Django Wexler - The Thousand Names

“It wasn’t only my men,” Adrecht protested.

“The Fourth led the way,” Marcus said.

There was a long pause. Adrecht shook his head irritably.

“Come on, Marcus. What do you want from them?” He waved his hand. “These aren’t saints. They’re not even proper soldiers. They’re the scum of the earth, and you know it-the sweepings of the army. You can’t expect them to behave like a bunch of country gentlemen.”

“All I expect is that they obey orders.”

“After a battle like that you can’t blame them for wanting a little. . release. You know?” Adrecht laughed weakly. His smile faded when Marcus’ fist crashed against the tent pole.

“Damn it,” Marcus said. “Listen to me. I’m not here to preach the Wisdoms at you, Adrecht. The colonel is not going to be happy about this. If I were you, I’d get a head start and start handing down some discipline as soon as possible.”

“But-,” Adrecht sputtered. “What am I supposed to do? Start thrashing rankers at random?”

“Do something , or else if we do get back to Ashe-Katarion they’ll burn the place down around our ears.” Marcus turned on his heel.

Behind him, Adrecht said, “There were some of yours right at the front, you know.”

I know, Marcus thought. He could guess which, too-Sergeant Davis and his pack of wolves, for starters. Fitz was already asking questions.

He let the tent flap fall behind him and struck out across the camp, setting a slow pace to give himself time to cool off.

Maybe it doesn’t make any difference. He hadn’t had a moment alone with Janus since the battle, so he wasn’t sure if the colonel was angry or not. Plenty of highborn colonels wouldn’t have given a copper bit about the rape and murder of enemy camp followers, especially grayskin infidel camp followers. Marcus thought Janus might be different, but-

It doesn’t matter. I’m angry enough for the both of us. He’d spent most of the previous evening leading the work details that had finally cleaned up the Khandarai camp. Every overturned tent seemed to hide some fresh horror, and each one added another coal to the pile smoldering in his gut.

And all for what? So that fool of a prince can get back on his crumbling throne? If it was up to Marcus, he’d have handed the man over to the Redeemers and wished them good fortune.

I shouldn’t have taken it out on Adrecht, though. As his temper cooled, he could admit that. The Fourth Battalion had been the worst offenders, but the speed of the Redeemer collapse had caught them all by surprise. It was no wonder the officers had lost control.

On the other hand, he’s not the one who has to explain it to the colonel.

• • •

Marcus’ vague feeling of apprehension came into sharp focus when he approached the drill field and saw the artillery arrayed for review, and the colonel in conversation with some of the men. When he hurried over, though, he found the Preacher all smiles.

“. . bless you, sir. We’re honored by your interest,” he was saying.

“I notice,” Janus said, “that these guns have some fascinating modifications.”

He gestured to the six cannon that had been with the Colonials when he’d arrived, which had been given pride of place in the center of the line. Chief among these “modifications” was the addition of passages from scripture, engraved all over the surface from muzzle to base. The Preacher insisted this improved the weapon’s accuracy. He had a steady hand, and he’d been able to cram quite a large chunk of the Wisdoms onto each gun.

The Preacher doffed his peaked artilleryman’s cap. “Weapons of the Lord, sir,” he said. “Weapons of the Lord, every one of them. Gives them an extra bit of sting against the heathens. This one, I started with Martyrs, and got all the way to-”

“This is a Kravworks ’98, isn’t it?” Janus interrupted.

The Preacher blinked, fingering the brass Church double circle that hung around his neck. “Yes, sir. All our original twelve-pounders are.”

“But you’ve done something to the touchhole.” He leaned closer. “I can’t quite see from the outside, but-”

The Preacher gave a broad smile. “You’ve got a good eye, sir! We had to drill out the originals-”

Noticing Marcus, Janus waved him closer and launched into an explanation. “The Kravworks ’98 was a botched job,” he said. “Problems with the touchhole, something about the boring. The tests showed that the misfire rate would be nearly twenty percent, so most of the guns got sent abroad, or else-”

“To bottom-of-the-barrel outfits like this one,” Marcus finished. That was a familiar story-the Colonials got the worst of everything. Muskets that wouldn’t fire, uniforms that fell to pieces, cannons that exploded. .

“Indeed.” Janus caught Marcus’ expression. “No offense intended, of course.”

“None taken,” Marcus said. “I understand that Captain Vahkerson’s made the best of it.”

“What have you got in there?” Janus said to the Preacher.

“Friction primers,” he said. “New Hamveltai design. Works a bit like a match. Had to tweak them a little myself, of course, but we’ve got the misfires down to one in a hundred shots, and that last shot is usually a failed ignition rather than something dangerous.”

“Interesting.” The colonel appeared to follow all that, which was more than Marcus himself could say. “But aren’t Hamveltai primers a bit hard to come by out here?”

“Ah, as to that, my Lieutenant Archer is a dab hand with chemicals. We managed to puzzle out the recipe with only a few scorched gloves to show for it. By the grace of God, all the raw stuff is easy to get locally, so we’ve got a ready supply.”

“Ingenious.” Janus put on a broad smile. “He’ll have to give me a demonstration of the process at some point.”

“Whenever you like, sir! We’d be honored.”

“And I was impressed by your performance,” Janus replied. “I hope the new pieces are to your satisfaction?”

“Absolutely, sir. Smooth as butter, the whole lot. The six-pounders are particularly fine.”

“I picked them out myself before we set sail,” Janus said. “If there’s anything you need-”

“Actually, sir,” the Preacher said, “I understand we captured a number of mounts and packhorses from the heretics. Some of our teams are already under-strength, and we could do with extras for rotation. If you could see your way. .”

“Of course.” The colonel smiled again. “Not worried about having heretic horses pulling your holy guns?”

“Bless you, sir. I’ll soon have ’em on the straight and narrow. I read ’em scripture every night, you see.”

Marcus didn’t know if that was a joke or not. The Preacher had an odd sense of humor.

Janus chuckled. “Very well, then. Carry on, Captain.”

“Sir!” The Preacher saluted. “Thank you, sir!”

Turning away from the guns, Janus motioned for Marcus to follow him. Marcus fell into step, almost unconsciously, slowing his pace to match Janus’ shorter strides.

“A good man, Captain Vahkerson,” he mused.

“A bit eccentric,” Marcus said, “but certainly a good officer.”

“He’s effective,” Janus said. “Give me effective and eccentric over stolid and conventional every time.” He eyed Marcus sidelong. “There are those who have called me eccentric as well, you know.”

“I can’t imagine why, sir.”

Janus laughed. When Marcus remained silent, the colonel glanced at his companion. One look, but from that one brief glimpse of those gray eyes Marcus suddenly felt as though his every thought had been revealed.

“Ah, Captain,” Janus said. “I think you are not entirely pleased with me.”