Being her, both incidents took place at the same time.
‘Rachel?’
‘You say he plans to marry Aptitude. So why would he kill Colonel Vijay?’
Why would he . . .?
What kind of question is that? This is the man who . . .
It’s a long and bloody list. Dead babies, crucified women, impaled officers, and spies hung with their own guts or returned to their own side with their noses slit, ears cropped and balls stuffed into their mouths and their lips sewn tight.
The general, our general, used cruelty as an art.
The Wolf is cruel by nature. The difference between Generals Jaxx and Luc couldn’t be greater. If the Wolf says he’ll serve Colonel Vijay’s heart on a plate to Aptitude why should I doubt it?
I wouldn’t put it past him to cook it first.
‘Sir,’ Rachel says. ‘Don’t think you’re right.’
The Aux go silent. Neen glances at Shil, then looks away. I could have Rachel whipped for insubordination and that would make twice in a year. As it is, I’m seriously considering having Neen flog Iona for what happened earlier today.
‘Want to tell me why?’
Rachel bites her lip. She’s not good at judging what she’s allowed to say. All she knows is she’s said too much already, and she only knows that because the others have gone silent.
‘Aptitude would hate him if he did.’
I open my mouth to call her a fool and shut it again.
Maybe she’s right? Perhaps General Luc doesn’t want Aptitude the way men usually want women? If he did, he’d simply marry her, rape her and burn Wildeside down around her head if she dared whine.
Have to say, that’s what I thought he had in mind.
‘Shil. What do you think?’
She hesitates. Makes me wonder if Rachel’s mentioned this before.
‘Well?’
‘It’s a good threat, sir. But I’m not sure he’ll go through with it. Not unless the colonel refuses to give Aptitude up. The Wolf might want to. But he’ll need things to be right with Aptitude and her parents.’
Shil’s showing a touching faith in the Wolf’s nature.
‘Vijay gives up Aptitude in return for his life?’
She nods.
‘What if Colonel Vijay would rather die?’
From the look on her face, Shil wants to say he won’t be that stupid. Only he will. Vijay Jaxx is dumb enough to die for love.
‘Sir,’ Iona says.
‘What?’
Maybe I say it too roughly, because she bites her lip.
‘It’s just, General Luc reminds me of Milo. You remember . . .’
Yeah, I remember. Although it’s a stretch to compare the head man of a village on a ring world with the commander of one of the most feared regiments ever to exist.
‘They called him the Fox.’
And we call Luc the Wolf. OK, she’s got an animal thing going. All the same . . . I glance round, seeing faces edged by firelight. It should soften our features but all it does is harden them. We’re good, I remind myself. Anybody who survives what we’ve survived has to be good.
‘Where’s this going?’ I ask Iona.
Looking up, she meets my gaze. Her eyes are huge and seem different in the dark. As if an owl watches me through her eye sockets. Static travels my spine and I shiver, despite myself.
‘He won’t offer Colonel Vijay his life, sir. Not for giving up Aptitude. He’s too cunning. He’ll offer her his life for rejecting him.’
I want to check I understood that.
‘He’ll spare Colonel Vijay? But only if Aptitude renounces him? And agrees to marry General Luc instead?’
All three women nod.
Chapter 46
As the stars get clearer and the sky darker, the night gets colder and colder, until everyone huddles inside their combat jackets or sleeps under the engines of trucks and scout cars that are too cool to make any difference.
The sappers have built slit latrines at the village’s edge. But I’ve told Shil, Rachel and Iona to make their own arrangements and not stray beyond the glow of our fire. No point taking chances after what happened earlier.
General Luc and his staff occupy an inn.
Its main door is bolted against the wind. All of its shutters are closed and locked, but they still bang endlessly, like boys hammering on fences. Noisy, smoky and crowded; I know where I’d rather be.
‘Yeah,’ my gun says. ‘We know. You’d rather be cold.’
I’m sat by myself, watching stars.
The brushwood Neen stole, and the dried dung he had the others collect, has burnt to a white ash that dusts sullen embers like sugar on one of those sticky pastries you can buy in Zabo Square.
‘Behind you,’ the SIG says.
If it was anyone dangerous, it would have warned me before this.
‘What are you thinking?’ asks a voice.
You’d think women would get bored with that question. They never do. At least not the ones I meet. Shil sits herself down uninvited, and puts her back to the wall that’s protecting me from the worst of the wind. Takes me a while to realize she hopes for an answer. I thought she was just making conversation.
‘About the stalls in Zabo Square. The ones that sell pastries.’
She smiles. Not sure why.
‘Can I ask you a question, sir?’
‘You can ask . . .’
Shil hesitates. That’s how I know I’m not going to like it.
‘Were you and Sergeant Leona lovers?’
‘Shil.’
‘Were you, sir?’
She’s waiting for my answer.
First Rachel’s insolence. Now Shil’s question. I’m not sure what’s got into everyone tonight. I could tell her to fuck off, which wouldn’t be the first time. Or I could give her sentry duty for the rest of the night, which would send the same message, but something stops me . . .
‘No,’ I say. ‘We weren’t.’
She closes her eyes. ‘I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse,’ she mutters. I’m not supposed to hear that bit. When I shift to stop her hip pressing against mine, she looks hurt.
‘You cold?’ I ask.
‘Sven-’ Shil catches herself. ‘I mean, sir. What do you think?’
‘Me? I think you probably shouldn’t squat to piss in case your bits stick to the ground.’
Her laugh is rough. ‘Guess you’re never going to change.’
I wasn’t aware I needed to.
‘Shil,’ I say. ‘Listen . . .’
My idea that your first kill is harder than the second, and your second is harder than the third sounds strange when I say it aloud. Particularly when I get to the bit about how it starts getting hard again.
‘What’s that for?’ I ask. She definitely shouldn’t be holding my face in her hands. Her mouth tastes of salt, stew, chocolate pudding and alcohol. When I sit back, she smiles and then sighs.
‘I miss the desert . . .’ Not sure what makes me say it.
The alcohol, probably.
Shil shakes her head. ‘What you miss,’ she says, ‘is the simplicity.’
I stare at her.
‘Sir,’ she adds.
That’s not why I’m staring.
I’m staring because she’s right. And, then again, she’s wrong.
I do miss the silence and the simplicity. Doesn’t mean I want to go back to who I was then or how I was living. I’m just not sure I want to replace it with where I am now. My shock is not that I realize this.
It is understanding I have a choice.
‘Sir,’ Shil says. ‘We’re going to die, aren’t we?’
‘Yeah,’ I say.
Her eyes widen. Maybe she expects me to say no.
‘Shil,’ I say, ‘everyone dies. Unless you’re U/Free. And even those bastards must die eventually. That’s why we hope for a better life next time.’
‘You believe that?’
I look at her. ‘You mean some people don’t?’
Her eyes are wet. Usually, where Shil’s concerned, that’s anger. Not this time. ‘Sven,’ she says, ‘I don’t mean in fifteen years, or ten, or five. I don’t even mean next year. I mean, do we die tomorrow? If not tomorrow, next week?’