Monstrous Regiment

“Okay, everybody, we’re… er… about to do it,” she said. “Are we sure about this, Tonker?”

“Yep.”

“And we won’t get hurt?”

Tonker sighed. “The dusty flour will explode. That’s simple. The blast coming this way will hit the barrels full of water which’ll probably last just long enough to see it rebound. The worst that should happen to us is that we get wet. That’s what Tilda thinks. Would you argue? And in the other direction, there’s only the door.”

“How does she work this out?”

“She doesn’t. She just sees how it should go.” Tonker handed Polly the end of a rope. “This goes over the beam and down to the dish lid. Can you hold it, lieutenant? But don’t pull it until we say. I really mean that. C’mon, Polly.”

In the space between the barrels and the door, Lofty was lighting a candle. She did it slowly, as if it was a sacrament or some ancient ceremony every part of which held enormous and complex meaning.

She lit a match, and held it carefully until the flame caught. She waved it back and forth on the base of the candle, which she thrust firmly onto the flagstones so that the hot wax stuck it into position. Then she applied the match to the candlewick.

Polly and Tonker watched her kneel there, staring at the dancing flame

“Okay,” said Tonker. “I’m just going to pick her up, and you just carefully lower the lid over the candle, right? C’mon, Tilda.”

She raised the girl carefully to her feet, whispering to her all the time, and then nodded to Polly, who lowered the lid with a carefulness that amounted to reverence.

Lofty walked as though asleep.

Tonker stopped by the leg of the heavy kitchen table, to which she’d attached the other end of the rope holding the flour bags.

“Okay so far,” she said. “Now, when I pull the knot we each grab an arm and we run, Polly, understand? We run. Ready? Got her?” She hauled on the rope. “Run!”

The flour sacks dropped, streaming white dust as they fell, and exploded in front of the door. Flour rose like a fog.

They raced for the storeroom and fell in a heap past the barrel as Tonker screamed, “Okay, lieutenant!”

Blouse pulled the rope that raised the lid and let the candle flame reach—

The word was not whoomph. The experience was whoomph. It had a quality that overwhelmed every sense. It shook the world like a sheet, painted it white and then, surprisingly, filled it with the smell of toast. And then it was over, in a second, leaving nothing but distant screams and the rumble of collapsing masonry.

Polly uncurled, and looked up into Blouse’s face.

“I think we grab things and run now, sir,” she said. “And screaming would help.”

“I think I can manage the screaming,” muttered Shufti. “This is not a very nurturing experience.”

Blouse gripped his ladle.

“I hope this isn’t going to be our famous last stand,” he said.

“In fact, sir,” said Polly, “I think it’s going to be our first. Permission to yell in a bloodcurdling way, sir?”

“Permission granted, Perks!”

The floor was awash with water and bits—quite small bits—of barrel. Half the chimney had collapsed into the fireplace and the soot was blazing fiercely. Polly wondered if, down in the valley, it’d look like a signal…

The door was gone. So was a lot of wall around it. Beyond—

Smoke and dust filled the air. In it, men lay groaning, or picked their way aimlessly across the rubble. When the squad arrived, they did not simply fail to put up a fight, they failed to understand. Or hear.

The women lowered their weapons. Polly spotted the sergeant, who was sitting and hitting the side of his head with the flat of his hand.

“Give me the keys!” she demanded.

He tried to focus.

“What?”

“The keys!”

“I’ll have a brown one, please.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

Polly reached down and snatched the keyring from the unresisting man’s belt, fighting down an instinct to apologize. She threw it to Blouse.

“Will you do the honours, sir? I think we’ll be having a lot of visitors really soon.” She turned to the squad. “The rest of you, get their weapons off them!”

“Some of these men are badly hurt, Polly,” said Igorina, kneeling down. “There’s one here with multiple.”

“Multiple what?” said Polly, watching the steps.

“Just… multiple. Multiple everything. But I know I can save his arm, because I’ve just found it over there. I think he must’ve been holding his sword and—”

“Just do what you can, okay?” said Polly.

“Hey, they’re enemies,” said Tonker, picking up a sword.

“Thith ith an Igor thing,” said Igorina, taking off her pack. “I’m thorry, you wouldn’t underthtand.”

“I’m begi

“There’ll be a lot of people here soon,” said Polly, more calmly than she felt. Because this is going to be it, she thought. This time there’s going to be no turkey to save us. This is where I find out if I’m the meat or the metal…

She could hear Blouse unlocking doors, and the shouts from those within. “Lieutenant Blouse, Tenth Infantry!” he was saying. “This is a rescue, broadly speaking. Sorry about the mess.”

Probably his i

And, right now, she wasn’t inclined to argue.

Men take over. It is probably because of socks.

The squad retired to the kitchen, where Igorina was at work. She worked fast, efficiently and, on the whole, with very little blood. Her large pack was open beside her. The jars inside were blue, green and red; some of them smoked when she opened them, or gave off strange lights. Her fingers moved in a blur. It was fascinating to watch her working. At least, it was if you hadn’t just eaten.

“Squad, this is Major Erick von Moldvitz! He asked to meet you.”

They turned at the sound of Blouse’s voice. He’d brought a newcomer. The major was young, but much more heavily built than the lieutenant. He had a scar across his face.

“Stand easy, lads,” he said. “Blouse here has been telling me what crackin’ work you’ve been doing. Well done! Dressin’ up as women, eh? Lucky you weren’t found out!”

“Yessir,” said Polly. From outside, there came the sound of cries and fighting.

“Didn’t bring your uniforms with you?” said the major.

“Could’ve been tricky if they were found on us,” said Polly, staring at Blouse.

“Could’ve been tricky anyway, eh, if you were searched?” said the major, winking.

“Yessir,” said Polly obediently. “Lieutenant Blouse told you all about us, did he, sir?”

Just behind the major, Blouse was making a universal gesture. It consisted of both hands held palm up and outwards and waggled furiously with all fingers extended.

“Hah, yes. Stole some clothes from a knockin’ shop, eh? Young lads like you shouldn’t have gone in a place like that, eh? Those places are an Abomination, if they’re run right!” said the major, wagging a finger theatrically. “Anyway, we’re doing well. Hardly any guards this deep in the Keep, y’see. The whole place was built on the basis that the enemy would be on the outside! I say, what’s that man doin’ to the man on the slab?”

“Patching him up, thur,” said Igorina. “Thewing hith arm back on.”

“He’s an enemy, ain’t he?”

“Code of the Igorth, thur,” said Igorina reproachfully. “A thpare hand where needed, thur.”

The major sniffed. “Oh well, can’t argue with you fellows, eh? But when you’ve finished, we’ve got plenty of chaps out there who could do with your help.”