"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.
"Yes, corp?"
"Any coffee in their packs?"
"Sorry, corp. Only tea."
"Damn!" Maladict thumped the tree behind him. "Hey, you went straight for the man who was swallowing the cipher. Straight for him. How come?"
"Just luck," said Polly.
"Yeah, right. Try again. I have very good night vision."
"Oh, all right. Well, the one on the left started to run and the one in the middle was dropping the clacks tube and reaching for his sword, but the one on the right thought that putting something into his mouth was more important even than fighting or running away. Satisfied?"
"You worked out all that in a couple of seconds? That was smart."
"Yeah, right. Now please forget it, okay? I don't want to be noticed. I don't particularly want to be here. I just want to find my brother. Okay?" "Fine. I just thought that you'd like to know someone saw you. And you'd better get that tea to 'em before they try to kill one another."
At least I was someone watching the enemy, Polly thought furiously as she walked away. I wasn't someone watching another soldier. Who does he think he is? Or she is?
She heard the raised voices as she pushed through a thicket.
"You can't torture an unarmed man!" That was Blouse's voice.
"Well, I'm not waiting for him to arm himself, sir! He knows stuff! And he's a spy!"
"Don't you dare kick him in the ribs again! That is an order, sergeant!"
"Asking nicely didn't work, did it, sir? 'Pretty please with sprinkles on top' is not a recognized method of interrogation! You shouldn't be here, sir! You should say 'Sergeant, find out what you can from the prisoner!' and then go somewhere and wait until I tell you what I got out of him, sir!"
"You did it again!"
"What? What?"
"You kicked him again!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Sergeant, I gave you an order!"
"And?"
"Tea's up!" said Polly cheerfully.