Kindly reached up and wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘There is wisdom, Faradan. The wisdom that comes with knowing – right to the very core of your soul – just how fragile life really is. You earn that wisdom when you take someone else’s life.’
‘And what about the ones who don’t think twice about it? Wisdom? Hardly. More like … a growing taste for it. That dark rush of pleasure that’s so … addictive.’ She looked away. I know. I stood the Wall .
Lostara pointed. ‘There’s a runner coming … for one of us.’
They waited until the thin, round-faced soldier arrived. A soldier with mutilated hands. He saluted with the right one and proffered Kindly a wax tablet with the other. ‘Compl’ments of Lieutenant Master-Sergeant Quartermaster Pores, sir.’
Kindly took the tablet and studied it. ‘Soldier,’ he said.
‘Sir?’
‘The sun’s heat has melted the wax. I do hope you committed the message to memory.’
‘Sir, I have.’
‘Let’s hear it.’
‘Sir, the missive was private.’
‘From Pores? I really don’t have time for this. We’re past all the duelling. Spit it out, soldier.’
‘Sir. To quote: “Private missive, from Lieutenant Master-Sergeant Field Quartermaster Pores, to Fist Kindly. Warmest salutations and congratulations on your promotion, sir. As one might observe from your advancement and, indeed, mine, cream doth rise, etc. In as much as I am ever delighted in corresponding with you, discussing all manner of subjects in all possible idioms, alas, this subject is rather more official in nature. In short, we are faced with a crisis of the highest order. Accordingly, I humbly seek your advice and would suggest we arrange a most private meeting at the earliest convenience. Yours affectionately, Pores.”’ The soldier then saluted again and said, ‘I’m t’wait yer answer, sir.’
In the bemused silence that followed, Faradan Sort narrowed her eyes on the soldier. ‘You were heavy infantry, weren’t you?’
‘Corporal Himble Thrup, Fist.’
‘How stands the rank and file, soldier?’
‘Standin’ true, Fist.’
‘Do the enlisted say much about the Adjunct, soldier? Off the record here.’
The watery eyes flicked momentarily to her, then away again. ‘Occasionally, sir.’
‘And what do they say?’
‘Not much, sir. Mostly, it’s all them rumours.’
‘You discuss them.’
‘No sir. We chew ’em up till there’s nothing left. And then invent new ones, sir.’
‘To sow dissension?’
Brows lifted beneath the rim of the helm. ‘No, Fist. It’s … er … entertainment. Beats boredom, sir. Boredom leads to laziness, sir, and laziness can get a soldier up and killt. Or the one beside ’im, which is e’en worse. We hate being bored, sir, that’s all.’
Kindly said, ‘Tell Pores to find me at my command tent, whenever he likes.’
‘Sir.’
‘Dismissed, soldier.’
The man saluted a third time, wheeled and set off.
Kindly grunted.
‘That’s a heavy for you,’ Faradan Sort muttered, and then snorted. ‘Inventing nasty rumours for fun.’
‘They’re only nasty, I suppose, once someone decides one’s for real.’
‘If you say so, Kindly. As for my regulars, well, now I know where the barrage is coming from.’
‘Even if it is coming down on them,’ observed Lostara Yil, ‘from what you said it’s not stirring up much dust.’
Faradan met Kindly’s eyes. ‘Are we panicking over nothing, Kindly?’
‘To be honest,’ he admitted, ‘I don’t really know any more.’
Ruthan Gudd drew off his gambeson and paused to luxuriate in the sudden escape from unbearable heat as his sweat-slicked skin cooled.
‘Well,’ said Skanarow from her cot, ‘that woke me up.’
‘My godlike physique?’
‘The smell, Ruthan.’
‘Ah, thank you, woman, you’ve left me positively glowing.’ He unclipped his sword belt and let it fall to the ground, then slumped down on the edge of his cot and settled his head in his hands.
Skanarow sat up. ‘Another one?’
Through his fingers he said, ‘Not sure how many more of those she can weather.’
‘We’re barely two days into the desert, Ruthan – I hope she’s tougher than you think.’
