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  "You've got it figured that precisely?"

  "Yes."

  He shook his head. "What about personal games, with no one running it?"

  "That's different. Then if you're better, you should win."

  "So how do you play?"

  "Go for the big scores with your flat stones, and use the round ones at the end to knock off his big scores, and, if he gets a big advantage on the first round, surrender your ten and start over."

  "I like to use my flat stones to knock out the other guy's early scores. Then I can get lucky with the round stones."

  "Yeah, a lot of guys play that way."

  "And I double when, well, you know, sometimes you can just feel that you're going to hit big?"

  Sure you do. I said, "I don't know, I don't actually play a whole lot."

  "Well, it seems like it works."

  I thought, I know exactly how you play, sucker, but didn't say it. I said, "How do you do, overall?"

  "I'm about even, or maybe a little up."

  I almost said it with him. The consistent losers always say, "About even, or maybe a little up." But I just nodded and didn't say anything.

  "Maybe I'll try it your way," he said.

  "Let me know how it works."

  "I will."

  "So, why are you here?"

  "Here? You mean, in the service?"

  "Yeah."

  He was quiet for a while, then said, in a low voice, "I've always dreamed of fighting under Sethra Lavode."

  "Okay," I said. "I can respect that."

  "It's better than the alternative, in any case."

  "Oh?"

  "My last posting was with a mercenary army. They've been hired to fight against her. I wouldn't care to do that."

  "No," I said. "I wouldn't either."

  A little later fires were lit, and we sat around them; apparently every three tents had one fire. Virt explained that, usually, the fires were where meals were cooked, but as this whole operation had been thrown together so quickly, they had gone to communal kitchens to save the extra work of dividing up the rations. I suppose that made some sort of military sense. Someone from one of the other tents said it only made sense if we weren't staying long. Virt said we'd be moving out any day, and explained her reasoning, which provided the subject for much lively debate and led to reminiscences about past campaigns that had involved a lot of waiting in bivouac.

  "Well, Loiosh, what do you think of military life so far?"

  "The food's good."

  "Heh."

  "And there's a lot of it."

  "I didn't see a lot."

  "That's because everyone hasn't been feeding you scraps."

  "Everyone's been feeding you?"

  "They sure have, Boss. I think they think I'm good luck."

  "You're lucky they don't know you."

  "Heh."

  The conversation continued around me, and I occasionally put in questions, such as how they could tell the different drum calls apart, which were answered with the sort of patience I might display to a potential customer who wanted to understand the interest on the loan he was inquiring about. The drum, by the way, was called a juice-drum, and the peculiar sound it made was caused by steel balls rattling around inside the steel frame as it was struck.

  Later they went on to talking about what they were going to do after the campaign. If they did what they said they were going to, I'd see a big increase in business at all of my brothels. Then they went on to telling humorous anecdotes, most of which I'd heard and none of which are worth repeating, although there were some particularly military ones that were interesting—most of these had to do with peculiar injuries, ways of bugging out of battle, or embarrassing things happening to officers (but never sergeants, for some reason). Loiosh thought some of the stories were funny, but then, he'd liked the food, too.

  The drum started up again, and Virt explained that it was time to sleep. I wasn't used to sleeping on a set schedule, but I realized that I was sufficiently tired that it wouldn't be a problem, even with the unfamiliar bed and the nasty, prickly woolen blanket. And it wasn't; I rolled up my cloak for a pillow, lay down, and was gone.

  The drum woke me up the next morning, beginning my first full day as a soldier. We were given ten minutes at the spring to make ourselves ready, which only barely gave me time to shave. I noticed various of my comrades looking at me out of the corners of their eyes as I did so, and I rather enjoyed it.

  There were fires going by the cook-tent, so I went over there and discovered that not only was there no klava, but there was no cream or honey for the coffee, so I skipped it. I forced down a biscuit because I thought I might need it, then went back and heard that morning maneuvers had been canceled.

  "I wonder why?" said Aelburr.

  "Be grateful," said Napper.

  "I have a guess," said Virt, staring over in the direction of the Captain's tent. It was very cold; I pulled my heavy cloak around me, thinking I'd trade half my territory in the City for a good cup of klava, and didn't say anything.

  Rascha came by and wished us a pleasant morning. "What's the word?" said Virt.

  "You'll know as soon as I do," she said, and continued on.

  I studied the sky, hoping it wouldn't rain, but I couldn't tell anything. I knew Castle Black was somewhere above us, but I couldn't see it through the overcast, even though I knew that Morrolan would be able to look down and see us. It seemed wrong, somehow.

  "Loiosh, what am I doing here?"

  "If I knew, Boss, I'd be sure to tell you."

  About forty yards away, over the Captain's tent, the banner of Cropper Company snapped and floated in the cold morning breeze.

  The drums started up again, but we'd already eaten breakfast and it was too early for lunch. Virt stood up, smiling. "Do you know how to strike a tent?" she said.

  I assumed she didn't refer to hitting it, so I said, "No."

  "Time to learn, then," she said. "We're moving out."

  9

  Skulking About

  Loiosh kept asking what I was going to do when I got there, and I kept saying I didn't know. "I'll think of something," I told him.

  "Why am I not reassured?"

  "Getting close enough is half—what's that?"

  "More of the same battle, Boss. Just not our part in it."

  "Look closer, Loiosh."

  "Oh."

  Off to my right, a bit over a hundred yards away, was a large body of Easterners—no doubt the mercenaries I'd been informed of. They were far enough away that I wouldn't have been able to tell they were human except that I could just barely make out a beard here and there, and that was sufficient.

  They were going up against a cavalry troop, and I could just make out Morrolan's form, sitting on a dark horse and laying about him with—yes, it had to be Blackwand. With each cut of that blade, another died—and died forever, because there is no return, reincarnation, no afterlife of any sort to someone struck down with that weapon. The beliefs among humans regarding what happens after the death of the body are varied, peculiar, and often silly; but a hundred yards to my right Morrolan was making the question moot.

  In spite of all I had seen, it was this that sickened me.

  I discovered that I'd gotten all the way to the knot of sorcerers and their honor guard on top of the hill. Before any of them could speak to me, I said, "Can we stop all this nonsense, please?"

  "Good work, Boss," said Loiosh. "You've gotten their attention."

  "That was my secret plan," I said.

  They looked at me and I looked at them, and I realized with an almost profound sense of importance that I'd stopped. I'd reached the place. Whatever was going to happen would happen here, and then it would end, and a sudden, terrible delight filled me that, for better or worse, I was done marching. This meant, above all, that I was done marching in the rain.

  It had started raining a little before noon the very first day I'd marched with Cropper Company, and sometimes it see
ms that it had rained ever since. We'd been marching for about four hours, and after the first I had decided I didn't care for it. The rain did nothing to change my mind. Marching through mud just isn't as much fun as they say, especially with a folded-up cot, a jury-rigged backpack, and a few pieces of tent on your back. I wore my heavy cloak because it was cold when we started, but at the first break I switched to the light one because marching turned out to be much harder work than I'd expected, and I became hot and sweaty inside the first mile. Then, of course, the rain started, so I was too hot while we marched, and too cold every time we had to stop because a wagon had gotten stuck in the mud and it was either in front of us and blocked the road or behind us and we weren't permitted to get too far ahead.

  Virt kept looking around, as if trying to guess where we were going and what we were doing; occasionally she would make helpful observations about how the engineers would have been able to keep the roads passable if only there were wood in the region. Napper never said a word, but kept up a constant stream of invective through inarticulate grunts and hisses. Aelburr seemed cheerful, which was really annoying. Loiosh sometimes rested on my shoulder and sometimes flew over the company, enjoying his unexpected popularity and, fortunately, not making any wisecracks to me. I did my best to keep my thoughts to myself, mostly as a matter of pride.

  Somewhere in there we crossed into enemy-held territory. I didn't notice it at the time, but put it together some time later when I realized that our commissary was no longer paying for the supplies we took from the locals. Years later I found out that Sethra had cut the entire army off from its supply lines—a move she was fond of. I guess she was good at it, too, because the food never changed.

  Pity.

  The rainfall grew heavier. It's funny how little I notice weather in the City; but it just doesn't matter that much. A little bit of sorcery will keep the rain off, and then I'm at the office, or wherever I'm going. Here it was different; most of us had the sorcerous ability to keep the rain off our heads, but that did nothing for the road, and you can only keep up a spell like that for a certain amount of time before you start to get brain-fatigued, and then it can slip and you can lose control of the energy. It would be humiliating to fry your brain because a Verra-be-damned umbrella spell got out of control.

  Worse for a Dragonlord, though, because he'd be likely to show up in the Paths of the Dead and have to explain just how he Got It.

  The Paths of the Dead.

  I remembered them, then, as I was walking; I remembered thinking I'd never find my way out, and then saving myself, and Aliera, and Morrolan, with a homemade bit of witchcraft I hadn't known I could perform. And where were Morrolan and Aliera now? Probably snug and dry in Castle Black, waiting to teleport to wherever we ended up, while my boots went flllp flllp in the mud.

  But it was my choice, and I knew I'd feel better when we made contact with Fornia's army and I did something nasty and disruptive to it. Maybe only one or two things, then I could bug out.

  "Boss, you've got to let the spell go."

  I wanted to argue with him, but there's no point in having a familiar if you don't let him do his job. "Okay, thanks," I told him, and got wet. Looking at the line of march, I was pleased to see I'd held mine longer than many of them. I also knew that there would be some brain-fry casualties from this march; I wondered if that was one of the things calculated out by Sethra when she planned her campaigns: "Well, we're going to lose one percent every day to brain-fry if the weather's bad … "

  "You're right, Loiosh. My mind is getting numb."

  "Soggy, too, Boss."

  "You're not as funny as you think you are."

  We stopped then—this one an official rest, as opposed to waiting for a mud-stuck wagon. I gratefully took off my gear, unfolded the stool Aelburr had made me, and sat down.

  "We're bound for interesting country," said Virt.

  I looked around; it was plain, and flat, with never a hill and hardly a tree to break up the terrain. "It is?"

  "Well, this is good ground to fight on, but that isn't what I mean. I mean we're moving toward a hilly area, and it makes me wonder if Sethra plans to bring us directly into a fight or if we're reserves, because if we're reserves, I'd expect us to start heading north soon."

  "Well, I know we're in the van."

  "You do? How?"

  "Morrolan told me. That's why I'm assigned to this company."

  She looked at me as if waiting for me to go on. "Boss!"

  "Bloody death, Loiosh. I am brain-tired, aren't I?"

  "Never mind," I told Virt. "I've already said too much."

  "All right."

  "I'm not a spy, though."

  "I didn't think you were," she said. "And I pretty much assumed that you weren't along just as a soldier."

  "Yeah."

  "But we're in the van, are we? Then, at a guess, we won't have more than a two-day march. Three, maybe, if the weather stays like this."

  "And then battle?"

  "I wouldn't be surprised. Will you be around for the fighting?"

  I looked at her and knew what she was thinking—was I going to be sharing the danger, or was I just along for the ride and would bug out as soon as they went into battle. The answer, of course, was that I intended to bug out.

  "I'll be there," I told her.

  She nodded.

  The bloody damn juice-drum again, and I stood up, refolded the stool, and eventually we moved out. The rain gave a last burst, then tapered off to a drizzle.

  "Can't Morrolan's sorcerers do something about the rain?" I said.

  "Chances are they just did."

  I grunted. "Took them long enough."

  "You're starting to sound like Napper."

  Napper gave her a quick glare. I said, "I'm starting to understand him."

  He gave no indication that he wanted to be understood.

  I said, "I've been given to understand that bitching is the universal right of soldiers."

  She laughed briefly, though I didn't think it was funny. "Not in an elite corps," she said.

  "We're an elite corps?"

  "Didn't you know?"

  "How am I supposed to tell?"

  "See any Teckla? See any conscripts?"

  "Ah. Okay, I hadn't known to look for them."

  "Well, there you have it. How do you feel, being part of an elite corps?"

  "Bursting with pride," I said.

  "That's the spirit."

  Napper snorted. The breeze picked up and I shivered, but the rain stopped completely soon after that, and I was able to perform a quick drying spell, and then I felt better.

  We put a few miles behind us, then stopped where we were on the road and ate salted kethna, cheese, and biscuits. I ate three biscuits. They tasted much better after not eating a decent meal for a day.

  "If this goes on long enough, Loiosh, I'll have no more taste than you.

  "I weep bitter tears."

  "Reptiles don't weep."

  "And we have other natural advantages, too."

  I filled a pocket with some extra biscuits to eat on the way. They weren't all that bad, really, as long as you didn't compare them to anything good.

  The grey clouds that had gathered beneath the orange-red overcast were gone, and in the distance there were now a few hills to be seen. That meant we were probably climbing, very gradually, which realization made my legs tired. Periodically, the Captain would ride by on a horse, presumably to make us feel even more tired. I hadn't seen much of horses before, and watching the Captain ride by while we kept trudging didn't give me any great affection for them.

  As the light failed the drums rattled, and we stopped and I watched the other three put up the tent, making certain to show me how the pieces fit together. Then we lit fires, ate an evening meal that was suspiciously like the one yesterday, and sat around in front of the fire. Rascha approached and said, "Aelburr and Vlad, first shift on picket duty tonight."

  "Okay," said Aelburr.

&
nbsp; "Vlad?"

  "Yes?"

  "Did you hear?"

  "Yes."

  "Then acknowledge."

  "Sorry."

  Rascha moved on. I said, "How long does a shift last?"

  "Two hours," said Virt, "unless they decide we're in imminent, in which case time doubles and personnel triples."

  " 'In imminent'?"

  "In imminent danger."

  "Ah."

  "Which I don't think we are."

  I looked an inquiry at Virt, who shrugged and said, "I doubt it."

  Aelburr stood up and buckled on his sword. I did the same. He led the way past the rows of tents to where we could just make out the banner in the fading light. Crown was there, and pairs would approach him to be sent off; to us he said, "North edge, forty yards out," and pointed. Aelburr saluted and turned away. I also saluted, which earned me a glance I couldn't read, then I went after Aelburr. But I was pleased; I'd finally gotten to salute.

  "What do we do?" I said. "Stand in place like idiots or walk back and forth like morons?"

  He gave a token chuckle. "Stand in place," he said. "More or less, anyway. As long as we keep watching, and we don't stray out of call, it shouldn't matter much."

  We were out there for two hours, and nothing happened, but it was spooky. At first there was a hum of low conversation from the camp, but that died fairly soon, and then it was quiet, and I was one of those guards whom I'd spent so much time figuring out ways of circumventing, or sometimes knocking out, or occasionally killing. All of those occasions presented themselves to my memory with a snicker of revenge. I wasn't really worried, because Loiosh was there, but it was a position I didn't enjoy being in. I tried to start a conversation, but Aelburr let me know that we were supposed to use our ears, and that if we were caught conversing Bad Things would happen.

  "What does the military consider a Bad Thing?"

  "Latrine duty."

  "Sold," I said, and shut up for the rest of our shift. We were relieved right on time by a couple of soldiers I didn't know and who didn't seem interested in either conversation or latrine duty. I followed Aelburr to the tent, which I couldn't have found on my own, and I climbed into my cot just an instant after I fell asleep.