Monstrous Regiment

“I haven’t a clue, Perks. Um… what’s wrong with young Goom? Some kind of religious mania?”

“Could be, sir,” said Polly guardedly. “The Duchess talks to her.”

“Oh dear,” said Blouse. “She—”

The door opened. A dozen soldiers filed in and spread out on either side. They had a variety of uniforms—mostly Zlobenian, but several Polly recognized now as Ankh-Morporkic or whatever they called it. They were all armed, and held their weapons like men who expected to use them.

When they had lined up and were glaring at the squad, a smaller group of men stepped in. Again, there was a variety of uniforms, but they were a lot more expensive. These were worn by officers—high-ranking ones, to judge by the expressions of disdain. The tallest of them, made taller by his high, plumed cavalry helmet, stared along his nose at the women. He had pale blue eyes, and his face suggested that he did not really want to see anything at all in this room unless it had been thoroughly cleaned first.

“Who is the officer here?” he said. He sounded like a lawyer.

Blouse stood up and saluted. “Lieutenant Blouse, sir, Tenth Infantry.”

“I see.” The man looked at his fellow officers. “I believe we can dispense with the guard now, don’t you? This matter should be handled quietly. And for heaven’s sake can’t we find this man a pair of trousers?”

There were a few murmurs. The man nodded to the sergeant of the guard. The armed men filed out, and the door shut behind them.

“My name is Lord Rust,” said the man. “I head the Ankh-Morpork detachment here. At least,” and he sniffed, “the military detachment. You have been treated well? You have not been manhandled? I see there is a… young lady on the floor.”

“She’s in a swoon, sir,” said Polly. The blue eyes lighted upon her.

“You would be—?” he said.

“Corporal Perks, sir,” said Polly. There were some barely suppressed smiles from the officers.

“Ah. I believe you are the one seeking her brother?” said Lord Rust.

“How do you know my name?” said Polly.

“We are an, mm, efficient army,” said Rust, and treated himself to a little smile of his own. “Your brother’s name is Paul?”

“Yes!”

“We shall locate him, eventually. And I understand another lady was seeking her young man?”

Shufti curtsied nervously. “Me, sir.”

“Again, we shall locate him, if you give us his name. Now, please listen to me carefully. You, Miss Perks, and the rest of you, will be taken from here, tonight, entirely unharmed, and escorted back into your country as far as our patrols can take you, which, I suspect, will be quite a long way. Is that understood? You will have what you came for. Won’t that be nice? And you will not return here. The troll and the vampire have been captured. The same offer applies to them.”

Polly was watching the officers. They looked nervous…

…except for one at the back. She’d thought all the guards had gone and, while this man was dressed like a guard—dressed, that is, like a badly dressed guard—he wasn’t acting like one. He was leaning against the wall by the door, smoking half a cigar, and gri

“Very generously,” Rust went on, “this offer applies to you too, Lieutenant… Blouse, wasn’t it? But in your case you would be on parole in a house in Zlobenia, very pleasant I understand, healthy walks in the countryside and all that sort of thing. This offer has not been extended to your superior officers here, I may add.”

So why make it to us? Polly thought. Are you frightened? Of a bunch of girls? That makes no sense…

Behind the officers, the man with the cigar winked at Polly. His uniform was very old-fashioned—an ancient helmet, a breastplate, some slightly rusted chain mail, and big boots. He wore it like a workman wears his overalls. Unlike the braid and brilliance in front of her, the only statement his clothes made was that he didn’t intend to get hurt. They had no insignia that Polly could see, apart from a small shield hooked onto the breastplate.

“If you will excuse me a moment,” said Blouse, “I will consult with my men.”

“Men?” said Rust. “They’re a bunch of women, man!”

“But at this moment, sir,” said Blouse coolly, “I would not exchange them for any six men you offered me. If you gentlemen would care to wait outside?”

Behind the group, the badly dressed man burst into silent laughter. His sense of humour was not shared by the rest of the group, however.

“You ca

“Nevertheless, sir,” said Blouse. “We will take a few minutes. I think the ladies would prefer some privacy. One of them is expecting a child.”

“What, here?” As one man, the group drew back.

“Not yet, I believe. But if you would just step outside—”

When the officers had retreated to the masculine safety of the corridor the lieutenant turned to his squad. “Well, men? For you, it is a very attractive offer, I have to say.”

“Not for us,” said Tonker. Lofty nodded.

“Nor me,” said Shufti.

“Why not?” said Blouse. “You would get your husband.”

“That might be a bit difficult,” mumbled Shufti. “Anyway, what about the invasion?”

“I’m not going to be sent home like a package,” said Igorina. “Anyway, that man has an objectionable bone structure.”

“Well, Private Goom can’t join us right now,” sighed Blouse. “So that leaves you, Polly.”

“Why are they doing this?” said Polly. “Why do they want us out of the way? Why aren’t they just leaving us locked up? This place must be full of cells.”

“Ah, perhaps they are sensible of the frailties of your sex,” said Blouse, and then fried in their stares. “I didn’t say I was,” he added quickly.

“They could just kill us,” said Tonker. “Well, they could,” she added. “Why not? Who’d care? I don’t think we count as prisoners of war.”

“But they haven’t,” said Polly. “And they’re not even threatening us. They’re being very careful. I think they’re frightened of us.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” said Tonker. “Maybe they think we’re going to chase them and give them a big wet sloppy kiss?”

“Good, then we’re agreed that we’re not going to accept,” said Blouse. “Damn right… oh, I do apologize…”

“We all know the words, sir,” said Polly. “I suggest we see how much we frighten them, sir.”

The officers were waiting with unconcealed impatience, but Rust managed a brief smile when he stepped back into the kitchen. “Well, lieutenant?” he said.

“We have given your offer due consideration, sir,” said Blouse, “and our reply is: stick it up your…” He leaned down to Polly, who whispered urgently. “Who? Oh, yes, right. Your jumper, sir. Stick it, in fact, up your jumper. Named after Colonel Henri Jumper, I believe. A useful woollen garment akin to a lightweight sweater, sir, which if I recall correctly was named after Regimental Sergeant-Major Sweat. That, sir, is where you may stick it.”

Rust received this calmly, and Polly wondered whether it was because he hadn’t understood it. The scruffy man once more leaning against the wall had understood it, though, since he was gri

“I see,” said Rust. “And that is the answer from all of you? Then you leave us no choice. Good evening to you.”

His attempt to stride out was hindered by the other officers, who had less sense of the dramatic moment. The door slammed behind them, but not before the last man out turned very briefly and made a hand gesture. You would have missed it if you weren’t watching him—but Polly was watching.

“That seemed to go well,” said Blouse, turning away.

“I hope we’re not going to get into trouble for that,” said Shufti.

“Compared to what?” said Tonker.

“The last man out stuck his thumb up and winked,” said Polly. “Did you notice him? He wasn’t even wearing an officer’s uniform.”