leave the rest to me and the sergeant.’
‘Adjunct,’ Gamet said, unable to keep the pleading from his tone.
She shot him a glare, then wheeled. ‘Let us be about it, then, Fist.’
He let her take the lead, paused after a few paces to glance back. The sergeant had rejoined Cuttle, who had managed to dig a small hole in what seemed an absurdly short time.
‘Cobbles down there?’ The sergeant nodded. ‘Perfect!’
‘About what I figured,’ Cuttle replied. ‘I’ll angle these crackers, with the cusser a hand’s width deeper-’
‘Perfect. I’d have done the same if I’d thought to bring some with me.’
‘You supplied?’
‘Well enough.’
‘What I got here in my bag are the last.’
‘I can mend that, Cuttle.’
‘For that, Fid-’
‘Strings.’
‘For that, Strings, you’ve earned a kiss.’
‘I can’t wait.’
Gamet pulled himself away with a shake of his head.
The explosion was a double thump that shook the earth, cobbles punching free of the overburden of dust- which had leapt skyward-to clack and clash in a maelstrom of stone chips and slivers. Fully a third of the legion were thrown from their feet, taking down others with them.
Astonishingly, none seemed fatally injured, as if Cuttle had somehow directed the force of the detonation downward and out under the cobbles.
As the last rubble pattered down, Adjunct Tavore and Gamet moved forward once again.
Facing the silenced mob, Cuttle stood with a sharper held high in one hand. In a bellowing voice, he addressed the recruits. ‘Next soldier who moves gets this at his feet, and if you think my aim ain’t any good, try me! Now, sergeants and corporals! Up nice and slow now. Find your squads. You up here in front, Sergeant Strings here has drawn us a tidy nice line-all right, so it’s a bit messy right now so he’s drawing it again-walk up to it easy like, toes a finger’s width away from it, boots square! We’re gonna do this right, or people are going to
Sergeant Strings was moving along the front line now, ensuring the line was held, spreading soldiers out. Officers were shouting once more, though not as loud as before, since the recruits remained silent. Slowly, the legion began taking shape.
Those recruits were indeed silent, and… watchful, Gamet noted as he and the Adjunct returned to close to their original position-the gaping, smoking crater off to one side. Watchful… of the madman with the sharper held high above his head. After a moment, the Fist moved up to stand beside Cuttle.
‘You killed a nobleman?’ he asked in a low voice, studying the assembling ranks.
‘Aye, Fist. I did.’
‘Was he on the Chain of Dogs?’
‘He was.’
‘As were you, Cuttle.’
‘Until I took a spear through a shoulder. Went with the others on the
‘I’d be pleased if you took me up on that offer of command,’ Gamet said.
‘No thanks, sir. I’m already assigned to a squad. Sergeant Strings’s squad, in fact. Suits me fine.’
‘Where do you know him from?’
Cuttle glanced over, his eyes thinned to slits. Expressionless, he said, ‘Never met him before today, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I owe him a kiss.’
Less than a quarter-bell later, Fist Gamet’s 8th Legion stood motionless in tight, even ranks. Adjunct Tavore studied them from where she stood at Gamet’s side, but had yet to speak. Cuttle and Sergeant Strings had rejoined the 9th Company’s 4th squad.
Tavore seemed to reach some decision. A gesture behind her brought Fists Tene Baralta and Blistig forward. Moments later they came up alongside Gamet and halted. The Adjunct’s unremarkable eyes fixed on Blistig. ‘Your legion waits in the main avenue beyond?’
The red-faced man nodded. ‘Melting in the heat, Adjunct. But that cusser going off settled them down.’
Her gaze shifted to the Red Blade. ‘Fist Baralta?’
‘Calmed, Adjunct.’
‘When I dismiss the 8th and they depart the parade ground, I suggest the remaining soldiers enter by company. Each company will then take position and when they are ready the next one follows. It may take longer, but at the very least we will not have a repetition of the chaos we have just witnessed. Fist Gamet, are you satisfied with the assemblage of your troops?’
‘Well enough, Adjunct.’
‘As am I. You may now-’
She got no further, seeing that the attention of the three men standing before her had slipped past, over her shoulder; and from the four thousand soldiers standing at attention, there was sudden, absolute silence-not a rustle of armour, not a cough. For the 8th had drawn a single breath, and now held it.
Gamet struggled to maintain his expression, even as Tavore raised an eyebrow at him. Then she slowly turned.
The toddler had come from nowhere, unseen by any until he arrived to stand in the very spot where the Adjunct had first stood, his oversized rust-red telaba trailing like a royal train. Blond hair a tangled shock above a deeply tanned, cherubic face smeared with dirt, the child faced the ranks of soldiers with an air of unperturbed calculation.
A strangled cough from among the soldiers, then someone stepped forward.
Even as the man emerged from the front line, the toddler’s eyes found him. Both arms, buried in sleeves, reached out. Then one sleeve slipped back, revealing the tiny hand, and in that hand there was a bone. A human longbone. The man froze in mid-step.
The air above the parade ground seemed to hiss like a thing alive with the gasps of four thousand soldiers.
Gamet fought down a shiver, then spoke to the man. ‘Captain Keneb,’ he said loudly, struggling to swallow a welling dread, ‘I suggest you collect your lad. Now, before he, uh, starts screaming.’
Face flushed, Keneb threw a shaky salute then strode forward.
‘Neb!’ the toddler shouted as the captain gathered him up.
Adjunct Tavore snapped, ‘Follow me!’ to Gamet, then walked to the pair. ‘Captain Keneb, is it?’
‘Your p-pardon, Adjunct. The lad has a nurse but seems determined to slip through her grasp at every opportunity-there’s a blown graveyard behind the-’
‘Is he yours, Captain?’ Tavore demanded, her tone brittle.
‘As good as, Adjunct. An orphan from the Chain of Dogs. The historian Duiker placed him into my care.’
‘Has he a name?’
‘Grub.’
‘Grub?’
Keneb’s shrug was apologetic. ‘For now, Adjunct. It well suits him-’
‘And the 8th. Yes, I see that. Deliver him to your hired nurse, Captain. Then, tomorrow, fire her and hire a better one… or three. Will the child accompany the army?’
‘He has no-one else, Adjunct. There will be other families among the camp followers-’
‘I am aware of that. Be on your way, Captain Keneb.’
‘I-I am sorry, Adjunct-’
But she was already turning away, and only Gamet heard her sigh and murmur, ‘It is far too late for that.’
