"Good morning, ladies," said the captain. "No papers, eh? Take off your scarves, please."
And that's it, thought Polly, as the bottom of her stomach dropped away. And we thought we were being clever. There was nothing for it but to obey.
"Ah. You'll tell me your hair was shaved off as a punishment for fraternizing with the enemy, eh?" said the man, barely looking up. "Except for you," he added to Igorina. "Didn't feel like fraternizing with any enemies? Something wrong with decent Zlobenian boys?"
"Er... no," said Igorina.
Now the captain gave them a bright little smile. "Gentlemen, let's not mess about, shall we? You walk wrong. We do watch, you know. You walk wrong and you stand wrong. You," he pointed to Tonker, "have got a bit of shaving soap under one ear. And you, sir, are either deformed or you've tried the old trick of sticking a pair of socks down your vest."
Crimson with embarrassment and humiliation, Polly hung her head.
"Getting in or out disguised as washerwomen," said the captain, shaking his head. "Everyone outside this stupid country knows that one, lads, but most of them make more effort than you boys. Well, for you the war is over. This place has got big, big dungeons and I don't mind telling you you're probably going to be better off in here than outside - Yeah, what do you want?"
Shufti had raised a hand. "Can I show you something?" she said. Polly didn't turn, but watched the captain's face as, beside Polly, cloth rustled. She couldn't believe it. Shufti was raising her skirt...
"Oh," said the captain, sitting back in his chair. His face went red.
There was an explosion from Tonker, but it was an explosion of tears. They came out accompanied by a long, mournful wail, as she threw herself onto the floor.
"We walked so-oo far! We lay in ditches to hide from soldiers! There's no food! We want to work! You called us boys! Why are you so-oo cruel?"
Polly knelt down and half picked her up, patting her on the back as Tonker's shoulders heaved with the force of her sobs.
"It's been very hard for all of us," she said to the red-faced captain.
"If you can take him down I can garrotte the other one with my apron string," whispered Tonker in her ear, between howls.
"Have you seen everything you wish to see?" said Polly to the blushing captain, every syllable tinkling with ice. ;Will you come with us, sarge?" said Shufti.
"No, lad. Me as a washerwoman? I doubt it. Don't seem to have a skirt anywhere about me, for a start. Er... just one thing, lads. How are you going to get in?"
"In the morning. When we see the women going in again," said Polly.
"Got it all planned, general? And you'll be dressed as women?"
"Er... we are women, sarge," said Polly.
"Yes, lad. Technical detail. But you kitted out the rupert with all your little knick-knacks, didn't you? What're you going to do, tell the guards you opened the wrong cupboard in the dark?"
Another embarrassed silence descended. Jackrum sighed. "This ain't proper war," he said. "Still, I said I'd look after you. You are my little lads, I said." His eyes gleamed. "And you still are, even if the world's turned upside down. I'll just have to hope, Miss Perks, that you picked up a few tricks from ol' sarge, although I reckon you can think of a few of your own. And now I'd better get you kitted up, right?"
"Perhaps we could sneak in and steal something from the villages where the servants come from?" said Tonker.
"From a bunch of poor women?" said Polly, her heart sinking. "Anyway, there'd be soldiers everywhere."
"Well, how do we get women's clothes on a battlefield?" said Lofty.
Jackrum laughed, stood up, stuck his thumbs in his belt and grinned. "I told you, lads, you don't know nuffin' about war!" he said.
...and one of the things they hadn't known was that it has edges.
Polly wasn't certain what she'd expected. Men and horses, obviously. In her mind's eye they were engaged in mortal combat, but you couldn't go on doing that all day. So there would be tents. And that was about as far as the mind's eye had seen. It hadn't seen that an army on campaign is a sort of large, portable city. It has only one employer, and it manufactures dead people, but like all cities it attracts... citizens. What was unnerving was the sound of babies crying, off in the rows of tents. She hadn't expected that. Or the mud. Or the crowds. Everywhere there were fires, and the smell of cooking. This was a siege, after all. People had settled in.
Getting down onto the plain in the dark had been easy. There was only Polly and Shufti trailing after the sergeant, who'd said that more would be too many and in any case would attract too much attention.
There were patrols, but their edge had been dulled by sheer repetitiveness. Besides, the allies weren't expecting anyone to make much effort to get into the valley, at least in small groups. And men in the dark make a noise, far more noise than a woman. They'd located a Borogravian sentry in the gloom by the noise of him trying to suck a morsel of dinner out of his teeth.
But another one had located them when they were a stone's throw from the tents. He was young, so he was still keen.