‘Of course you aren’t.’ The Duchess looked around. ‘Now, where is my army . . . ah.’ There was no echo at all in the voice now, and none of Wazzer’s cowering and downcast eyes. She positioned herself directly in front of Froc, who was staring with his mouth open.
‘General Froc, you must do one final service for me.’
The general glared. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘You need to ask? As always, Jackrum thinks faster than you. You know me. I am the Duchess Annagovia.’
‘But you are—’ one of the other officers began, but Froc held up a hand again.
‘The voice . . . is familiar,’ she said, in a faraway whisper.
‘Yes. You remember the ball. I remember it, too. Forty years ago. You were the youngest captain ever. We danced, stiffly in my case. I asked you how long you had been a captain, and you said—’
‘Three days,’ breathed Froc, with her eyes shut.
‘And we ate Brandy Pillows, and a cocktail that I believe was called—’
‘Angel’s Tears,’ said Froc. ‘I kept the menu, your grace. And the dance card.’
‘Yes,’ said the Duchess. ‘You did. And when old General Scaffer led you away, he said, “That’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, my boy.” But you were . . . so dedicated that you never had children . . . my boy . . .’
. . . my boy . . . my boy . . .
‘I see heroes!’ said the Duchess, staring at the tableau of officers. ‘All of you gave up . . . much. But I demand more. Much more. Is there any amongst you who for the sake of my memory will not die in battle?’ Wazzer’s head turned and looked along the row. ‘No. I see there is not. And now I demand that you do what the ignorant might feel is the easier thing. You must refrain from dying in battle. Revenge is not redress. Revenge is a wheel, and it turns backwards. The dead are not your masters.’
‘What is it you want of me, ma’am?’ Froc managed.
‘Call in your other officers. Make what truces are necessary, for now. This body, this poor child, will lead you. I am weak, but I can move small things. Thoughts, perhaps. I will leave her . . . something, a light in the eye, a tone in the voice. Follow her. You must invade.’
‘Certainly! But how—’
‘You must invade Borogravia! In the name of sanity, you must go home. The winter is coming, the trusting animals are not fed, old men die of cold, women mourn, the country corrodes. Fight Nuggan, because he is nothing now, nothing but the poisonous echo of all your ignorance and pettiness and malicious stupidity. Find yourself a worthier god. And let . . . me . . . go! All those prayers, all those entreaties . . . to me! Too many hands clasped, that could more gainfully answer your prayers by effort and resolve! And what was I? Just a rather stupid woman when I was alive. But you believed I watched over you, and listened to you . . . and so I had to, I had to listen, knowing that there was no help . . . I wish people would not be so careless about what they believe. Go. Invade the one place you’ve never conquered. And these women will help. Be proud of them. And, lest you think to twist my meaning, lest you doubt . . . let me, as I leave, return to you this gift. Remember. A kiss.’
. . . a kiss . . .
. . . a kiss a kiss return to you kiss . . .
. . . remember . . .
As one woman, as one man, the crowd in the room reached up hesitantly to their left cheek. And Wazzer folded up, very gently, collapsing like a sigh.
Froc was the first to speak. ‘This is . . . I think we need to . . .’ She faltered into silence.
Jackrum got to his feet, brushed the dust off his shako, placed it on his head and saluted. ‘Permission to speak, sir?’ he said.
‘Oh, good heaven, Jackrum!’ said Froc distractedly. ‘At a time like this? Yes, yes . . .’
‘What are your orders, sir?’
‘Orders?’ Froc blinked, and looked around. ‘Orders, orders . . . yes. Well, I am the commander, I can request a . . . yes, I can request a truce, sergeant—’
‘That’s sergeant major, sir,’ said Jackrum. ‘Right you are, sir, I’ll organize a runner to go to the alliance.’
‘I suppose a . . . white flag would be—’
‘Good as done, sir. Leave it to me,’ said Jackrum, radiating efficiency.
‘Yes, of course . . . Er, before, before we go any further . . . ladies and gentlemen, I . . . er . . . some of the things said here . . . the whole issue of women joining as . . . women . . . obviously . . .’ She raised her hand to her cheek again, in a kind of wonderment. ‘They are welcome. I . . . salute them. But for those of us that went before, perhaps it is not . . . not yet the time. You understand?’
‘What?’ said Polly.
‘Lips sealed, sir!’ said Jackrum. ‘You can leave it all to me, sir! Captain Blouse’s squad, attention! You will obtain uniforms! You can’t go around still dressed as washerwomen, oh dear me!’
‘We are soldiers?’ said Polly.
‘O’ course you are, otherwise I wouldn’t be shouting at you, you ’orrible little woman! The world’s turned upside down! It’s a bit more important than you right now, eh? You’ve got what you’re after, right? Now get hold of a uniform, find yourself a shako and wipe your face, at least. You are taking the official truce to the enemy.’
‘Me, sarge?’ said Polly.
‘Right! Just as soon as the officers have done the official letter. Tonker, Lofty . . . see what you can find for Perks to wear. Perks, don’t be cowed, and bull yourself up. The rest of you, hurry up and wait!’
‘Sergeant Jac— er, sergeant major?’ said Blouse.
‘Yessir?’
‘I’m not a captain, you know.’
‘Are you not?’ said Jackrum, grinning. ‘Well, leave it to Jackrum, sir. We shall see what the day brings, eh? Minor point, sir. I should lose the dress if I was you!’
Jackrum marched off, his inflated chest as red as a robin’s and twice as threatening. He shouted at orderlies, harried guards, saluted officers and, despite everything, hammered the blade of purpose out of the red-hot steel of panic. He was a sergeant major in a roomful of confused ruperts, and he was happier than a terrier in a barrel of rats.
Stopping a battle is much harder than starting it. Starting it only requires you to shout ‘Attack!’ but when you want to stop it, everyone is busy.
Polly could feel the news spreading. They’re girls! The orderlies scuttling in and out once more kept staring at them, as if they were some kind of strange insects. I wonder how many Jackrum missed, Polly thought. I wonder . . .
Bits of uniform turned up. Jade found some trousers that fitted by locating a clerk who was Polly’s height, lifting him up and pulling them off him. A jacket was acquired. Lofty even stole a shako of the right size and polished the badge with her sleeve until it gleamed. Polly was just doing up her belt when she spotted a figure on the far side of the room. She’d completely forgotten about him.
She pulled the belt tight and thrust the leather through the buckle as she walked and then strode through the crowds of figures. Strappi saw her coming, but it was too late. There was no escape short of running, and captains didn’t run from corporals. He stood his ground, like a rabbit hypnotized by the approaching vixen, and raised his hands as she approached.
‘Now then, Perks, I’m a captain and I had a job to—’ he began.
‘And how long do you think you’ll hold that rank, now, sir?’ hissed Polly. ‘When I tell the general about our little fight? And how you sicked the Prince on to us? And how you bullied Wazzer? And about my hair, you sticky little miserable apology for a man! Shufti’s a better man than you and she’s pregnant!’
‘Oh, we knew there were women getting in,’ said Strappi. ‘We just didn’t know how far the rot went—’
‘You took my hair because you thought it meant something to me,’ hissed Polly. ‘Well, you can keep it! I’ll grow some more, and no one is going to stop me, understand? Oh, and one other thing. This is how far the rot goes!’
It was a blow
rather than a slap, and it knocked him down so hard that he rolled. But he was Strappi, and staggered upright with a finger pointed for vengeance.
‘She struck a superior officer!’ he screamed.
A few heads turned. They looked at Strappi. They looked at Polly. Then they looked back grinning to what they had been doing.
‘I should run away again, if I was you,’ said Polly. She turned on her heel, feeling the heat of his impotent fury.
As she was about to rejoin Jade and Maladict, someone touched her arm. She spun round.
‘What? Oh . . . sorry, Major Clogston,’ she said. She felt she wouldn’t be able to deal with Strappi again, not without committing murder. That would probably get her into trouble, even now.
‘I should like to thank you for a most enjoyable day,’ said the major. ‘I did my best, but I think we were all . . . outclassed.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Polly.
‘This was a pleasure, Corporal Perks,’ said Clogston. ‘I shall watch your future career with interest and envy. Congratulations. And since in here protocol seems to be flapping loose, I will shake you by the hand.’
They shook. ‘And now, we have duties,’ said Major Clogston, as Jade arrived with a white sheet on a pole. ‘Oh, and by the way . . . my name is Christine. And, you know, I really don’t think I could get used to wearing a dress again . . .’
Maladict and Jade were chosen to see Polly through the castle, a troll because a troll commands respect and a vampire because a vampire demands it. There were groans and cheers as they elbowed their way along the passages, because news had already got around. That was another reason for taking Jade. Trolls could push.
‘Okay,’ said Jackrum, bringing up the rear. ‘At the bottom of these steps there’s a door, and beyond that door is enemy territory. Put the white flag out first. Important safety tip.’
‘Can’t you come with us, sarge?’
‘Hah, me? I dare say there’s a few people out there who’d take a pot shot at me white flag or no. Don’t you worry. The word’s gone out.’
‘What word’s that, sarge?’
Jackrum leaned closer. ‘They ain’t gonna shoot a girl, Perks!’
‘You told them?’
‘Let’s just say that news gets around fast,’ said Jackrum. ‘Grab the advantage. And I’ll find your brother while you’re gone, upon my oath. Oh, one other thing . . . look at me, Perks.’ Polly turned, in the crowded, jostling corridor. Jackrum’s eyes twinkled. ‘I know I can trust you, Perks. I’d trust you like I’d trust myself. Best of luck. And make the most of it, lad. Kissin’ don’t last!’
Well, that couldn’t be plainer, Polly thought, as the armed men by the door beckoned them forward.
‘Stick to the walls, okay, ladies? And be quick with that rag!’
The heavy door swung open. Half a dozen arrows bounced and pinwheeled along the corridor. Another one tore through the flag. Polly waved it desperately. She heard distant shouting, and then cheers.
‘Okay, go!’ said a guard, pushing her forward.
She stepped out into the sudden daylight and, to make sure, waved the flag overhead a few more times. There were men in the courtyard and lining the battlements around it. There were bodies, too.
A captain, with blood soaking through his jacket, stepped across the fallen and held out his hand. ‘You may give that to me, soldier,’ he said.
‘No, sir. I must deliver it to your commander, and wait for his reply, sir.’
‘Then you give it to me, soldier, and I will bring you back the reply. You have surrendered, after all.’
‘No. This is a truce. That’s not the same thing. I have to hand this over personally and you aren’t big enough.’ A thought hit her. ‘I demand to take this to Commander Vimes!’
The captain stared at her, and then looked closer. ‘Aren’t you one of those—’
‘Yes,’ said Polly.
‘And you locked them in chains and threw the key away?’
‘Yes,’ said Polly, seeing her life start to flash past her eyes.
‘And they had to hop miles with shackles on and no clothes?’
‘Yes!’
‘And you’re just . . . women?’
‘Yes!’ said Polly, letting the ‘just’ go for now.
The captain leaned closer and spoke while trying not to move his lips. ‘Dan gug show. Ell done. Agout time soes arragunk arsetards ere aken own a eg!’ He leaned back. ‘Commander Vimes it is, then. Follow me, miss.’
Polly felt hundreds of eyes on her as the squad was let into the inner keep. There were one or two wolf whistles, because there were more soldiers in there, including quite a few trolls. Jade bent down, snatched up a rock and hurled it at one of them, hitting him between the eyes.
‘No one move!’ shouted Maladict, waving his hands urgently as a hundred men raised their weapons. ‘That was the troll version of blowing a kiss!’
And, indeed, the troll who had been hit was waving at Jade, a little unsteadily.
‘Can we knock it off with the lovey-dovey, please?’ said Polly to Jade. ‘The soft people are likely to get the wrong idea.’
‘It’s stopped the whistling, though,’ Maladict observed.
More people watched them as they climbed flight after flight of stone steps. No one could take this place, Polly could see that. Every flight was seen by another one higher up, every visitor would be sighted on before she’d even glimpsed a face.
A figure stepped out of the shadows as they reached the next floor. It was a young woman, in old-fashioned leather and mail armour, with a breastplate. She had long, very fair hair; for the first time in weeks, Polly felt a twinge of envy.
‘Thank you, captain, I’ll take over from here,’ she said, and nodded to Polly. ‘Good evening, Corporal Perks . . . if you would follow me, please?’
‘She’s a woman! And a sergeant!’ Maladict whispered.
‘Yes, I know,’ said Polly.
‘But she gave an order to that captain!’
‘Maybe she’s a political . . .’
‘And she’s obviously female!’
‘I’m not blind, Mal,’ said Polly.
‘I’m not deaf, either,’ said the woman, turning and smiling. ‘My name is Angua. If you will wait here, I’ll have some coffee sent in. There’s a bit of an argument going on in there at the moment.’
They were in a sort of anteroom, not much more than a widened area of corridor with a few benches. There were big double doors at the far end, behind which voices were being raised. Angua left.
‘Just like that?’ said Maladict. ‘What’s to stop us taking over the place?’
‘All those men with crossbows we passed on the way up?’ said Polly. Why us? she thought, looking blankly at the wall.
‘Oh, yes. Those. Yes. Er . . . Poll?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m actually Maladicta.’ She sat back. ‘There! I’ve told someone!’
‘Dat’s nice,’ said Jade.
‘Oh, good,’ said Polly. I’d be going out to give the latrines their afternoon swill about now, she thought. This has got to be better than that, right?
‘I thought I did pretty well,’ Maladicta went on. ‘Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking: vampires have a pretty good time of it whatever sex they are, right? But it’s the same everywhere. Velvet dresses, underwired nightgowns, acting crazy all the time, and don’t let’s even go near the whole “bathing in virgin’s blood” thing. You get taken a lot more seriously if they think you’re male.’
‘Right,’ said Polly. All in all, it’s been a long day. A bath would be nice.
‘I thought I did pretty well right up until the whole coffee thing. A necklace of the roast beans, that’d be the thing. I’ll be better prepared another time.’
‘Yeah,’ said Polly. ‘Good idea. With real soap.’
‘Soap? How would soap work?’
‘What? Oh . . . sorry,’ said Polly.
‘Did you hear anythi
ng I said?’
‘Oh, that. Yes. Thank you for telling me.’
‘Is that it ?’
‘Yes,’ said Polly. ‘You’re you. That’s good. I’m me, whoever I am. Tonker’s Tonker. It’s all just . . . people. Look, a week ago the high spot of my day was reading the new graffiti in the men’s latrines. I think you’d agree that a lot has happened since then. I don’t think I’m going to be surprised at anything any more. The coffee-bean necklace sounds good, by the way.’ She drummed her feet on the floor impatiently. ‘Right now, I just wish they’d hurry up in there.’
They sat and listened, and then Polly became aware of a little column of smoke coming from behind a bench on the other side of the space. She walked over and peered over the back. A man was lying there, head on one arm, smoking a cigar. He nodded when he saw Polly’s face.
‘They’re going to be ages yet,’ he said.
‘Aren’t you that sergeant I saw in the old kitchen? Making faces behind Lord Rust from Ankh-Morpork?’
‘I was not making faces, miss. That’s how I always look when Lord Rust is talking. And I was a sergeant once, it’s true, but, look, no stripes.’
‘Make der faces once too often?’ said Jade.
The man laughed. He hadn’t shaved today, by the look of it. ‘Something like that, yes. Come along to my office, it’s warmer. I only came out here because people complain about the smoke. Don’t worry about that lot in there, they can wait. I’m only down the passage.’
They followed him. The door was, indeed, only a few steps away. The man pushed it open, walked across the little room beyond, and sat down in a chair. The table in front of it overflowed with papers.
‘I think we can get enough food up here to see you through the winter,’ he said, picking up a sheet of paper apparently at random. ‘Grain’s a bit short but we’ve got a handy surplus of white drumhead cabbage, keeps wonderfully, full of vitamins and minerals . . . but you might want to keep your windows open, if you follow me. Don’t stare. I know the country’s a month away from starvation.’
‘But I haven’t even shown this letter to anyone!’ Polly protested. ‘You don’t know what we—’