"Did you think that it meant nothing? That it was just a kiss?"
Did you think it meant nothing
just a kiss
The whispered words washed against the walls like surf, and came back stronger, in harmonies.
Did you kiss meant nothing meant a kiss just think a kiss meant a kiss
Wazzer was standing up.
The squad stood petrified as she walked unsteadily past them.
Her eyes focused on Polly, and then looked down at her own legs.
"So good to have a body again," she said. "I wonder what all the fuss is about..."
So good a body
the fuss is I wonder the fuss
Something was in Wazzer's face. Her features were all there, all correct, her nose was as pointed and as red, her cheekbones as hollow... but there were subtle changes.
She held up a hand and flexed her fingers.
"Ah," she said. "So..." There was no echo this time, but the voice was stronger and deeper. No one would ever have said that Wazzer's voice had been attractive but this one was.
She turned to Jackrum, who dropped onto his fat knees and whipped off his shako.
"Sergeant Jackrum, I know that you know who I am. You have waded through seas of blood for me. Perhaps we should have done better things with your life, but at least your sins were soldier's sins, and not the worst of them, at that. You are hereby promoted to sergeant major, and a better candidate for the job I have never met. You are steeped in deviousness, cunning and casual criminality, Sergeant Jackrum. You should do well."
Jackrum, eyes cast down, raised a knuckle to his forehead.
"...Not worthy, your grace," he muttered.
"Of course you aren't." The Duchess looked around. "Now, where is my army... ah."
There was no hesitancy now, and none of Wazzer's cowering and downcast eyes. She positioned herself directly in front of Froc, who was staring with his mouth open.
"General Froc, you must do one final service for me."
The general glared. "Who the hell are you?"
"You need to ask? As always, Jackrum thinks faster than you. You know me. I am the Duchess Annagovia."
"But you are - " one of the other officers began, but Froc held up a hand again.
"The voice... is familiar," she said, in a faraway whisper.
"Yes. You remember the ball. I remember it, too. Forty years ago. You were the youngest captain ever. We danced, stiffly in my case. I asked you how long you had been a captain, and you said - "
" - Three days," breathed Froc, with her eyes shut.
"And we ate Brandy Pillows, and a cocktail that I believe was called - "
" - Angel's Tears," said Froc. "I kept the menu, your grace, and the dance card."
"Yes," said the Duchess. "You did. And when old General Scaffer led you away, he said, 'That'll be something to tell your grandchildren, my boy.' But you were... so dedicated that you never had children... and what a man you became... my boy..."