Moonrise

'She is the best Boston has had commanding the Guard,' Richard said, '- since Peter Fish-hawk. He conquered almost all the Coast of the Ocean Atlantic.'

'More than a hundred years ago,' Patience said. 'And didn't he go mad?'

'He was mad to start with.' Richard led to the right along Cavalry, toward the Lines. 'Wolverine blood – even the usual eighth, and its tiny bits persuaded just so – is an uncertain portion to have.'

'The standard-bearer,' Baj said, '- the sergeant at the pavilion?'

'… Badger.'

They were passing a number of soldiers lounging at what seemed to Baj a sort of makeshift tavern – the usual leather lean-to, though larger than most, with a long counter of planks resting on six barley barrels. The Persons were drinking from leather jacks. Off-duty, none were armed or armored.

'Beer…?' Baj said.

'… Yes. The sutler's is a notion.' Richard turned on his heel, started across the camp street..

'Absolutely not,' Patience said. 'Richard…'

'Don't go.' Nancy tugged at Baj's sleeve, held Errol's hand with the other. 'It will only cause trouble.' *

'If we're her sworn soldiers, sweetheart – at least for a time – then we'll take soldiers' pleasures, and cause no trouble doing it.'

'Well,' Patience said, 'this is stupidity.'

But the Person troopers, though they stared, shifted aside to give them room. And a certainly Sunriser-human – small, withered elderly, and bundled in stained sheepskin against the wind – hobble-stepped up behind the plank counter, apparently lame.

'And for a Boston lady,' addressing Patience in a booze-worn voice, '- and memories of old times, I regret to have only barley beer and blueberry pie.'

'Do I know you?'

'You knew me once. My colonel had me keep you back with the cooks when the Kipchaks came to Map- Arkansas.'

'Nearest Jesus,' Patience said. 'You're Sergeant -'

'Givens, Lady. Jack Givens. An' General Butler's staff-officer said, 'Keep that little bitch away from the General.' Which I did try, but you'd fly away like a fuckin' bird, and what was I supposed to do, snow drifted up to our assholes?'

The guardsmen, down the plank at either side, were interested.

'It's a pleasure, Sergeant Givens,' Patience reached over the plank counter to shake the old man's hand, '- to meet you again. Though I'm surprised you knew me after so many years.'

'I'd know them black eyes anywhere,' the Sergeant said. 'Thought at first you were that girl's mother – then said to myself, 'Don't be an ass, Jack; it's Patience Nearly-Lodge, the creature herself!'

'And so I am,' Patience laughed, '- the creature herself.'

'Those were days…' The old man stepped to dipper into a barrel – staggered a little, so Baj saw he'd already been drinking beer or better – filled a jack, and passed it over the planking. 'Beer for you, darlin' – an' I brew it, an' it's good! Bake the fuckin' pies, too. Here,' he filled and handed jacks over to Richard, Baj, and Nancy.'- The kid?'

It was the first time Baj had ever heard that so-common copybook word spoken, and not for a baby goat. Kid. Ancient slang for a child.

'Better not,' Nancy said, and took a swallow of hers. '… Excellent.'

'Always,' the old man said. 'Try pie. Friends of the Nearly-Lodge eat for almost free.'

'Good pies,' a cavalryman said, looking human except for his ears.

'This beer,' Patience smacked her lips, '- is wonderful, Jack.'

Richard and Baj hummed agreement.

'My problem,' the old man said, '- is fuckin' freezin', so I got to beg a certain Person to be reasonable an' let me keep my beer kegs with the mooses, keep 'em just warm enough. – You know somethin' about pie? Pie can freeze. Don't hurt it. Give me a little fire to thaw 'em, an' I can serve pie the whole Lord Winter's season.'

'Is that so?' Patience said.

'It is absolutely so,' the old man said, and soldiers up and down the planks agreed.

'An' I got dried apple from down south, an' apple butter, an' vinegar jerk-meat – well, sometimes. That's a short-summer thing, mainly.'

'Vodka?' Baj said.

'One cup,' a soldier said.

'What he means,' the old man made a face, '- is I can sell just one cup to each guardsman. One cup a day. More than that, Sylvia will cut my nuts off… not that I'd notice now.'

Amusement along the plank.

'An' of course, no such rule for me. I drink what I fuckin' please.'

'You were in the Army,' Baj said, '- in the Arkansas fighting,'

'Yes I was, young man. Army of North Map-Mexico, servin' under Sam Monroe an' Fightin' Phil Butler – while the General lived – until there was a disagreement over a local young lady, that turned to a killin'. Not my fault at all, though I was chased up the river by cruel Provost-men like it was my fault… an' here I am after how many years wanderin', endin' among this bunch.'

'… You saw the Kipchak tumans?'

'In that fight – yes indeed I did, came up the hill at 'em with poor fuckin' Oswald-cook an' his messmen, an' me pissin' my pants, you may be sure.'

'You saw the Khan?'

'No, I did not, thank Jesus-in-the-Wall. An' that was battle enough for me. A fight's one thing, a battle's another – an' a sensible man knows the difference.' He took a sip from his cup. '… An' speakin' of sensible, I see you're a proper Sunriser, young man, 'stead of havin' beastly portions beyond the traditional.'

Good-natured fists drummed along the plank. 'Listen to 'em – an' take a look at this.' The old man stooped to a shelf and brought up a large pie, its scalloped crust singed along the edge. 'Costs me a fortune of money – tradin' up true rendered pig-fat an' wheat flour an' beet sugar from so fuckin' far south, then payin' camp whores to pick them dwarf berries, then bribin' the mess-oven cook – so I charge accordin'.'

'And that is?'

'One slice – one day's pay. Credit's good.'

'Thief!' a Wolf-blood soldier said, and was agreed with down the planks.

'So? – Then fuckin' pick an' bake your own, Larry!' The old man set the pie down and leaned over his counter. 'You an' me, young man – what is your slant-eye portion?'

'Kipchak,' Baj said.

'Well… well, that's true-human, anyway.'

Groans down the plank, but pleasant enough. The old man was liked.

'For you an' Lady Nearly-Lodge – an' your friends – a wedge-slice out of this particular pie for one half-day's pay each, collected at the count-out table on count-out day… But not the dummy.'

'The boy, too,' Baj said, Errol huddling close.

'No.'

'All or none.'

'Absolutely no.'

'Then, none.'

The old man smiled; three upper teeth were missing. 'Loyalty? Kin'ness? Willin'ness to share? – How old are you?'

'Twenty.'

Satirical hums along the planks.

The old man addressed his customers. 'A fuckin' baby!… Listen, Twenty, you want this pretty girl here to think you're a clutcher what can't part with pay?'

'All of us,' Baj said, '- or none.' And was encouraged by a chorus along the planks, more thumping of odd fists.

'You're embarrassin' me here, Sunriser, among all these hairy Persons -'