin-tse imagined the silver steel blade slicing through Dalsh-chinçs neck. He swore softly, then stood and stretched his back.
At the last there had only been four Nadir janizaries at the Academy — himselfì Dalsh-chin, the miserable Green Monkey boy, Zhen-shi, and the strange one from the Wolfshead, Okaiî Some of the others had fled, most had simply failed their examinations miserably — much to the delight of Gargan, Lord Larness. One had been hanged after killing an officer; another had committed suicide. The experiment — as Lord Larness intended — had been a failure. Yet much to the Gothir general's chagrin four Nadir youngsters had consistently passed the examinations. And one — Okai — excelled above all other students including the general's own son, Argo.
Lin-tse scabbarded his sword and walked out on to the steppes. His thoughts turned to Zhen-shi, with his frightened eyes and his nervous smile. Tormented and abused, he had fawned around the Gothir cadets, especially Argo, serving him like a slave. 'Grinning Monkey', Argo called him and Lin-tse had despised the youth for his cowardice. Zhen-shi carried few scars, but then he was everything the Gothir boys had been taught to expect of a barbarian — subservient and inferior to the civilized races.
Yet he had made a mistake — and it had cost him his life. In the end-of-year examinations he had outscored all but Okai. Lin-tse still remembered the look on Zhen-shi's face when the results were announced. At first his delight was obvious but then, as he gazed at Argo and the others, the full horror of his plight dawned on him. Grinning Monkey had beaten them all. No longer did they see him as an object of scorn or derision. Now he became a figure of hate. Little Zhen-shi had withered under their malevolent gazes.
That night Zhen-shi had plunged from the roof, his body crushed to pulp on the snow-covered cobbles below.
It was winter, the night harsh and cold, ice forming on the insides of the glass windows. Yet Zhen-shi had been dressed only in a loincloth. Hearing the scream as he fell, Lin-tse had looked out of the window and saw his scrawny body leaking blood to the snow. He and Okai had run out with scores of other boys, and stood over the corpse. The body bore the red weals of a lash on the back, buttocks and thighs. The wrists were also bleeding.
'He was tied,' said Lin-tse. Okai did not answer; he was staring up at the gable from which Zhen-shi had fallen. The rooms on that top level were reserved for the senior cadets from noble families. But the nearest window was that of Argo. Lin-tse followed Okai's gaze. The blond-haired son of Gargan was leaning on his window-sill, and gazing down with mild interest on the scene below.
' Did you see what happened, Argo?' someone shouted.
'The little monkey tried to climb the roof. I think he was drunk.' Then he leaned back and slammed shut his window.
Okai turned to Lin-tse and the two boys walked back to their room. Dalsh-chin was waiting for them. Once inside they squatted on the floor and spoke Nadir in low voices.
'Argo sent for Zhen-shi,' whispered Dalsh-chin, 'three hours ago.'
'He was tied and beaten,' said Okai. 'He could not stand pain, and therefore must have also been gagged. Otherwise we would have heard the screams. There will be an inquiry.'
'It will find,' said Lin-tse, 'that Grinning Monkey, having consumed too much alcohol in celebration of his success, fell from the roof. A salutary lesson that barbarians have no tolerance for strong drink.'
'That is true, my friend,' said Okai. 'But we will make them suffer — as Zhen-shi suffered.'
'A pleasing thought,' said Lin-tse. 'And how will this miracle be accomplisheo?'
Okai sat silently for a moment. Lin-tse would never forget what followed. Okai's voice dropped even lower: 'The re-building work on the north tower is not yet complete. The labourers will not return for three days. It is deserted. Tomorrow night we will wait until everyone is asleep, then we will go there and prepare the way for vengeance.'
Gargan, Lord of Larness, removed his helm and drew in a deep breath of hot desert air. The sun was beating down, shimmering heat hazes forming over the steppes. Twisting in the saddle, he glanced back along the column. One thousand lancers, eight hundred infantry Guardsmen and two hundred archers were moving slowly in line, dust rising in a cloud around them. Gargan tugged on the reins and cantered back along the column, past the water-wagons and supply carts. Two of his officers joined him and together they rode to the crest of a low hill where Gargan drew rein and scanned the surrounding landscape.
'We will make camp by that ridge,' said Gargan, pointing to a rocky outcrop some miles to the east. 'There is a series of rock pools there.'
'Yes, sir,' answered Marlham, a grizzled, white-bearded career officer coming close to mandatory retirement.
'Put out a screen of scouts,' Gargan ordered. 'Any Nadir seen should be killed.'
'Yes, sir.'
Gargan swung to the second officer, a handsome young man with clear blue eyes. 'You, Premian, will take four companies and scout the marshes. No prisoners. All Nadir are to be treated as hostiles. Understand?'
'Yes, Lord Gargan.' The boy had not yet learned how to keep bis feelings from showing in his expression.
'I had you transferred to this force,' said Gargan. 'Do you know why?'
'No, Lord Gargan.'
'Because you are soft, boy,' snapped the general. 'I saw it at the Academy. The steel in you — if steel there is — has not been tempered. Well, it will be during this campaign. I mean to soak the steppes in Nadir blood.' Spurring his stallion, Gargan galloped down the hillside.
'Watch yourself, my boy,' said Marlham. 'The man hates you.'
'He is an animal,' said Premian. 'Vicious and malevolent.'
'All of that,' Marlham agreed. 'He always was a hard man, but when his son disappeared. . well, it did something to him. He's never been the same since. You were there at the time, weren't you?'
'Aye. It was a bad business,' said Premian. 'There was to be an inquiry over the death of a cadet who fell from Argo's window. On the night before the inquiry Argo vanished. We searched everywhere; his clothes were gone, as was a canvas shoulder-pack. We thought at first that he had feared being implicated in the boy's death. But that was ridiculous, for Gargan would have protected him.'
'What do you think happened?'
'Something dark,' said Premian. With a flick of the reins he moved away, returning to the rear of the column and signalling his junior officers to join him. Swiftly he told them of their new orders. The news was greeted with relief by the two hundred men under his command, for it would mean no more swallowing the dust of the column.
While the men were being issued with supplies, Premian found himself thinking back to his last days at the Academy, that summer two years ago. Only Okai remained of the original Nadir contingent, his two comrades having been sent home after failing the toughest of the pre-final examinations. Their failure had concerned Premian, for he had worked with them and knew their mastery of the subjects was no less proficient than his own. And he had passed with a credit. Only Okai remained — a student so brilliant there was no way he could fail.. Even he, however, had barely scraped a pass.
Premian had voiced his concerns to the oldest — and best — of the tutors, a former officer named Fanlon. Late at night, in the old man's study, he told Fanlon he believed the youths were unfairly dismissed.