Monstrous Regiment

midstream. The vampire gave her the kind of smile only a vampire can give. It would have been sheepish, if sheep had different teeth.
    “Thought I’d try again,” she said.
    “We’ll find Blouse,” said Polly.
    “He’s a major now,” said Maladicta. “And happy as a flea because they’ve named a kind of fingerless glove after him, I heard. What do we want him for?”
    “He knows about the clacks. He knows about other ways war can be fought. With intelligence, for one thing. And I know…people,” said Polly.
    “Ah. Do you mean the ‘Upon my oath, I am not a lying man, but I know people’ kind of people?”
    “Those were the kind of people I had in mind, yes.” The river slapped against the side of the ferry.
    “Good,” said Maladicta.
    “I don’t know where it’s going to lead, though,” said Polly.
    “Ah. Even better.”
    At which point, Polly decided that she knew enough of the truth to be going on with. The enemy wasn’t men, or women, or the old, or even the dead. It was just bleedin’ stupid people, who came in all varieties. And no one had the right to be stupid.
    She looked at the other two passengers who’d sidled aboard. They were country lads in ragged, ill-fitting clothes, keeping away from her and staring intently at the deck. But one glance was enough. The world turned upside down, and history repeated itself. For some reason, that suddenly made her feel very happy.
    “Going to join up, lads?” she said cheerily.
    There was some mumbling on the theme of “yes.”
    “Good. Then stand up straight,” said Polly. “Let’s have a look at you. Chins up. Ah. Well done. Shame you didn’t practice walking in trousers, and I notice you didn’t bring an extra pair of socks.”
    They stared, mouths open.
    “What are your names?” said Polly. “Your real names, please? Don’t look so worried. You can tell me the truth. And don’t try cunning on me, because I was trained by Mister Fox.”
    “Er…Rosemary,” one of them began.
    “I’m Mary,” said the other. “I heard girls were joining, but everyone laughed, so I thought I’d better pretend to—”
    “Oh, you can join as men if you want,” said Polly.
    The girls looked at one another.
    “You get better swearwords,” said Polly. “And the trousers are useful. But it’s your choice.”
    “A choice?” said Rosemary.
    “Certainly,” said Polly. She put a hand on a shoulder of each girl, winked at Maladicta, and added: “You are my little lads—or not, as the case may be—and I will look after… you. ”
    And the new day was a great big fish.

About the Author
    Terry Pratchett’s novels have sold more than thirty million (give or take a few million) copies worldwide. He lives in England.
    www.terrypratchettbooks.com

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Resounding praise for international bestselling author TERRY PRATCHETT and MONSTROUS REGIMENT
    “A master of laugh-out-loud fiction…[Pratchett] has created an alternate universe full of trolls, dwarfs, wizards, and other fantasy elements, and he uses that universe to reflect on our own culture with entertaining and gloriously funny results. It’s an accomplishment nothing short of magical.”
    Chicago Tribune
    “Very funny…A lot quirkier than J.K. Rowling…In Monstrous Regiment …Pratchett takes full and hilarious advantage of the opportunity to skewer everything from military court martials to male swagger.”
    Miami Herald
    “A top-notch satirist.”
    Denver Post
    “Terry Pratchett is difficult to review because you want to offer up your favorite scenes and allusions…Pratchett revels in pricking pomp and assurance…He can move from farce to sadness in seconds… Monstrous Regiment is most often spirited and shambolic, but it has some serious heft.”
    New York Times Book Review
    “An edgier, funnier version of J.R.R. Tolkien… Monstrous Regiment skewers the war hawk mentality.”
    Austin American-Statesman
    “Welcome to the splendidly skewed world of Terry Pratchett…The great pleasure of the novel is the author’s imaginative zing…But Pratchett isn’t just a cavalcade of quirky jokes and bizarre flights of fancy…You ride along on his tide of outlandish invention, realizing that you are in the presence of a true original among contemporary writers—a fantasist who loves naff humor and silly names, and yet whose absurd world is, at heart, a serious portrait of the jingoist