‘So long as they keep the squeaking to a minimum.’ Fiddler glanced at the huddled soldiers of Gesler’s squad, then back towards his own. ‘Some army,’ he said under his breath.
‘Some invasion, aye,’ Gesler agreed. ‘Ever known anyone to do it this way?’
Fiddler shook his head. ‘It makes a weird kind of sense, though, doesn’t it? The Edur are spread thin, from all reports. The oppressed are legion-all these damned Letherii.’
‘That troop just passed us didn’t look much oppressed to me, Fid.’
‘Well, I suppose we’ll find out one way or the other, won’t we? Now, let’s get this invasion under way.’
‘A moment,’ Gesler said, settling a scarred hand on Fiddler’s shoulder. ‘She burned the fucking transports, Fid.’
The sergeant winced.
‘Hard to miss the point of that, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Which meaning are you referring to, Gesler? The one about patrols on this coast seeing the flames or the one about for us there’s no going back?’
‘Hood take me, I can only chew on one piece of meat at a time, you know? Start with the first one. If I was this damned empire, I’d be flooding this coastline with soldiers before this day’s sun is down. And no matter how much Mockra our squad mages now know, we’re going to mess up. Sooner or later, Fid.’
‘Would that be before or after we start drawing blood?’
‘I ain’t even thinking about once we start killing Hood-damned Tiste Edur. I’m thinking about today.’
‘Someone stumbles onto us and we get nasty and dirty, then we bolt according to the plan.’
‘And try to stay alive, aye. Great. And what if these Letherii ain’t friendly?’
‘We just keep going, and steal what we need.’
‘We should’ve landed en masse, not just marines. With shields locked and see what they can throw at us.’
Fiddler rubbed at the back of his neck. Then sighed and said, ‘You know what they can throw at us, Gesler. Only the next time, there won’t be Quick Ben dancing in the air and matching them horror for horror. This is a night war we’re looking at. Ambushes. Knives in the dark. Cut and bolt.’
‘With no way out.’
‘Aye. So I do wonder if she lit up our transports to tell ‘em we’re here, or to tell us there’s no point in thinking about retreat. Or both.’
Gesler grunted. ‘ “Unwitnessed”, she said. Is that where we are? Already?’
Shrugging, Fiddler half rose. ‘Might be, Gesler. Let’s get moving-the birds are twittering almost as loud as we are.’
But, as they tramped deeper into the wet, rotting forest, Gesler’s last question haunted Fiddler. Is he right, Adjunct? We there already? Invading a damned empire in two-squad units. Running alone, unsupported, living or dying on the shoulders of a single squad mage. What if Bottle gets killed in the first scrap? We’re done for, that’s what. Best keep Corabb nice and close to Bottle, and hope the old rebel’s luck keeps pulling.
At the very least, the waiting was over. Real ground underfoot-they’d all wobbled like drunks coming up from the strand, which might have been amusing in other circumstances. But not when we could have staggered right into a patrol. Things were feeling solid now, though. Thank Hood. Well, as solid as one could be stumping over moss, overgrown sinkholes and twisted roots. Almost as bad as Black Dog. No, don’t think like that. Look ahead, Fid. Keep looking ahead.
Somewhere above them, through a mad witch’s weave of branches, the sky was lightening.
Any more complainin’ from any of you and I’ll cut off my left tit.’
A half-circle of faces ogled her. Good. She was pleased with the way that always worked.
‘Good thing the swim put you out,’ Bowl said.
Sergeant Hellian frowned at the huge soldier. Put out? ‘Heavies are idiots, you know that? Now.’ She looked down and tried counting the number of rum casks she’d managed to drag from the hold before the flames went wild. Six, maybe ten. Nine. She waved at the blurry array. ‘Everybody make room in your packs. For one each.’
Touchy Brethless said, ‘Sergeant, ain’t we supposed to find Urb and his squad? They gotta be close.’ Then her corporal spoke again, this time in a different voice, ‘He’s right. Bowl, where’d you come from again? Up the shore or down it?’
‘I don’t remember. It was dark.’
‘Hold on,’ Hellian said, taking a sidestep to maintain her balance on the pitching deck. No, the pitching ground. ‘You’re not in my squad, Bowl. Go away.’
‘I’d like nothing better,’ he replied, squinting at the wall of trees surrounding them. ‘I ain’t carrying no cask of damned ale. Look at you, Sergeant, you’re scorched all over.’
Hellian straightened. ‘Now hold on, we’re talking ‘ssential victuals. But I’ll tell you what’s a lot worse. I bet that fire was seen by somebody-and I hope the fool that started it is a heap of ash right now, that’s what I hope. Somebody’s seen it, that’s for sure.’
‘Sergeant, they lit up all the transports,’ said another one of her soldiers. Beard, thick chest, solid as a tree trunk and probably not much smarter either. What was his name?
‘Who are you?’
The man rubbed at his eyes. ‘Balgrid.’
‘Right, Baldy, now try explaining to me how some fool swam from ship to ship and set them afire? Well? That’s what I thought.’
‘Someone’s coming,’ hissed the squad sapper.
The one with the stupid name. A name she always had trouble remembering. Could be? No. Sometimes? Unsure? Ah, Maybe. Our sapper’s name is Maybe. And his friend there, that’s Lutes. And there’s Tavos Pond-he’s too tall. Tall soldiers get arrows in their foreheads. Why isn’t he dead? ‘Anybody got a bow?’ she asked.
A rustling of undergrowth, then two figures emerged from the gloom.
Hellian stared at the first one, feeling an inexplicable surge of rage. She rubbed thoughtfully at her jaw, trying to remember something about this sad-looking soldier. The rage drained away, was replaced with heartfelt affection.
Bowl stepped past her. ‘Sergeant Urb, thank Hood you found us.’
‘Urb?’ Hellian asked, weaving as she moved closer and peered up into the man’s round face. ‘That you?’
‘Found the rum, did you?’
Lutes said from behind her, ‘She’s poisoning her liver.’
‘My liver’s fine, soldier. Just needs a squeezing out.’
‘Squeezing out?’
She turned round and glared at the squad healer. ‘I seen livers before, Cutter. Big sponges full of blood. Tumbles out when you cut someone open.’
‘Sounds more like a lung, Sergeant. The liver’s this flat thing, muddy brown or purple-’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said, wheeling back to stare at Urb. ‘If the first one dies the other one kicks in. I’m fine. Well,’ she added with a loud sigh which seemed to make Urb reel back a step, ‘I’m in the best of moods, my friends. The best of moods. And now we’re all together, so let’s march because I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to march somewhere.’ She smiled over at her corporal. ‘What say you, Touchy Brethless?’
‘Sounds good, Sergeant.
‘Brilliant plan, Sergeant.’
‘Why do you always do that, Corporal?’
‘Do what?
‘Do what?’
‘Look, Baldy’s the one who’s half deaf-’
‘I’m not half deaf any more, Sergeant.’
‘You’re not? So who here is half deaf?’
‘Nobody, Sergeant.’
‘No need to shout. Baldy can hear you and if he can’t then we should’ve left him on the boat, along with that tall one there with the arrow in his skull, because neither one’s no good to us. We’re looking for grey-skinned murderers and they’re hiding in these trees. Behind them, I mean. If they were in them, it’d hurt. So we need to start looking behind all these trees. But first, collect us a cask here, one each now, and then we can get going.
