Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 9

13
    THEY CAME DOWN SOLDIERS
    Comment by General Pentheusson to the High Masters' Commission on the War in the Magisterial Republic of Mip, speaking of the troops at Spy Hill:
    "I did not consider that my men were soldiers until they came down from Spy Hill. They went up recruits, I think, and they came down soldiers."
    ****
    As I stood there with the General, I heard a cry – a shout of warning. Acting from instinct, I leapt onto the boulder, pulling out Fairview's spy-glass and training it in the direction of the sound. I stiffened. Then I looked down at the General and said softly, "White flag, sir."
    "Greene," the General said quickly to his soldier-servant. "Send word to the picket to hold fire. A truce party is arriving."
    "More than a truce party, sir." I had the spy-glass fixed upon what was approaching us from Big Pool Road. Stretchers, wagons, men stumbling hard. . . I heard the General climb awkwardly up the rock – his shoulder was still swathed in bandages – and so I turned to hand him the spy-glass silently. He took a look, then said to me, "Send word." He handed me back the spy-glass and climbed carefully off the rock.
    "Yes, sir." I hopped down, found a passing soldier, and sent him to the field hospital, where the hardest wounded were still being tended.
    The General and I stayed where we were, at the crossroads between Big Pool Road and the Magisterial Turnpike. Eventually, through the narrow gap in the trees, the Mippite delegation reached us.
    They were led by a middle-aged man who had lost his hat in the conflict; he looked as dusty and fatigued as we did. He took us in at a glance, but if he recognized me, he had good enough breeding to pretend he didn't. Instead, he and the soldier bearing the truce flag stopped immediately in front of the General.
    "General Pentheusson?" said the middle-aged man in our tongue. "General Starke's compliments, sir. He is returning your wounded to you."
    "Lord Aldred," the General said slowly, and I started in my place. So I had spared the life of General Starke's younger brother. Well, Fairview would have died in any case. By this point, I had no taste for revenge.
    "General Pentheusson." Field-Cornet Lord Aldred Starke met the General's gaze without wavering, not bothering to deny his part in the slaughter we had undergone. I wondered whether General Starke had snickered at the idea of sending us the very officer who had brought about so many of our deaths.
    General Pentheusson managed to pull himself together. "Thank you, field-cornet. I have arranged to have your own wounded returned to your General. . . . Ah, here they are."
    Field-Cornet Starke raised his eyebrows as the four stretchers came forward, but he said nothing. He must have already realized how disproportionate the casualties had been between the two sides in this battle. "Thank you, General Pentheusson. General Starke is returning three hundred of your soldiers. He has also asked me to let you know that he will allow you to retrieve your dead tomorrow from Spy Hill, under flag of truce."
    "Please offer my thanks to your brother." If nothing else, the General could match Field-Cornet Starke in well-bred speech. "Will you stay and take refreshment with me?"
    We had precious little stores remaining, but there was no point in emphasizing that fact to the Mippites. Field-Cornet Starke shook his head, though. "Thank you, General, but my orderly, young Demas, was wounded in the fighting. I want to return to see that he is well cared for."
    "Of course," said the General, managing to hide his relief. "Colonel Rook, if you could find an appropriate escort for the field-cornet . . ."
    It took many minutes for me to locate a Landsteader soldier who was unlikely to bayonet the enemy officer. By the time I returned, the first wagons bearing our wounded had arrived, tended by nurses of the Red Circle. We have such nurses among our own soldiers in the force attacking eastern Mip; they appear everywhere in wartime, tending the wounded on both sides of any conflict.
    The Red Circle is actually a spiral; having sent the Mippite officer on his way, I stared at a wagon painting of one such spiral of rebirth until my eyes hurt. Then I asked the General, "May I volunteer to lead the party to retrieve our dead from the hill, sir?"
    The General shook his head; his eye was on a young man on a stretcher, crying piteously for his mother. The young man's face was half blown off. "We have no time to retrieve the dead. The