He demanded a messenger.
Leona appeared.
There is no mystery. No significance. Senior officers often use militia for non-essential messages. He’s sorry for Leona’s death, and understands my action was a kindness, although he doubts if the Aux understand that. When I mention his father our conversation is over. That’s a subject he’s unwilling to discuss.
‘Sir-’
‘Leave it,’ he orders. So I do.
After my dismissal, I don’t expect us to talk again until the evening. I’m wrong about that as well.
Iona sits on a broken wall watched by two Wolf Brigade troopers at a table. As she leans back and raises the hem of her dress to sun her knees, I think she’s pretending not to notice their interest.
But no, they’re invisible.
Only the sun, the wind and the sound of cicadas hold her interest. The insect noise probably reminds her of life on Hekati.
The way she leans back tightens the cloth across her breasts, which are full anyway, and seem fuller because she wears a belt beneath. Her eyes close and she opens her mouth to taste the wind; has to be that, can’t think what else she’s doing as she flicks her tongue like a lizard, a dozen of which hug the wall where she suns.
When one of the two troopers attracts her attention by putting his hand on her knee, Iona jumps.
‘Heart rate up, pupil dilation, rapid breathing . . .’ The SIG counts off the shock signs. ‘Yep, she really is that stupid.’
‘Unworldly,’ Colonel Vijay says.
‘Sir . . . Sorry, sir. Didn’t hear you come up behind me.’
His attention is on Iona, who is finding it hard to move now the Wolf Brigade trooper grips her knee. Every time she struggles, he tightens his fingers and she stops struggling again. Iona needs to crack that pain barrier.
‘Damn it,’ the colonel says.
Must be at the way Neen’s now scrambling to his feet, one hand reaching for a knife in the back of his belt. Seeing he has competition, the Wolf Brigade trooper grins.
‘Sven . . .’ Colonel Vijay nods to where General Luc gestures.
‘What rank is your man?’ the Wolf asks.
‘Sergeant, sir.’
Pretty obvious I’d have thought from the stripes on the jacket Neen’s now wrapping round his left arm as protection against the trooper’s blade.
‘And my man?’ he demands, pointing to his own trooper.
‘A private, sir.’
‘Exactly, Lieutenant.’ He waits impatiently for my response, then hisses with irritation. ‘A sergeant fighting a trooper. Hardly fitting, is it?’
‘That’s his girlfriend,’ I say.
General Luc looks at me as if I’m mad. ‘What has that to do with it?’ he demands. Emptying a wine glass in a single gulp, he pulls a face.
‘You want me to stop the fight, sir?’
‘I want you to use your discretion.’
‘Never had any, sir.’
‘Is that a joke, Lieutenant?’ He stares at me. ‘I’m not a general who appreciates jokes from junior officers.’
‘I imagine not, sir. And it’s not a joke.’
Ignoring my reply, he holds his glass to one side. An orderly comes running so fast he almost falls as his boots skid on the grit beneath him. ‘Find me something drinkable,’ the Wolf demands.
The orderly wants to say it’s not possible. We’re in the middle of nowhere, for fuck’s sake, but he simply nods.
‘Well, Sven . . .?’ Colonel Vijay demands.
Neen and the trooper circle with sideways steps, like angry crabs, as they jab and feint. They’re testing each other’s defences. Can’t be long before one of them draws first blood, maybe even gets in the killing blow.
‘General Luc doesn’t approve of sergeants fighting privates.’
‘Then you’d better stop it, hadn’t you?’
This is more of an order than a question. But I’m not happy with anything that makes the Aux look as if we’re backing down.
‘Sven . . .’
‘I’m going, sir.’
Both men stop circling as I step between them. Six or seven men jeer. They’re all Wolf Brigade, which is just as well. I’d have the hide off any of mine who behaved like that.
‘Fight’s over,’ I say.
Neen steps back, and returns his knife to his belt. The Wolf Brigade trooper stares at me.
‘Your man not up to it . . . sir?’
‘My man was killing Silver Fist while you lot collected medals for guarding empty corridors in unused palaces.’
There, I’ve just managed to insult his whole brigade.
‘Lieutenant . . .’
General Luc is so angry, the glare he shoots at the trooper who started this is enough to have the man staring at his boots. Meanwhile, Neen still waits, stripped to the waist, with his jacket wrapped round his arm. You’d have to be blind to miss the scar on his ribs or the puckered mess of an old bullet wound over his hip.
‘You,’ the Wolf says firmly. ‘Stand down.’
He’s talking to Neen, but my sergeant isn’t the one holding a blade.
All the same, Neen unwraps the jacket from his arm, then salutes the general and returns to his original spot by the wall, where Iona now sits between Rachel and Shil.
‘Of course,’ General Luc says, ‘sergeants not fighting privates doesn’t mean privates can’t fight privates . . .’
He leaves his comment hanging.
‘Mine,’ Ajac says, scrambling to his feet.
Ajac’s big, but he has little real muscle and no scars. He’s also young enough for his chest to be almost hairless. Taking one look at him, the trooper laughs and Ajac’s face tightens.
If the Wolf Brigade trooper lives, I’ll buy him a beer for that.
Wrapping his arm the way he saw Neen do, Ajac pulls his knife and scowls at the man. He was angry on Iona’s behalf. Now he’s furious on his own. All he has to do is turn that into something useful.
‘Neen,’ I say. ‘How good is Ajac?’
My sergeant looks worried.
‘Five gold coins we win.’ My voice is loud enough to carry. Those simply wondering what is going on decide they might as well come over and find out.
The trooper looks unhappy at my confidence.
Ajac simply looks shocked. Probably the thought of my temper if he loses me the money I won in Farlight. A moment later, Sergeant Toro appears at my side. His general has taken my bet.
‘Have you got five in gold?’ Colonel Vijay asks.
‘Yes, sir.’
He looks surprised.
‘Go brief Ajac,’ I tell Neen.
‘Sir,’ he says. ‘I’m not sure that’s in the rules.’
‘What rules?’
Given his general is watching, it’s understandable the trooper goes for a five-second knockdown. Instead of starting to circle as he did facing Neen, he launches a strike.
One second he’s opposite, the next his blade slashes towards Ajac’s guts and his friends start cheering. Their cheer dies as Ajac jumps sideways and jabs wildly, his blade aimed at the trooper’s face.
Although he misses, their man still flinches. Ajac doesn’t notice, because he’s trying to find his balance, but Neen certainly does.
‘What orders did you give?’
‘Watch his eyes. Fight dirty. Get it over fast.’
Neen’s right about all three. Unfortunately, Ajac refuses to obey. At least, he refuses to obey the last two. He circles instead, blocking a couple of clumsy attacks, and just dodging a slash at his throat that looks slicker than the previous two blows, unless it’s simply lucky.
Iona watches slack-mouthed.
I’ll be having words with her about blind stupidity later. I imagine the others know that, even if she doesn’t.
‘Get it over with,’ Neen growls.
The Wolf Brigade trooper glances over and something tightens behind his eyes. He thinks Ajac is toying with him, that the blond boy plays a waiting game.
‘Another five gold coins on Ajac.’
I’m lucky. No one takes my bet.
But it does the job and the trooper’s next attack is so panicked that half his friends believe it’s a feint, until he follows through and leaves himself wide open.
‘Now,’ Neen orders.
Ajac steps back.
His blade should be in that man’s kidneys. And the man should be down, pissing the dregs of his life into the dirt. There is no excuse for the anguish on Ajac’s face, he’s not even injured.