"Tiny gateway, though," said Polly. "And it'd be so easy to search people for weapons."
"Soldiers couldn't get through, them," said the vampire.
"We could," said Polly. "And we're soldiers. Aren't we?"
There was a pause before Maladict said: "Soldiers need weapons. Swords and crossbows get noticed."
"There will be weapons inside," said Wazzer. "the Duchess has told me. The castle is full of weapons."
"Did she tell you how to make the enemy let go of them?" said Maladict.
"All right, all right," said Polly quickly. "We ought to tell the rupert as soon as possible, okay? Let's get back!"
"Hold on, I'm the corporal," said Maladict.
"Well?" said Polly. "And?"
"Let's get back?" said Maladict.
"Good idea."
She should have listened to the birdsong, she realized later. The shrill calls in the distance would have told her the news, if only she'd been calm enough to listen.
They hadn't gone more than thirty yards before they saw the soldier. Someone in the Zlobenian army was dangerously clever. He'd realized that the way to spot interlopers was not to march noisily along the beaten paths, but to sneak quietly between the trees.
The soldier had a crossbow; it was sheer luck... probably sheer luck that he was looking the other way when Polly came round a holly bush.
She flung herself behind a tree and gestured madly at Maladict further down the path, who had the sense to take cover.
Polly drew her sword and held it clutched to her chest in both hands. She could hear the man. He was some way away, but he was moving towards her. Probably the little lookout they had just found was a regular point on the patrol route. After all, she thought bitterly, it was just the sort of thing some untrained idiots might come across, maybe a quiet patrol could even surprise them there...
She shut her eyes and tried to breathe normally. This was it this was it this was it! This was where she found out.
What to remember what to remember what to remember... when the metal meets the meat... be holding the metal.
She could taste metal in her mouth.
The man would walk right past her. He'd be alert, but not that alert. A slash would be better than a stab. Yes, a good swipe at head height would kill...
...some mother's son, some sister's brother, some lad who'd followed the drum for a shilling and his first new suit. If only she'd been trained, if only she'd had a few weeks stabbing straw men until she could believe that all men were made of straw...
She froze. Down the angle of the path, still as a tree, head bowed, stood Wazzer. As soon as the scout reached Polly's tree, she'd be seen.
She'd have to do it now. Perhaps that's why men did it. You didn't do it to save duchesses, or countries. You killed the enemy to stop him killing your mates, that they in turn might save you...
She could hear the cautious tread close to the tree. She raised the sabre, saw the light flash along its edge -
A wild turkey rose from the scrub on the other side of the path in one rocketing tower of wings and feathers and echoing noise. Half flying, half running, it bounded off into the woods. There was the thud of a bow and a last squawk.
"Oh, good shot, Woody," said a voice near by. "Looks like a big 'un!"
"Did you see that?" said another voice. "Another step and I'd have tripped over it!"
Behind her tree, Polly breathed out.
A third voice, some way off, called out: "Let's head back, eh, corp? The way that went off, the Tiger's probably run a mile!"
"Yeah, and I'm so scared," said the closest voice. "The Tiger's behind every tree, right?"