The Dasati carried the concept to an insane length. Since reaching this realm he had seen a number of people in pain or dying, and the general reaction was to laugh at them. Only some of the Lessers seemed inclined to help, and they were despised for it. Empathy was weakness to the Dasati.
As they reached their place in the barracks – a heavy bunk for Bek and a mat on the stone floor for Nakor – a bell’s deep peal reverberated throughout the building so loud that it felt as though the stones beneath their feet shook. Nakor looked at the two resting young warriors and saw they were as uncertain what to do as he and Bek were.
A moment later a warrior in black armour strode through the far entrance and shouted, ‘Stay where you are! That was the muster call for the Palace Guard. You will wait and attend the mid-day meal when called.’
The massive bell sounded again, and a third time, then fell silent. From a short distance away, Nakor could hear the sound of running feet, and knew that hundreds of Lessers were scurrying around in anticipation of whatever was required of the Guard by that call. Nakor’s curiosity was piqued, but he knew there was no way he would risk his usual indulgence of that curiosity. Had he been alone, he might have risked being killed out of hand for being in the wrong place – for over the years he had become very adept at staying alive – but he did not dare to leave Bek alone for even a minute.
They waited and a few minutes before the mid-day meal, a dozen recruits entered the barracks, stripped off dripping tunics and trousers, bathed quickly, and donned clean clothing, while their Lessers ran about, trying to anticipate their masters’ needs. Nakor sat quietly on the floor at Bek’s feet, watching the almost reflexive manner the young warriors kicked or cuffed their Lessers when annoyed. He sighed. He had always been a vagabond, and thought of no place as home, even the village of his birth, but for the first time in his life he felt homesick, wishing he was back on Midkemia, anywhere on Midkemia. The searing heart of the Jal-Pur desert looked attractive to him right now.
Bek rose without saying anything, and Nakor took a second to realize he was moving to the serving hall where the mid-day meal would be provided. Nakor and the other Lessers would wait until the warriors had departed, then after a frenzy of cleaning up the barracks, they would scurry off to the room where their food was provided, eat quickly then hurry back to be here waiting for their masters. In so many little ways, it was an existence without joy.
Nakor grabbed a bowl of something resembling stew and a hunk of coarse-grain bread – he discovered that even with the successful translation to Dasati form the food here was disagreeable: it was one of the many examples he could cite as to what a joyless society the Dasati were. Food was regarded as a necessity and sometimes the excuse for social events, but it was never considered an art form. He remembered with longing a meal he had had at Talwin Hawkins’ River House in Olasko, and wondered if he’d ever have a meal like that one again.
He heard voices through a door that led to the Imperial Guards’ marshalling yard. Glancing around to see if he was observed, Nakor slipped down the hallway and hung back, just out of sight. A commander stood on a dais and addressed his warriors. ‘— this night! We muster at once, and depart at dawn! Worlds to conquer await! Each of you has found favour in His Darkness’s sight and your willingness to serve His will until the last has gained you a special place in his regard. Rejoice in this, for we shall begin a campaign of conquest unmatched in the annals of the Dasati Empire! For the Dark One!’
‘His Darkness!’ shouted the gathered guards, and Nakor quickly turned and fled back to the room where the other Lessers waited. He darted around the corner and sat down before he was noticed then stood up as if he had finished, put down his dish and returned to the barracks to wait for Bek. Something important was underway and it began tonight. It could not be the invasion Pug feared, for there were not enough Deathknights gathered, but this mustering of the Imperial Guard was a prelude to something vital.
He wished he could have heard more.
Jommy turned to Kaspar and the others. ‘Now that’s something you don’t see every day. And here we are seeing it for the second time.’
Kaspar nodded. Captain Stefan said, ‘But I wager it’s something we’re never going to see again.’ The four of them were standing a short distance away from the welcoming elves, Servan hunkered down while Jommy, Stefan, and Kaspar leaned back against the wall of the long hall.
The massive dragon had been astonishing enough when it had carried Tomas and Jim Dasher into the compound the day before, but now it landed with a party of three on its back. A pair of women, both dressed in long dark dresses, was sitting close behind the white-and-gold-dad figure. They dismounted nimbly and came to where Castdanur and his two advisors waited.