The General granted, said, 'Hello, Nancy,' turned her mount, hacked its huge side with bright spurs, and the moose lunged from among them… gathered and paced away into its swift and awkward gallop.
As the five riders reined to follow, the banner-bearing Person said, 'Captain, welcome back.'
Richard said, 'Fuck you, Sergeant.' And, as the escort rode away, 'Stay clear of that one.'
'Might be a good idea,' Baj said '- to stay clear of all of them.'
'If We didn't need them…' Patience sighed. 'I suppose we're to follow?'
'My question answered,' Patience said, as they hiked on. It was, Baj found, almost impossible to step between the grass tussocks – unless, of course, one had been raised to it from childhood. It seemed better to simply stomp along, hoping for no sprained ankle… though where the tussocks didn't rise, the mossy tundra was soft and flower- decorated as fine carpet.
The Shrike chief, Dolphus, came to walk with them. 'Our general,' he said, 'is in an amiable mood. She rarely shakes anyone's hand. Rarely has casual conversations. And often is having someone skinned and sprinkled with sea-salt… An expensive hobby.'
'And is this fierceness,' Baj said, though disliking the Shrike, '- is this fierceness her talent, or beside it?'
The Shrike turned. 'Ah… a sensible question.' He walked along, javelins across his left shoulder – and stepping, Baj saw, neatly between clumps of grass. 'Her fierceness, I think
'True enough,' Richard said over his shoulder. 'She has a genius for it.'
'I would say,' Dolphus-Shrike smiled at Baj, '- I would say that she would have given either of your fathers fits. You know that usage?'
'I've read as much as you,' Baj said. 'And written, besides.'
'No!' the Shrike made his face of astonishment. 'A truly literate River-prince. Well… 'Will wonders – ''
'' – never cease,'' Baj said, and he and Dolphus-Shrike exchanged a fellow look, though guarded.
… They came to the marching camp – the Shrikes drifting away – and into noise and broken formations, what seemed, at first, only confusion as the soldiers, infantry and cavalry, were settling in.
A sentry, ax-armed and in steel half-armor with a small bright brass circle riveted to each shoulder pauldron, stood in their way. A Person of Richard's bulky blood, though not quite as large, and with fur-tufts rust red, he said, 'What's your business here?' The tone incurious at such an odd party arrived out of wilderness, though the small brown eyes were interested.
'Our business is our business, Corporal,' Richard said. 'Now, whistle up your officer.'
The corporal stared a moment more, then placed two large horn-nailed fingers in his jaw, and whistled a single high trilling note. He wiped the fingers dry on his leather sleeve, and stood watching them… waiting.
Soon enough, a Person came trotting to the camp's perimeter – of Richard's blood again, though again not as large – trotting in exactly Richard's swift lumber, though in armor, a double-edged ax balanced in his right hand.
'Won't state their business, sir.'
The officer, a gold chain-link at each armored shoulder, examined them with eyes the color of his ax's blade. 'Good Lord,' he said – an ancient usage, that once, far south, would have been risky. Then, 'Captain, you're a fool.'
'Who isn't, Terry Fish-hawk?' Richard smiled. 'When the link?'
'More than half a year ago.'
'Ruined a good sergeant,' Richard said. 'You're too smart to be an officer.'
'Well,' Terry Fish-hawk said, '- that might be true.' And to the sentry, 'Corporal, the Shrikes brought these people in at the General's command. Pass them, but slate the number, and note that it's a daylight pass.'
He sketched a one-finger salute to Richard, said, 'Captain, I'd stay clear of Infantry Street; people there still mind your running.' Then he glanced again at the others, turned and trotted away.
The Corporal surveyed them again, said, 'Five,' and waved them on their way.
'Formidable,' Patience said, as they walked into the ordered turmoil of the camp.
'Terry?' Richard smiled. 'These are all formidable. Good soldiers. Better… much better than Boston deserves.'
'And you miss them,' Baj said, '- miss the Guard.'
'Of course I miss them.' Richard shook his head. 'Wouldn't one of your First-father's officers have missed his squadron of Kipchak horsemen? One of your Second-father's commanders miss the regiments of the Army- United?'
'Hear men's nonsense,' Nancy said – and though Errol, apparently uneasy being back in a camp, was staying close – she took the boy's arm to hold him closer. 'Persons or otherwise,' she gave Baj a look '- they lose their wits when trumpets blow, like children at a parade.'
'Sadly true,' Patience said, 'though sometimes very useful.'
Then they were among rows of rising shelters. Oil-blackened leather lean-tos – weather-breaks rather than closed tenting – were being pegged with stands of arms spaced along: long-shaft pikes, short spears, shield and swords, and axes… There were the shouts, the apparent confusion, the colors and equipment and various odors nearly the same as in any marching camp of the Army-United that Baj had visited – but not quite. The trotting columns of moose sweated ranker than horses. The Persons did not smell quite like men. Their voices were more various.
'Do you know?' Patience said, hesitating a step to scrape moose dung from her moccasin-boot, 'I've never visited the Guard. Had no idea they were… so busy, bustling about.'
'Soldiers,' Nancy said '- are always bustling, or asleep.'
As they walked through the camp rising around them, hundreds of soldiers were swarming to Under-officers' loud commands – rough book-English being used in odd tones and accents.
A file of Persons lumbered past – many of these big as Richard, and looking very much like him, though fur-tufts varied to black, grizzled, or (for the largest) white. Each of these soldiers wore back-and-breast steel armor, and all, that Baj could see, carried the big double-bitted ax… Two wore the same little silver crescent moon, necklaced, as Nancy, Richard, and Errol.
Only one of the file, a huge white-furred Person, had turned his head to stare at them as he passed. It was an unfriendly, carniverous look from small pitch-black eyes in a massive wedge-shaped head, its humanity precarious.
'Never trust a White, Baj,' Nancy said, noticing. 'Those have a mind beneath their mind, that changes when they're hungry.'
'My mind,' Richard held up to let another formation by, '- is changing with hunger right now. That passing Ice- oaf, by the way, was Albert-One. His brother, Albert-Two, is also in the Guard, and was in my company. Neither of them worth much, always complaining… Nancy, hold Errol with us.'
'No need. He's afraid someone will take and fuck him,' Nancy said. 'And I know these companies.' A buzzing snarl in her voice, deeper lisping. '- They care only for their nasty dicks, whatever their blood may be.'
Baj reached to her, but she pulled away. He reached again and gripped her narrow hand until she settled, so they walked like children hand-in-hand among the soldiers.
They passed riders – Persons of the same breed as those four near-Sunrisers who had ridden with Sylvia Wolf- General. Cavalry, in high boots, hide trousers, and hide jackets with chain-mail over, they wore long fur cloaks, and were armed with heavy straight sabers slung at their belts. Their Under-officer, at the head of the troop, had lost an eye to the same slash that trenched his forehead.
Jingling by, only two of the cavalrymen had spared Richard and the others a glance.
'… We'll camp on the Lines with those boys,' Richard said. 'They'll bear me no infantry grudges.' And he turned to follow them.
Stepping aside as a four-team of moose came hauling a loaded wagon by, Baj noticed several soldiers of what seemed the third most common bloodline of Boston's Guard. The bear-bloods, near-Sunrisers, and these…
A group of them were standing beside a folded stack of shelters dumped there for distribution. They were talking, laughing, with three women – also Persons, but much smaller, wearing red boots, caribou vests, and striped
