A Winter's Mercy, page 26
“Are you fucking kidding?” Dalliance said, shouldering his way forward, but Wish flapped a hand at him to stay back. The movement made her brand flare up, but she fought the reaction down as Castin cleared his throat.
“I appreciate what you’ve been through,” he was saying, but Wish’s mind remained on the tingling brand as it throbbed harder. It stirred a panic in here: fear, nerves, should she run? No, don’t run – she insisted to herself, but had an odd, drifting sense. She turned a frown back over her shoulder as she caught the last of Castin’s words: “– AWOL for almost two months.”
“Desertion?” Wish exclaimed. “Are you serious?”
There was fear on Iggy’s face, where she had shown none before the Stranded, and Wish saw a woman ready to bolt, never mind how many people surrounded them. The confusion of swimming emotions came into relief, as Wish understood they were her feelings. She was willing Iggy not to run, and she saw understanding in Iggy’s eyes. Her expression resolved.
Wish took a breath, internally calming as Castin was saying, “She destroyed a historic property in western Lome. It would be best discussed in private.”
“It’s not what it sounds like, boss,” Iggy insisted, but Wish didn’t care. She broadly remembered Dalliance’s account of their meeting, and that Iggy might’ve done some damage, but she had saved people. The details didn’t matter. There was no question of not defending her. She was a Blood Scout, now. Hers. And there was nothing anyone could’ve done, no property that could’ve been destroyed, that was worse than what they’d all been complicit in at Sober Sound.
Wish assured Iggy again with her eyes, and her thoughts, and scanned the others: Emi eager to strike, Dalliance angry, Latebite and Ptrangus ready to fight for any excuse, Crag and Lugger and Grebe all grim-faced and defiant. Hell, even Bluefern’s scores of men whose names she didn’t know looked ready to throw these CEF officers out on their arses, invested now in this rag tag team who had tagged along and distracted the nevolk from the company. And further back, far off, she felt the support of something more abstract – a distant rightness, that belonged to the land and would be there if she only called.
Tempting as it was, Wish defied the lust for violence. She shook her head and said, very plainly, “We’ve all destroyed historic property. She’s not going with you.”
Castin set his shoulders. “This was not part of a military operation. Private White absconded from her unit with a large amount of explosives which she set off during our efforts to secure Passerlee Manor. The property was rendered inextant.”
“Inextant?” Who even used a word like that? “Are you serious? We bombed a town to ashes yesterday, and you want to arrest my soldier for blowing up a house?”
“It wasn’t even like that, Captain!” Dalliance said. “I was there, and she didn’t mean to –”
“Stop,” Wish said. “I don’t need to hear it. These men are leaving.”
“It was not just any house.” Castin stiffened. “Passerlee was a cultural icon; its owners have close ties to the Bundilt dynasty. I understand that this may seem exceptional, in the context of where we find ourselves, but there is a difference between the damage done in war and that done outside it.”
“Yeah? What exactly is that difference? No” – Wish raised a hand before he could answer – “if you say another word I might explode. Request denied, or however I need to say it. Get out of here, right now, or I’ll make you. You do not want me to make you.”
Both men wore horror on their faces, as a few shocked murmurs came from further back. Yet still Castin flashed a look Bluefern’s way and said, “We are the CEF, Captain. Unfortunately, the choice is not yours. You’ve been under pressure, so I can ignore such a threat, once, but I’m not sure you understand the gravity of this situation.”
“I’m not sure you do,” Wish said, finding herself again impressed by her own calm. She could bare her teeth like she might bite his throat out, but she didn’t need to. There was a platoon watching her back, and she had danced with the Stranded and bloody well did not need to rise to this. “The Blood Scouts were established under special command by General Macwest himself to be the Empire’s most elite soldiers. We step outside the lines every damn day of this war, meaning your rules do not apply here. Go near Iggy, or any of my scouts, and I will personally see that General Macwest hears of it. You’ve already wasted enough of my time; are you seriously going to waste his, too?”
Castin went quiet again, his courage finally failing.
“No?”
The officer was weighing it up, plainly worried but clinging to that tiny bit of righteousness he had left. He deferred at last to Bluefern. The major’s expression hadn’t moved through this whole exchange, and Wish now itched for him to take the CEF’s side. Give her an excuse to prove exactly who was in charge here. They’d done so much wrong out here, it was time for a right. Wherever the Stranded had gone, they had left her with some hope, and she was connected to Iggy, at least, through that experience. Bluefern studied her face, considering her carefully. Go on. He wanted to have it out with her. But he studied their expansive audience, too, and she saw the recognition in his eye. He finally said, “Plainly, a mistake has been made and the CEF has no business being here.”
A load flew out of Wish’s chest as Bluefern’s expression now promised he, too, had her back. Castin tried once more, “Major, I must insist –” but Crash immediately hissed: “That girl is a war hero, dammit.”
With that, the crowd erupted into agreeing jeers and words of encouragement, and the officers baulked as if struck. Wish continued on into camp, as Castin was cajoled out of her way, before Crash shouted for order. She didn’t look back, only sideways to Graveguard, saying, “Getting a little dizzy now.”
“I’ve got a tent set up.” As he led her on, others dipped in and out of her awareness with brief appearances at her sides, everyone trying to join her. Ohno lumbered closest, letting her size warn off anyone else, but still they pressed in with familiar pats and congratulations and thanks. She felt them all around her, her tribe. Hard to focus, though – was she about to collapse or had something in the Stranded’s mark stirred, after all?
“Boss, I’ll explain everything,” Iggy was insisting, but Wish told her, “Don’t care.”
“It really is a misunderstanding –” Dallianc started, but she insisted more firmly, “Don’t care! Latebite? Where is he? Get us something to roast and a drink for later, will you? Captain’s orders. Crag, Lugger, help him. Everyone report for a feast this evening. Where’s Macmiddan?”
“Got his own tent, boss,” Grebe said, trotting closer. “But won’t be up for a while. I’ve not left his side. He’ll survive just fine.”
“And you?”
“I’m good, boss. I am.”
Wish nodded him off, to be replaced with Ptragnus’s sly face. “What about the ghost? Creep’s hanging about like the fucking spectre he is. Want us to shoo him off?”
“No. He’s coming with us.”
“You’re joking? What was that out on the road, then? Thought we’d have to plug him for sure.”
“In here,” Graveguard instructed, holding a tent flap open as Ptrangus fell back with disbelief. Beyond him, Emi was eyeing her suspiciously, though, waiting for her to answer.
“Gaussica believes in the Blood Scouts. He wants to help us,” Wish explained, particularly eyeing the mage. “And first point of action, we’re gonna get the rest of the platoon back. Start asking around. These guys had their ears to the ground here – find out anything they’ve heard about women soldiers on the front. Or behind enemy lines.” Another thought caught her, uninvited. She hesitated before voicing it, but had to. “And anything you can learn about Havikare and her goblins.”
“You want me to contact Command?” Ohno suggested. “They’ll have people on it.”
“Sure, but we’ll not hold our breaths,” Wish said. “As soon as we’ve taken a beat, I want to get on this.”
“A beat like over Relight?” Ptrangus suggested.
“No, a beat like this meal Latebite’s getting us. I don’t know if I could enjoy Relight knowing some of ours are out there in need.”
There was a wave of solid agreement, all of them stoked by the fire in her, even if most of them didn’t even know the people she wanted to get back.
“Then let’s go, go! Boorah!”
They moved off in different directions to do whatever they’d do. Dalliance hesitated before Iggy smiled and told him they’d be fine, and would catch up later. The parting crowd, as usual, left Emi behind, studying Wish. Scheming. Did she realise Wish had sensed something unusual during that confrontation, between her and Iggy? That the Stranded hadn’t left her with nothing. But the mage nodded, put her hands in her pockets and turned to leave.
“Come on,” Graveguard said, and Wish entered the tent, to sit on a cot as he muttered about tending her at last. Iggy sat on a cot opposite, just the three of them now – except, of course, Scraper slid into the shadows. Graveguard checked Iggy’s wounds, scolding them both for being so reckless, not entirely seriously. He said the wounds were nowhere near as bad as he expected. The Stranded’s salve had really helped and he decided to mostly leave their dressings in place. Though he asked just how big an explosion Iggy had set off. And what, if any of this, had the Stranded done? To Wish, he said, “Tripped in a fire my arse.”
Iggy laughed and told him, “All part of the fun, ain’t it?”
But she met Wish’s eye, over his shoulder, with a questioning, hopeful look. It asked if they were okay and said she was confused by what might have passed between them. Wish smiled back to say damned if she had any answers, but they were in it together.
“You’re a one-woman maelstrom, you know that,” Graveguard said, crouching over Wish’s arm. He peeled back the bandage and she winced as he tutted distaste. “You’ll get us all killed eventually. But damn if you’re not going all the way.”
As he roughly turned her head to one side, checking her scratches, she replied, “Well as long as I survive.” But she couldn’t keep up the light tone. In this quiet tent, without the crowd, and the tension of facing Gaussica and the CEF having passed, her energy was failing, dragging her mood down with it. She went on, “I lost Quickness. And we did a terrible thing out there. Not for the first time. All those people. It’s so . . .”
The medic turned her face forwards him again, looking her deep in the eye as he waited for her to finish.
“There’s so much going on in this war, and this world,” she said. “And we’re not even trying to understand, just killing, and killing. It’s too much. I need to stop, but I have to keep going – and you said it, everyone’s looking to me. What’ll it cost us all next time?”
He considered her carefully, then nodded, like this little outburst was exactly what he might’ve expected. “I can’t say for that. It’ll be what it is, and the best we can look out for right now is to live another day. But whatever else went on in those woods, I guarantee everyone got a little more hope this morning. Seems to me they all saw a leader come back to us. That’s worth more than you know.”
Wish accepted his words without brushing them off lightly, as he continued his examination. Iggy was smiling at her again, in agreement. She had got her back. She would get the others back, too. And she now had a ghost in her platoon, and the mark of the Stranded on her arm. They believed in her. They all did.
It was time, she told herself, to be better.
She would give the Blood Scouts a captain they deserved.
29
GENERAL DIAMOND: Any leader worth their mettle, any leader at all, will tell you the same. We do what must be done. We do what must be done and we do not regret it. We do not move backwards and we do not question Command.
JUDGE WATT: Are you suggesting, General, that there was no other way –
GENERAL DIAMOND: I am not suggesting it damn you. No, I will not sit down, I will not be talked to this way, you louse, you brigand, you. How would you like to suppose and suggest? You live in a damn dream world, where any of us could have walked away, at any time. In reality, you scum of the pond – get your hands off me! – in reality we had to fight! Those people had to die!
Transcript from the Hingbarman Trials, 734
After four days of pain and confusion, drifting in and out of consciousness, they came for Pitt. He was stirred from half-sleep by a man clearing his throat, scraping the legs of a chair against the tiles. Pitt struggled for a moment, then hurriedly sat up straight in the bed when he saw the uniform. The scarlet-piped emerald suit of the Purification – a rare garb, as their agents normally walked in anonymous clothing. The man had a round head and a thin, dark moustache, hair hidden under a square cap. He crossed one leg over the other, hands on top.
“They tell me you are well and cogent,” he said, in the refined accent of the East Drail Glens. “Is that so?”
Pitt hesitated, wary of even a simple question from the Purification. The man waited with cold eyes, and Pitt croaked, “Yes. I’m recovering.” He cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water. The movement sent pain through his shoulder, making him cringe. His guest made no movement to help him.
“Officer Wron Dawn,” the man said, and pulled out a lapel demonstratively. “Purification Magic Liaison. We have questions I hope you can help with.”
Pitt shook his head to slow him down. This was the first anyone from the army or government had come to him since he’d found himself in this grey-walled room, where the nurses locked the door at night and people screamed at all hours. He had questions of his own. “Where am I?”
Wron Dawn did not move, delaying the answer. “Highscythe Ward. One of the finest medical facilities on the front.”
“Am I under arrest?” Pitt asked.
Dawn raised a delicate eyebrow. “Should you be?”
“They’ve been locking the doors.”
“For your own safety, I expect. Who’s to say what the enemy might attempt if they knew we had a vulnerable mage in here? Even in our own ranks, you never know who can be trusted.”
The firmed up Pitt’s resistance. “Am I accused of something?”
“Should you be?” Dawn repeated.
“Just fucking tell me,” Pitt snapped. “If I’m to be locked up or executed or not, just tell me. I’ve had enough. Almost lost my arm, did lose my eye –” He pointed at the bandaged side of his head, which throbbed fiercely in agreement. A tear welled in his remaining eye. “Just tell me.”
Dawn considered this at length, uncrossed his legs, then crossed the other on top. He picked at something on his trouser leg and Pitt fought not to lose his calm again. The officer said, “We lost the better part of an entire legion, an entire town and, most importantly, one of our strongest mages. You were a key factor in our defences and one of the only survivors. I am inclined to doubt any man would sacrifice so much of his body in subterfuge, but I have seen stranger things. I am hoping you can clarify what happened.” Dawn drew a small leather notebook and pencil from his jacket, flicking through to a blank page. “If you’re ready?”
Pitt stretched out a pause, trying to regain some sense. “Maybe you could answer a few questions of mine first.”
Dawn wet his lips, eyes on the notepad. “Not really my job, but what would you like to know?”
“There was a woman. A civilian. I tried to help her.”
“Oh, Ms Axefell. That was on my list, too – did you personally tend to her wounds?”
“What? Why’s that on your list? Wait. How is she? Is she . . .”
Dawn let it hang for a painful second, cruelly, before smiling. “She is fine. That is, she is alive and will make a full recovery – as far as the parts she has left are concerned. She lost an arm and a leg, and will have plenty of scarring, including on the face. It could have been a lot worse. She would have died if you hadn’t intervened. It was you, I take it, who stopped the bleeding?”
“I did what I could with pipe magic,” Pitt muttered, not sure if he should be relieved or horrified. Chiara was alive. But disfigured. Maimed. “Can I see her?”
“That won’t be possible. They’ve taken her somewhere far better equipped than this. You knew who she was, I take it?” Dawn opened the notebook again, pencil ready.
“Is that important?”
“Everything is until I can confirm it isn’t.”
“I met her in town. That’s all.”
“But you knew her father was the mayor. You knew the name Rotus Axefell?”
“Yes. You said was?”
“They are quite sure they found his remains. His ring, to be precise. So the question I have is if you were acting in the interests of preserving an influential heiress, or if it was the impulse to protect a conquest that drew your attention away from our military assets?”
Pitt bristled at the accusation. Dawn watched him with a smile as thin as his moustache. “You want to pin what happened on me? The Comity came out of nowhere.”
“The matter was personal, I see, thank you.”
“That’s not what I said –”
“It is, Mr Sonland, if not in so many words. Now, I have sworn accounts that you did manage a partial shield, even without Dalton Terrifold. Until you got distracted by Ms Axefell – that’s what went wrong?”
“It was more than I could handle, that’s what went wrong,” Pitt snapped. “I’m a pipeman; you can count the times I’ve seen combat on one hand. I tried and failed, is that what you need to hear?”
Dawn gave him a moment to calm, unmoved, then wrote something down. “Some would consider a few weeks under Dalton Terrifold worth a lifetime of training, but there you go.”
Pitt glowered, not bothering to argue, even if he doubted anyone would back up such a claim. There was no point trying to convince this man that Terrifold was no teacher. “Is that all you need?”
“Oh no. It brings us to the crux. How exactly did Terrifold die?”
