"This town's empty, you know that?"
"They all scarpered, sir," said Polly earnestly. "Gonna be an invasion, sir. Everyone says. They're frightened of you, sir."
"Except you, eh?" said the sergeant.
"What's your name, girl who smiles at Zlobenian troopers?" said the captain, smiling.
"Polly, sir," said Polly. Her questing hand found what it was seeking under the bar. It was the barman's friend. There always was one.
"And are you frightened of me, Polly?" said the captain. There was a snigger from the soldier by the window.
The captain had a well-trimmed moustache which had been waxed to points, and was over six feet tall, Polly reckoned. He had a pretty smile, too, which was somehow improved by the scar on his face. A circle of glass covered one eye. Her hand gripped the hidden cudgel.
"No, sir," she said, looking back into one eye and one glass. "Er... what's that glass for, sir?"
"It's a monocle," said the captain. "It helps me see you, for which I am eternally grateful. I always say that if I had two I'd make a spectacle of myself."
That got a dutiful laugh from the sergeant. Polly looked blank.
"And are you going to tell me where the recruits are?" said the captain.
She forced her expression not to change. "No."
The captain smiled. He had good teeth, but there was, now, no warmth in his eyes.
"You are in no position to be ignorant," he said. "We won't hurt them, I assure you."
There was a scream in the distance.
"Much," said the sergeant, with more satisfaction than was necessary. There was another yell. The captain nodded to the man by the door, who slipped out. Polly pulled the shako out from under the bar and put it on.
"One of them gave you his cap, did he?" said the sergeant, and his teeth were nowhere near as good as the officer's. "Well, I like a girl who'll smile at a soldier - "
The cudgel hit him along the head. It was old blackthorn, and he went down like a tree. The captain backed away as Polly came out from behind the bar with the club readied again. But he hadn't drawn his sword, and he was laughing.
"Now, girl, if you want - " He caught her arm as she swung, dragged her towards him in a tight grip, still laughing, and folded up almost silently as her knee connected with his sock drawer. Thank you, Gummy. As he sagged she stepped back and brought the cudgel down on his helmet, making it ring.
She was shaking. She felt sick. Her stomach was a small, red-hot lump. What else could she have done? Was she supposed to think We have met the enemy and he is nice? Anyway, he wasn't. He was smug.
She tugged a sabre from a scabbard and crept out into the night. It was still raining, and waist-deep mist was drifting up from the river. Half a dozen or so horses were outside, but not tied up. A trooper was waiting with them. Faintly, against the rustle of the rain, she heard him making soothing noises to comfort one of them. She wished she hadn't heard that. Well, she'd taken the shilling. Polly gripped the cudgel.
She'd gone a step when the mist between her and the man fountained up slowly as something rose out of it. The horses shifted uneasily. The man turned, a shadow moved, the man fell...
"Oil" whispered Polly.
The shadow turned. "Ozzer? It's me, Maladict," it said. "Sarge sent me to see if you needed help."
"Bloody Jackrum left me surrounded by armed men!" Polly hissed.
"And?"
"Well, I... knocked two of them out," she said, feeling as she said it that this rather spoilt her case as a victim. "One went over the road, though."
"I think we got that one," said Maladict. "Well, I say 'got'... Tonker nearly gutted him. There's a girl with what I'd call unresolved issues." He turned round. "Let's see... seven horses, seven men. Yep."
"Tonker?" said Polly.
"Oh, yes. Hadn't you spotted her? She went mad when the man charged at Lofty. Now, let's have a look at your gentlemen, shall we?" said Maladict, heading for the inn door.