"You don't know?" said de Worde.
"Yes, of course I know," said Polly irritably. "It's a white-necked buzzard. But I thought they never came this far into the mountains. I only ever saw one in a book - " She raised her bow again, and tried to take control. "Am I right, Mr It's-my-job-to-know-things?"
De Worde raised his hands again and gave her a sickly smile. "Probably," he said. "I live in a city. I know sparrows from starlings. After that everything's a duck as far as I'm concerned."
Polly glared at him.
"Look, please," said the man. "You need to listen to me. You need to know things. Before it's too late."
Polly lowered the bow. "If you want to talk to us, wait here," she said. "Corporal, we are leaving. Carborundum, pick up those troopers!"
"Hold it," said Maladict. "Who's the corporal in this squad?"
"You are," said Polly. "And you're drooling, and swaying, and your eyes look weird. So what was your point, please?"
Maladict considered this. Polly was tired and frightened and somewhere inside this was all being transmuted into anger. Hers was not an expression you wanted to see at the far end of a crossbow. An arrow couldn't kill a vampire, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.
"Right, yeah," he said. "Carborundum, pick up those troopers! We are leaving!"
There was a bird whistle as Polly neared the hiding place. She identified this one as the sound of the Very Bad Bird Impersonator, and made a note to teach the girls some bird calls that at least sounded real. They were harder to do than most people thought.
The squad were in the gully, armed and at least looking dangerous. There was a certain amount of relaxation when they saw Jade carrying the two bound troopers. Two more were sitting disconsolately against the cliff, hands tied behind them.
Maladict walked smartly up to Blouse and saluted. "Two prisoners, el-tee, and Perks thinks there's someone down there you ought to talk to." He leaned forward. "The newspaper man, sir."
"Then we'll jolly well keep well away from him," said Blouse. "Eh, sergeant?"
"Right, sir!" said Jackrum. "Nothing but trouble, sir!"
Polly saluted madly. "Please, sir! Permission to speak, sir!"
"Yes, Perks?" said Blouse.
Polly saw there was one chance, and one only. She had to find out about Paul. Now her mind worked as fast as it had on the hill last night, when she'd gone for the man with the code book.
"Sir, I don't know if he's worth talking to, sir, but he may be worth listening to. Even if you think he'll only tell us lies. Because sometimes, sir, the way people tell you lies, if they tell you enough lies, well, they sort of... show you what shape the truth is, sir. And we don't have to tell him the truth, sir. We could lie to him, too."
"I am not by nature an untruthful man, Perks," said Blouse coldly.
"Glad to hear it, sir. Are we winning the war, sir?"
"You stop that right now, Perks!" Jackrum roared.
"It was only a question, sarge," said Polly reproachfully.
Around the clearing the squad waited, ears sucking up every sound. Everyone knew the answer. They waited for it to be said aloud.
"Perks, this kind of talk spreads despondency," Blouse began, but he said it as if he didn't believe it and didn't care who knew.
"No, sir. It doesn't really. It's better than being lied to," said Polly. She changed her voice, gave it that edge her mother used to use on her when she was being scolded. "It's evil to lie. No one likes a liar. Tell me the truth, please."
Some harmonic of that tone must have found a home in an old part of Blouse's brain. As Jackrum opened his mouth to roar, the lieutenant held up a hand.
"We are not winning, Perks. But we have not lost yet."
"I think we all know that, sir, but it's good to hear you say it," said Polly, giving him an encouraging smile.
That seemed to work, too. "I suppose there is no harm in at least being civil to the wretched fellow," said Blouse, as if thinking aloud. "He may give away valuable information under cunning questioning."