‘You will do my bidding?’
‘Anything if you train me.’
‘Train you?’ I repeat to Sohrab. ‘You oweme.’
‘The monks say pazktab children are too young to learn the advanced ways of Eajiz arts. But if I become your apprentice, the other younglings will think twice before hurting us. You can teach us Azadnian martial arts.’
‘Who isus? There is only one of you.’
He turns and I spot two more pazktab students, younger than him, crouching behind the glass fountains. ‘Yahya and Yasaman are siblings. The other students force us to steal from the kitchens.’ At Sohrab’s gesturing, they walk tentatively forward.
‘That boy is hardly five years old,’ I say, seeing the gap-toothed child named Yahya.
‘Four years,’ Yahya corrects, standing shly behind his sister.
‘And I am thirteen,’ Yasaman adds, as if it’s a proud fact while she gnaws on a long strand of her ebony hair.By the Divine.I grimace at the sight of them. But I need discreet allies for this task, and children will do just fine. The more numbers, the better.
‘I only have the Friday and Saturday free from trifecta training. If I agree to train you before dawn prayer, here in the gardens, will you fulfil my task?’
Sohrab speaks for them. ‘Yes.’
‘Then swear an oath on the Heavens that you will speak of this to no one. I assure you, my task is not treason.’
They exchange glances but swear the oath.
I reveal the task: ‘When you serve food to the warriors during mealtime, go to Captain Fayez and his low-table. Anything the captain speaks of, you must convey to me. If you hear word about the Marka tournament – any strategy, who he intends to draft for his squadron – inform me immediately.’
‘I have heard Captain Fayez mention your name, Usur-Khan, and something about the Marka,’ Sohrab says slowly, and my pulse hitches at the possibility that he’s considering me over Cemil. ‘But if we’re found telling you information, we’ll be lashed. We deserve to know the reason.’
I sigh. ‘Getting selected for a squadron and performing well in the Marka is an opportunity for low-ranks like myself to move up one rank. I need this information, as a last assurance. In exchange, I will train you...as my ally.’ I can hardly force the words out.
‘Is this as the martial tales go – the loner master adopts pathetic students who become worthy?’ Yasaman blinks up at me.
Usually, masters are leathery things from old monastic schools. I hardly qualify to call myself anyone’s master. But if they’d like to believe this... I squint at the three stupidly ambitious children who look like stalks of barley.
‘Yes, stalk of barley.’
‘Barley?’ Yasaman echoes.
‘Yes. To me, you are barley. Thin, small and pathetic. Line up.’
Sohrab grins. ‘You will train us, Master?’
I wince at the honorific. ‘Something like that. Now say your prayers and promise.’ Sohrab merely smiles wider.
At my instruction, they begin orbital stretch kicks to loosen their muscles. Yahya watches us, clumsily following his sister, given the four-year-old he is.
‘O Blessed, save us from this evil eye.’ A voice comes through the citrus trees. I follow the sound, spotting Arezu sitting on a branch, tapping her cheeks as if to ward me away. So she never left.
‘Evil eye?’ I ask. ‘Well, I did thrash you twice.’
Arezu laughs, the sound rough for her age. ‘You are training Eajiz children? Azadnians are child killers.’
‘I love children.’ The claim burns in the back of my throat.
‘You love children?’
‘Yes. Look around you. These students can be exemplars of young martial artists—’
