Monstrous Regiment

She wasn’t going to let there be any other.

Polly shivered, and was aware that someone was walking beside her. She looked up and groaned.

“You’re a hallucination, right?”

OH, YES. YOU ARE ALL IN A STATE OF HEIGHTENED SENSIBILITY CAUSED BY MENTAL CONTAGION AND LACK OF SLEEP.

“If you’re a hallucination, how do you know that?”

I KNOW IT BECAUSE YOU KNOW IT. I AM SIMPLY BETTER AT ARTICULATING IT.

“I’m not going to die, am I? I mean, right now?”

NO. BUT YOU WERE TOLD THAT YOU WOULD WALK WITH DEATH EVERY DAY.

“Oh… yes. Corporal Scallot said that.”

HE IS AN OLD FRIEND. YOU MIGHT SAY HE IS ON THE INSTALMENT PLAN.

“Do you mind walking a bit more… invisibly?”

OF COURSE. HOW’S THIS?

“And quietly, too?”

There was silence, which was presumably the answer. “And polish yourself up a bit,” said Polly to the empty air. “And that robe needs a wash.”

There was no reply, but she felt better for saying it.

Shufti had cooked beef stew with dumplings and herbs. It was magnificent. It was also a mystery.

“I don’t recall us passing a cow, private,” said Blouse, as he handed his tin plate along for a second helping.

“Er… no, sir.”

“And yet you have acquired beef?”

“Er… yes, sir. Er… when that writer man came up in his cart, well, when you were talking, er, I crept round and took a look inside…”

“There’s a name for someone who does that sort of thing, private,” said Blouse severely.

“Yeah, it’s quartermaster, Shufti. Well done,” said Jackrum. “If that writer man gets hungry, he can always eat his words, eh, lieutenant?”

“Er… yes,” said Blouse carefully. “Yes. Of course. Good initiative, private.”

“Oh, I didn’t think it up, sir,” said Shufti brightly. “Sarge told me to.”

Polly stopped, spoon halfway to her mouth, and swivelled her eyes from sergeant to lieutenant.

“You teach looting, sergeant?” said Blouse. There was a joint gasp from the squad. If this was the bar back at The Duchess, the regulars would have been hurrying out of the doors and Polly would have been helping her father get the bottles off the shelf.

“Not looting, sir, not looting,” said Jackrum, calmly licking his spoon. “Under Duchess’s Regulations, Rule 611, Section 1 [c], Paragraph i, sir, it would be plundering, said cart being the property of bloody Ankh-Morpork, sir, which is aiding and abetting the enemy. Plundering is allowed, sir.”

The two men held eye contact for a moment, and then Blouse reached behind him and into his pack. Polly saw him draw out a small yet thick book.

“Rule 611,” he murmured. Blouse glanced up at the sergeant, and thumbed through the thin, shiny pages. “611. Pillaging, Plundering and Looting. Ah, yes. And… let me see… you are with us, Sergeant Jackrum, owing to Rule 796, I think you reminded me at the time…”

There was another silence broken only by the riffle of the pages. There’s no Rule 796, Polly remembered. Are they going to fight over this?

“796, 796,” said Blouse softly. “Ah…” He stared at the page, and Jackrum stared at him.

Blouse closed the book with a leathery flwap. “Absolutely correct, sergeant!” he said brightly. “I commend you on your encyclopaedic knowledge of the regulations!”

Jackrum looked thunderous. “What?”

“You were practically word perfect, sergeant!” said Blouse. And there was a gleam in his eye. Polly remembered Blouse looking at the captured cavalry captain. This was that same look, the look which said: now I have the upper hand.

Jackrum’s chins wobbled.

“You had something to add, sergeant?” said Blouse.

“Er, no… sir,” said Jackrum, his face an open declaration of war.

“We’ll leave at moonrise,” said Blouse. “I suggest we all get some rest until then. And then… may we prevail.” He nodded to the group, and walked over to where Polly had spread his blanket in the lee of the bushes. After a few moments there were some snores, which Polly refused to believe. Jackrum certainly didn’t. He got up and strode out of the firelight. Polly hurried after him.

“Did you hear that?” snarled the sergeant, staring out at the darkening hills. “The little yoyo! What right has he got, checking up in the book o’ words?”

“Well, you did quote chapter and verse, sarge,” said Polly.

“So? Officers are s’posed believe what they’re told. And then he smiled! Did you see? Caught me out and smiled at me! Thinks he’s got one over on me, just because he caught me out!”

“You did lie, sarge.”

“I did not Perks! It’s not lying when you do it to officers! It’s presentin’ them with the world the way they think it ought to be! You can’t let ’em start checkin’ up for themselves. They get the wrong ideas. I told you, he’ll be the death of all of us! Invading the bloody Keep? The man’s wrong in the head!”

“Sarge!” said Polly urgently.

“Yes, what?”

“We’re being signalled, sarge!”

On a distant hilltop, twinkling like an early evening star, a white light was flashing.

Blouse lowered his telescope. “They’re repeating ‘CQ’,” he said. “And I believe those longer pauses are when they’re aiming their tube in different directions. They’re looking for their spies. ‘Seek You’, see? Private Igor?”

“Thur?”

“You know how that tube works, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeth, thur. You jutht light a flare in the box, and then it’th just point and click.”

“You’re not going to answer it, are you, sir?” said Jackrum, horrified.

“I am indeed, sergeant,” said Blouse briskly. “Private Carborundum, please assemble the tube. Manickle, please bring the lantern. I shall need to read the code book.”

“But that’ll give away our position!” said Jackrum.

“No, sergeant, because although this term may be unfamiliar to you I intend to what we call ‘lie’,” said Blouse. “Igor, I’m sure you have some scissors, although I’d rather you didn’t attempt to repeat the word.”

“I have thome of the applianthetheth you mention, thur,” said Igorina stiffly.

“Good.” Blouse looked round. “It’s almost pitch dark now. Ideal. Take my blanket and cut, oh, a three-inch circle out of it, then tie the blanket over the front of the tube.”

“That will cut off motht of the light, thur!”

“Indeed it will. My plan depends upon it,” said Blouse proudly.

“Sir, they will see the light, they’ll know we’re here,” said Jackrum, as though repeating things to a child.

“I explained, sergeant. I will lie,” said Blouse.

“You can’t lie when—”

“Thank you for your input, sergeant, that will be all for now,” said Blouse. “Are we ready, Igor?”

“Jutht about, thur,” said Igorina, tying the blanket across the end of the tube. “Okay, thur. I’ll light the flare when you thay.”

Blouse unfolded the little book. “Ready, private?” he said.

“Yup,” said Jade.

“On the word ‘long’ you will hold the trigger for the count of two, and then let go. On the word ‘short’ you will hold it down for the count of one, and likewise let go. Got that?”

“Yup, el-tee. Could hold it down for lots, if you like,” said Jade. “One, two, many, lots. I’m good at countin’. High as you like. Jus’ say der word.”

“Two will suffice,” said Blouse. “And you, Private Goom, I want you to take my telescope and look for long and short flashes from that light over there, understand?”

Polly saw Wazzer’s face and said quickly: “I’ll do that, sir!”

A small white hand was laid on her arm. In the miserly glimmer of the dark lantern, Wazzer’s eyes glowed with the light of certainty. “The Duchess guides our footsteps now,” she said, and took the telescope from the lieutenant. “What we are doing is her work, sir.”

“Is it? Oh. Well… that’s good,” said Blouse.