‘What’s your name?’
‘What’s yours?’
The captain scowls. ‘I have a weapon to your head,’ he reminds me.
As if I’m going to forget.
‘Might be more use if you took it off safety.’
Glancing at his piece, he realizes the safety is already off. But he’s just made himself look a fool. It’s been a while since I enjoyed myself like this.
The captain is tall, thin and elegant.
He probably thinks it’s original to sound that bored with life. Maybe he should see more of it before deciding it’s something he’s willing to toss away. This strikes me as dangerously close to intelligent thought on my part.
So I decide to sneer at him instead and watch his eyes tighten.
‘Take him to HQ.’
‘What about the others, sir?’
‘Take them as well, obviously.’
One of the NCOs glances at another. The captain isn’t popular. I file that information for use later. As one of the soldiers starts down the stairs, Leona readies her rifle.
A dozen rifles point in turn.
‘Lower it,’ I tell her. ‘I want to see this idiot’s CO anyway.’
The militia captain slicks me a glance. I’m not behaving how freshly taken prisoners are supposed to behave. No one grabs Leona when she reaches the top, with Anton and Sef behind.
‘Sven,’ Sef says, sounding anxious, ‘we have to find-’ She stops, smiles brightly. ‘I know,’ she says. ‘We can ask them.’ Turning to the nearest trooper, she says, ‘Do you know Vijay?’
A hard-faced sergeant starts, then stares straight ahead. A callus of hard skin is visible beneath his jaw. I’m right, this man is ex-Legion.
‘Sven,’ I say, sticking out my hand.
He ignores it.
The man hasn’t got me pegged as an officer yet. Thinks I’m hired muscle for whoever Anton is. But he’s beginning to wonder if Anton is someone. And you’d have to be an idiot not to know that Sef is trouble, however you cut it.
‘Brandon,’ he says, after a while.
‘What regiment?’
‘Fifteenth.’ Sergeant Brandon’s eyes flick to my jawline. It’s hidden in shadow. ‘How about you?’
‘Third.’
‘Ah, right . . . Posted at Zami.’
The third haven’t been near Zami. Not in my lifetime. ‘Karbonne,’ I tell him. ‘One of the forts south of the capital. If you can call a dogshit market and three brothels capital of anything.’
He grins, nods in recognition.
‘So,’ I say. ‘Does Vijay Jaxx ring any bells?’
Sergeant Brandon’s eyes flick to his captain.
‘Man’s a fuckwit and I’m over here.’
The sergeant has trouble not grinning again. ‘Arrested some one of that name an hour ago.’
‘What for?’
He shrugs. ‘Not my business.’
‘I really do need to see Vijay,’ Sef insists.
‘Madame,’ says the captain, voice tight, ‘I’m sorry, but . . .’
‘Call me Sef,’ she says, putting out her hand. ‘Lady Serafina Rivabella y Kama.’
‘Rivabella y Kama?’
‘Yes,’ Sef says brightly. ‘That’s right.’
Picking the captain up, one-handed, I move him out of my way.
No one stops us when we turn for the final twist of stone steps that take us from the embankment to the street above. Although Sergeant Brandon follows without being ordered. So does everyone else eventually, like an untidy shadow.
The HQ is someone’s house.
Not sure if it belongs to an officer. Or has simply been commandeered for the night. Either way, it’s heavy on gilt, marble tiles and oil paintings, and the occupants have made themselves at home. A lieutenant stands by a candlelit table, scowling at a paper map of Farlight’s river.
An aide de camp is offering him a drink.
The boy looks about twelve.
Their CO sits at a coffee table, peeling a pear with a tiny knife. The way he has his boots on the chair opposite makes me think the house stolen. I’ve got two questions for him.
‘The Wolf,’ I say. ‘Has he been here?’
The major stares at me.
He’s facing a one-armed intruder. And it’s his HQ. But I’m also taller than him, broader and holding a rusting pistol in the hand I do have. So he does what I’d expect of a man like him. Orders someone else to arrest me.
A lieutenant hits the wall.
‘Let’s try that again.’
‘No, sir . . . He hasn’t.’ The ADC shakes his head, then blushes.
Walking to the drinks table, I pour myself a triple brandy and feel it warm my throat and heat my gut on its way down. A roast chicken sits on a silver salver on the sideboard. I’m wrong; it’s bigger than a chicken.
‘Anton,’ I say. ‘What’s bigger than a chicken?’
‘A turkey.’
See, he knows things like that.
Ripping off one leg, I toss it to Leona who tears off half the meat with her first bite and looks up, muscle fibres sticking from her mouth.
‘What, sir?’ she demands.
‘Didn’t say a thing.’
It feels hours since we ate and my gut’s empty. Also, the brandy is strong enough to go to my head. So I bite a chunk out of the other leg and offer the rest to Sef, who’s looking round the room. Probably seeing if she knows these people socially.
‘Want some?’
‘I’m fine,’ she says. ‘Thank you.’
Anton gets fed instead.
‘Sir,’ says a voice behind me. ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t . . .’
Yes, he could, he just didn’t, there’s a difference. And the fact the captain let us go into his HQ first and trailed after tells me everything I need to know about him.
‘You know this man, Captain Vard?’
‘Yes, sir. He said he wants to talk to you, sir. And the woman with him is Serafina Kama, sir.’ The captain no longer drawls, and he’s uncertain where to look. Glancing at me, he looks at the major and then looks away from him as well.
He ends up staring at Sef. She has that effect on people.
‘I’m here for a prisoner.’
The major raises his eyebrows.
‘Vijay Jaxx.’
‘We’re getting married,’ Sef adds.
The major’s still thinking about that as I head for the door. ‘Stay here,’ I tell Sef. ‘You two, stay with her.’
Sergeant Brandon is waiting in the corridor outside. Since he’s alone, issues no orders to stop and makes no attempt to raise his Kemzin, he’s obviously been waiting for me.
‘You don’t like what’s happening, do you?’
He shakes his head.
‘Nor me.’
It seems enough.
I’m turning away, when he says, ‘The Wolf was here, sir. About two hours ago. He also asked about a Vijay Jaxx. And about a one-armed lieutenant. Dangerous, and a traitor, seemingly . . .’
‘That’s what you wanted to say?’
‘Didn’t say anything, sir.’
A flight of stairs leads to the cellars. As I open the upper door, the major, the captain, the lieutenant who hit the wall and the little ADC come bundling out of their room and head towards me.
‘You can’t-’ the major says.
He freezes when I reach into my jacket. Man’s an idiot. If I wanted him dead he’d be dead already.
The major takes the paper I offer.
Blood drains from his face. It really does. He goes pale faster than someone with a severed artery. Over his shoulder, Captain Vard reads the first two lines and steps back. It’s a reflex action.
‘I’ll have to check,’ the major says. ‘Really, I really should check.’
He’s having trouble meeting my eyes. The major tries to say he must see if my safe conduct is real. Only he doesn’t dare. And he doesn’t need to check, either. He’s just trying to save face in front of his staff.
I could help him out, of course. But why would I bother?
Instead I thrust Simone’s ring in his face. It takes the major’s eyes a second to refocus.
‘Shit,’ someone says. Think it’s the little ADC. ‘That’s . . .’
The ADC’s looking at Captain Vard, who is staring at the major. The major’s open-mouthed. Probably wondering what someone like me is doing with a ring like that. Anton might get away with pretending to be high clan.