Valentine had the same uncomfortable feeling he'd had on his first trip into the Kurian Zone, when he learned that one of his charges had been leaving information for Kurian trackers.
"A message drop," Valentine said.
"Possibly. People go to the canteen at all hours. It's a good spot. Almost everyone's there once a day."
"That means-it could be anyone."
"In a camp full of Quislings," Lambert said.
"Not anymore . . . at least I hope not," Valentine said.
Lambert lowered her voice. "They turned on their superiors once. We have to consider the possibility that they'll do it again. How many of them are above going for a brass ring and an estate in Iowa?"
"Will you take tea with me, Mister Valentine?" Mrs. O'Coombe asked as Valentine passed through her mini-camp on a blustery afternoon with blown leaves rattling against the Rover's paneling. "You look chilled."
Valentine had no need to be anywhere. The column was waiting for a report from the Kentuckians about the status of their wounded left behind, not to mention offical permission to move through the new Freehold with an armed column. "Yes. I would like to talk to you."
"Tea elevates any social interaction," she said, placing an elegant copper pot on the electrical camp stove running off the generator. Valentine admired the long spout and handle. The decorative top had elaborate etching.
She opened a tin and spooned some black leaves into the holder at the top of the pot.
"You'll forgive me-I make some ceremony of this," she said. "Teatime was always my time on the ranch. Even my husband, God rest him, didn't disturb me if I closed my library door."
She poured.
"Tea is the smell of civilization, don't you think?"
Valentine sniffed, briefly bringing the old mental focus to his nostrils. Not a strong scent, even to his old Wolf nose. Just wet leaves and hot water.
"Not much of a smell." Valentine said. "I've heard people put, er, that oil, berge-"
"Bergamot," she corrected. "Yes, Earl Grey. A classic. Not that hard to make. Are you a fan of teas, Mister Valentine?"
"I used to drink some good stuff in New Orleans. Lots of trade there. I had sage tea in Texas. I trade my whiskey and tobacco rations for tea, the Southern Command stuff."
"Dusty mud," she said. "These are real leaves, from China and India."
They drank. Valentine sniffed again, letting his Wolf's nose explore the pleasantly delicate aroma.
"No, it's not a strong smell," she said. "But then civilization isn't a strong presence either. The whole idea is the sublimation of coarser practices. Yet when it disappears-just as when your cup is empty-you'll notice its absence more. Receiving mail is an ordinary experience until it doesn't show up for a week; then its interruption is keenly felt."
"We'd like nothing better than weekly mail out here."
"How is the bond tour going, Mister Valentine?"
"Poorly, I'm afraid. These Kentuckians keep their gold close. We've had some donations of whiskey, boots, and craft goods that we might be able to trade for butter and eggs, if we come across a farm wife in a patriotic mood. You'll see that on the road."
"I am anxious to get started. I wish to see my son again."
"You know, there's a chance we may never find Corporal O'Coombe." Valentine thought it better not to list all the reasons-sepsis, an illness, discovery by Moondaggers sweeping across Javelin's line of retreat looking for those left behind to take and torture . . .
"I've prepared myself for that eventuality, Mister Valentine."
"You seem like a woman used to getting her way. I hope we'll be able to complete our sweep and bring back a few more of Southern Command's own."
"My staff and their vehicles are entirely at your disposal, sir. Our agreement still stands. I am allowed to search for my son; you are allowed to bring back any you have left behind. If we cannot find news of my son, all I ask is a finding that he's been killed in action so that his memory may be honored accordingly."
Valentine would be glad to have Mrs. O'Coombe's crew out of his graying hair. Her precious doctor was always asking for better water, more sanitizer, more hands to pick up shifts changing bandages and bedding.