When he saw Fiddler look up and see him, Hedge strode over.
‘Don’t do this, Fid.’
‘Do what? I told you—’
‘Not that. You halt your company now. You form ’em up facing those regulars. You’re captain now and they’re looking to you. It’s the coin, Fiddler. You got to give it back.’
The captain stared at Hedge for a long moment. ‘Didn’t think it’d be this hard.’
‘So you thought to just run away?’
Fiddler shook his head. ‘No. I didn’t know what to do. Wasn’t sure what they wanted.’
Cocking his head, Hedge said, ‘You’re not convinced they’re worth it, are you?’
The captain was silent.
Hedge shook his head. ‘We ain’t made for this, you and me, Fid. We’re sappers. When I get in trouble on all this stuff I just think what would Whiskeyjack do? Listen, you need those regulars to stand up, you need them to buy you the time needed. You need them to buy it with their own blood, their own lives. It don’t matter if you think they’ve not earned a damned thing. You got to give the coin back .’
When Fiddler still hesitated, Hedge swung round and gestured to his Bridgeburners, then turned back. ‘We’re forming up, Fid, faces to the camp – you just gonna stand there, with all your marines and heavies mobbing up and not knowing where to fucking look?’
‘No,’ Fiddler replied in a thick voice. ‘Hedge – I think … I just faltered a step. That’s all.’
‘Better now than a few days from now, hey?’
As Hedge moved to join his squads, Fiddler called out. ‘Wait.’
He turned back. ‘What now?’
‘Something else everyone needs to see, I think.’ And Fiddler stepped forward and held out his hand.
Hedge eyed it. ‘You think that’s enough?’
‘Start there, idiot.’
Smiling, Hedge grasped that forearm.
And Fiddler pulled him into a hard embrace.
Badalle stood atop a wagon, Saddic at her side, watching the scene at the edge of camp.
‘What’s happening, Badalle?’ Saddic asked.
‘Wounds take time to heal,’ she replied, watching the two men embracing, feeling a vast tension seem to drain away on all sides.
‘Are they lovers?’
‘Brothers,’ she said.
‘The one with the red beard – you called him Father, Badalle. Why?’
‘It’s what being a soldier is all about. That is what I have seen since we found them. You do not choose your family, and sometimes there’s trouble in that family, but you don’t choose.’
‘But they did. They chose to be soldiers.’
‘And then they come face to face with death, Saddic. That is the blood tie, and it makes a knot not even dying can cut.’ And that is why the others are saluting . ‘Soon,’ she said, ‘very soon, we are going to see this family awaken to anger.’
‘But Mother is sending those ones away. Will we ever see them again?’
‘It’s easy, Saddic,’ she said. ‘Just close your eyes.’
Walking slowly, Pores made his way to the edge of the camp so that he could look out on the marines and heavies, who were now forming up to face the regulars. He looked round for the Adjunct but could not see her. Nor was Fist Blistig anywhere in sight – the man who tried to murder me .
There is nothing more dangerous than a man without a sense of humour .
As Fiddler and Hedge drew apart and headed for their respective companies, Faradan Sort came up alongside Pores, and then, on his other side, Fist Kindly.
Pores sighed. ‘Fists. Was all this by your command?’
‘I was barking orders when they just stood up and left me standing there,’ said Faradan Sort. ‘They’re as bad as marines, these regulars.’
‘We will see if that’s true soon enough,’ Kindly said. ‘Master-Sergeant Lieutenant Pores, are you recovered?’
‘Some additional healing proved possible once we were away from the desert. As you see, sir, I am up and about.’
‘It is your innate laziness that still needs addressing.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Are you agreeing with me, Master-Sergeant Lieutenant Pores?’
‘I always agree with you, sir.’
‘Oh, enough, you two,’ Faradan Sort said. ‘We’re about to be saluted.’
All the regulars had drawn to this side of the camp and stood in an uneven mass. There was an ease to all of this that Pores found … peculiar, as if the entire structure of the military, in all its rigidity and inane affectation, had ceased to be relevant. The regulars no longer held their own salute and now stood watching, for all the world like a crowd drawn down to the docks to see a fleet’s departure from the bay, while Captain Fiddler moved out to stand in front of his marines, facing them all. He lifted his hand in a salute, held it for a moment as his soldiers did the same, and then let the hand fall.