The Crippled God

possible.’
    There was not a sound from the assembled troops, and all eyes were fixed on Paran. He glanced again at Noto Boil. The man was standing a few paces behind and off to one side, fish-spine moving up and down in his mouth. Staring back at the sappers.
    Sighing, the High Fist resumed. ‘In retrospect, perhaps I should have delayed my raid on that Moranth warehouse, and not just for reasons of safety, though as I am sure you all know, the Moranth are very efficient and careful when storing munitions. Nonetheless, transporting them in bulk and overland entails undeniable risks. Fortunately, here we are.’ And he gestured behind him. ‘And there they are.’
    He had been waiting for a heightening of tension, a stirring of anticipation. The first of broadening smiles, soldiers finally straightening to attention, even. Instead … Paran’s gaze narrowed. Nothing .
    I might as well be describing the weather. What’s wrong with them?
    Thought they respected me. Thought that maybe I’d finally earned the rank I was saddled with. But now … feels like it was all a sham .
    ‘You may be pleased to know that your waiting is at an end. This morning, you will avail yourselves of these munitions, and return to your squads. The marines will lead the assault. You are to break the defences and, if possible, advance to the second trench. This assault must be rapid and sustained …’ His words trailed away as he caught something at the corner of his eye.
    Standing in the front row off to his right, where the sun’s light slanted across unobstructed, a grizzled corporal, his broad, flat face seamed with scars visible even from where the High Fist stood. Paran squinted at the man. Then he gestured to Noto Boil. The cutter walked over, pulling the spine from his mouth.
    ‘Noto Boil,’ Paran said in a low tone.
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘Walk over to that corporal – that one there – and take a closer look, and then report back to me.’
    ‘Is this a test?’
    ‘Just do it.’
    The cutter reinserted the spine and then headed over to halt directly in front of the corporal. After a moment, he swung round and made his way back.
    ‘Well?’ Paran demanded.
    Noto Boil removed the spine. ‘The man is crying, High Fist.’
    ‘He’s crying.’
    ‘So it seems, sir.’
    ‘But … why is he crying?’
    Noto Boil turned back to regard the corporal once more. ‘Was just the one tear. Could be anything.’
    Swearing under his breath, Paran marched over to stand before the corporal. The marine’s stare was fixed straight ahead. The track of that lone tear, etching its way down from his right eye, was already dulled with grit and dust. ‘Something in your eye, Corporal?’
    ‘No sir.’
    ‘Are you ill?’
    ‘No sir.’
    ‘You’re trembling.’
    The eyes flicked briefly in their thinned slits, locked for an instant with Paran’s own. ‘Is that so? Didn’t know that, sir. Beggin’ your pardon.’
    ‘Soldier, am I blocking your view?’
    ‘Yes sir, that you are, sir.’
    Slowly, Paran edged to one side. He studied the sapper’s face for a half-dozen heartbeats, and then a few more, until … oh, gods below! ‘I thought you said you weren’t sick, Corporal.’
    ‘I’m not, sir.’
    ‘I beg to differ.’
    ‘If you like, sir.’
    ‘Corporal.’
    Another flicker of the eyes. ‘Sir?’
    ‘Control yourselves. Be orderly. Don’t blow any of us up. Am I understood?’
    A quick nod. ‘Aye, sir. Bless you, sir.’
    Startled, Paran’s voice sharpened, ‘ Bless me?’
    And from the mob of sappers came a muttered chorus, echoing the corporal’s blessing. Paran stepped back, struggled for a moment to regain his composure, and then raised his voice. ‘No need to rush – there’s plenty for everyone.’ He paused upon hearing a faint whimper, then continued, ‘In one turn of the sand I want you back with your squads. Your sergeants have been apprised of this resupply so you can be sure that the word has gone out. By the time you get back to them they will all have done with their prayers, sacrifices, and all the rest. In other words, they’ll be ready for you. The advance begins two turns of the sand from now. That is all.’
    He set off, not looking back.
    Noto Boil came up alongside him. ‘High Fist.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Is this wise? That’s more munitions than any of them has ever seen.’
    ‘In those crates are just the sharpers, burners and smokers. I haven’t even let them see the cussers and