"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.
Both men turned. Their expression changed. If they had been birds, their feathers would have gently settled back.
"Ah, Perks," said Blouse. "Well done."
"Yeah... good lad," said Sergeant Jackrum.
Polly's presence seemed to lower the temperature. The two men drank their tea and eyed one another warily.
"You'll have noticed, sergeant, that the men were wearing the dark-green uniform of the First Battalion the Zlobenian Fifty-ninth Bowmen. A skirmishing battalion," said Blouse, with cold politeness. "That is not the uniform of a spy, sergeant."
"Yessir? But they'd let their uniforms get very dirty, then. No shine on the buttons, sir."
"Patrolling behind enemy lines is not spying, sergeant. You must have done it in your time."
"More times than you could count, sir," said Jackrum. "And I knew full well that if I got caught I was due a good kicking in the nadgers. But skirmishers is the worst, sir. You think you're safe in the lines, next moment it turns out that some bastard sitting in the bushes on a hill has been working out windage and yardage and has dropped an arrow right through your mate's head." He picked up a strange-looking longbow. "See these things they've got? Burleigh and Stronginthearm Number Five Recurved, made in bloody Ankh-Morpork. A real killing weapon. I say we give him a choice, sir. He can tell us what he knows, and go out easy. Or keep mum, and go out hard."
"No, sergeant. He is an enemy officer taken in battle and entitled to fair treatment."
"No, sir. He's a sergeant, and they don't deserve no respect at all, sir. I should know. They're cunning and artful, if they're any good. I wouldn't mind if he was an officer, sir. But sergeants are clever."
There was a grunt from the bound prisoner.
"Loosen his gag. Perks," said Blouse. Instinctively, even if the instinct was only a couple of days old, Polly glanced at Jackrum. The sergeant shrugged. She pulled the rag down.
"I'll talk," said the prisoner, spitting out cotton fluff. "But not to that tub of lard! I'll talk to the officer. You keep that man away from me!"
"You're in no position to negotiate, soldier boy!" snarled Jackrum.
"Sergeant," said the lieutenant, "I'm sure you have things to see to. Please do so. Send a couple of men back here. He can't do anything against four of us."
"But - "
"That was another order, sergeant," said Blouse. He turned to the prisoner as Jackrum stumped off. "What is your name, man?"
"Sergeant Towering, lieutenant. And if you are a sensible man, you will release me and surrender."
"Surrender?" said Blouse, as Igorina and Wazzer ran into the clearing, armed and bewildered.
"Yep. I'll put in a good word for you when the boys catch up with us. You don't want to know how many men are looking for you. Could I have a drink, please?"
"What? Oh, yes. Of course," said Blouse, as if caught out in a display of bad manners. "Perks, fetch some tea for the sergeant. Why are people looking for us, pray?"
Towering gave him a cockeyed grin. "You don't know?"