Dust of Dreams

tent carrying Koryk’s weapon belt. ‘Honed and oiledyour blade, Koryk. But it looks like the belt will need another notch. You need to get some meat back on your bones.’
    ‘Thanks, Mother, just don’t offer me a tit, all right?’ Sitting down on an old munitions box, he stared at the fire. The walk, Tarr judged, had exhausted the man. That boded ill for all the other soldiers who’d come down with the same thing. The tart water had worked, but the victims who’d recovered were wasted one and all, with a haunted look in their eyes.
    ‘Where’s Fid?’ Koryk asked.
    Bottle stirred from where he had been lying, head on a bedroll and a cloth over his eyes. Blinking in the afternoon light he said, ‘Fid’s been listing all our faults. One of those secret meetings of all the sergeants.’
    Tarr grunted. ‘Glad to hear it’s secret.’
    ‘We ain’t got any faults,’ said Smiles. ‘Except for you, Corporal. Hey Bottle, what else were they talking about?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    That snatched everyone’s attention. Even Corabb looked up from the new hole he was driving through the thick leather belt—he’d jammed the awl into the palm of his left hand but didn’t seem to have noticed yet.
    ‘Hood knows you’re the worst liar I ever heard,’ said Cuttle.
    ‘Fid’s expecting a fight, and maybe soon. He’s tightening the squads. All right? There. Chew on that for a while.’
    ‘How hard is he working on that?’ the sapper asked, eyes narrowed down to slits.
    Bottle looked ready to spit out something foul. ‘Hard.’
    ‘Shit,’ said Koryk. ‘Look at me. Shit.’
    ‘Take the wagon bed tomorrow and maybe the next day,’ said Tarr. ‘And then spell yourself for a few days after that. We’ve that long at least until we’re into possibly hostile territory. And eat, Koryk. A lot.’
    ‘Ow,’ said Corabb, lifting the hand with the awl dangling from the palm.
    ‘Pull it and see if you bleed,’ said Smiles. ‘If you don’t, go see a healer quick.’ Noticing the others looking at her she scowled. ‘Fish hooks. The, uh, fisherfolk who used to work for my family—well, I’ve seen it go bad, is all. Punctures that don’t bleed, I mean. Oh, piss off, then.’
    ‘I’m going for a walk,’ said Bottle.
    Tarr watched the mage wander off, and then glanced over and found Cuttle staring at him.
Aye, it’s looking bad.
    Corabb plucked out the awl and managed to squeeze out a few drops of blood. He gave Smiles a triumphant grin, then returned to working on the belt.
     
    Bottle wandered through the encampment, avoiding the disorganized mobs besieging the quartermaster’s HQ, the armourer compound, the leather and cordage workshops, and a host of other areas crowded with miserable, overworked specialists. Even outside the whore tents soldiers were getting into scraps.
Gods,where are all the officers? We need military police—this is what happens when there’s no imperial oversight, no Claws, no adjutants or commissars.
    Adjunct, why aren’t you doing anything about this? Hold on, Bottle—it ain’t your problem. You’ve got other problems to worry about.
He found he was standing in the centre of a throughway, one hand clutching his hair. A storm of images warred in his head—all his rats were out, crouched in hiding in strategic places—but the one in Tavore’s command tent was being assailed by folds of burlap—someone had bagged it! He forced the other ones out of his head.
You! Little Koryk! Pay attention! Start chewing as if your life depended on it—because maybe it does—get out of that sack!
    ‘You. You’re in Fiddler’s squad, right?’
    Blinking, Bottle focused on the man standing in front of him. ‘Hedge. What do you want?’
    The man smiled, and given the wayward glint in the man’s mud-grey eyes that was a rather frightening expression. ‘Quick Ben sent me to you.’
    ‘Really? Why? What’s he want?’
    ‘Never could answer that one—but you’re the one, Bottle, isn’t it?’
    ‘Look, I’m busy—’
    Hedge lifted up a sack. ‘This is for you.’
    ‘Bastard!’ Bottle snatched the bag. A quick look inside.
Oh, stop your chewing now, Koryk. Relax.
    ‘It was moving,’ said Hedge.
    ‘What?’
    ‘The sack. Got something alive in there? It was jumping around in my hand—’ He grunted then as someone collided with him.
    An armoured regular, big as a bear, lumbered past.
    ‘Watch where you’re walking, y’damned ox!’
    At Hedge’s snarl, the man turned. His