Monstrous Regiment (Discworld 31)

"And I used trickery," said Polly. "I mean, I couldn't do it twice."

"So what?" said Maladict. "We did it. The squad did it! Next time we'll do it differently!"

"Yeah!" said Tonker. And there was a shared moment of exhilaration in which they were capable of anything. It lasted all of... a moment.

"But it won't work," said Shufti. "We've just been lucky. You know it won't work, Maladict. You all know it won't work, right?"

"Well, I'm not saying we could, you know, take on a regiment all at once," said Maladict. "And the lieu - rupert might be a bit wet. But we could help make a difference. Old Jackrum knows what he's doing - "

"Upon my oath I am not a violent man... whack!" sniggered Tonker, and there were a few... yes, giggles, they were giggles, Polly knew, from the squad.

"No, you're not," said Shufti flatly. "None of us are, right? Because we're girls."

There was a dead silence.

"Well, not Carborundum and Ozzer, okay," Shufti went on, as if the silence was sucking unwilling words out of her. "And I'm not sure about Maladict and Igor. But I know the rest of us are, right? I've got eyes, I've got ears, I've got a brain. Right?"

In the silence there was the slow rumble that preceded a pronouncement from Carborundum.

"If it any help," she said, in a voice suddenly more sandy than gravelly, "my real name's Jade."

Polly felt questing eyes boring into her. She was embarrassed, of course. But not for the obvious reason. It was for the other one, the little lesson that life sometimes rams home with a stick: you are not the only one watching the world. Other people are people; while you watch them they watch you, and they think about you while you think about them. The world isn't just about you.

There was going to be no possibility of getting out of this. And, in a way, it was a relief.

"Polly," she said, almost in a whisper.

She looked questioningly at Maladict, who smiled in a distinctly non-committal way. "Is this the time?" he said.

"All right, you lot, what're you standing about for?" bawled Jackrum, six inches from the back of Maladict's head. No one saw him arrive there; he moved with an NCO's stealth, which sometimes mystifies even Igors.

Maladict's smile didn't change. "Why, we're awaiting your orders, sergeant," he said, turning round.

"D'you think you're clever, Maladict?"

"Um... yes, sarge. Quite clever," the vampire conceded.

There wasn't a lot of humour in Jackrum's smile. "Good. Glad to hear it. Don't want another stupid corporal. Yeah, I know you ain't even a proper private yet, but glory be, you're a corporal now 'cos I need one and you're the snappiest dresser. Get some stripes from Threeparts. The rest of you... this isn't a bleedin' mothers' meeting, we're leaving in five minutes. Move!"

"But the prisoners, sarge - " Polly began, still trying to digest the revelation.

"We're goin' to drag 'em over to the inn an' leave 'em tied up in the nood, and shackled together," said Jackrum. "Vicious little devil when he's roused, our rupert, eh? And Threeparts is having their boots and horses. They won't be going too far for a while, not in the nood."

"Won't the writing man let them out?" said Tonker.

"Don't care," said Jackrum. "He could probably cut the ropes, but I'm dropping the shackle key in the privy, and that'll take a bit of fishing out."

"Whose side is he on, sarge?" said Polly.

"Dunno. I don't trust 'em. Ignore 'em. Don't talk to 'em. Never talk to people who writes things down. Milit'ry rule. Now, I know I just gave you lot an order 'cos I heard the bleedin' echo! Get on with it! We are leaving!"

"Road to perdition, lad, promotion," said Scallot to Maladict, swinging up with two stripes hanging from his hook. He grinned. "That's three pence extra a day you're due now, only you won't get it 'cos they ain't payin' us, but to look on the bright side, you won't get stoppages, and they're a devil for stoppages. The way I see it, march backwards and yer pockets'll overflow!"

The rain had stopped. Most of the squad were parading outside the barracks where there was, now, a small covered wagon belonging to the writer of the paper of news. A large flag hung from a pole attached to it, but Polly couldn't make out the design by moonlight. Beside the wagon, Maladict was deep in conversation with Otto.

The centre of attention, though, was the line of cavalry horses. One had been offered to Blouse, but he'd waved it away with a look of alarm, muttering something about "being loyal to his steed", which to Polly's eye looked like a self-propelled toast-rack with a bad attitude. But he'd probably made the right decision, at that, because they were big beasts, broad, battle-hardened and bright-eyed; sitting astride one of them would have strained the crotch in Blouse's trousers and an attempt at reining one of them in would have pulled his arms off at the shoulder. Now each horse had a pair of boots hanging from its saddle, except for the leading horse, a truly magnificent beast upon which Corporal Scallot sat like an afterthought.

"I'm no donkey-walloper as you know, Threeparts," said Jackrum, as he finished lashing the crutches behind the saddle, "but this is a hell of a good horse you've got here."