They eased past the island, with the crew cheering as the garrison of the fort welcomed them. On an order from one of the ships ahead, each vessel broke out their flags, the now-familiar snarling yellow beast on a blue background. The man at Catriona's tiller drank from a human skull, belched, shouted something and drank again.
'We have come into the hands of barbarians,' Bradan muttered. 'Oh, Melcorka, I wish you were yourself again.'
Beyond the island, the harbour broadened out into a large bay with a horseshoe-shaped beach beneath a walled city. The same snarling yellow beast flag flew from the battlements and bastions of the walls, from a massive red-walled fortress that dominated the town and from the ornate tower of what appeared to be a palace. Bradan stared at the scale and size of the city, for it was more extensive and more complex than anything he had seen before. Multiple towers and round turrets nailed the tall wall to the ground, offering a formidable barrier to any attacker.
'Where is this place?' he asked. 'Is this Thiruzha? Or are we in the Chola Empire?'
'Hello, Bradan,' Melcorka said. 'Where are we?'
'I don't know yet.' Bradan tried to wriggle back to back to loosen Melcorka's bonds. A guard grabbed his hair and hauled him away, kicking him with a hard foot.
'Where are we?' Bradan asked.
Nobody replied. The pirates were too busy cheering and yelling in response to the crowds that flooded from the city.
'This is the pirates' lair.'Bradan answered Melcorka's question. 'The den of the yellow beast. It is either Thiruzha, or the Chola Empire that the ship-master told me about? If it's Chola, it is nothing like he described it.'
The instant that Catriona eased onto the beach, the crew sliced open the bonds around the prisoners' ankles and shoved them ashore. 'Keep close to me,' Bradan said, as Melcorka stared at him in evident incomprehension. Pulling her towards him, Bradan gasped as one of the guards swung a long spear against his leg. He contemplated fighting back and realised it would be pointless.
Pushed, jostled, kicked and shoved, Bradan joined the long line of prisoners. The guards – lithe, brown-skinned men in loin-cloths who carried spears, curved swords and round shields – forced them towards the walled town. Despite his situation, Bradan noted his surroundings. The walls were tall and dark, with ornate, pointed battlements and round stone towers set every two hundred paces. Spear-toting warriors in turbans or steel helmets stared down at them from the battlements, talking and laughing.
'We're on display,' Bradan said. 'Keep your back straight and hold your head high, Melcorka. Remember who you are.'
'Who am I?' Melcorka gaped at her surroundings.
'You are Melcorka of Alba,' Bradan said softly. 'Don't ever forget that. Whatever happens, you are Melcorka of Alba, Melcorka the Swordswoman.'
'I haven't got a sword,' Melcorka said.
'I know,' Bradan said, with his heart breaking for her.
The pirates forced the prisoners through the high gateway and into the city, with narrow streets of flat-roofed houses and more noise, colour and confusion than Bradan had ever seen in his life. Animals mingled amongst the crowd, with cattle roaming free and a score of great beasts with long necks and humped backs that Bradan had never seen before.
'Truly there are wonders in this world,' Bradan said. 'I wish we were free to enjoy them.'
Melcorka smiled, her green eyes wide and vacant.
Even the recently captured slaves stared as Bradan and Melcorka shuffled along, with their fair skin immediately marking them as aliens in this world of dark-skinned people. One or two reached out to touch Melcorka, until Bradan snarled at them and pushed them away, much to the amusement of the guards. The pirates herded their long column of prisoners into a vast square, where tall trees afforded shade for hundreds of spectators. In the centre of the square, a group of men in gold-and-white robes stood on a wooden platform, watching over the arrival of the slaves, pointing out individuals and making comments to one another. One golden-caped man remained slightly apart from the others, distinguished by an ornate head-dress and the long stick he flexed.
'Slave market!' Bradan edged as close to Melcorka as he could. 'We're going to be sold! Keep close to me, for God's own sake.' He had a sudden moment of panic that they would be separated. In her present mental state, Melcorka was as vulnerable as any child.
Melcorka looked around her, with her eyes wide. 'This place is pretty,' she said.
'What's happened to you?' Bradan asked. 'Mel! Come back to me.'
'Hello, Bradan.' Melcorka gave a wide grin. 'This is a nice place.' She nodded to the huge, highly ornate palace that took up one complete side of the square. 'I'd like to go in there.'
Bradan looked up at the plumply prosperous people who were enjoying the show from the upper windows of the palace. 'I don't think we'll get much choice of where we're sent, Mel.'
Even with so many prisoners, there was still space in the square. Spearmen and swordsmen lined the outside, facing the prisoners and talking to each other. One of the caped men on the wooden platform blew on a long brass horn, whose blare echoed from the surrounding buildings and gradually silenced the guards. Numbed and afraid, the prisoners huddled together, looking at the men in the long gold-and-white capes.
'Now we'll see,' Bradan said. 'Stay with me, Mel.'
With the square approximately quiet, a group of spearmen hurried into the crowd and grabbed half a dozen of the prisoners. Bradan noticed that all the surrounding buildings had windows facing into the square, and each window had at least one spectator leaning out.
When the guards shoved the batch of prisoners onto the raised platform, the man with the head-dress
