The Heroes

grunted.
    ‘Wonderful strange to have a woman in charge,’ said Yon, putting on a gravelly bass. ‘We called her Wonderful Strange for a week or two, then the strange dropped off, and there you have it.’
    Wonderful nodded grimly at the fire. ‘And a month later Bethod came in earnest and the valley got all burned out anyway.’
    Yon shrugged. ‘Still a good ambush, though.’
    ‘And what about you, eh, Jolly Yon Cumber?’
    Yon dragged his blankets off and sat up. ‘Ain’t much to it.’
    ‘Don’t be modest. Jolly was said straight in the old days, ’cause he used to be quite the joker, did Yon. Then his cock was tragically cut off in the battle at Ineward, a loss more mourned by the womenfolk of the North than all the husbands, sons and fathers killed there. Ever since then, not a single smile.’
    ‘A cruel lie.’ Yon pointed a thick finger across at Beck. ‘I never had a sense o’ humour. And it was just a little nick out of my thigh at Ineward. Lot of blood but no damage. Everything still working down below, don’t you worry.’
    Over his shoulder and out of his sight, Wonderful was pointing at her crotch. ‘Cock and fruits,’ she mouthed, miming a chopping action with one open hand. ‘Cock … and …’ Then when Yon looked around peered at her fingernails like she’d done nothing.
    ‘Up already?’ Flood came limping between the sleepers and the fires along with a man Beck didn’t know, lean with a mop of grey-streaked hair.
    ‘Our youngest woke us,’ grunted Wonderful. ‘Drofd was having a feel of Beck’s weapon.’
    ‘You can see how it can happen, though …’ said Yon.
    ‘You can check mine over if you like.’ Flood grabbed the mace at his belt and stuck it up at an angle. ‘It’s got a big lump on the end!’ Drofd gave a chuckle at that, but it seemed most of the rest weren’t in a laughing mood. Beck surely weren’t. ‘No?’ Flood looked around at ’em expectantly. ‘It’s ’cause I’m old, ain’t it? You can say. It’s ’cause I’m old.’
    ‘Old or not, I’m glad you’re here,’ said Wonderful, one eyebrow up. ‘The Union won’t dare attack now we’ve got you two.’
    ‘Never would have given ’em the chance but I had to go for a piss.’
    ‘Third of the night?’ asked Yon.
    Flood peered up at the sky. ‘Think it was the fourth.’
    ‘Which is why they call him Flood,’ murmured Wonderful under her breath. ‘’Case you were wondering.’
    ‘I ran into Scorry Tiptoe on the way.’ Flood jerked his thumb at the lean man beside him.
    Tiptoe took a while weighing up the words, then spoke ’em soft. ‘I was taking a look around.’
    ‘Find anything out?’ asked Wonderful.
    He nodded, real slow, like he’d come upon the secret of life itself.
    ‘There’s a battle on.’ He slid down next to Beck on crossed legs and held out a hand to him. ‘Scorry Tiptoe.’
    ‘On account of his gentle footfall,’ said Drofd. ‘Scouting, mostly. And back rank, with a spear, you know.’
    Beck gave it a limp shake. ‘Beck.’
    ‘Red Beck,’ threw in Drofd. ‘That’s his name. Got it yesterday. Off Reachey. Down in the fight in Osrung. Now he’s joined up … with us … you know …’ He trailed off, Beck and Scorry both frowning at him, and huddled down into his blanket.
    ‘Craw give you the talk?’ asked Scorry.
    ‘The talk?’
    ‘About the right thing.’
    ‘He mentioned it.’
    ‘Wouldn’t take it too seriously.’
    ‘No?’
    Scorry shrugged. ‘Right thing’s a different thing for every man.’ And he started pulling knives out and laying ’em on the ground in front of him, from a huge great thing with a bone handle only just this side of a short sword to a tiny little curved one without even a grip, just a pair of rings for two fingers to fit in.
    ‘That for peeling apples?’ asked Beck.
    Wonderful drew a finger across her sinewy neck. ‘Slitting throats.’
    Beck thought she was probably having a laugh at him, then Scorry spat onto a whetstone and that little blade gleamed in the firelight and suddenly he weren’t so sure. Scorry pressed it to the stone and gave it a lick both ways, snick, snick, and all of a sudden there was a thrashing of blankets.
    ‘Steel!’ Whirrun sprang up, reeling about, sword all tangled up with his bed. ‘I hear steel!’
    ‘Shut up!’ someone called.
    Whirrun tore his sword free, jerking his hood out of his eyes. ‘I’m awake! Is it morning?’ Seemed the stories about Whirrun of Bligh