Monstrous Regiment (Discworld 31)

Light still glowed around Wazzer, who turned to face the squad with an expression of beatific pleasure.

"You must speak to the High Command," she said.

You must speak to the High Command, whispered the walls.

"Be kind to this child."

Be kind to this child...

...this child...

Polly caught Wazzer before she hit the ground.

"What is happening with her?" said Tonker.

"I think the Duchess really is speaking through her," said Polly. Wazzer was unconscious, only the whites of her eyes showing. Polly laid her down gently.

"Oh, come on! The Duchess is just a painting! She's dead!"

Sometimes you give in. For Polly, that time had been the length of time it took to walk through the crypt. If you don't believe, or don't want to believe, or if you don't simply hope that there's something worth believing in, why turn round? And if you don't believe, who are you trusting to lead you out of the grip of dead men?

"Dead?" she said. "So what? What about the old soldiers back there, who haven't faded away? What about the light? And you heard how Wazzer's voice sounded!"

"Yeah, but... well, that sort of thing doesn't happen to people you know," said Tonker.

"It happens to... well, strange religious people. I mean, a few days ago she was learning how to fart loudly!"

"She?" whispered Blouse to Polly. "She? Why is - "

Once again a part of Polly's mind overtook the sudden panic.

"Sorry, Daphne?" she said.

"Oh... yes... of course... can't be too... yes..." the lieutenant murmured.

Igorina knelt down by the girl and put a hand on her forehead.

"She's on fire," she said.

"She used to pray all the time back at the Grey House," said Lofty, kneeling down.

"Yeah, well, there was a lot to pray about, if you weren't strong," growled Tonker. "And every bloody day we had to pray to the Duchess to thank Nuggan for slops you wouldn't give to a pig! And that damn picture everywhere, that fishy stare... I hate it! It could drive you mad. That's what happened to Wazz, right? And now you want me to believe the fat old biddy is here and treating our friend there like some... puppet or something? I don't believe that. And if it's true, it shouldn't be!"

"She's burning up, Magda," said Lofty quietly.

"D'you know why we joined up?" said Tonker, red in the face. "To get away! Anything was better than what we had! I've got Lofty and Lofty's got me, and we're sticking with you because there's nothing else for us. Everyone says the Zlobenians are terrible, right? But they've never done anything to us, they've never hurt us. If they want to come over here and hang a few bastards, I could give 'em a list! Everywhere there's something bad happening, everywhere the small-minded bullies are inventing new cruelties, new ways of keeping us down, that bloody face is watching! And you say it's here?"

"We're here," said Polly. "And you are here. And we're going to do what we came to do and get out, understand? You kissed the picture, you took the shilling!"

"I damn well didn't kiss her face! And a shilling's the least they owe me!"

"Then go!" shouted Polly. "Desert! We won't stop you, because I'm sick of your... your bullshit! But you make up your mind right now, right now, understand? Because when we meet the enemy I don't want to think you're there to stab me in the back!"

The words flew out before she could stop them, and there was no power in the world that could snatch them back.

Tonker went pale, and a certain life drained out of her face like water from a funnel. "What was that you said?"

The words "You heard me!" lined up to spring from Polly's tongue, but she hesitated. She told herself: it doesn't have to go this way. You don't have to let a pair of socks do the talking.