Читать книгу The Serpentwar Saga - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 23

The alarm sounded.

Drums beat as the camp turned out. It had been three days since Erik had overheard the discussion in Calis’s office, and the six prisoners had been training hard, focusing their attentions on doing whatever was necessary to remain alive. Foster became even more of a tyrant, abusing the men at every turn, and de Loungville studied them closely, looking for any sign they might fail to meet his demands.

Now a new day began with an unexpected twist. The prisoners moved out of their tent a good half hour earlier than usual and saw that the other men who lived in the compound were all hurrying to the command building. As they followed, they were intercepted by a guard, a soldier named Perry of Witcomb, who said, ‘Fall in behind me, and stay together. No talking!’

The six fell into their usual order, with Biggo at the lead and Sho Pi at the rear, Billy, Luis, Roo, and Erik in between. They reached the building as the door opened and Calis and de Loungville emerged.

De Loungville held his hand up for silence and said, ‘Listen up!’

Calis said, ‘We’ve been discovered. Two of our sentries were killed last night.’

A muttering broke out among the men in black, and de Loungville had to call for quiet again. Calis continued, ‘You all know what to do; we break camp now.’

Instantly the thirty men in black raced to their tents and the majority of soldiers began hurrying to their assigned places. Foster turned to Perry of Witcomb and gave instructions. The soldier gestured to the six prisoners and said, ‘You lot, come with me.’

They followed the soldier through the frantic but organized activity, and he led them to a large tent not far from the blacksmith’s shop. ‘Find clothing that fits,’ he ordered, ‘and put it on.’

The six entered and in the gloom saw a pile of common clothing. Erik stripped off his boots and then his tunic and trousers, throwing the ragged grey garments into the corner. He joined the others in rummaging through the pile, picking up tunics and judging their size, casting aside those that were obviously too small. Luis and Billy as well as Sho Pi found clothing quickly, being of more average size. But Roo, because of his diminutive stature, and Biggo and Erik, because of their bulk, took longer to find clothing that fit. Eventually, all six stood wearing fresh garments. Erik had found a dark blue tunic with an open collar and long sleeves. A pair of sailor’s trousers were the only pair of pants he could find that fit. He gave up trying to push the flared legs into the top of his boots, and let them fall outside.

Laughter caused Erik to turn and there he saw Roo with an angry expression. ‘It’s the only one that fits!’ he said as Billy and Luis made rude observations. The shirt was open to the waist, and a lurid purple color. Making matters worse, the only pair of trousers small enough were a bright crimson.

‘Then pick one that doesn’t fit,’ said Erik, trying hard not to laugh.

Roo peeled off the offending shirt and looked some more, finding a plain white tunic that was only slightly too large. He tucked the voluminous tails of the shirt into his loud red waistband and Erik nodded. ‘Now you look only slightly ridiculous instead of completely ridiculous.’

Roo grimaced, then smiled. ‘Red’s my lucky color.’

‘Get out of there!’ called Perry and the prisoners came out of the tent. ‘Get to the smithy, and get aboard the last wagon in line. There will be two mounted crossbowmen behind you, so don’t imagine you’ll get a chance to go for a stroll.’

He started to move away, then turned and said, ‘And tuck those nooses out of sight.’

The six prisoners had grown used to being required to wear the nooses at all times, outside their tunics. They had put them back on after changing. Now they tucked them inside, so they wouldn’t be seen.

Biggo had to quickly strip off his tunic and put on the noose, then put the tunic on, as the neck of his shirt was close-fitting. Luis said, ‘A bit lumpy for high fashion, my friend, but it will do.’

Since coming to the compound from the prison, Erik had noticed Luis was vain – in addition to having a temper and being arrogant – but he still found himself liking the Rodezian knife man. He had shaved off his grey beard, but let his mustache grow, as well as keeping his shoulder-length hair neatly trimmed. Luis was becoming something of a peacock. The clothing he had selected was as fashionable as possible, given the choice. Erik had no doubt Luis was not simply speaking of high fashion in the abstract but was a man who had dressed for court functions before his temper and violent nature had brought him to low estate. He had said nothing of his past, but once had mentioned having been friends with the son of the Duke of Rodez.

They hurried to the smithy and Erik noticed with a sense of awe just how fast the forge and other equipment were being carried out of the building. Everywhere they looked, men were hurriedly tearing down all signs of occupation. Newcomers to the camp, workmen from somewhere – probably Krondor – were now starting to tear apart the three buildings that dominated the compound. Foster was waiting for them at the smithy and motioned for them to climb into a wagon. Two guards sat atop the buckboard and two more climbed in after the prisoners, who sat three to each side of the wagon as they had when arriving. Two more guardsmen, on horseback, moved in behind the wagon, and they set out.

Erik glanced around. Roo seemed half-excited, half-afraid of the significance of what was occurring. Luis watched carefully, as did Biggo. Billy seemed amused, and Sho Pi was looking off into the distance.

Some of the men whom Erik recognized as having been dressed in black were now dressed as were the prisoners, in a variety of clothing, ranging from almost ragged to nobles’ finery. Some rode on horseback and others in wagons and more than a dozen were leaving the compound by foot. Two more riders approached, and Erik saw they were Robert de Loungville and Corporal Foster.

De Loungville pulled up next to the wagon and said, ‘All right, listen up. I was talking to Calis about hanging you all this morning, but we couldn’t take the time. Nothing spoils my breakfast like a rushed hanging. Calis agrees with me that we can do it later when we can be more leisurely and do things properly. You men are going to live a few days longer. But don’t think we’ve fallen in love with you; those two lads behind you with the crossbows have orders to shoot any one of you foolish enough to try to get down from this wagon. Understood?’

‘Yes, Sergeant!’ they all said.

‘And another thing, until I tell you, no more of that shouting “Yes, Sergeant.” It’ll call attention to you. And attention’s too much of what we have right now. So keep your mouths shut and do as you’re told until we get where we’re going.’ Without another word, he put heels to his horse and cantered off. Foster followed, only a length behind.

Erik looked around and noticed no one else seemed willing to risk a crossbow bolt by saying anything, so he settled down as best he could in the jouncing wagon and tried to relax.

Along the road to Krondor they passed groups of men on foot, many dressed as common mercenaries, farmers, or laborers. Others rode in wagons and kept to themselves. A few passed by on horseback, each appearing oblivious to the others.

Other traffic appeared on the road, heading toward the capital of the Western Realm. Farm wagons heavy with late summer crops and the first of the early fall harvest rumbled toward Krondor. Traders with their goods piled high and the occasional noble’s carriage joined the traffic.

There was no roadblock, and Erik and the others moved rapidly down the road leading to the southern gate to the city, the one closest to the palace in which they had all been condemned to die. In the midday light, the palace looked splendid, rising up as it did above the harbor. Towers were aflutter with banners, and the city spread majestically around the ancient hill upon which the first keep of the first Prince of Krondor had been constructed.

At the southern gate, guards waved them through, and the wagon started a convoluted course through the city. At last they entered the docks area near the poor quarter, and Foster suddenly appeared. Without raising his voice, he said, ‘You lot, get out of that wagon and get into that boat down there.’ He pointed to a longboat that bobbed on the tide at the bottom of a flight of stone stairs leading down from the quayside. Erik and the others hurried down the stone steps and entered the boat, each being told where to sit by a pair of sailors. As soon as Roo, last to enter, was seated, Foster joined them and the sailors pushed off. Expertly the two sailors rowed the longboat toward a ship in the harbor.

Erik knew nothing of ships. But this one dwarfed most of those nearby. It had three masts, rising high into the sky like bare trees, and it was painted a daunting black. Other ships near it were green or red, or blue, and there was even one that was a gaudy yellow, making the black ship all the more impressive for its somber appearance. The longboat reached the side of the ship and Foster said, ‘Up you go,’ pointing to a net hung over the side. Erik rose and gripped the netting like a ladder and started to climb. The weight of those below pulling on the net caused him to twist and dip a little, but he made it safely to the rail, where sailors half hauled him aboard.

A man in a strange uniform – blue coat cut high at the waist, white trousers, and a saber hanging from a baldric slung across his shoulder – motioned for Erik to stand away. When the others were aboard, Foster called up, ‘That lot is to be kept together, Mr Collins!’

The man in the strange uniform leaned over the rail and said, ‘In with the others?’

‘Yes,’ answered Foster as the longboat pulled away. ‘But in a corner, Mr Collins!’

‘Aye, aye, Corporal Foster.’

The man named Collins turned and ordered, ‘Follow me.’

He moved down a strange ladder, narrow and steep, into a square hatchway, forward of the main mast. Erik was the last into the hold, and his eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom. They entered a cargo hold that had been reconfigured to act as a barracks. Erik saw that twenty triple bunks had been fastened to the bulkheads, ten to each side of the ship, lengthwise, creating a fairly wide aisle.

Between the head of one set of three bunks and the foot of the next set, large trunks had been affixed to the deck, in which men were busy stowing gear. Collins motioned for the six prisoners to follow him. He led them to the two sets of bunks farthest from the other men, set against the starboard bulkhead; those across the hold on the port side were empty. He motioned for them to occupy the bunks. ‘This is where you’ll sleep. You’ll eat on deck unless the weather’s too rough, when you’ll be eating here. You can store your gear in those two trunks.’ He pointed to the trunk closest to the bulkhead at the aft of the cargo hold and the one between the two sets of bunks they were assigned.

Roo said, ‘We’ve got no gear.’

The man said, ‘You’ll call me Mr Collins, or sir, when you address me. I’m the Second Mate on Trenchard’s Revenge. The First Mate is Mr Roper, and the Captain is … You call him Captain. Is that clear?’

Roo said, ‘Yes, Mr Collins. But they didn’t give us any gear, sir.’

‘That’s not my problem. Your officer will get you what you need, I’m sure. It’s a long voyage, and you’ll have ample time to get organized. Now stay here until you’re sent for.’ He left.

Biggo took one of the lower bunks, with Sho Pi and Billy Goodwin above him, while Roo, Erik, and Luis took the other bunk, in descending order.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Roo.

Biggo grinned. ‘Nothing. I’m for a nap!’ he added cheerfully.

Erik realized that he was also tired, but nervous, waiting to discover what fate held in store for them next. Still, the lulling of the ship as it moved gently on groundswells in the harbor quickly soothed his nerves, and soon he was asleep as well.

A clatter from above and a sense of motion, and Erik sat up, striking his head against the bottom of the bunk above. Wincing at the pain, he almost stepped on Roo as he got down from the middle bunk.

A grinding sound from above and a change in motion, coupled with the shouts of orders from above, and it was clear they were under way. The six prisoners stood unsure of what to do, while the thirty men at the other end of the hold seemed amused by their confusion.

One of them, a large man nearly Biggo’s size, said, ‘Why don’t you run up and tell Bobby de Loungville that he’s been thoughtless in not telling you we was leaving this soon!’

This brought a burst of laughter.

Luis said, ‘Why don’t you go ask him if he knows who your father might be. Your mother certainly didn’t.’

The man on the bunk was on his feet and two strides on his way toward Luis when Sho Pi intercepted him. ‘Now, a moment, my friend,’ said the Isalani.

‘You’re no friend of mine,’ countered the large man, now obviously ready to fight with anyone, as he put his hand on Sho Pi’s chest to push him aside.

Suddenly the man was on his knees, pain etched on his face as Sho Pi held his hand in a torturous grip, pulling thumb back and palm reversed so the hand twisted back hard against its own wrist. A gasp of agony was the only sound he made.

‘I was going to suggest,’ said Sho Pi, ‘that as this is going to be a very long and tedious voyage, it would be in all of our best interests to make peace and try to consider one another’s feelings. I’m sure my friend here is more than willing to apologize for impugning your mother if you’ll graciously grant him pardon.’

Luis was now amused, and with a gesture of removing a nonexistent hat, he bowed like a courtier and said, ‘Sir, I was a boor and acted rashly and without thought. My behavior shames me. I crave your pardon, sir.’

The gasping man, whose eyes were now watering so that tears streamed down his face, said, ‘Granted!’ It was barely more than a croak of pain.

Sho Pi released his hand and the man almost fainted from relief. Billy helped him to his feet and escorted him back to his own companions, trying to keep from grinning as he did. The man kept rubbing his hand, as if expecting something to be broken, but nothing was. He shook it a few times as Billy returned to his own side of the hold.

The hatch above slid aside and two figures came down, de Loungville and Foster. Foster said, ‘Listen up!’

De Loungville stopped about halfway down the companionway so he could look around at all the men. ‘We’re under way, which no doubt you know unless you’re unconscious or even more stupid than I thought. We’ll be between ninety and one hundred days at sea, weather permitting. There’s plenty of work to do, and I’ll not have you running to fat because you’re not sailors. Besides, we may be coming home short-handed’ – he got a faraway look for a second, as if that meant more than what it sounded like – ‘so knowing your way around a ship will prove useful. Mr Collins will come down later with assignments and you’ll do as you’re told, no questions asked. He has as much rank as Knight-Captain in the King’s Army, so don’t go forgetting that because he looks like a common sailor.’

He moved down the ladder, walked over to where the six prisoners were waiting, and motioned for them to gather around. ‘I’m only going to tell you this once. Ruthia must love you, because the Lady of Luck has seen fit to keep you alive a little longer. I was given two weeks to judge if you’re fit to live, and as things were going, you were all heading back to the gallows.’ He glanced from face to face. ‘But I convinced Calis that I could hang you from the yard-arms as easily as I could from the gallows in Krondor, so you’ve only gained time.

‘The next three months are going to be harsh. You’ll work a full watch like every man on this ship, and another watch will be given over to some training you haven’t had and those others have.’ He hiked a thumb over his shoulder to the men at the other end of the hold.

Biggo spoke, to everyone’s surprise. ‘Are we to learn why?’

‘Why what?’ asked de Loungville.

‘Why this great galloping charade, Robert de Loungville, Sergeant darling sir. You don’t spend the Prince’s gold and dragoon soldiers from all parts of the Kingdom, then go through all this to save murderers and thieves from fair justice. You want something from us and you’re prepared to give us back our lives in exchange. Fair enough, and no questions asked, but men more stupid than me would know that it’s better for us to know what’s ahead and rest certain in that knowledge than to let imagination stir up horrors that might make us do something rash and foolish. If we get ourselves killed, we’re not happy and you’re not happy.’

De Loungville studied Biggo’s face for a moment; then his face split into a grin. ‘I liked you better when you were stupid, Biggo.’ He turned and as he left, he said, ‘Stay alive long enough, and I promise you you’ll find out more than you want to know.’ As he reached the companionway, he turned again to add, ‘But for the time being, the trick is to stay alive.’

He climbed the stairs, Foster, as ever, behind him, and as the hatchway closed, Biggo said, ‘Well, that’s not really what I wanted to hear.’

Luis said, ‘What do you think? Is he trying to scare us?’

Sho Pi said, ‘No, I think the problem is he’s trying very hard not to scare us.’

Erik returned to his bunk, and with a cold feeling inside, he knew that Sho Pi was right.

Days passed. The first day they had been allowed up on deck, Erik saw another ship traveling a short distance away. A sailor had told him that it was the Freeport Ranger, another ship under Calis’s command. Erik said he had thought all Kingdom ships were called Royal this or that, and the sailor merely nodded, then went back to work.

Erik didn’t care much for the work, but it was outside and the weather was clement, despite its being early fall. Roo hated being a sailor, having some trouble with the heights, but he had the agility to get around in the yards that Biggo and Erik lacked. Luis and Billy were steady hands, and Sho Pi took to the tasks put before him with the same easy grace he had shown in the camp.

After two weeks, Erik had gotten his sea legs and calluses on his feet; he had put his riding boots away, because they were dangerous on a ship and the salt water was bad for the leather. Only officers wore boots, for they never had to climb the rigging. Erik and the other men below went barefoot like the sailors and were learning the sailor’s craft in a hurry.

A landlubber of the worst sort, he was no longer confused by such terms as ‘running out a sheet,’ or ‘securing a yard.’ As in the camp, the hard work was accompanied by good food, a fact remarked upon by more than one sailor. That they were eating better than was the norm was not lost on Erik, and he joked that they were being treated like prize horses being readied for a competition among nobles. He decided not to mention that such competitions frequently ended with an animal down with a broken leg, or a rider thrown to serious injury or death.

Even Roo, averse to hard work his entire young life, was showing the effects of the hard regime and good food. There was wiry muscle on his scrawny frame, and he moved with a self-assurance Erik had never seen before. Roo had always laughed as a child, but there was a mean, dangerous edge to him, and his humor had often been cruel. Now he seemed more involved with the moment, as if it was slowly dawning on him what life was, as opposed to the mind-numbing fear that death was only a moment away. Erik sensed something had changed in Roo, but he couldn’t rightly say what that change was.

Sho Pi observed that whatever awaited them, de Loungville wanted them fit and ready. Each day was an equal mix of hard work and battle training.

The second day out, Sho Pi had gone up on deck during his off watch, to practice a series of controlled movements that looked like nothing as much as a dance to Erik. Graceful and flowing, they still held a sense of menace, as if to quicken the action would turn graceful motions into killing blows. After he finished and returned belowdecks, Luis said, ‘What was that you were doing up there, Keshian?’

‘Isalani,’ corrected Sho Pi, then as he swung into his bunk, he said, ‘It is called kata, and it is the heart of the arts I practice. It is a sense of movement and it taps the power around you, to give you balance and ease at the moment you need to draw upon that power.’

Erik sat up in his own bunk. ‘Is that the trick you used to disarm the soldier?’

‘It is, sad to admit, the same, but it is not a trick. It is an ancient art form, and it can be used to harmonize the self with the universe, as well as for self-defense.’

Biggo said, ‘If you could show me how to kick de Loungville around the way you did, I’d be interested in learning.’

‘That would be an abuse of the art,’ said Sho Pi. ‘But should you wish to practice with me, you are welcome. Kata will relax you, calm you, and refresh you.’

Billy said, ‘Sure. You looked so relaxed and calm when you kicked de Loungville.’

Luis grinned. ‘Ah, but it was refreshing!’

They all laughed. Suddenly Erik was visited with an unexpected and extraordinary affection for these men. Murderers all, the dregs of Kingdom society – yet in each he sensed something that made him feel kinship. He had never experienced such a feeling before and it troubled him as much as it felt natural. Lying back on his bunk, he pondered this odd turmoil.

By the end of the next week, Erik and the others had joined Luis in taking lessons in kata from Sho Pi. For an hour after their watch, the six would stand in a relatively clear area of the deck, between the main hatch and the foremast, and follow his lead.

Erik found the admonitions to think of a spot of light, or a soft breeze, or some other relaxing image while he moved vigorously through a long series of classic Isalani movements silly at first. After a time, he sensed the calm that would come with accepting Sho Pi’s advice. Despite the long, hard hours of work, the additional exercise didn’t tire, it refreshed, and Erik had never slept better in his life.

A sailor, a LaMutian, whose father had been a Tsurani warrior, asked to join as well. He claimed that much of what Sho Pi taught was similar to what his father had shown him as a child, part of the heritage of the Tsurani ‘way of the warrior.’

After the group had been practicing for a week, the large man whom Sho Pi had humbled came over to watch. After a few minutes he said, ‘Can you show me how to do that thing with the thumb?’

Sho Pi said, ‘It is but a part of this. You will learn many things.’

The man nodded and stood next to Erik. Sho Pi nodded to Erik, who said, ‘Put your feet like so.’ He showed him. ‘Now balance your weight so it is neither too far forward nor too far back, but just in the middle, even on both feet.’

The man nodded. ‘My name is Jerome Handy,’ he said.

‘Erik von Darkmoor.’

Sho Pi demonstrated the four moves they would practice, and slowly led the men through the series. Then, instructing them to try it again, he moved quickly among them, correcting position and balance.

From the quarterdeck, Foster and de Loungville stood watching. Foster said, ‘What do you make of that?’

De Loungville shrugged. ‘Hard to say, Charlie. It could be something just to kill the time. Or it could be something that saves some lives. That Keshian could just as easily have killed me as embarrassed me with those kicks. He pulled them, despite the fact he was mad at me.’ He was silent for a while, then said, ‘Let it be known that I won’t mind if the others follow Handy’s lead. It’s about time our last six birds joined the rest of our flock.’

Slowly, over the next few days, more and more of the other thirty men joined the group, until at the end of the third week all were practicing kata under Sho Pi’s supervision.

‘You’re all prisoners?’ asked Luis, incredulity on his face.

‘Ya, man,’ said an ebony-skinned man from the Vale of Dreams named Jadow Shati. ‘Each man here took the fall in Bobby de Loungville’s little drama. Each of us looked the Death Goddess in the eye, or at least thought we were going to.’ He grinned and Erik found himself smiling in return. The man’s smile had that impact, as if all the sunlight and happiness reflected off teeth made brilliant white by the contrast with his dark skin, the blackest Erik had ever seen. In the short time he had known Jadow, Erik had discovered he had the ability to find some humor in almost any situation. He also had a way of putting things so that Erik almost always ended up laughing.

Roo threw up his hands. ‘Then why were you such a bloody bunch of bastards when we first came to camp?’

They were all sitting around in the hold barracks. Over the last few days, after practicing with Sho Pi, the men had begun speaking with one another and the barrier between the six men Erik had come to think of as ‘us’ and the other thirty he thought of as ‘them’ had started to weaken.

Jadow spoke with the patois common to the Vale, a no-man’s-land claimed at various times by the Empire of Great Kesh and the Kingdom, where languages, blood, and loyalties tended to be mixed. It was a musical sound, softer than the harsher King’s Tongue, but not as guttural as High Keshian. ‘Man, that was the drill, don’t you know? Each time a new group came, we were to give them bloody hell! Bobby’s orders. Not until he knew he wasn’t going to have to hang us did he treat us better than dirt on the sole of his boot, don’t you see? Then we got to take off the damn ropes, man. Then we began to think we might live a bit longer.’

Jerome Handy sat across from Erik, the biggest man in the group after Biggo and broader across the shoulders. ‘Jadow and me were among the first six. Four of our mates died. Two tried to go over the walls, and those Pathfinders picked them off with their long bows like quails on the wing.’ He made a flying motion with his two hands, as if throwing shadow puppets on the wall, and made a funny flapping sound with his mouth. Then suddenly he turned his hands over and made a sign of a wounded bird falling. Erik had delighted in discovering that as rough and intimidating as Handy could be, he also could be very amusing given anything remotely like an audience. ‘One lost his temper and died in a sword drill. The other …’ He glanced at Jadow.

‘Ah, that was bad, man. Roger was his name,’ supplied the Valeman.

‘Right. Roger. He was hung when he killed a guard, trying to escape.’

‘How long ago was that?’ asked Erik.

‘More than a year, man,’ said Jadow. He ran a hand over his bald pate, which he kept free of hair by dry-shaving with a blade every morning. While most of it was naturally hairless, the little fringe around the ears was persistent enough that Erik winced each time he saw the man give himself a trim.

‘A year!’ asked Billy Goodwin. ‘You’ve been at that camp a year?’

Jadow grinned. Man, consider the alternative, don’t you see?’ He laughed, a deep-throated version of a child’s delight. ‘The food was sumptuous, and the company’ – he cast a mock-baleful look at Jerome – ‘diverting, if nothing else. And the longer we were there …’

‘What?’ asked Roo.

It was Biggo who answered. ‘The longer they weren’t headed toward wherever it is de Loungville and the Eagle are taking us.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You’ve been playing soldier for a year, then?’ asked Luis.

‘More, and I don’t call it playing when men die,’ said a man named Peter Bly.

Jerome nodded. ‘We thirty are what’s left of seventy-eight who were put through the false hanging over the last year and a bit.’

Sho Pi said, ‘Then this would explain why Corporal Foster and … what is Robert de Loungville’s real rank – when first I saw him, I took him for a noble – does anyone know?’

Jerome shook his head. ‘Sergeant is all I’ve ever heard. But I’ve seen him give orders to a Knight-Captain of the King’s own. He’s the second in command, after the elf.’

‘Elf?’ said Erik.

Luis said, ‘What some of the older guards call the Eagle. It’s no joke. They call him that, but there’s no disrespect in it. But they say he’s not human.’

‘He does look a little odd,’ said Roo.

Jerome laughed, and Jadow said, ‘Look who’s talking about looking odd!’

All the gathered men laughed and Roo flushed with embarrassment, waving off the remark. ‘I mean, he doesn’t look like the rest of us.’

‘No one looks like the rest of us,’ said Sho Pi.

‘We know what you mean,’ said another man whose name Erik didn’t know.

Jadow said, ‘I’ve never been to the west, though my father fought there against the Tsurani in the Riftwar. Man, that was some fighting, to hear the old man talk. He saw some elves at the battle in the valley in the Grey Towers, when the elves and dwarves betrayed the treaty. He said the elves are tall and fair, though their hair and eyes are much like yours, from brown to yellow, don’t you know? Yet he said there is something uncommon about them, and they carry themselves with a different grace – as if dancing while the rest of us walk, is what he said to me.’

Sho Pi said, ‘The man called Eagle is that. He is one I’d not wish to face.’

‘You?’ said Erik. ‘You’ve taken swords out of armed men’s hands. I would have thought you were afraid of no one.’

‘I have taken the sword from an armed man’s hands, Erik. But I never claimed I was fearless when I did so.’ His expression became reflective. ‘There is something very dangerous in the man called Calis.’

‘He’s stronger than he looks,’ said Jerome with a frank look of embarrassment. ‘Early on, in the training, before he left everything to Bobby de Loungville, that’s when I thought to bully him and he knocked me down so hard I thought he’d broken my skull.’

‘Too thick, man, much too thick,’ said Jadow, and the others laughed.

‘No, I mean it. I pride myself on taking a blow with the best, but I’ve never felt anything like it, and I was certainly surprised.’ He looked at Sho Pi. ‘As surprised as I was when you twisted my thumb that time. Same thing. I moved, and suddenly I was on my back and my head was ringing like a temple gong.’

Jadow said, ‘He never saw the blow, man. And neither did I, truth to tell. Calis is fast.’

‘He’s not human,’ said another, and there was general agreement.

A warning creak on the companionway stairs had the men scrambling for their bunks before Corporal Foster was through the hatch. As he touched boot to deck, he shouted, ‘Lights out, ladies! Say good night to your sweethearts, and get your rest. You’ve a full day tomorrow.’

Before Erik could get completely under the woolen blanket, the lantern was doused, and the hold plunged into gloom. He lay back and thought what it must have been like to live in that camp for a year, to see men you didn’t know come in and see them die. Suddenly something Sho Pi had started to say registered.

Erik whispered. ‘Sho Pi?’

‘What?’

‘What were you about to say, about something explaining why Foster and de Loungville were doing something or whatever, when you asked about de Loungville’s rank?’

‘I was going to say that having so many men fail, even after the testing before and during their trials, even after having the woman read minds, explains why they are so worried about the six of us.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘More than half the men saved from the gallows died before we got to the camp. By rights, three or four of us – you, me, Roo, Billy, Biggo, and Luis – we shouldn’t be on this ship. We should be dead. De Loungville’s taking a chance. Even after all of this, we still might fail.’

Erik said, ‘Oh, I see.’

He lay back, and sleep was a long time coming as he thought, Fail at what?