Theearth is red round here. Scrub clings to the edges of a road, which is broken and scabbed and full of badly mended holes. Stunted trees dot the distance. Twisted pines and cork and something that sheds its bark in leprous strips.
For all that it is hot and dry, the air is cleaner than in Farlight. Much cleaner and much clearer. In the distance a low line of hills stands between us and snow-covered mountains.
Birds circle a clump of distant thorn, wide-winged and lazy.
On the bike ahead, Rachel shifts her gaze. One, two, three, four . . . She’s just judged their speed and distance, allowed for deflection, wind and the diffraction that heat induces, and mentally shot each buzzard through its head.
Colonel Vijay rides at the front.
He won’t look at me.
Actually, he won’t look at anyone.
He just stares ahead and keeps his eyes on the red earth.
Still, if I’d delivered myself into the hands of a man who wants to cut out my heart and fuck my girlfriend, I’d probably be concentrating on the road too. Mind you, I wouldn’t give my parole. So the problem wouldn’t arise.
‘No,’ says the SIG. ‘You’d invent a whole new category of fuck-ups. You know the value of teamwork?’ It waits for my answer, then sighs. ‘You get to blame someone else.’ When I don’t reply to that either, it puts itself to sleep.
We pull into a hill village that afternoon.
There are a thousand like it dotted across the wastes.
An old church, now peeling whitewash. A small square, surrounded by broken buildings. The handful of children who watch us arrive get slapped into silence and dragged inside. Not sure if their mothers expect the Wolf Brigade to eat them, rape them or use them as target practice.
General Luc obviously feels happier to be out of the city, because he commandeers the village bar, its owner, the serving girls and its cook and settles himself at a table out front where he can keep an eye on what is going on.
As he waits, he sends for our colonel.
We’re too far away to hear their conversation. But it ends with Colonel Vijay’s clumsy salute. Never met a senior officer who could salute properly yet.
Turning on his heel, Colonel Vijay heads for where we sit in the shadow of the church’s faded bell tower. When he tells us to stay as we are, we stop climbing to our feet. ‘Sven,’ he says, ‘how are you feeling now?’
‘Better, sir. Thank you. Vomiting helps.’
He sighs. ‘Where are Ajac and Iona?’
‘Inside, sir.’
I imagine they’re lighting candles for Hekati.
‘I eat with General Luc’s officers.’ The colonel’s words are addressed to us all, but he’s staring at me when he says this.
‘Understood, sir.’
He looks relieved.
What does he think? I’m going to tell him he’s an idiot in front of the others? I’m not even going to tell him he’s an idiot when we’re alone. For all that giving his parole is one of the stupidest things I’ve heard.
The next time I see Colonel Vijay he’s next to the Wolf, slicing ewe’s cheese with a blunt knife to eat on fat slabs of dark bread, which he washes down with a local wine. The general is asking his opinion on how many hours it will take a courier to ride from the Wolf’s Lair to Wildeside.
The man’s torturing Colonel Vijay with politeness.
Imagine we’re handcuffed or held in a cage, stripped of our weapons and uniforms and badges of rank. Both sides know where they stand. We’re the naked, shit-covered ones and they’re our captors.
We get to hate them.
They get to regard us with contempt. Everybody is happy.
This way is crueller. The Wolf’s officers reply politely to the colonel’s conversation and let him take his food before them, but there isn’t a single one who doubts their general’s intention to cut out Vijay’s heart.
And he will do it. This is Shadow Luc we’re talking about. Who slit the throats of a Silver Fist’s five children.
God knows, we’ve all cut throats.
An Enlightened eleven-braid, a three-braid and several Silver Fist in my case. But the Wolf did it in cold blood to make a point, because their father refused to surrender.
‘Sir, you OK?’ Shil sits beside me without being invited. Since these are the first words she’s said to me all day, I assume she’s been sent by the others.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
My corporal slicks a sideways glance.
She’s scowling, which might be the light in her eyes, because the sun is eating the edges of the shadow where we sit. I can smell the sweat on her. As surely as I can smell the smoke and stink that clings after any battle.
If that’s what last night was.
‘Colonel Vijay mentioned Leona took his message to Aptitude . . .’
Shil’s choosing her words carefully. There’s a reason for this. Actually, there are a couple of reasons. I’m her lieutenant, and I’ve been known to lose my temper with her. And we’ve talked a couple of times; alcohol was involved and nothing happened, at least not that I remember.
She’s come to see how I feel about executing Leona. How does she think I feel? It occurs to me she doesn’t know.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Really, sir. We all are.’
The idea the Aux are discussing this behind my back doesn’t improve my hangover any. They’re cannon fodder, wasn’t that what I told them at the start? I’m about to remind Shil of this, when a thought closes my mouth.
Leona delivered Vijay’s letter to Aptitude.
‘Later,’ I say.
Stamping to where Colonel Vijay sits, I come to salute.
The Wolf watches me, his ADC watches me. My own troop watch me from where they sit near the church tower. Apart from Shil, who watches from where I was a few seconds ago. Her scowl has nothing to do with the sun this time.
‘Join us,’ Colonel Vijay tells me. He gestures to a bench opposite. So that’s where I sit. ‘Sven,’ he says, sounding formal. ‘I’m so-’
I nod away his sympathy.
The colonel clicks his fingers and a girl appears. Huge eyes and a tight smile. She hides her fear behind a fringe that half-covers her face.
‘More wine,’ he says. ‘And some food.’
Her smile falters. Might be my metal arm. Might be the fact my uniform is so stained with blood I can’t remember whose most of it is. Alternatively, the fact I stink of vomit and alcohol could have something to do with it. Vijay Jaxx is far too polite to mention that fact. But then Colonel Jaxx is high clan.
‘What he had,’ I say.
The cheese is so hard I use my own knife, wiping its blade before hacking myself a chunk. The loaf that arrives with it is oily and tough as old leather. Polite people tear their bread. My old lieutenant taught me that. Luckily I’m not polite.
‘You seem to have found your appetite.’
Looking down, I discover the colonel is right. All the cheese is gone and most of the bread. ‘The kyp’s quieter these days, sir,’ I say.
Colonel Vijay flicks a glance towards General Luc.
The Wolf is concentrating on the glass in front of him. He tastes his wine with the restrained ferocity that underlies everything he does.
There is a tightness to Colonel Vijay’s face . . .
He doesn’t like me talking about the symbiont in public. Actually, it’s not that. His father is dead, he’s going to his own death and the house where he was born is a burnt-out ruin, all of this inside the last twenty-four hours. Having to pretend it hasn’t happened is killing him.
‘Sir,’ I say. ‘Perhaps we could take a walk?’
General Luc watches us leave.
For all I know, he watches us the entire way round the village square, because that is where we walk, our heads together and my questions low. As we return to where we started, Colonel Vijay retakes his place and dismisses me with a nod.
He demanded a messenger.
Leona appeared.
There is no mystery. No significance. Senior officers often use militia for non-essential messages. He’s sorry for Leona’s death, and understands my action was a kindness, although he doubts if the Aux understand that. When I mention his father our conversation is over. That’s a subject he’s unwilling to discuss.
‘Sir-’
‘Leave it,’ he orders. So I do.
After my dismissal, I don’t expect us to talk again until the evening. I’m wrong about that as well.
Iona sits on a broken wall watched by two Wolf Brigade troopers at a table. As she leans back and raises the hem of her dress to sun her knees, I think she’s pretending not to notice their interest.
But no, they’re invisible.
Only the sun, the wind and the sound of cicadas hold her interest. The insect noise probably reminds her of life on Hekati.
The way she leans back tightens the cloth across her breasts, which are full anyway, and seem fuller because she wears a belt beneath. Her eyes close and she opens her mouth to taste the wind; has to be that, can’t think what else she’s doing as she flicks her tongue like a lizard, a dozen of which hug the wall where she suns.
When one of the two troopers attracts her attention by putting his hand on her knee, Iona jumps.
‘Heart rate up, pupil dilation, rapid breathing . . .’ The SIG counts off the shock signs. ‘Yep, she really is that stupid.’
‘Unworldly,’ Colonel Vijay says.
‘Sir . . . Sorry, sir. Didn’t hear you come up behind me.’
His attention is on Iona, who is finding it hard to move now the Wolf Brigade trooper grips her knee. Every time she struggles, he tightens his fingers and she stops struggling again. Iona needs to crack that pain barrier.
‘Damn it,’ the colonel says.
Must be at the way Neen’s now scrambling to his feet, one hand reaching for a knife in the back of his belt. Seeing he has competition, the Wolf Brigade trooper grins.
‘Sven . . .’ Colonel Vijay nods to where General Luc gestures.
‘What rank is your man?’ the Wolf asks.
‘Sergeant, sir.’
Pretty obvious I’d have thought from the stripes on the jacket Neen’s now wrapping round his left arm as protection against the trooper’s blade.
‘And my man?’ he demands, pointing to his own trooper.
‘A private, sir.’
‘Exactly, Lieutenant.’ He waits impatiently for my response, then hisses with irritation. ‘A sergeant fighting a trooper. Hardly fitting, is it?’
‘That’s his girlfriend,’ I say.
General Luc looks at me as if I’m mad. ‘What has that to do with it?’ he demands. Emptying a wine glass in a single gulp, he pulls a face.
‘You want me to stop the fight, sir?’
‘I want you to use your discretion.’
‘Never had any, sir.’
‘Is that a joke, Lieutenant?’ He stares at me. ‘I’m not a general who appreciates jokes from junior officers.’
‘I imagine not, sir. And it’s not a joke.’
Ignoring my reply, he holds his glass to one side. An orderly comes running so fast he almost falls as his boots skid on the grit beneath him. ‘Find me something drinkable,’ the Wolf demands.
The orderly wants to say it’s not possible. We’re in the middle of nowhere, for fuck’s sake, but he simply nods.
‘Well, Sven . . .?’ Colonel Vijay demands.
Neen and the trooper circle with sideways steps, like angry crabs, as they jab and feint. They’re testing each other’s defences. Can’t be long before one of them draws first blood, maybe even gets in the killing blow.
‘General Luc doesn’t approve of sergeants fighting privates.’
‘Then you’d better stop it, hadn’t you?’
This is more of an order than a question. But I’m not happy with anything that makes the Aux look as if we’re backing down.
‘Sven . . .’
‘I’m going, sir.’
Both men stop circling as I step between them. Six or seven men jeer. They’re all Wolf Brigade, which is just as well. I’d have the hide off any of mine who behaved like that.
‘Fight’s over,’ I say.
Neen steps back, and returns his knife to his belt. The Wolf Brigade trooper stares at me.
‘Your man not up to it . . . sir?’
‘My man was killing Silver Fist while you lot collected medals for guarding empty corridors in unused palaces.’
There, I’ve just managed to insult his whole brigade.
‘Lieutenant . . .’
General Luc is so angry, the glare he shoots at the trooper who started this is enough to have the man staring at his boots. Meanwhile, Neen still waits, stripped to the waist, with his jacket wrapped round his arm. You’d have to be blind to miss the scar on his ribs or the puckered mess of an old bullet wound over his hip.
‘You,’ the Wolf says firmly. ‘Stand down.’
He’s talking to Neen, but my sergeant isn’t the one holding a blade.
All the same, Neen unwraps the jacket from his arm, then salutes the general and returns to his original spot by the wall, where Iona now sits between Rachel and Shil.
‘Of course,’ General Luc says, ‘sergeants not fighting privates doesn’t mean privates can’t fight privates . . .’
He leaves his comment hanging.
‘Mine,’ Ajac says, scrambling to his feet.
Ajac’s big, but he has little real muscle and no scars. He’s also young enough for his chest to be almost hairless. Taking one look at him, the trooper laughs and Ajac’s face tightens.
If the Wolf Brigade trooper lives, I’ll buy him a beer for that.
Wrapping his arm the way he saw Neen do, Ajac pulls his knife and scowls at the man. He was angry on Iona’s behalf. Now he’s furious on his own. All he has to do is turn that into something useful.
‘Neen,’ I say. ‘How good is Ajac?’
My sergeant looks worried.
‘Five gold coins we win.’ My voice is loud enough to carry. Those simply wondering what is going on decide they might as well come over and find out.
The trooper looks unhappy at my confidence.
Ajac simply looks shocked. Probably the thought of my temper if he loses me the money I won in Farlight. A moment later, Sergeant Toro appears at my side. His general has taken my bet.
‘Have you got five in gold?’ Colonel Vijay asks.
‘Yes, sir.’
He looks surprised.
‘Go brief Ajac,’ I tell Neen.
‘Sir,’ he says. ‘I’m not sure that’s in the rules.’
‘What rules?’
Given his general is watching, it’s understandable the trooper goes for a five-second knockdown. Instead of starting to circle as he did facing Neen, he launches a strike.
One second he’s opposite, the next his blade slashes towards Ajac’s guts and his friends start cheering. Their cheer dies as Ajac jumps sideways and jabs wildly, his blade aimed at the trooper’s face.
Although he misses, their man still flinches. Ajac doesn’t notice, because he’s trying to find his balance, but Neen certainly does.
‘What orders did you give?’
‘Watch his eyes. Fight dirty. Get it over fast.’
Neen’s right about all three. Unfortunately, Ajac refuses to obey. At least, he refuses to obey the last two. He circles instead, blocking a couple of clumsy attacks, and just dodging a slash at his throat that looks slicker than the previous two blows, unless it’s simply lucky.
Iona watches slack-mouthed.
I’ll be having words with her about blind stupidity later. I imagine the others know that, even if she doesn’t.
‘Get it over with,’ Neen growls.
The Wolf Brigade trooper glances over and something tightens behind his eyes. He thinks Ajac is toying with him, that the blond boy plays a waiting game.
‘Another five gold coins on Ajac.’
I’m lucky. No one takes my bet.
But it does the job and the trooper’s next attack is so panicked that half his friends believe it’s a feint, until he follows through and leaves himself wide open.
‘Now,’ Neen orders.
Ajac steps back.
His blade should be in that man’s kidneys. And the man should be down, pissing the dregs of his life into the dirt. There is no excuse for the anguish on Ajac’s face, he’s not even injured.
That changes when Ajac’s opponent decides to go on the attack. Feinting in one direction, he juggles his blade from one hand to the other, and jabs. We all hear Ajac’s gasp of pain as blood starts running from his hip.
‘Sir . . .’ Shil stands beside me.
‘Not now, Shil.’
‘It’s about Ajac, sir.’
‘What about him?’ I ask quietly.
When the trooper swings his blade at Ajac’s throat, Ajac blocks, using his jacket-wrapped arm. From his whimper, he didn’t wrap it well enough.
‘Ajac hasn’t killed, sir.’
‘What?’
She nods towards the fight. ‘Iona doubts he’s done more than slaughter a goat. She says he’ll keep circling until he dies of blood loss or that man kills him.’
‘Get me Iona.’
‘Sir . . .’ Iona looks terrified.
Given how I feel about her that’s a sensible reaction. Ajac might make a good soldier five years down the line, if he lasts that long, which looks unlikely. Iona, I can count on one finger of one hand what she’s good for.
‘Do you and Ajac share a dialect?’
She looks at me blankly.
‘Do you share . . .’ A dozen Wolf Brigade stare as I raise my voice and Iona nods quickly. Telling me that yes, her tribe has its own dialect.
‘Good,’ I say. ‘Tell him if he loses I’m giving you to the trooper.’
Iona looks appalled.
Almost as appalled as Shil, who stands beside her.
‘Tell him it’s tradition. He wins, you go free. He loses, you belong to the Wolf Brigade. They don’t have female soldiers or medics. So I guess they’ll just have to find some other use for you.’
‘Sir . . .’
Shil shuts up when I glare at her.
Their trooper is looking more confident, his friends are looking happier and Ajac is obviously exhausted. His collection of wounds now includes a slash that reveals a glistening rack of ribs.
‘Tell him,’ I say.
Pushing her way to the front, Iona almost gets Ajac killed by reaching out to touch his shoulder. As he turns, the Wolf Brigade trooper slashes, and only Iona’s scream shocks her cousin into ducking.
The Wolf Brigade jeer.
But it’s at their own man for screwing up his attack. There are some sizeable bets being carried here, and the few who went heavy on Ajac at the beginning are starting to look worried.
In reply, Ajac asks only one question.
I know it’s a question from the way Iona nods when she answers.
Looking at her, Ajac looks at me, then looks at his opponent and something changes in the boy’s face. The question is, has that change come too late to save him? Now’s when I discover whether I get a soldier or a corpse out of this fight.
Their man is stronger, uninjured and experienced.
But he’s also a braggart. A small step up from a coward. I guess every regiment has at least one.
‘Finish it,’ a friend of his shouts.
Unless it’s someone who simply has money riding on the fight.
‘Yeah,’ says Neen. ‘Finish it.’
As the trooper steps in, Ajac jabs hard for the man’s gut and almost lands his blow. Twisting aside, the trooper slashes at Ajac’s face, and stumbles as his anxiety and the fury of Ajac’s attack tip him off balance.
‘Do it,’ I order.
Ajac nods, draws back his arm.
He’s on the point of striking when one of the friends objects. Sidekicking the back of Ajac’s knee, he waits for our man to drop and then drives his boot into Ajac’s face.
‘Fuck this,’ Neen says.
‘Sergeant.’
Neen’s hand freezes at my tone. And I watch him make himself release his own knife. The Wolf watches also, from across the circle.
‘Sir . . .?’
‘Ajac’s fight.’
Spitting teeth, Ajac gets to his knees.
His face is pulped, and he’s having trouble breathing through the blood that must run down the back of his throat. His original opponent decides the result is a foregone conclusion. Wrapping his fingers into Ajac’s hair, he drags back his head and slashes.
Iona screams and the crowd gasp.
When the trooper steps back to take a bow, he thinks it’s over. It’s not, because Ajac caught the blow across his palm. As we watch, he jacks his knife sideways into the man’s leg.
‘Twist,’ Neen yells.
Ajac does, viciously.
And with the man frozen in agony, he rips free his blade and rams it into the trooper’s groin, twisting hard. The man screams like a castrated pig, falling as Ajac rips his knife free one final time and crawls up the man’s shuddering body to drive it into his throat.
A knife’s point beats edge every time.
The trooper dies within seconds and is buried by his oppos, who dig through rocky dirt to their own depth, then stand to attention in the blazing sun to say the soldier’s prayer for a man who lost them money and standing.
I make the Aux join in, Ajac included.
No one in the burial detail blames him for what happened. There isn’t a Wolf Brigade trooper who wouldn’t have done the same.
The real surprise is that Ajac can stand, function and say the prayer. He can do this because Sergeant Toro turned up with five gold coins from General Luc, and a wizened major who turned out to be the Wolf’s own doctor.
A very good one too.
Having sewn Ajac’s ribs, hand and hip, and bent the boy’s nose into shape, he staples it at the bridge, before washing the teeth we collect in milk, coating them with protein coagulant and pushing them back into Ajac’s gums.
Then he gives the boy three jabs of battlefield morphine and tells him not to pick any more fights for a few days.
As we ride out, the Wolf tells the innkeeper not to cut down the trooper who tripped Ajac until he is dead. General Luc is very clear about what will happen if this order is disobeyed.
He leaves the trooper crucified to the tavern door.