Monstrous Regiment

would have been even more concerned about the fact that she spent the next several hours writing things down, because it occurred to Polly that General Froc had not got where she was today by being stupid, and therefore she could profit from following her example. She copied out the entire notebook, and sealed it in an old jam jar, which she hid in the roof of the stables. She wrote a few letters. And she got her uniform out of the wardrobe and inspected it critically.
    The uniforms that had been made for them had a special, additional quality that could only be called…girly. They had more braid, they were better tailored, and they had a long skirt with a bustle rather than trousers. The shakos had plumes, too.
    Her tunic had a sergeant’s stripes. It had been a joke. A sergeant of women. The world had been turned upside down, after all.
    They’d been mascots, good-luck charms…And, perhaps, on the march to Prince Marmaduke Piotre Albert Hans Joseph Bernhardt Wilhelmsberg a joke was what everyone needed. But, maybe, when the world turns upside down, you can turn a joke upside down, too. Thank you, Gummy, even though you didn’t know what it was you were teaching me. When they’re laughing at you, their guard is down. When their guard is down, you can kick them in the fracas.
    She examined herself in the mirror. Her hair, now, was just long enough to be a nuisance without being long enough to be attractive, so she brushed it and left it at that. She put the uniform on, but with the skirt over her trousers, and tried to put aside the nagging feeling that she was dressing up as a woman.
    There. She looked completely harmless. She looked slightly less harmless with both cutlasses and one of the horse-bows on her back, especially if you knew that the inn’s dartboards now all had deep holes in the bull’s-eyes from all the practicing.
    She crept along the hall to the window that overlooked the inn yard. Paul was up a ladder, repainting the sign. Her father was steadying the ladder and calling out instructions in his normal way, which was to call out the instruction just a second or two after you’d already started doing something. And Shufti was watching them, holding Jack.
    It made a lovely picture. For a moment, she wished she had a locket.
    The Duchess was smaller than she’d thought. But if you had to protect it by standing in the doorway with a sword, you were too late. Caring for small things had to start with caring for big things, and maybe the world wasn’t big enough.
    The note she left on her dressing table read:
    “Shufti, I hope you and Jack are happy here. Paul, you look after her. Dad, I’ve never taken any wages, but I need a horse. I’ll try to have it sent back. I love you all. If I don’t come back, burn this letter and look in the roof of the stables.”
    She dropped out of the window, saddled up a horse in the stables, and let herself out of the back gate. She didn’t mount up until she was out of earshot, and then rode down to the river.
    Spring was pouring through the country. Sap was rising. In the woods, a ton of timber was growing every minute. Everywhere, birds were singing.
    There was a guard on the ferry. He eyed her nervously as she led the horse aboard, and then grinned when he saw what he thought were stripes that didn’t really mean much.
    “’Morning, miss!” he said cheerfully.
    Oh, well…time to start. Polly marched in front of the puzzled man.
    “Are you trying to be smart? ” she demanded, inches from his face.
    “No, miss—”
    “That’s ‘Sergeant,’ mister!” said Polly. “Let’s try again , shall we? I said, are you trying to be smart?”
    “No, Sergeant!”
    Polly leaned until her nose was an inch from his.
    “Why not?”
    The grin faded. This was not a soldier on the fast track to promotion.
    “Huh?” he managed.
    “If you are not trying to be smart, mister, you’re happy to be stupid!” shouted Polly. “And I’m up to here with stupid, understand?”
    “Yeah, but—”
    “But what , soldier?”
    “Yeah, but…well…but…nothing, Sergeant,” said the soldier.
    “That’s good.” Polly nodded at the ferry men. “Time to go?” she suggested, but in the tones of an order.
    “Couple of people just coming down the road, Sergeant,” said one of them, a faster man with an uptake.
    They waited. There were, in fact, three people. One of them was Maladicta, in full female uniform.
    Polly said nothing until the ferry was out in