Moonrise

He stared at Nancy as they went by, but said nothing.

As the entrance flap closed behind them, Baj saw four… five hulking wolf-bloods, their tufted fur gray as their armor, crowded at a long, folding camp table. Great sheets of southern paper lay spread across it.

'Make room.' With that rip-saw voice – and after a brutal shove that clanked cuirass against cuirass – Sylvia Wolf-General came to stand central, smiling at them over the table. It seemed to Baj only perhaps a smile.

'I assume,' she said, 'that you are all familiar with our intentions, going north to the city.'

'They know what we plan, Sylvia,' Patience said. 'I've told them.'

'Very well, then – details, and review. In pursuit of this… correction… of Boston, of Cambridge Township, I intend to march north in the morning. You, and the Shrikes in camp, will march with us. March,' she stared at Patience, slanted eyes blue as cornflowers, '- no sailing away in the air.'

'I understand.'

The others, her officers, relatives – her pack, Baj supposed – now stood a little back from the table on either side. The pavilion smelled of those Persons, as if their General's harsh voice had taken odor, and there were no pretty blue eyes among them… One, older, fur whitening, and – by the rows of bronze breasts molded down her muscle-cuirass – a woman, had only a single eye, squinting, intelligent, and merciless. The General's aunt?… Certainly the General's aunt.

'So, we march to the Wall.' The General's sharp black nails tapped maps and papers before her. 'And you people up and over it – where, I'm informed, a small tribal levy will meet you. The Shrikes had, I believe, originally planned a greater number, something unpleasant for my companies.' She smiled. 'But now, all friends.'

'Friends,' the probable-aunt echoed. The voice wavered with age, the single eye did not.

'Yes, dear,' the General said, '- and are to be treated as such for this campaign. With, of course, your company always kept in reserve, in case of… a misunderstanding.'

Her aunt nodded.

'- So, to continue, you people will then sled with the Shrikes the considerable distance north and east to Boston and then the city's north gate, and should arrive, burrow, and hide there until we – having gone up a different way to preserve our mounts and supplies – reach South Gate.' A fingernail tapped a map. 'There, we'll begin assaults likely in the end to achieve nothing – considering the numbers, the reinforcements they can call on – -nothing except to distract the Cambridge Constables, draw their regiments away from you and your sad duty.' She smiled, showing fangs. 'You will wait for us before attempting to enter the city. We'll arrive, though we move more slowly than tribesmen. Hurry is not the Guard's business.'

'Inevitability,' her aunt said, '- is our business.'

'Yes.' The Wolf-General nodded. 'And for this campaign – for this task and this time only – I ally with a rebel Boston Talent, and allow a deserter to live, and permit a camp whore to serve as soldier… as well as a Sunriser supposedly once of importance elsewhere.' She stared at them. 'But not Lady Weather, not Lord Winter, not Frozen-Jesus will save you, if I am disappointed.'

'I trust,' Baj said, and was startled to hear what he was saying, '- I trust that we, in turn, will not be disappointed by your command.'

He could not remember in his life before, such a silence as fell then. It was a quiet absolute, so even the camp noises seemed muffled around them, while they all stood in a lamp-lit and soundless well.

'… Forgive him,' Patience said. 'He's young.'

The Wolf-General turned to her. 'When I require your instruction, Nearly-Lodge,' the rip-saw voice, '- I'll ask for it.'

Silence again.

The Wolf-General stared at Baj, and licked her chops absently, apparently considering. Her eyes were remarkable, as if a tragic and beautiful woman looked out from that dreadful mask. 'You,' she said, '- have spoken up, I suppose, as your great fathers would have done. Meaning as well, fuck me if I didn't care for it.' She smiled, or seemed to.'… We will see if you're wise enough never to do so again.'

Baj bowed, and kept his mouth shut.

'… We have fodder, food, and supplies,' the General said, '- for eight WT weeks, and of course, will not be in the south to requisition additional. Still, sufficient for our purpose, for that… attack, that distraction that will cost so many of my soldiers' lives.'

'Worth it,' Patience said.

'Yes, to break Boston's grip at last.' Sylvia Wolf-General lowered her fur-crested head. 'Break it… then mourn the necessary deaths of the mothers.'

'There is,' a younger relative, apparently part-sired by a quite handsome wolf, '- there is some discontent in the ranks at that.'

'I know.' The General shoved her maps aside. '… Let three things be understood by the soldiers – the sergeants to see to it. First, we all bitterly regret this necessity, which will cost many of us those they love, and who gave them birth. Second, it is being done to save all future Persons' mothers – and tribesmens' daughters – the same suffering. And third, any grumbler continuing after today, will be tied to a mess table where camp-streets cross, and his liver taken.'

'I'll see that word is heard.' The handsome officer – fur tufts, fur-crest granite gray – bowed, and leaving the tent, said, 'Nancy,' and smiled at her as he went.

'The other companies,' the Wolf-General said, '- are too few – and by now too far south and east to trouble us. The nearest force is under Philip-Robin, and would be no trouble in any case.'

Her officers smiled.

'- What could Town Council have been thinking in that promotion?' She shook her head.

'Perhaps,' her aunt said, and smiled, revealing yellowed fangs, the left broken at the tip, '- perhaps they consider one good general enough.'

Sylvia laughed, a woman's laugh with no wolf in it. 'More than enough.' She studied Baj and the others. '… And when Persons and a Sunriser take responsibility for action in my presence, I consider that an oath of service. Do you understand?'

There was a small silence, and she picked up a slate, scribbled on it with her thumbnail, and handed it to an officer. 'Louis, see this done. I want every mount sound, or slaughtered. If a moose founders going north, the colonel and his officers will carry that load – the trooper or supplies – on their backs.'

'Ma'am.' The officer left the pavilion.

The general looked across her table. 'Well…?'

'For this campaign,' Richard said, '- yes, my contract oath.'

'I also swear to it,' Patience said.

'Yes.' Nancy nodded. 'I swear.'

'And so for me,' Baj said,'… if the General does the same.'

Another run of woman's laughter, the dangerous head thrown back to reveal a sinewy throat, lightly furred in white. '… Perhaps you are your fathers' son. And certainly fortunate I'm in such a good mood. I think rebellion suits me.'

'Suits you very well, Sylvia,' her aunt said, '- and earned you many beatings at my hands.'

'Don't remind me,' the Wolf-General said. Then, to Baj and the others, 'As you swore campaign-loyalty to me and my companies, so I swear mine and theirs to you. And will forsake you, in or after battle, living or dead – never… Also, each of you is assigned a private soldier's credit against pay,' she smiled, '- pay to be issued when, and if, the paymaster's wagon is encountered… Now, get out.'

'… This is something,' the Sentry-officer said, as they came from the pavilion, '- that needs its head taken off.' He shook a bruised Errol severely to make his point. 'He tried to draw a knife on my men.'

'Well done,' Nancy said, '- for nine soldiers to bully a brainsick boy.'

'Get the fuck off my post,' the officer said, and shoved Errol into them.

'His knives,' Nancy said.

'Henry,' the officer said, 'give these… people… their weapons. And the knives.'

'The General,' Patience said, as they walked down-camp to Cavalry Street, '- appears to fulfill her reputation.'