In the desert darkness, the new soldiers stood to encircle the cage at the base of the stone hill. The cage was the size of a large room with narrow slits between thick bars. On its door hung a blacksmith's new lock, a lock that their young optio had ordered made from one of their villages. His big Lancer had been riding with a tall pack made out of basket weaving, and the story went that there was a gargoyle child bound inside it. But no one had seen it.

When they had arrived at the base of the cairn, they had been told to make camp, erect their hooches in the shade, stake the Optio’s tent to the high, flat top of the cairn, and put nothing but fresh rushes and rags inside the cage. This had been a planned thing, the conscription of these men for this location had been the optio’s intent from the outset. They were here at the old sister’s cairn and its cage far off in the desert to begin their fight training. Some training, the wiser men thought, they wouldn't be expected to survive.

The tension was evident in every man, just as much in the old, toughened convicts as it was with the young and uninitiated.

Three men stood at the cage entrance: the young Optio, the big Lancer, and the former prison dragline man known as Ghost.

The Optio nodded to Lancer, who stepped forward, inserted a bulky key into the new blacksmith lock, unlocked the hasp, and opened the cage door. With a swing of his head, he motioned to Ghost to step through.

“No. Don’t think I’ll be bothering. I have changed my mind. You can keep the promotion thank you.”

“You can either step in there or show the men how well you can take a whip.”

“You haven’t even given me a blade.”

“You’ll get it once you step inside.” The Optio turned and called to the surrounding men. “Any of you, yet considered unloyal, can earn his weapon by entering the cage.”

“Ya well Ghost there is the best of this lot. Let’s see how he does first!” Someone called back, and the men laughed.

“Quiet!” the Optio yelled. It was nearly a screech, and it reminded everyone that he himself was still yet barely a boy. The men quieted. More likely because of the Lancer and his whip and the fact that the men didn’t know where the weapons store was or even if there were any to find. Any possible mutiny out here called for more than the stun batons that the boy soldiers carried.

Ghost stepped through the mouth of the cage and the door clanged shut behind him. Lancer locked the cage, and then, at a nod from the optio, he unsheathed his own Longknife and tossed it through the bars. Ghost crouched and picked it up.

It was a big knife, thick-bladed, long and heavy. To a small man it would be a short sword. It could pry an opening in a shield wall just as well as pierce a man’s thigh. Ghost stood and turned with the blade, his back to the bars.

Reeds were strewn across the floor in thick piles. The men had been at this camp for three days, sheltering in whatever nook or cranny of shade could be found in the north wall of the stone hill. The same slope the cage sat pressed up against. Guard duty ran night and day, and none had seen movement from inside this cage. Nor had they ever seen food or water enter it.

Now the Lancer took his canteen, unscrewed the tin top, poured out an even measure of fresh cool water and held it to the bars of the cage.

And then the girl stood up out of the rags. Ghost could see her silhouette in the shadows at the back wall, closest to the bars at the base of the cairn. Ghost was good. Very good. A certified killer, in fact. For years in the wastelands and in the villages and small towns, he was given what he wanted. If they didn’t give it to him, he took it. As simple as that. But in this cage, with the opening locked behind him he became suddenly afraid. He hadn’t actually been this afraid in a very long time.

“S.. Sir,” he said, his voice hitching. “Give me that sword of yours, too.”

“Now you will not kill her. This is only a training exercise. If I allow…,”

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“Sir. If I kill her, you can bloody well whip the hide right off me. Now pass me that bloody sword of yours.”

The Optio sighed and, stepping forward, drew the light, flexible sword and slid the hilt through the bars. Without turning away from the child, Ghost switched the long knife onto his left and pulled the sword around in front of him.

The girl came slowly forward and with hands bound together at the wrists reached through the bars for the cup.

“No, Lancer. No water yet. First, she fights.” The big man looked at the optio, paused for a moment, and then withdrew the canteen lid. The little girl stared up into his eyes. Lancer dropped his gaze, and she looked to the optio, who stared at her with a detached marvelment. He had a few of the surrounding men holding torches, and he studied the shape that stood in the flickering shadows.

Ghost had sidled away from her, his back to the bars. “Once she latches on to me, come in quick. If you’re fast enough, you may be able to save me.”

“Really man. You are going on about nothing.” The Optio replied and crouched to study the child closer. “I find this thing marvellous. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she’s had no food or water for so long, I would have had a difficult time believing she was anything but a skinny-sick, grubby urchin in a rag dress.

Ghost watched as the girl returned to the back wall of the cage, crouched and picked something up.

He jumped at the first strike of the stone against the metal bar. Sparks flicked across the night, and she struck the bar a second time, and a third, bringing sparks each time.

“Whatever is she trying to do?” The Optio pondered to himself.

“Making fire,” Ghost answered, and sure enough, a small rag she had clutched in her other hand took the sparks and began to glow. She blew gently, and the rag turned into an orange flame.

Ghost watched from where he stood, motionless, the long knife in his left, and the slender sword in his right, as the girl stepped to the center of the cage, stooped and lit something there and then touched the rag down to start a second flame, and then a third.

---///---

Ghost sat cross-legged on the floor of the cage across from the little girl. Between them was the little tea service and the ceremonial candles of three that she had woven out of the torn rags and reeds of her nest. The toy candles continuously winked out, but as each one did, she would patiently set down her tea cup and relight it off another.

She had woven the shapes of a tea set, and now Ghost raised the pretend tea cup and took another pretend drink, just as children would play with toys woven from reed husks or shaped from dried clay.

At first the Optio had protested. Commanded him to strike at her, but Ghost would not.

“Give me the key stone.” He said to Lancer, who obediently passed the young man the round brown stone. “Unlock.” The Optio said to the stone, and Ghost watched as one end of the metal cuffs dropped away from the girl’s wrist.

Ghost became still and watched her. She smiled back at him, and offered to pour.

“Alright Soldier. This little charade of pretend tea is over. I command you to get up and strike her.”

The man called Ghost ignored the Optio and continued to pantomime the drinking of tea along with the little girl. He thought she was a pretty little thing, possibly a little severe in her sharp angles and the dead grey skin. But she was being kind to him. She had welcomed him into her space, and for this, he would never strike at her.

“Ghost. That is an order. You will follow it, or you will be disciplined.”

“You can discipline me all you want. I won’t attack her.”

“And why not?”

“Because she’s welcomed me politely. She has shown me respect, and I will return that respect.”

“What do you know of respect? You have murdered people for their possessions. You are nothing but a weapon.”

“No. She’s the weapon. And she’s allowed me to sit here peacefully under her hospitality, and I will return it. And I’m not a murderer. We have already discussed this. I have killed, yes. But maybe those I kill deserve it. This one does not deserve that. She has shown me more respect than any of you out there, and I aim to return it.”

“You will take up those weapons and use them. She will be the victim here. She is what my men are to learn from.”

“No. I’m already dead. I can feel it. She is allowing me to live. This is what you should be learning now, you and your men. All except the big Lancer. He knows what this is about. But the rest of you – this consideration - maybe this is beyond your learning.”

“If you don’t attack her, I’ll have you whipped.”

“Go ahead. I’ll take a whipping for her. She has welcomed me into her space.”

“This thing is a creature. They must be hunted down and destroyed for the betterment of the human race. The Grey book outlines what men are, and this is not it. They must be eradicated.”

“I have been in the tombs. I have even been inside a magic wall. It was how I got these eyes. It gave me proper sight. The things in the tombs were created by those in the before times to help us. Yes, the tombs can be dangerous, but it is only the traps and locks that are dangerous. Dangerous to those who would raid and destroy the contents of the tombs. The greedy and selfish. Your Grey Book misleads you. For instance, I am a man, but you would not find my eyes in your Grey Book.”

“She is a thing. It is as simple as that. We will study her. I will study and learn from it and take the technology so that we may secure this last valley of refuge on earth, regardless of your stubborn refusal to help.”

“So I guess it’s a ‘no’ to my promotion then.”