“You been there too?” Rashford asked, picking at the worn leather of his tatty boots.
“Yes, just a month or so ago.” March had told Rashford a little of his life in Calidor, but he’d not spoken about his adventures in Pitoria. “I wish I was there now.”
“How so?”
“It’s peaceful. Rich. Good food. Not many donkeys.”
Rashford sniggered.
“I went up on the Northern Plateau. Where the demons live.”
“You see any demons?”
“A couple. We were attacked by one. I slept with the dead body of another in a snowstorm to keep warm.”
Rashford frowned and stared at March. “You serious?”
“Always. The smoke’s serious too. And the demons. And the war. Not sure I’d want to rely on the smoke, though. Or the king who fuels his army with it.”
“That’s treasonous talk there, March. You’re new to the Bulls, so I’ll let you off this time.” But Rashford sounded like he really didn’t care. He pulled the bottle from his waist holder and held it out to March. “Take some. It’ll heal your nose.”
The bottle was heavy with purple smoke. All the other boys carried similar bottles with leather covers, which hid the smoke’s luminous purple glow. March slipped the cork to the side, letting out a slight wisp of smoke, then sucked it in. The smoke went straight to the roof of his mouth and March pressed on the sides of his nose, straightening it as best he could while it healed.
Rashford said, “I’ll let you fill your own bottle soon, when we get our supplies.”
Rashford had given March and Sam empty bottles on the first day, and March had been giving this a bit of thought. He asked, “Whose bottle did I get? I’m guessing that you’ve lost two of the brigade and that’s why you had empty bottles for us.”
Rashford squinted ahead, then shrugged. “Seems I’ve forgotten the old men’s names already.”
“So they manned up?” It was a phrase he’d heard the other boys use a few times—a phrase that seemed to fill them with fear. It meant that someone had become too old for the smoke to work anymore. When that happened, they’d be out of the Bulls. March remembered that the smoke worked for Princess Catherine, Edyon, and himself, but not Sir Ambrose or King Tzsayn, who were only a few years older.
“It ain’t hard to work out, March. We’re all getting older. But you can’t ever really tell when you’ll man up. Seventeen, eighteen, definitely by nineteen.”
March nodded and wondered when it’d happen to Rash-ford. He was the oldest of the boys, after all. “So, what hap-pened to them? I mean, did they just leave?”
“My commander found them different positions. They’re regular soldiers in the regular army now.”
“Your commander? Who’s that? When do you even see him?”
“Not very often, which is often enough. But, as it happens, we’ve all got a new commander now, and I’m going to see him in a few days. You and Sam will have to come with me. He wants to see all new recruits. There’ll be a little test to prove your worth.”
March had heard some of the other boys talking of this too. It sounded like a race, and, although it apparently always turned into a fight at the end, it didn’t sound any worse than what they did every day in training.
“Will the other brigade leaders be there?” March had heard much talk of the other brigades too—all consisting of a hundred boys. The Bears, Hawks, Stags, Lions, Eagles, Foxes, and, not forgetting the Wasps, who had a particularly young membership and were reputed to be as tiny and vicious as their name suggested.
“They’ll be there.”
“And anyone from the main army? The man’s army, I mean?”
Rashford snorted. “We don’t have anything to do with them.”
“But they should be arriving soon. I mean, I assume we’re here for a purpose and we’re not just beating the shit out of each other every day for the fun of it. We must be going to attack Calidor, which means the Brigantine army must be on its way.”
Rashford shook his head. “No, March. You’ve got to think differently. This is a new world we’re in now. And the way we boys’ brigades fight is different from anything anyone’s seen before. We can leap over ten soldiers, then turn and kill them all with a few sword strokes. Even you’ll be able to disarm another swordsman. You’ll break his arm if your sword clashes with his. All this practicing we go through gives the