“Yes, sir, General!”

The guardsmen conferred briefly, and then three disappeared. Three others stepped forward, and Jarda gently guided Dinton toward them.

“Go on, Chatra. They will protect you.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy fell into step with the guards, one on either side of him and the third behind him. All three had their hands on their sword hilts.

The last four took up positions in the shadows of the room where they could not be seen. Tero was one of these four.

“You are to make no sound while I question the Chatra,” Jarda told them. “It will be difficult when you hear what I know some of these boys will say, but you must control yourselves. I do not want the boys to know you are here until you escort them out.”

“Understood, General,” Tero said, and Jarda heard the fury in his voice.

Jarda stood facing the open door, and within a few minutes another young boy appeared in the doorway and saluted him.

“Chatra Sylvain, reporting as ordered, General.”

“Step inside, Chatra.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy entered the room and stood at attention.

“How old are you, Chatra?”

“I am six moons from my tenth naming-day, General.”

“Raise your shirt.”

Eyebrows came together in confusion, but the boy did as ordered. There were no bruises on him.

“Turn in a circle. Keep your shirt up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sylvain made a complete turn, and Jarda noticed something about the boy. He was quite a bit larger than Dinton, and the general knew at that point that it would only be the smaller boys who would prove to be the victims.

“Tuck your shirt in, Chatra.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda stared at him. He did not want to believe that such a young boy could be involved in the abuse, but he had to be sure.

“Tell me about your time in the Chatra.”

“Yes, sir. I came to their ranks on my tenth naming-day. I have learned the rules and regulations of the Guard, and,” here the boy smiled slightly, “I just started learning how to fight.”

“Have you enjoyed it here?”

“Oh, yes, sir! My father is a tanner, and it is wonderful to be away from the stink of the tanner’s shop. I would much rather be a guardsman than a tanner, sir.”

“Have you seen anything here to cause you concern, Chatra? Anything at all?”

The boy thought for a moment and answered, “No, sir, nothing I can think of.”

Throughout the entire exchange, the boy’s eyes never shifted from Jarda, and he showed no other signs of falsehood.

“Very well, Chatra, you may return to your duties. However, you will tell no one of what we spoke. If anyone threatens you to make you talk, immediately come back here and tell me, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, completely.”

Jarda nodded, and the Chatra saluted and left.

This process was repeated with the next thirty boys. The first six were all ten years old, a dozen were eleven, and the rest were twelve. Out of the thirty, eight had the bruises and were escorted to the room where Dinton waited after they had told Jarda who had hurt them. They were all small boys. Out of the others, Jarda found none that he suspected in the abuse. They all answered the questions quickly and frankly. The victims had confirmed the names of the abusers that Dinton had given him, however, and they added the names of three more guardsmen: Elwyn, Mahind, and Brynjar.

It was not until the first thirteen-year-old Chatra that Jarda found his first offender.

“Chatra Juston, reporting as ordered, General.”

The boy stood at attention and saluted, but there was an air of arrogance about him. Upon hearing his name, Jarda knew white-hot fury again, but he controlled his expression and kept his voice calm.

“Come in, Chatra.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jarda did not have him raise his shirt. He knew there would be no bruises, for all nine victims had named him as a perpetrator of the abuse. The boy was large; his head came to Jarda’s shoulder, and the general was over two paces tall. He stepped closer to the boy, and as he did so, he heard one of the guardsmen crack his knuckles.

“Juston, you are here to face charges…”

“What?”

Jarda glared at him and spoke through his teeth. “Do not interrupt me again, boy.”

Juston gulped and nodded, the arrogant stance slipping. “Sorry, sir.”

“You are here to face charges that you have been torturing smaller boys in the ranks. What have you to say for yourself?”

“I say that it is a lie, General! I would never do such a thing!”

“And what would you say if I told you that nine boys, without knowing about the others, all said that you are indeed involved?”

The Chatra’s eyes slid to the wall. “They must have gotten together to come up with a story, General.”

“I see. Did you know why you were summoned here?”

“No, sir, I had no idea.”

“Then what makes you think they did? How could they have come up with a story if they had no idea what I was going to ask them?”

“I…” The boy’s eyes were shifting around the room now, landing anywhere but on Jarda. “I do not know, General.”

“Hmm.” Jarda took a step toward the boy, who tensed as if he wanted to run. “And how do you explain the bruises on their bodies that give evidence to their words?”

The boy’s bottom lip quivered, and he clamped it between his teeth while his eyes settled on a spot near his general’s feet.

“Well?” Jarda snapped. “What is your response, boy?”

“I…” Juston pulled himself up straight but kept his eyes from Jarda. “I have no response, sir.”

Jarda’s lip curled in contempt at the boy’s dishonesty and cowardice, and he gestured sharply to the shadows.

Guardsman Tero stepped forward with one of his men, and Juston’s eyes went wide.

“Yes, General?”

“Get this boy out of my sight. Now.”

“Yes, sir!”

Tero’s hand shot out and seized the boy by the nape of the neck as his companion grabbed an arm. Juston cried out, and he tried to turn around toward Jarda.

“General Mistri, sir! I will tell you what you want to know!”

“Too late, boy,” Tero snarled as they disappeared through the door.

Jarda paced from wall to wall in the small room in an attempt to calm his anger and disgust. His hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously, and he finally stopped before the back wall and crashed his fist into it with a loud yell.

“General? Are you all right, sir?” One of the guardsmen stepped forward from the shadows.

“How do you mean? I feel like strangling someone, so I would say, no, I am not all right.”

“I understand, sir,” the man said respectfully. “I would like to say that I am glad my job was to escort the victims, sir. I am not sure I could keep myself calm with that Chatra that just left.”

“Do not call him that,” Jarda snarled. “As of today, none of the offenders are Chatra or guardsmen any longer. I will not have that kind of person in my Guard.”

“What are you going to do with them, sir?”

“I have not decided yet. I need to see if there is any precedence for something like this.” Jarda took a deep breath as he heard footsteps approaching. “And we are not done yet,” he growled, and he straightened his uniform and flexed his sore hand before facing the door once again.

The rest of the Chatra who came before him did not seem to be involved, other than the three in servants’ garb, two stinking of horses and one of burnt food, but then came the last one, which meant he was the oldest in the ranks. The boy stood at attention in front of Jarda and saluted.

“Chatra Glaucus reporting as ordered, General!”

Jarda said nothing but slowly walked around the boy, studying him closely. He was larger than the other four guilty Chatra, almost able to look Jarda in the eye. The thought of this brute terrorizing the small boys who had passed before him made the general’s stomach twist.

“Let me tell you why you are here, boy.” Jarda’s tone was quiet but as hard as steel. He spoke clearly and slowly. “I know what you, Ricard, Domin, Eran, and Juston have been doing.” Glaucus opened his mouth, and Jarda held up a warning finger. “I did not give you permission to speak, boy, and do not interrupt me again. Just listen.” The boy nodded as his mouth snapped shut. “Do not deny your involvement with the torture that has been going on. I already have enough evidence to prove your guilt. I want to know the names of everyone else involved.” Jarda stopped in front of the boy and leaned close. “And I mean everyone, boy, do you understand me?” When there was no answer, Jarda said, “You may speak.”

Glaucus nodded nervously, but Jarda noticed that he kept his eyes up and directed at him.

“I understand, General,” the boy said, his voice shaking. “It started with Chatra Ri…”

“Do not give yourself or any of your compatriots that title, boy! You do not deserve it!”

His face going white, Glaucus nodded. “Yes, sir. It started with Ricard, sir. He wanted to make the smaller boys do his work for him, so he started hurting them if they refused, sir. Eventually, the rest of us just kind of got pulled in.” He swallowed and stood straight. “I know it was wrong, General, and I will gladly receive any punishment you see fit to give me.” His lip trembled, but he drew his mouth into a tight line and then said, “I am sorry I disappointed you, General, and I am sorry I was ever involved in this.”

Jarda’s anger lessened a degree or two at the boy’s honesty and obvious remorse, but he was still furious. “Names, boy. I want names; all of them.”

“Yes, sir. There is me, of course, Ricard, Domin, Eran, and Juston, as you said earlier. There are also some guardsmen who kept watch for us. I think they enjoyed the show, sir. There are five of them: Elwyn, Iskander, Mahind, Brynjar, and Gregers, sir. No one else, I swear.”

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Almost a year, General,” the boy said softly, his eyes finally dropping to the ground in shame.

“A year. And you are sure no one else knew what was happening?”

“I am positive, sir. We were very careful.”