Monstrous Regiment

if coffee was made from acorns, anyway.”
    She’d roasted some acorns. As least the woods had plenty of them at this time of year, and everyone knew that roasted, ground acorns could be substituted for coffee, didn’t they? Polly had agreed that it was a worth a try, but, as far as she could recall, no one had ever, given the choice, said, “No, I will not touch horrible coffee anymore! It’s a Long Black ground-acorn substitute for me, with extra floating gritty bits!”
    She took the mug from Shufti and carried it over to the vampire. As she bent down…the world changed.
    …whopwhopwhop…
    The sky was a haze of dust, turning the sun into a blood-red disc. For a moment, Polly saw them in the sky, giant fat screws spinning in the air, hovering in the air but drifting slowly toward her—
    “He’s having flashsides,” whispered Igorina at her elbow.
    “Flashsides?”
    “Like…someone else’s flashbackth. We don’t know anything about them. They could come from anywhere . A vampire at this stage is open to all sorts of influences! Give him the coffee, please!”
    Maladict grabbed the mug and tried to down the contents so quickly that they spilled down his chin. They watched him swallow.
    “Tastes like mud!” he said, putting down the mug.
    “Yes, but is it working?”
    Maladict looked up and blinked.
    “Ye gods, but this stuff is gruesome .”
    “Are we in a forest or a jungle? Any flying screws?” Igorina demanded. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
    “You know, that’s something an Igor should never say,” said Maladict, grimacing. “But…the…feelings aren’t so strong. I can suck it down! I can gut it out.”
    Polly looked at Igorina, who shrugged and said, “That’s nice,” and motioned to Polly to joined her a little way off.
    “He, or possibly she, is right on the edge,” she said.
    “Well, we all are!” said Polly. “We’re hardly getting any sleep!”
    “You know what I mean. I’ve, er…taken the liberty of, er…being prepared.” Wordlessly, Igorina let her jacket fall open, just for a moment. Polly saw a knife, a wooden stake, and a hammer, in neatly stitched little pockets.
    “It’s not going to come to that, is it?”
    “I hope not,” said Igorina. “But if it doeth, I’m the only one who can reliably find the heart. People always think it’s more to the left than—”
    “It’s not going to come to that,” said Polly firmly.

    The sky was red. The war was a day away.
    Polly crept along just below the ridge with the tea can. It was tea that kept the army on its feet.
    Remember what’s real…well, that took some doing. Tonker and Lofty, for example. It didn’t matter which of them was on guard, the other one would be there as well. And they were, sitting side by side on a fallen tree, staring down the slope.
    They were holding hands. They always held hands, when they thought they were alone. But it seemed to Polly that they didn’t hold hands like people who were, well, friends. They held hands tightly, like someone who has slipped over a cliff would hold hands with a rescuer, fearing that to let go would be to fall away.
    “Tea up!” she quavered.
    The girls turned, and she dipped a couple of mugs into the scalding tea.
    “You know,” she said quietly, “No one would hate you if you ran away tonight…”
    “What do you mean, Ozz?” said Lofty.
    “Well, what’s there in Kneck for you? You got away from the School. You could go anywhere. I bet the two of you could sneak—”
    “We’re staying,” said Tonker severely. “We talked about it. Where else would we go? Anyway, supposing something is following us?”
    “Probably just an animal,” said Polly, who didn’t believe it herself.
    “Animals don’t do that,” said Tonker. “And I don’t think Maladict would get so excited. It’s probably more spies. Well, we’ll get them.”
    “Nobody is going to take us back,” said Lofty.
    “Oh. Er…good,” said Polly, backing away. “Well, must get on, no one likes cold tea, eh?”
    She hurried around the hill. Whenever Lofty and Tonker were together, she felt like a trespasser.
    Wazzer was on guard in a small dell, watching the land below with her usual expression of slightly worrying intensity. She turned as Polly approached.
    “Oh, Polly,” said Wazzer. “Good news!”
    “Oh, good,” said Polly weakly. “I like good news.”
    “She says it will be all right for us not to wear our dimity scarves,” said Wazzer.
    “What?