There, sounds are different—words are like clanging cymbals, a footstep sounds like a bell. So we must be silent. Our clothes, our boots, our equipment must make no noise.”
“What do farts sound like, sir?” Anlax asked—a typical Anlax question. There was some sniggering and comments about the smell being of more concern than the noise.
“Actually, you’ve raised a good point, Anlax,” Ambrose said. “In the demon world you don’t need to eat. So you won’t be scoffing beans for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and thus, hopefully, we’ll never discover the answer to your question.”
“We really don’t eat anything, sir?” a man named Har-rison asked.
“No. You will get thirsty, though. The demon world is very warm. You’ll need large skins for water, and enough provisions to get on and off the Northern Plateau—that’s four days’ basic rations. We travel fast and light. We take weapons to use in confined spaces: short swords, daggers, and clubs. Finally, and most importantly, and this will be es-pecially hard for some of you”—here Ambrose looked at Anlax—“from the moment we enter the demon world until we come out again, we don’t speak a word.”
There was a bit of laughter and Geratan said, “No laugh-ing either. Sounds will give our presence away. We must all learn to be silent.”
“Though, if we can’t speak,” continued Ambrose, “we must communicate in a different way. In the demon world you can hear someone else’s thoughts if your skin is touching theirs. So I can pass on orders by thinking them while I’m touching Geratan. If he is touching Anlax at the same time, Anlax will hear the order too. That’s useful, but it can also be problematic. We can hear things other than orders. We can hear other people’s thoughts by mistake. I’ve chosen you men for your fighting skills but also for your temperaments. We cannot afford to work as anything less than a perfect team. We must trust and respect each other. You might inadver-tently tell another soldier your deepest secret—or hear another man’s. You must be ready for that, and be able to stay calm. We can’t risk a failure in teamwork or discipline.”
The men looked solemn and a few nodded, but Ambrose was pleased that no one made a joke.
“So we must learn to be honest with each other. And I’ll begin by sharing some truths about me. I was born in Brig-ant, but Pitoria is now my home. I love Pitoria, and I cherish its freedoms and many of the people I’ve met here. But, in truth, I still love Brigant too.
“It is the home of my father and his father; it is the land where I grew up, where I learned to play with my brother and sister. It has beautiful mountains and rugged coasts. But it also has an evil and cruel king. It is a country where many are persecuted. It is a country where my brother was tortured and killed, where my sister was executed because she learned secrets that the king didn’t want anyone to know.” Ambrose had to take a breath; he rarely spoke of this to anyone. A vi-sion of his sister on the scaffold and his brother’s severed head came to him, but he had to focus on the men in front of him—he had to think of them. “And that’s why, even though I still love my home country, I’m jealous of you men. I’m jealous of each of you because you have a good king. You have a ruler who is honest and fair, who does not torture and maim his own people, but who would gladly sacrifice his life for them. I’m jealous of that and hope that one day the same may be said of the ruler of Brigant. Aloysius must be stopped. Together we can achieve that. Together we can end his reign of terror.”
A few of the men clapped, and Anlax shouted, “Thank you for your honesty, Sir Ambrose.”
Ambrose raised his hands for silence. “And that brings me to the most serious subject of all.” He surveyed the group with a smile. “Hair.”
“White—it has to be white!” someone shouted.
“No, fuck off, it’s got to be blue!” Anlax replied, shaking his own blue locks.
“I thought this might be a bone of contention,” Ambrose interrupted. “But we are a team, and we must be able to rec-ognize and trust each other. We are the Demon Troop and, by permission of the queen, we will have our own hair color.”