Discworld 30 - Monstrous Regiment (34 page)

 
 
  
‘Er . . . good,’ said Blouse. ‘Well done.’
‘I’ve been thinking about it,’ said Lofty.
‘Good.’
‘It will work.’
‘Just what we need, then!’ said Blouse, like a man trying against all the odds to keep
cheerful.
Lofty looked up at the big sooty beams that ran across the room. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘But there’ll still be guards outside,’ said Polly.
‘No,’ said Lofty. ‘There won’t.’
‘There won’t?’
‘They’ll have gone away.’ Lofty stopped, with the air of one who’d said everything that
needed to be said.
Tonker walked over and took her arm. ‘We’ll just have a little chat, shall we?’ she said,
and led the girl to the other side of the room. There was some whispered conversation. Lofty
spent most of it staring at the floor, and then Tonker came back.
‘We will need the bags of flour from the storeroom, and the rope from the well,’ she said.
‘And one of those . . . what are those big round things that cover dishes? With a knob on?’
‘Dish covers?’ said Shufti.
‘And a candle,’ Tonker went on. ‘And a lot of barrels. And a lot of water.’
‘And what will all this do?’ said Blouse.
‘Make a big bang,’ said Tonker. ‘Tilda knows a lot about fire, believe me.’
‘When you say she knows a lot. . .’ Polly began uncertainly.
‘I mean every place she worked at burned down,’ said Tonker.
They rolled the empty barrels to the middle of the room and filled them with water from
the pump. Under Lofty’s monosyllabic direction and the rope from the well, they hauled three
leaking, dusty flour sacks up as high as possible, so that they twisted gently over the space
between the barrels and the door.
‘Ah,’ said Polly, standing back. ‘I think I understand. A flour mill on the other side of town
blew up two years ago.’
‘Yes,’ said Tonker. ‘That was Tilda.’
‘What?’
‘They’d been beating her. And worse. And the thing about Tilda is, she just watches and
thinks and somewhere in there it all comes together. Then it explodes.’
‘But two people died!’
‘The man and his wife. Yes. But I heard that other girls sent there never came back at all.
Shall I tell you that Tilda was pregnant when they brought her back to the Grey House after
the fire? She had it, and they took it away, and we don’t know what happened to it. And then
she got beaten again because she was an Abomination unto Nuggan. Does that make you feel

 
 
  
better?’ said Tonker, tying the rope to a table leg. ‘There’s just us, Polly. Just her and me. No
inheritance, no nice home to go back to, no relatives that we know of. The Grey House breaks
us all, somehow. Wazzer talks to the Duchess, I don’t have . . . middle gears, and Tilda
frightens me when she gets her hands on a box of matches. You should see her face then,
though. It lights up. Of course,’ Tonker smiled in her dangerous way, ‘so do other things.
Better get everyone into the storeroom while we light the candle.’
‘Shouldn’t Tilda do that?’
‘She will. But we’ll have to drag her away, otherwise she’ll stay and watch.’
This had started like a game. She hadn’t thought of it like a game, but it was a game called
Let Polly keep The Duchess. And now . . . it didn’t matter. She’d made all kinds of plans, but
she was beyond plans now. They’d done bloody well, for girls . . .
A final barrel of water had been placed, after some discussion, in front of the storeroom’s
door. Polly looked over the top of it at Blouse and the rest of the squad.
‘Okay, everybody, we’re . . . er . . . about to do it,’ she said. ‘Are we sure about this,
Tonker?’
‘Yep.’
‘And we won’t get hurt?’
Tonker sighed. ‘The dusty flour will explode. That’s simple. The blast coming this way
will hit the barrels full of water which’ll probably last just long enough to see it rebound. The
worst that should happen to us is that we get wet. That’s what Tilda thinks. Would you
argue? And in the other direction, there’s only the door.’
‘How does she work this out?’
‘She doesn’t. She just sees how it should go.’ Tonker handed Polly the end of a rope. ‘This
goes over the beam and down to the dish lid. Can you hold it, lieutenant? But don’t pull it
until we say. I really mean that. C’mon, Polly.’
In the space between the barrels and the door, Lofty was lighting a candle. She did it
slowly, as if it was a sacrament or some ancient ceremony every part of which held enormous
and complex meaning. She lit a match, and held it carefully until the flame caught. She
waved it back and forth on the base of the candle, which she thrust firmly on to the flagstones
so that the hot wax stuck it into position. Then she applied the match to the candle wick and
knelt there, watching the flame.
‘Okay,’ said Tonker. ‘I’m just going to pick her up, and you just carefully lower the lid
over the candle, right? C’mon, Tilda.’
She raised the girl carefully to her feet, whispering to her all the time, and then nodded to
Polly, who lowered the lid with a carefulness that amounted to reverence.
Lofty walked as though asleep. Tonker stopped by the leg of the heavy kitchen table, to
which she’d attached the other end of the rope holding the flour bags.
‘Okay so far,’ she said. ‘Now, when I pull the knot we each grab an arm and we run, Polly,
understand? We run. Ready? Got her?’ She hauled on the rope. ‘Run!’
The flour sacks dropped, streaming white dust as they fell, and exploded in front of the
door. Flour rose like a fog. They raced for the storeroom and fell in a heap past the barrel as
Tonker screamed, ‘Okay, lieutenant!’ Blouse pulled the rope that raised the lid and let the
candle flame reach—

 
 
  
The word was not whoomph. The experience was whoomph. It had a quality that
overwhelmed every sense. It shook the world like a sheet, painted it white and then,
surprisingly, filled it with the smell of toast. And then it was over, in a second, leaving
nothing but distant screams and the rumble of collapsing masonry.
Polly uncurled, and looked up into Blouse’s face. ‘I think we grab things and run now, sir,’
she said. ‘And screaming would help.’
‘I think I can manage the screaming,’ muttered Shufti. ‘This is not a very nurturing
experience.’
Blouse gripped his ladle. ‘I hope this isn’t going to be our famous last stand,’ he said.
‘In fact, sir,’ said Polly, ‘I think it’s going to be our first. Permission to yell in a
bloodcurdling way, sir?’
‘Permission granted, Perks!’
*
The floor was awash with water and bits - quite small bits - of barrel. Half the chimney had
collapsed into the fireplace and the soot was blazing fiercely. Polly wondered if, down in the
valley, it’d look like a signal.
The door had gone. So had a lot of wall around it. Beyond—
Smoke and dust filled the air. In it, men lay groaning, or picked their way aimlessly across
the rubble. When the squad arrived they did not simply fail to put up a fight, they failed to
understand. Or hear. The women lowered their weapons. Polly spotted the sergeant, who was
sitting and hitting the side of his head with the flat of his hand.
‘Give me the keys!’ she demanded.
He tried to focus. ‘What?’
‘The keys!’
‘I’ll have a brown one, please.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘What?’
Polly reached down and snatched the key ring from the unresisting man’s belt, fighting
down an instinct to apologize. She threw it to Blouse. ‘Will you do the honours, sir? I think
we’ll be having a lot of visitors really soon.’ She turned to the squad. ‘The rest of you, get
their weapons off them!’
‘Some of these men are badly hurt, Polly,’ said Igorina, kneeling down. ‘There’s one here
with multiple.’
‘Multiple what?’ said Polly, watching the steps.
‘Just. . . multiple. Multiple everything. But I know I can save his arm, because I’ve just
found it over there. I think he must’ve been holding his sword and—’
‘Just do what you can, okay?’ said Polly.

 
 
  
‘Hey, they’re enemies,’ said Tonker, picking up a sword.
‘Thith ith an Igor thing,’ said Igorina, taking off her pack. ‘I’m thorry, you wouldn’t
underthtand.’
‘I’m beginning not to.’ Tonker joined Polly in her watch on the stairs. Around them, men
groaned and stone creaked. ‘I wonder how much damage we did? There’s a lot of dust up
there . . .’
‘There’ll be a lot of people here soon,’ said Polly, more calmly than she felt. Because this
is going to be it, she thought. This time there’s going to be no turkey to save us. This is where
I find out if I’m the meat or the metal . . .
She could hear Blouse unlocking doors, and the shouts from those within. ‘Lieutenant
Blouse, Tenth Infantry!’ he was saying. ‘This is a rescue, broadly speaking. Sorry about the
mess.’
Probably his inner Daphne had added that last bit, Polly thought. And then the corridor was
full of released men, and someone said, ‘What are these women doing here! For god’s sake,
give me that sword, girl!’
And, right now, she wasn’t inclined to argue.
Men take over. It is probably because of socks.
The squad retired to the kitchen, where Igorina was at work. She worked fast, efficiently
and, on the whole, with very little blood. Her large pack was open beside her. The jars inside
were blue, green and red; some of them smoked when she opened them, or gave off strange
lights. Her fingers moved in a blur. It was fascinating to watch her working. At least, it was if
you hadn’t just eaten.
‘Squad, this is Major Erick von Moldvitz! He asked to meet you.’
They turned at the sound of Blouse’s voice. He’d brought a newcomer. The major was
young, but much more heavily built than the lieutenant. He had a scar across his face.
‘Stand easy, lads,’ he said. ‘Blouse here has been telling me what crackin’ work you’ve
been doing. Well done! Dressin’ up as women, eh? Lucky you weren’t found out!’
‘Yessir,’ said Polly. From outside, there came the sound of cries and fighting.
‘Didn’t bring your uniforms with you?’ said the major.
‘Could’ve been tricky if they were found on us,’ said Polly, staring at Blouse.
‘Could’ve been tricky anyway, eh, if you were searched?’ said the major, winking.
‘Yessir,’ said Polly obediently. ‘Lieutenant Blouse told you all about us, did he, sir?’
Just behind the major, Blouse was making a universal gesture. It consisted of both hands
held palm up and outwards and waggled furiously with all fingers extended.
‘Hah, yes. Stole some clothes from a knockin’ shop, eh? Young lads like you shouldn’t
have gone in a place like that, eh? Those places are an Abomination, if they’re run right!’
said the major, wagging a finger theatrically. ‘Anyway, we’re doing well. Hardly any guards
this deep in the keep, y’see. The whole place was built on the basis that the enemy would be
on the outside! I say, what’s that man doin’ to the man on the slab?’
‘Patching him up, thur,’ said Igorina. ‘Thewing hith arm back on.’

 
 
  
‘He’s an enemy, ain’t he?’
‘Code of the Igorth, thur,’ said Igorina reproachfully. ‘A thpare hand where needed, thur.’
The major sniffed. ‘Oh well, can’t argue with you fellows, eh? But when you’ve finished,
we’ve got plenty of chaps out there who could do with your help.’
‘Thertainly, thur,’ said Igorina.
‘Any news of my brother, sir?’ said Polly. ‘Paul Perks?’
‘Yes, Blouse here mentioned him, Perks, but there’s men locked up everywhere and it’s a
little tricky right now, eh?’ said the major brusquely. ‘As for the rest of you, we’ll get you
into a pair of trousers as soon as possible and you can join in the fun, eh?’
‘The fun,’ said Tonker, in a hollow voice.
‘The fun being . . . ?’ said Polly.
‘We’ve got as far as the fourth floor already,’ said von Moldvitz. ‘We might not have the
whole keep back, but we hold the outer courtyards and some of the towers. By morning, we’ll
control who comes in and goes out. We’re back in the war! They won’t invade now. Most of
their top brass are in the inner keep.’
‘Back in the war,’ murmured Polly.
‘And we will win!’ said the major.
‘Oh, sugar,’ said Shufti.
Something was going to give, Polly knew. Tonker had that look she got before she
exploded, and even Shufti was fidgeting. It would only be a matter of time before Lofty
found her box of matches, which Polly had hidden in a cupboard.
Igorina packed up her bag and smiled brightly at the major. ‘Ready to go, thur,’ she said.
‘At least remove the wig, eh?’
‘It’th my own hair, thur,’ said Igorina.
‘Looks a bit. . . cissy, then,’ said the major. ‘It would be better if—’
‘I am, in fact, female, sir,’ said Igorina, dropping most of the lisp. ‘Trust me, I’m an Igor.
We know about this sort of thing. And my needlework ith second to none.’
‘A woman?’ said the major.
Polly sighed. ‘We all are, sir. Really women. Not just dressed up as women. And right now
I don’t want to put any trousers on because then I’d be a woman dressed up as a man dressed
up as a woman dressed up as a man, and then I’d be so confused I wouldn’t know how to
swear. And I want to swear right now, sir, very much.’
The major turned stiffly to Blouse. ‘Did you know about this, lieutenant?’ he barked.
‘Well . . . yes, sir. Eventually. But even so, sir, I would—’
This cell was an old guardroom. It was damp, and had two creaking bunks.
‘On the whole,’ said Tonker, ‘I think it was better when we were locked up by the enemy.’
‘There’s a grille in the ceiling,’ said Shufti.

 
 
  
‘Not big enough to climb through,’ said Polly.
‘No, but we can hang ourselves before they do it.’
‘I’m told it’s a very painful way to die,’ said Polly.
‘Who by?’ said Tonker.
Occasionally the sounds of battle filtered through the narrow window. Mostly it was yells;
often it was screams. Fun was being had.
Igorina sat staring at her hands. ‘What’s wrong with these?’ she said. ‘Didn’t I do a good
job on that arm? But no, they’re afraid I might touch their privates.’
‘Perhaps you could have promised to operate only on officers,’ said Tonker. No one
laughed, and probably no one would have bothered to run for it if the door had swung open. It
was a proud and noble thing to escape from the enemy, but if you were escaping from your
own side, where would you escape to?
On one of the bunks, Wazzer slept like a hibernating bear. You had to watch her for some
time to see her breathe.
‘What can they do to us?’ said Shufti nervously. ‘You know . . . really do to us?’
‘We were wearing men’s clothes,’ said Polly.
‘But that’s only a beating.’
‘Oh, they’ll find some other stuff, believe you me,’ said Tonker. ‘Besides, who knows
we’re here?’
‘But we got them out of prison! Our side!’
Polly sighed. ‘That’s why, Shufti. No one wants to know that a bunch of girls dressed up as
soldiers and broke into a big fort and let out half an army. Everyone knows females can’t do
that. Neither side wants us here, understand?’
‘On a battlefield like this, who’ll worry about a few more bodies?’ said Tonker.
‘Don’t say that! Lieutenant Blouse spoke up for us,’ said Shufti.
‘What, Daphne?’ said Tonker. ‘Hah! Just another body. They’ve probably locked him up
somewhere, just like us.’
There was a distant cheering, which went on for some time.
‘Sounds like they’ve got the building,’ said Polly.
‘Hooray for us,’ said Tonker, and spat.
After a while, a small hatch was opened in the door and a silent man handed through a big
can of scubbo and a tray of horse-bread. It wasn’t bad scubbo or, at least, not bad scubbo by
the standards of bad scubbo. There was some discussion about whether being fed meant you
weren’t going to be executed, until someone pointed out the tradition of the Last Hearty
Meal.
Igorina gave it as her cultural opinion that the stew was not only hearty but lungy and
livery too. But at least it was hot.
A couple of hours later a can of saloop was handed through, with some mugs. This time,
the guard winked.