Page 10 of A Tribute of Fire

The Ilionians had arrived early.

CHAPTER FOUR

I slammed open Demaratus’s door. He was lying on his bed in the corner of the room. “The Ilionians are here,” I said as I shut the door behind me. His room was devoid of any personal touches: no tapestries, no rugs, no decoration—nothing that would speak of comfort. No mattress, no pillows. He wouldn’t even use a blanket when the weather turned cold.

“The Ilionians must have had good winds,” he said, slightly slurring his words.

Definitely drunk. It would make conversation possible. I sat in his one chair and balled my fists up on my lap. “I want to go down to the docks and meet them with a blade and stab every last one of them.”

“Where is the best place to stab someone?” he asked, still in his role of teacher.

“Anywhere is a good place to stab an Ilionian,” I muttered. At his annoyed expression I said, “For an armored soldier? The eye, throat, and armpit.” The parts not protected that would also cause the most damage.

My correct answer seemed to satisfy him.

“Not that I would be able to accomplish much,” I said as I tried to sink into his uncomfortable chair. Why wouldn’t he use cushions like a civilized person? “There’s too many of them.”

“The size of the enemy force does not matter,” Demaratus corrected me. “A Daemonian never backs down, never gives up the fight. What else does the code require?”

Was this meant to be an examination? Why wouldn’t he let me just complain in peace? “To always behave with honor—”

He nodded and interrupted me. “Self-control is vitally important.”

“Your words might carry more weight if you were not drunk right now,” I told him.

He ignored my observation and kept speaking. “You must always be the master of yourself and your emotions. A Daemonian king infuriated with his servant told the man, ‘I would kill you if I were not so angry.’ That’s the sort of self-control you must have.”

“And not just control of myself and my emotions, but most importantly a mastery of fear. Obedience to the law. To fight to the death. One for many.” There was one more, but I couldn’t remember it.

“And never flee a battle,” he prompted.

“Yes. Never flee a battle. Although you’ve been doing nothing but teaching me how to flee this battle.”

“Because there is a larger battle at play. Recovering the eye and restoring your nation.” He said this with a slight note of sarcasm because he didn’t believe in the goddess or magic. He had told me on more than one occasion that the only thing he believed in was steel.

“Did you flee a battle?” I asked, holding my breath. I might be dead soon and I would prefer to die with all of my curiosity satiated.

There was an uncomfortably long pause before he finally responded. “Yes.”

“Why?” The question was out before I could stop it. He was the bravest man I’d ever met. I couldn’t imagine him ever leaving a battlefield.

“I lost my shield.”

“How?”

He looked at the stump at the end of his left arm. “In a moment of danger, I raised my shield to cover my best friend and saved his life. Butthe enemy’s blade cut off my hand, which had been holding my shield. There is nothing worse to the Daemonians than a dropped shield. I lost my honor.”

Despite all his teachings, I was confused. “But you saved your friend. That should be all that matters.”

Demaratus ran his right hand over the stubble on his scalp. He had always kept his hair shorn since I’d known him. “If I had dropped a weapon or a piece of armor, I would have been fined or punished. A sword or a helmet is meant to protect me. But a shield protects every warrior in the phalanx. A Daemonian who loses his shield is forever dishonored. The group comes before the individual. One for many.”

He hadn’t lost his shield, though—it had been literally cut away from him. “But why come to Locris? Why didn’t you return home?”

“Here if a man is a coward, it will not change his life or his family’s lives. He may still go to the market, still meet and visit with friends, still meet a foe on the battlefield. You even make him commander of your army. But in Daemonia? I would not be welcome. I would be beaten and rejected from everywhere I tried to go and my dishonor would become my family’s. My wife and children are better off without me. My actions shamed them, and if I had returned to them, it would have ruined their lives. I would never do that to them.”

I put my hands over my heart. That was so unspeakably sad I wasn’t sure what to say.

He made an uncomfortable sound, as if he’d shared too much. “We were flogged repeatedly as boys, to see who could endure it best without complaining or crying out. I should have flogged you to toughen you up.”

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