Monstrous Regiment

all clear I shall send a signal. A towel hanging from a window, perhaps. Something clearly unusual, anyway.”
    There was some more silence. Several of the squad were staring at the ceiling.
    “Ye-es,” said Polly. “I can see you’ve thought this out carefully, sir.”
    Blouse sighed. “If only Wrigglesworth were here,” he said.
    “Why, sir?”
    “Amazingly clever chap at layin’ his hands on a dress, young Wrigglesworth,” said the lieutenant.
    Polly caught Maladict’s eye. The vampire made a face and shrugged.
    “Um…” said Shufti.
    “Yes, Manickle?”
    “I do have a petticoat in my pack, sir.”
    “Good heavens! Why?”
    Shufti went red. She hadn’t worked out an answer.
    “Bandageth, thur,” Igorina cut in smoothly.
    “Yes! Yes! That’s right!” said Shufti. “I…found it in the inn, back in Plün…”
    “I athked the lads to acquire any thuitable linen they might find, thur. Jutht in cathe.”
    “Very sound thinking, that man!” said Blouse. “Anyone else got anything?”
    “I wouldn’t be at all thurprithed, thur,” said Igor, staring around the room.
    Glances were exchanged. Packs were unslung. Everyone except Polly and Maladict had something , produced with downcast eyes. A shift, a petticoat, and, in most cases, a dimity scarf, carried out of some sort of residual, unexplainable need.
    “You obviously must’ve thought we’d take serious damage,” said Blouse.
    “Can’t be too careful, thur,” said Igorina. She grinned at Polly.
    “Of course, I have rather short hair at present…” Blouse mused.
    Polly thought of her ringlets, now lost and probably stroked by Strappi. But desperation spooled through her memory.
    “They looked like older women, mostly,” she said quickly. “They wore headscarves and wimples. I’m sure Igori…sure Igor can make up something, sir.”
    “We Igorth are very rethorthful, thur,” Igorina agreed. She pulled a black leather wallet out of her jacket. “Ten minuteth with a needle, thur, tha’th all I need.”
    “Oh, I can do old women wonderfully well,” said Blouse. With a speed that made Lofty jump, he suddenly thrust out both hands twisted like claws, contorted his face into an expression of mad imbecility and screeched, “Oh deary me! My poor old feet! Things today aren’t like they used to be! Lawks!”
    Behind him, Sergeant Jackrum put his head in his hands.
    “Amazing, sir,” said Maladict. “I’ve never seen a transformation like it!”
    “Perhaps just a wee bit less old, sir?” Polly suggested, although in truth Blouse had reminded her of her Aunt Hattie two-thirds of the way through a glass of sherry.
    “You think so?” said Blouse. “Oh, well, if you’re really sure.”
    “And, er, if you do meet a guard, er, old women don’t usually try to, try to—”
    “—canoodle—” cut in Maladict, whose mind had clearly being hurtling down the same horrible slope.
    “—canoodle with them,” Polly added, blushing, and then, after a second’s thought, added, “Unless she’s had a glass of sherry, anyway.”
    “And I do thuggetht you go and have a thhave, thur…”
    “Thhave?” said Blouse.
    “Shave, sir,” said Polly. “I’ll lay out the kit, sir.”
    “Ooh, yes. Of course. Don’t see many old women with beards, eh? Except my Auntie Parthenope, as I recall. And…er…no one’s got a couple of balloons, have they?” asked the lieutenant.
    “Er, why, sir?” said Tonker.
    “A big bosom always gets a laugh,” said Blouse. He looked around the row of faces. “Not a good idea, perhaps? I got a huge round of applause as the Widow Trembler in ’ Tis Pity She’s a Tree . No?”
    “I think Igor could sew something a bit more, er, realistic, sir,” said Polly.
    “Really? Oh, well, if you really think so,” said Blouse dejectedly. “I’ll just go and get myself into character.”
    He disappeared into the building’s only other room. After a few seconds, the rest of them heard him reciting “lawks, my poor feet!” in varying tones of fingernail screech.
    The squad went into a huddle.
    “What was all that about?” said Tonker.
    “He was talking about the theater,” said Maladict.
    “What’s that?”
    “An Abomination Unto Nuggan, of course,” said the vampire. “It’d take too long to explain, dear child. People pretending to be other people to tell a story in a huge room where the world is a different place. Other people sitting and watching them and eating chocolate. Very, very