"Right away," I said, and entered the tent, ducking low enough not to knock Loiosh off my shoulder. It was a bit cooler than it had been outside. There were four cots, and three of them had identical backpacks under them; I put my satchel under the fourth.
"You should have gotten a backpack, Boss."
"Good time to tell me."
I stepped back out. Rascha had moved on. I said to Virt, "The corporal seems easy enough to work with."
"Yeah. She's tough when it counts, though. She spent some time as a marine."
"A marine?"
"A shipboard soldier. They're the ones who go over the side and try to take a ship from the enemy. She saw some action in a skirmish with Easterners during the Interregnum."
"I didn't know there was a navy during the Interregnum."
"There wasn't, officially, but there was some fighting now and then around Northport and Adrilankha."
"Okay," I said. "Any idea where I might acquire a backpack?"
She shook her head. "Not around here, and we're not permitted to leave camp without permission. But I expect that when Aelburr gets back he'll be able to rig some straps for you. He's good at that sort of thing."
"Aelburr?"
"He's the other one who bunks with us."
"Oh. Where is he now?"
"He drew kitchen duty. He'll be back after lunch."
"Such as it is," put in Napper.
Virt added, "You can ask him about making you a stool as well; you'll come to appreciate whatever comfort you can find."
"I don't doubt that a bit," I said.
I sat down on the ground next to them. Yeah, a stool would be nice.
A little later there was the sound of drums, and my heart leapt to my throat, and I almost stood up and drew a weapon; I just barely saved myself from embarrassment by noticing that no one else seemed excited.
"That little tune," said Virt, "is called 'Graze the Horses.' It means lunchtime."
"It's our big excitement for the day," said Napper.
"True enough," said Virt. "Because of the danger. Grab your mess kit and come along."
Lunch was served up at a long table, which you walked along with your tin tray out so the cooks could put on it a hunk of tasteless cheese, as many biscuits as you could eat … in my case, that was about a third of one, and a piece of salted kethna that I wouldn't have served hidden in a stew full of lasher peppers. Then you filled up your collapsible tin cup with a horrid white wine and walked back to your tent to eat, and then down to the stream to clean your mess kit, and, then, perhaps, downstream to the latrines to divest yourself of what you'd just had the misfortune to consume. I fed Loiosh a bit of the kethna, and he liked it fine, which I think proves my point.
An hour after lunch were "maneuvers." We were called out and made to stand in a neat line, four abreast. On my left was Napper, next to him was a Dragonlord who turned out to be Aelburr. He was very tallclose to eight feetand thin even for a Dragonlord. His black hair was brushed back like Virt's, and his arms were nearly as knotted as Crown's. In that formation, they marched us out to a field, where we had to do things like turn around all together, go from four abreast to eight abreast and back, spread out in different directions and come back, go from four abreast facing forward to thirty abreast and four deep, with proper distance between the lines, advance, retreat, quickstep, double-time, and all sorts of other things that everyone knew how to do except me.
We did this for about five hours, with a five-minute break each hour. During one of the breaks, I threw myself down next to the man who'd been behind me for most of the march.
"Not used to the work, Easterner?" he said.
I looked at him, and he didn't seem to be actively unfriendly, so I said, "Can't claim to enjoy it."
"Me neither," he said. He was a rather small man, almost mousy, and didn't give the impression of great strength, though he'd gone through the drills without being as winded as I was.
"But you're in it for the fighting, right?"
"Me? No. I've been in a few battles. I can't say I enjoyed them."
"Then why?"
"Experience. I want to make a career of the Phoenix Guards. Or the Dragon Guards if the Cycle will be kind enough to turn for me. And you get along better if you start out with a few big fights under your belt."
"I see."
"What about you?"
"It's personal."
He laughed. "I would imagine so. The scuttlebutt is you know Sethra Lavode."
"We've met," I admitted.
"Is she really a vampire?"
"Well, she hasn't drunk my blood. At least that I remember."
He laughed again. "I'm Tibbs," he said.
"Vlad."
"A pleasure."
"The same."
And the drum started up, and we were off on more senseless maneuvers. The next rest period found me next to Virt and Napper again. Napper had a look of disgust on his face that didn't encourage conversation. Virt seemed her easygoing self, so I said, "Mind if I ask you a question?"
"Sure," said Virt.
"Why is everyone so … hmmm. I'm not sure how to say this. I've dealt with Dragons before, and I'm used to, ah, I'm not used to being treated so civilly by them. No offense."
Virt smiled. "It's taken some effort," she said.
"Why the effort, then?"
"I can only speak for myself."
"Well?"
"We're going to war," she said after a moment. "We're going to be fighting. You'll be fighting next to me. I'd just as soon you didn't have any reason to let me be killed."
"Ah. I hadn't thought of that."
She smiled pleasantly. "It's probably in your best interest not to give me a reason to let you be killed, either. You may want to keep that in mind, Jhereg."
Napper looked up at me, then glanced away.
And again the drum, and again the marching and running, and then, a little later, we broke for practice in throwing javelins. I couldn't get anything like the distance most of the Dragonlords got, but I was awfully damn accurate. That gave me a certain amount of pleasure.
Then there was another drumbeat that announced time to sup. Supper was much the same as lunch except that a thin broth was substituted for the kethna. I sat next to Virt outside of our tent, and said, "Does the food get any better?"
"No."
"I see." Then, "Are most of these people volunteers?"
"All of us, of course. The units with conscripts have Teckla in them."
"Oh. Why did you volunteer?"
"I'm attending the Terics Academy, and one needs experience in battle before mastering theory."
"I guess that makes sense."
"Why you?"
"Why am I here? It's personal."
"Ah."
I decided after a moment that she deserved a better answer than that, so I said, "The guy we're going up against pissed me off."
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
"You joined the army because you're mad at the guy whose army we're fighting?"
"Yep."
She stared at me. "You know you probably won't get a chance to, uh, what do you Jhereg call it?"
"We usually call it killing," I lied. "And, yes, I know that. But I can be useful here."
"You're nuts."
"Thanks."
"But I mean that in the nicest possible way."
At that point we were joined by Aelburr, to whom I was then introduced. He seemed friendly enough, and agreed to modify my satchel and make me a collapsible stool. I said, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Yeah. Tell me how to win at S'yang Stones."
"Run the game, don't play it."
"I'm serious."
"So am I. It's a rigged game. In the long run, you can't win unless the guy running the game is an idiot. If you're really, really good at it, and you concede if you don't score well on your first couple of throws, and double-up every time you have an edge with your flat stones, and you get very good at tossing, you'll only lose a little, very slowly."
"Why is that?"
"Because in, say, a ten-fifty game you're paying twelve orbs for the stones, and you're risking fifty orbs if you lose, and if you win you only get back ten plus fifty, not including doubling, which works out even in the long run. So every time you play against someone as good as you, you lose two orbs. If you play against someone better, it's worse, and if you play against someone not as good, the luck factor is almost always greater than the two orbs you're losing. Usually about four coppers' worth."