Monstrous Regiment

Smooth is how things should be, eh, sir? I’ve always liked things smooth.”

    They watched Lieutenant Blouse walk down through the trees to the path. They watched him join the erratic, straggling line of women on their way to the door. They listened for screams, and heard none.
    “D-does any woman sway that much?” said Wazzer, peering through the bushes.
    “Not legally, I think,” said Polly, scanning the Keep with the lieutenant’s telescope. “Well, we’ll just have to wait for some sort of signal that he’s okay.”
    Somewhere overhead, a buzzard screamed.
    “No, they’ll have got him the moment he walked through the door,” said Maladict. “Bet on it.”
    They left Jade on watch. With her paint scraped off, a troll could settle into rocky scenery so well that no one was likely to notice her before they walked into her, and by the time they’d walked into her it was too late.
    They made their way back through the woods, and had almost reached the ruined farmhouse when it happened.
    “You are holding up well, Mal,” said Polly. “Maybe those acorns did the trick? You haven’t mentioned coffee at all—”
    Maladict stopped and turned slowly. To Polly’s horror, his face was suddenly shiny with sweat.
    “You had to bring it up, didn’t you?” he said hoarsely. “Oh, please, no! I was holding on so tight! I was doing so well!”
    He fell forward, but managed to get onto his hands and knees. Then he raised his head, and his eyes were glowing red.
    “Fetch…Igorina,” he muttered, gasping. “I know she’s ready for this…”
    …wopwopwop…
    Wazzer was praying furiously. Maladict tried to stand up again, fell back onto his knees, and raised his arms imploringly to the sky.
    “Get out of here while you can,” he mumbled as his teeth visibly lengthened. “I’ll—”
    There was a shadow, a sense of movement, and the vampire slumped forward, stunned by an eight-ounce sack of coffee beans that had dropped out of a clear sky.

    Polly arrived at the farmhouse carrying Maladict on her shoulder. She made him as comfortable as possible on some ancient straw, and the squad consulted.
    “Do you think we ought to try to take the sack out of his mouth?” said Shufti nervously.
    “I tried, but he fights,” said Polly.
    “But he’s unconscious!”
    “He still won’t let go of it! He’s sucking it. I’d swear he was out cold, but he just sort of reached out and grabbed it and bit! It dropped out of a clear sky!”
    Tonker stared at Wazzer.
    “The Duchess does room service?” she said.
    “No! She says she d-didn’t!”
    “You get freak rainth of fish,” said Igorina, kneeling down by Maladict. “I suppose it’s possible that a whirlwind tore through a coffee plantation, and then possibly a lightning discharge in the upper ether—”
    “At what point did it blow through a factory making small coffee sacks?” said Tonker. “Ones with a jolly, turbaned man printed on them apparently saying ‘Klatchian Rare Roasted! When a Pickax Is Not Enough!’”
    “Well, if you’re going to put it like that, it does seem a little far-fetched…” Igorina admitted.
    She stood up, adding, “I think he’ll be fine when he wakes up. Possibly a little talkative, though.”
    “Okay, lads, get some rest,” said Jackrum, stamping in. “Let’s give the rupert a couple of hours to muck things up, and then we can nip around the valley and slip down through and join the rest of the army. Good grub and proper blankets to sleep on, hey? That’s the ticket!”
    “We don’t know he’s going to mess up, Sarge,” said Polly.
    “Oh, yeah, right, maybe he’ll have married the commander of the garrison by now, eh? Stranger things have happened, although I can’t remember when. Perks and Manickle, you’re on watch. The rest of you, get some shut-eye.”

    A Zlobenian patrol went past in the distance. Polly watched it out of sight. It was turning into a fine day, warm with a bit of wind. Good drying weather. A good day to be a washerwoman. And maybe Blouse would succeed. Maybe all the guards were blind.
    “Pol?” Shufti whispered.
    “Yes, Shuf…look, what was your name back in the world?”
    “Betty. It’s Betty. Er…most of the Ins-and-Outs are in the Keep, right?”
    “Apparently.”
    “So that’s where I’m most likely to find my fiancé, yes?” We’ve talked about that, Polly thought.
    “Could be.”
    “Might be quite hard if there’s a lot of men…” said Betty, a woman with