That was why people didn't talk to Wazzer much.
"Wazz, you do know that wearing men's clothes is an Abomination, don't you?"
"Thank you for reminding me, Polly," said Wazzer, without a trace of irony. "But the Duchess told me that nothing I do in pursuit of my quest will be held Abominable."
"A quest, eh," said Polly, trying to sound jovial. "And what kind of quest is that?"
"I am to take command of the army," said Wazzer.
Hairs rose on the back of Polly's neck. "Yes?" she said.
"Yes, the Duchess stepped out of her picture when I was asleep and told me to go at once to Kneck," said Wazzer. "The Little Mother spoke to me, Ozz. She commanded me. She guides my steps. She led me out of vile slavery. How can that be an Abomination?"
She's got a sword, thought Polly. And a shovel. This needs careful handling. "That's nice," she said.
"And... and I must tell you that... I... never in my life have I felt such love and camaraderie," Wazzer went on earnestly. "The last few days have been the happiest of my life. You have all shown me such kindness, such gentleness. The Little Mother guides me. She guides us all, Ozz. You believe that, too. Don't you?" The moonlight revealed the tracks of tears in the grime on Wazzer's cheeks.
"Um," said Polly, and sought wildly for a way to avoid lying.
She found it. "Er... you know I want to find my brother?" she said.
"Well, that does you credit, the Duchess knows," said Wazzer quickly.
"And, well... I'm also doing it for The Duchess," said Polly, feeling wretched. "I think about The Duchess all the time, I must admit." Well, that was true. It just wasn't honest.
"I'm so very glad to hear that, Ozz, because I had thought you were a backslider," said Wazzer. "But you said that with such conviction. Perhaps this would be the time for us to get down on our knees and - "
"Wazz, you're standing in another man's grave," said Polly. "There's a time and place, you know? Let's get back to the others, eh?"
The happiest days of the girl's life had been spent tramping through forests, digging graves and trying to dodge soldiers on both sides? The trouble with Polly was that she had a mind that asked questions even when she really, really didn't want to know the answers.
"So... the Duchess is still talking to you, is she?" she said, as they made their way among the dark trees.
"Oh, yes. When we were in Plotz, sleeping in the barracks," said Wazzer. "She said it was all working."
Don't, don't ask another question, said part of Polly's mind, but she ignored it out of sheer horrible curiosity. Wazzer was nice - well, sort of nice, in a slightly scary way - but talking to her was like picking at a scab; you knew what was likely to be under the crust, but you picked anyway.
"So... what did you use to do back in the world?" she said.
Wazzer gave her a haunting smile. "I used to be beaten."
Tea was brewing in a small hollow near the track. Several of the squad were standing guard. No one liked the idea of men in dark clothes sneaking around.
"Mug of saloop?" said Shufti, holding them up. A few days ago they'd have called it "sweet milky tea", but even if they couldn't walk the walk yet they were determined to talk the talk as soon as possible.
"What's happening?" said Polly.
"Dunno," said Shufti. "Sarge and the rupert went off over that way with the prisoner but no one tells us groans anything."
"It's 'grunts', I think," said Wazzer, taking the tea.
"I've done them a couple of mugs, anyway. See what you can find out, eh?"
Polly gulped her tea down, grabbed the mugs and hurried away.
On the edge of the hollow Maladict was lounging against a tree. There was this about vampires: they could never look scruffy. Instead, they were... what was the word... dishabille. It meant untidy, but with bags and bags of style. In this case Maladict's jacket was open and he'd stuck his packet of cigarettes in the band of his shako. He saluted her with his crossbow as she went past.
"Ozz?" he said.