"Treachery, probably, sir. The world's full of traitors. Or perhaps they discovered the secret entrance, sir. You know, sir? The one you're sure is there. Or p'raps you've forgotten? It's the sort of thing that can slip your mind when you're busy, I expect."
"We shall reconnoitre, sergeant," said Blouse coldly, as they crawled out of the bushes. He brushed leaves off his uniform. Thalacephalos or, as Blouse referred to her, "the faithful steed" had been turned loose miles back. You couldn't sneak on horseback and, as Jackrum had pointed out, the creature was too skinny for anyone to want to eat and too vicious for anyone to want to ride.
"Right, sir, yes, we might as well do that, sir," said Jackrum now, all gloating helpfulness. "Where would you like us to reconnoitre, sir?"
"There must be a secret entrance, sergeant. No one would build a place like that with only one entrance. Agreed?"
"Yessir. Only, perhaps they kept it a secret, sir. Only trying to help, sir."
They turned at the sound of urgent praying. Wazzer had fallen to her knees, hands clasped together. The rest of the squad edged away slowly. Piety is a wonderful thing.
"What is he doing, sergeant?" said Blouse.
"Praying, sir," said Jackrum.
"I've noticed he does it a lot. Is that, er, within regulations, sergeant?" the lieutenant whispered.
"Always a difficult one, sir, that one," said Jackrum. "I have, myself, prayed many times on the field of battle. Many times have I said the Soldier's Prayer, sir, and I don't mind admitting it."
"Er... I don't think I know that one," said Blouse.
"Oh, I reckon the words'll come to you soon enough, sir, once you're up against the foe. Gen'rally, though, they're on the lines of 'O god, let me kill this bastard before he kills me'." Jackrum grinned at Blouse's expression. "That's what I call the Authorized Version, sir."
"Yes, sergeant, but where would we be if we all prayed all the time?" said the lieutenant.
"In heaven, sir, sitting at Nuggan's right hand," said Jackrum promptly. "That's what I was taught as a little nipper, sir. Of course, it'd be a bit crowded, so it's just as well we don't."
At which point, Wazzer stopped praying and stood up, brushing dust off her knees. She gave the squad her bright, worrying smile. "The Duchess will guide our steps," she said.
"Oh. Good," said Blouse weakly.
"She will show us the way."
"Wonderful. Er... did she mention a map reference at all?" said the lieutenant.
"She will give us eyes that we might see."
"Ah? Good. Well, jolly good," said Blouse. "I definitely feel a lot better for knowing that. Don't you, sergeant?"
"Yessir," said Jackrum. "'cos before this, sir, we didn't have a prayer."
They scouted in threes, while the rest of the squad lay up in a deep hollow among the bushes. There were enemy patrols, but it's not hard to avoid half a dozen men who stick to the tracks and aren't being careful not to make a noise. The troops were Zlobenian, and acted as though they owned the place.
For some reason Polly ended up patrolling with Maladict and Wazzer or, to put it another way, a vampire on the edge and a girl who was possibly so far over it that she'd found a new edge out beyond the horizon. She was changing every day, that was a fact. On the day they'd all joined up, a lifetime ago, she'd been this shivering little waif who flinched at shadows. Now, sometimes, she seemed taller, full of some ethereal certainty, and shadows fled before her. Well, not in actual fact, Polly would admit. But she walked as if they should.
And then there had been the Miracle of the Turkey. That was hard to explain.
The three of them had been moving along the cliffs. They'd circled a couple of Zlobenian lookout posts, forewarned by the smell of cooking-fires but, alas, not by the smell of any coffee. Maladict seemed to be mostly in control, except for a tendency to mutter to himself in letters and numbers, but Polly had stopped that by threatening to hit him with a stick the very next time he did it.
They'd reached a cliff edge that gave yet another view of the Keep, and once again Polly raised the telescope and scanned the sheer walls and jumbled rocks for any sign of another entrance.
"Look down at the river," said Wazzer.
The circle of view blurred upwards as Polly shifted the scope; when it stopped moving she saw whiteness. She had to lower the instrument to see what she'd been looking at.
"Oh my," she said.
"Makes sense, though," said Maladict. "And there's a path all along the river, see? There's a couple more women on it."