"They were Jashimari."
The Prince shook his head. "You are either lying, or your eyes have deceived you. Perhaps it was the cracked spyglass you used, and your over-active imagination. You Jashimari would love to believe us capable of such atrocities, but, in truth, the Cotti are more civilised than you."
Blade studied Kerrion over the fire, doubtless noting the open honesty of Kerrion's expression and the utter conviction with which he spoke. He lowered his eyes to the flames. "You really are ignorant, not so?"
Kerrion swelled with indignation. "I speak the truth!"
"As you know it."
"Yes, as I know it! And as a prince of the Cotti people, I have spent more time than you in our camps. If there were Jashimari slaves, I would have seen them."
"Unless your father did not wish you to," Blade pointed out.
"Why would he not? He would never condone such a thing."
"But he did."
Kerrion leant forward. "Your lies do not convince me, assassin. Give me one good reason why I should believe you."
Blade frowned at the fire, and Kerrion waited. When the assassin looked up, he met the Prince's gaze with hate-filled eyes. "I do not particularly care whether or not you believe me. What happened to me is no great secret, nor am I ashamed of it. It is the Cotti who should be ashamed of what they did to innocent children, so I will tell you how I know that there are Jashimari child slaves in the Cotti army camps. Fifteen years ago, I was one of them."
Kerrion's mouth dropped open, and he stared at Blade, stunned. The assassin jumped up and walked away, stopping at the edge of the firelight to stand with his back to the Prince. Kerrion gazed into the flames for some time, grappling with the enormity of the crime his people had committed, if what Blade had said was true. Not for a moment did Kerrion doubt the veracity of Blade's words, however. They were spoken with too much conviction and suppressed emotion to be lies. The Cotti were people of learning and refinement, and atrocities against the innocent would outrage them. A war was one thing, perhaps barbarous, yet acceptable to most, but the enslavement of children, even of an enemy, was abhorrent. He looked at Blade's rigid back, his shoulders squared by pride, and understood the rage in his eyes.
Climbing to his feet, he went over to stand next to the assassin. "If I had known about it, I would have put a stop to it."
The assassin shrugged. "But you did not."
"How did you escape?"
Blade stared into the darkness, his face shadowed. "When I was sixteen, I stole some women's clothes and walked into the desert."
"And how long were you there for?"
"Four years."
"How many of you were there?"
Blade glanced at him. "A few dozen, maybe more."
"All boys?"
"No, there were girls. Three of them were my sisters. They were only six, eight and fourteen years old when we were captured." He paused. "They died before I escaped."
"This was something the soldiers did on their own. My father would never have allowed it."
"Your father was there." Blade faced him. "He condoned it."
"No. I cannot believe that. My father was a lot of things, but he would not keep child slaves."
Blade seemed to lose interest, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had boiled over, and he turned to stare into the darkness again. "I never saw him myself, but I knew two of the boys he owned."
"Perhaps it was not him. Maybe the boys lied, or the man pretended to be my father."
The assassin shook his head. "He ordered it. The soldiers rounded up almost all the young children in my village, mostly twelve and under. I was almost too old. They should have killed me, but I was small for my age."
"What did you do in the camp? Fetch and carry, cook, clean and wash clothes, I suppose?"
"Amongst other things."
"Like what?"
Blade shook his head again, evidently tiring of the conversation. "That is enough." He returned to the fire.
The Prince followed him. "What else? You must tell me. I have a right to know."
"Why should I tell you anything? It makes no difference any more, not to you, not to me. What is done is done, and nobody can change it."
"Because it is still being done, is it not? No one has stopped it, because no one who cares knows about it. They are my people. I have a right to know the crimes they have committed."
"You know enough."
"But there is more, is there not, and worse?"
Blade sighed. "Yes."
"What?"
"Were you born yesterday?" Blade snarled. "What do you think? Must I spell it out for you?"
"Yes, I think you must."
The assassin stepped closer, his eyes glittering in the firelight, white teeth flashing as he bit out the words as if they soiled his lips. "We were their toys, their playthings. They starved us, tortured us, forced us to perform unspeakable acts for their amusement, made us fight each other and whipped us if we refused."
The Prince's heart twisted with anguish and shame.
"Your great people," Blade said. "The mighty Cotti, scourge of the desert, torturers of little children."
"You have to let me go. I must put a stop to it."
Blade smiled with bitter satisfaction. "No, you are going to meet the Queen. I hope she has something particularly nasty planned for you."
"I am not to blame. I would never have allowed it."
"That does not matter, does it? That is not why she wants you, she does not even know about it, as far as I know." He looked away. "No one does, for I am the only one who ever escaped, and I have told nobody."
"Then you share the blame," Kerrion declared. "You could have stopped it, had you warned your people, they could have protected their children."
"Your men attacked undefended towns and villages. Who could have protected the children? Do you think my father did not try? How could unarmed farmers fight soldiers? Your father launched surprise attacks across the mountains in the dead of night, burnt whole villages to the ground and flung women into the flames.
"When all the border towns were wiped out, he sent raiding parties deep into Jashimari lands to attack more. He, most of all, enjoyed watching little girls dance until they dropped from exhaustion. He put babies on ants' nests to see how long they screamed. Those who did not die of the cruelties perished from disease."
Blade bent and dragged the Prince up by his collar, thrusting his face close. "And they made the rest of us watch! Do you know what that does to a young boy? To see his sisters dance like puppets until their feet bled in the hot sand and their faces turned red, and they dropped like broken dolls…"
His face twisted with the intensity of his hatred, and the fist that gripped Kerrion's collar trembled. "The more I watched, the more I wanted to kill. Your father made me what I am, in more ways than one. He created the monster I have become, a killer, remorseless, ruthless and unfeeling. You do not see any tears in my eyes when I speak of what happened, do you? That is because I do not care anymore.
"He made me the finest assassin in all the lands, for I have no mercy. Do you know how many assassins have died simply because they hesitated? Their victims begged for their lives, and they paused, moved by their soft hearts."
Blade gave a bark of bitter laughter, and Kerrion recoiled from the madness in his eyes, a rage so powerful that it swallowed all else. "Imagine that! An assassin with a soft heart! Yet compared to me, they did have feelings, enough to make them pause; enough to kill them. I have never hesitated, never felt the slightest twinge of pity for any man. Every time I kill, I grow emptier. The rush of hot blood does not bring me joy. The sigh of a final breath does not thrill me. I just grow colder inside. So, if you become my next victim, do not waste your breath begging for mercy." Blade shoved him away, sending him staggering back a few steps.