‘I ain’t from Kartool, Sergeant. I meant, the beginning of the squad. That’s what I meant. Aren. Seven Cities. The first time we marched across a Hood-rotting desert.’
‘Back to Y’Ghatan? No wonder I’m so thirsty. Got water in that jug there, soldier?’
‘Just my piss, Sergeant.’
‘Lucky you ain’t a woman. Try pissing into a bottle when you’re a woman. Y’Ghatan. Gods below, how many times do we got to take that place?’
‘We ain’t marching to Y’Ghatan, Sergeant. We’re — oh, never mind. It’s a desert for sure, though. Cold.’
‘Corporal Touchless!’
‘Sergeant?’
‘What you got in that jug there?’
‘Piss.’
‘Who’s selling that stuff anyway? Bloody genius.’
Maybe said, ‘Heard the quartermaster was tying bladders on the Khundryl stallions.’
Hellian frowned. ‘They’d explode. Why would he do that? And more to the point, how? Stick your hand up its-’
‘Not the horse’s bladder, Sergeant. Waterskins, right? Cow bladders. Tied to the stallion’s cock.’
‘Duck, you mean.’
‘What?’
‘Horses hate cocks, but they don’t mind ducks. But that bladder would slow ’em down something awful. Quite the farm where you grew up, Maybe.’
‘I ain’t fooled, you know,’ said Maybe, leaning close. ‘But I see the point, right? You’re keeping us entertained. It’s like a game, pieces jumping every which way.’
She eyed him. ‘Oh, I’m just fooling with ya, am I?’
He met her gaze, and then his eyes shied away. ‘Sorry, Sergeant. Feeling it, huh?’
Hellian said nothing.
‘That was Throatslitter, Sergeant.’
‘He killed a hyena? Good for him. Where’s Balgrid anyway?’
‘Dead.’
‘Damned slacker. I’m going to sleep. Corporal, you’re in charge-’
‘Can’t sleep now,’ Brethless objected. ‘We’re walking, Sergeant-’
‘Best time for it, then. Wake me when the sun comes up.’
‘Now that ain’t fair how she does that.’
Brethless grunted. ‘You hear about them all the time, though. Those veterans who can sleep on the march.’ He mused, and then grunted a second time. ‘Didn’t know she was one of them.’
‘Sober now,’ Maybe muttered. ‘That’s what’s new with her.’
‘Did you see her and Urb and Tarr heading back into the trench? I’d just about given up, and then I saw her, and she pulled me along as if I was wearing chains round my neck. I had nothing left — me and Touchy — remember, Touchy?’
‘Aye. What of it?’
‘We were finished. When I saw Quick Ben go down, it was like someone carved out my gut. I went all hollow inside. Suddenly, I knew it was time to die.’
‘You were wrong,’ said Maybe in a growl.
‘We got us a good sergeant, is what I’m saying.’
Maybe nodded, and glanced back at Crump. ‘You listening, soldier? Don’t mess it up.’
The tall, long-faced man with the strangely wide-spaced eyes blinked confusedly. ‘They stepped on my cussers,’ he said. ‘Now I ain’t got any more.’
‘Can you use that sword on your belt, sapper?’
‘What? This? No, why would I want to do that? We’re just marching.’
Lagging behind, breath coming in harsh gasps, Limp said, ‘Crump had a bag of munitions. Stuck his brain in there, too. For, uh, safekeeping. It all went up, throwing Nah’ruk everywhere. He’s just an empty skull now, Maybe.’
‘So he can’t fight? What about using a crossbow?’
‘Never seen him try one of those. But fight? Crump fights, don’t worry about that.’
‘Well, with what, then? That stupid bush knife?’
‘He uses his hands, Maybe.’
‘Well, that’s just great then.’
‘We’re just marching,’ said Crump again, and then he laughed.
Urb glanced back at the squad trudging five paces behind his own. She had nothing to drink now. She was waking up. To who she really was. And maybe she didn’t like what she saw. Wasn’t that what drinking was all about to begin with? He rubbed the back of his neck, faced forward again.
Sober now. Eyes clear. Clear enough to see … well, it wasn’t like she’d really shown any interest. And besides, did he really want to get tangled with someone like that? Standing up only to probably fall down again. It was a narrow path for people like her, and they needed to want to walk it. If they didn’t, off they went again, sooner or later. Every time.
Of course, if what Fid had said was true, what did any of it even matter? They were the walking dead, looking for a place to finish up with all the walking. So in the meantime, if there was a chance at anything, why not take it? She’d not be serious about it, though, would she? She’d just mock the whole idea of love, of what he would end up cutting out and slapping down wet and red on the table between them — she’d just laugh.
He wasn’t brave enough for that. In fact, he wasn’t brave at all, about anything. Not fighting Nah’ruk, or Letherii, or Whirlwind fanatics. Every time he had to draw his sword, he went cold as ice inside. Loose, quaking, dread shivering out from his stomach to steal the heat from his limbs. He drew his sword expecting to die, and die poorly.
But he’d do what he could to keep her alive. Always had. Always would. Usually she was too drunk to even see it, or maybe she was so used to him being there when it counted that he was no different from a stone wall for her to throw her back against. But wasn’t even that enough for him?
It would have to be, because he didn’t have the courage for anything more. Being the walking dead didn’t have a thing to do with bravery. It was just a way of looking at the time left, of ducking down and pushing on and not complaining. He could do that. He’d been doing that all his life, in fact.
He looked up into the jade-lit night sky, studied those grim slashes cleaving the darkness. Huge now, seeming ready to slice into the face of this very world. Urb shivered.
Corporal Clasp dropped back from her position alongside Urb, until Saltlick, who’d been taking up the rear, reached her, and she fell in beside him. ‘Can I have a quiet word with you?’ she asked.
He glanced over, blinked. ‘I can be quiet.’
