"Times are changing, sergeant," said Blouse.
Messages, flying across the sky. They were an Abomination Unto Nuggan.
The logic sounded impeccable to Polly as she helped Wazzer to dig two graves. Prayers from the faithful ascended unto Nuggan, going upwards. A variety of unseen things, such as sanctity and grace and a list of this week's Abominations, descended from Nuggan to the faithful, going downwards. What was forbidden was messages from one human to another going, as it were, from side to side. There could be collisions. If you believed in Nuggan, that is. If you believed in prayer.
Wazzer's real name was Alice, she confided as she dug, but it was hard to apply the name to a small stick-thin lad with a bad haircut and not much skill with a shovel, who had a habit of standing just slightly too close to you and stared just slightly to the left of your face when she talked to you. Wazzer believed in prayer. She believed in everything. That made her kind of... awkward to talk to, if you didn't. But Polly felt she should make the effort.
"How old are you, Wazz?" she said, shovelling dirt.
"N-n-nineteen, Polly," said Wazzer.
"Why'd you join?"
"The Duchess told me to," said Wazzer.
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.