Harry Turtledove - Jaws of Darkness

“A pity we have Donalitu for an ally,” Xavega said. “He would make a much better enemy.”

“He does think the world of himself, does he not?” Ramalho said, shaking his head. The Lagoan mage continued, “He thinks the world spins around him, too.”

“If you told him that back in Jelgava, you would have ended up in one of his dungeons faster than you could blink,” Essi remarked. Her hands never faltered in the passes she needed to support the spell.

“All the more reason for throwing him into one of those dungeons himself.” Xavega stopped reviling Donalitu in classical Kaunian long enough to chant her portion of the spell that keptHabakkuk solid-also in classical Kaunian.

“He is a useful tool against Algarve,” Ramalho said. “His countrymen dote on him.”

“Which only goes to prove Jelgavans are not so smart as they would have other people believe,” Leino said.

The other mages chuckled. Xavega said, “No one who has Donalitu for a king could be very smart. And if our preciousCaptainBrunho cannot see that, may the powers below eat him.” To Leino’s surprise, she nodded his way. “You could see it, whether Brunho could or not. Thank you for trying to get him to be sensible.”

“Er-you are welcome,” Leino answered in some surprise. She’d actually talked to him in friendly fashion. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. For a moment, he couldn’t imagine why she’d done it. But that didn’t take long to figure out. He’d agreed with her about Donalitu, and he’d said as much toCaptainBrunho ’s face. What could be more calculated to endear him to her than agreement? Nothing he could think of offhand.

As if to confirm that calculation, Xavega went on, “I had not realized you were such a sensible man.” The look she gave him was frankly appraising.

“I do my best to hide it,” Leino said, which made her laugh out loud. If I’m so sensible, why do I want to flip up her kilt? But there was more than one kind of sense, and he knew it. Bedding a good-looking woman needed no fancy justifications. It was its own best argument.

He performed his share of the maintenance spell with casual competence.

His eyes kept sliding Xavega’s way. Hers kept meeting his, and she wasn’t looking at him as if she wanted to go wash her hands afterwards any more, either. Was it really that easy? he wondered. Did I just have to make her think I thought she was right, to make her forget I’m a Kuusaman? He wasn’t used to people who responded so simply.

Do I really want anything to do with somebody who responds so simply? If Pekka were here… If Pekka were there, Xavega wouldn’t have done anything but amuse him. He was sure of that. But Pekka was far away, and had been for quite a while. Every time Leino looked at Xavega, and every time he caught her looking at him, he was reminded of just how long he’d been away from his wife.

Xavega was never one to beat around the bush. When the shift ended, she waited for Leino in the corridor. “I was wrong about you,” she announced.

“Oh?” His heart pounded. “How?”

“I never thought Kuusaman men could be so… interesting,” she said.

Sure enough, I agreed with her, Leino marveledThat was all I needed to do. It was probably all he should have done, too. Part of him knew it, anyhow. But that wasn’t the part that said, “Now that we have spent all this time keepingHabakkuk solid, will you come to my cabin and see how much ice we can melt?”

She couldn’t very well misunderstand that. If she didn’t care for it, she’d slap him across the icy hallway. Instead, she said, “Aye,” and set her hand in his. I’ll be sorry for this later, Leino thought. But that would be later. Now… Now he hurried toward the cabin, Xavega at his side.

“Leave?” The Algarvian lieutenant stared at Sidroc. “You want leave?”

“Aye, sir,” Sidroc answered stolidly. Speaking the redheads’ language, he had to be stolid; he wasn’t all that fluent. “I have had none since I came to Unkerlant more than a year and a half ago.”

“Have any of your comrades had leave?” his company commander asked, and Sidroc had to shake his head. The Algarvian went on, “There are two ways to stop fighting here in the west. You can be wounded. Then you stop long enough for them to repair you. Or you can die. But if they could call you back from that, believe me, they would. Now go back go your squad and stop troubling me with foolish notions. Have you got that?”

“Aye, sir,” Sidroc repeated. Back to his squad he went.

Ceorl was stirring the stewpot. He looked up. “Well?”

“Two ways to get leave,” Sidroc reported. “You can get wounded, or you can get killed. Otherwise, forget it.”

“Told you so,”SergeantWerferth said. “They’re going to use us up. That’s what we’re here for. I’d hate it even worse if they didn’t treat their own soldiers the same way.”

“Wonderful.” Speaking Forthwegian, Sidroc had no trouble sounding as sarcastic as he pleased. “I want to go home for a while, curse it. I’d come back.”

“Of course you would,” Werferth said. “It’s not like anybody except our own kin loves us back there-and even some of them don’t.”

“Futter ‘em all,” Ceorl said, giving the pot another stir.

“Futter ‘em all is right,” Sidroc muttered. The trouble was, Werferth was also right. Most Forthwegians had no great use for either the Algarvians or the men from Forthweg who’d taken service in Plegmund’s Brigade. “Ungrateful whoresons. If it weren’t for the redheads, we’d still be stuck with all those stinking Kaunians back in our own kingdom.”

“Well, that’s the truth.” Ceorl always sounded surprised when he agreed with Sidroc. He tasted the stew and nodded. “It’s as good as it’ll get, not that that’s saying much.”

Sidroc dug out his mess kit. Ceorl filled the tin tray with carrots and turnips and onions and bits of meat. “What is this stuff?” Sidroc asked, prodding one of those bits with his spoon. “Unicorn? Horsemeat?”

“No, it’s mutton,” Ceorl said. Sidroc laughed in his face. The ruffian grinned back, unabashed. “Well, close, anyhow. It’s goat.”

After tasting and chewing-after chewing for quite a while-Sidroc nodded. “All right, I’ll believe that. It must have been in the pot a good long time. It’s not too gamy, and it’s all the way down to tough.”

Werferth methodically emptied his mess kit. “Next to some of the stuff we’ve eaten, this is downright good. Remember that behemoth that had gone over?” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Which one?” Sidroc asked. His own tin was almost empty, too. “It’s not like we’ve only done it once.”

Werferth laughed. So did Ceorl. After a moment, so did Sidroc. Werferth said, “Ah, the happy stories we’ll have to tell our grandchildren.”

That made Ceorl laugh harder than ever-harder than the joke deserved, as far as Sidroc was concerned. He asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Grandchildren,” Ceorl answered. “Who’s dumb enough to think we’ll live long enough to have kids, let alone grandchildren?”

“Oh.” That brought Sidroc back to earth-to the muddy earth of Unkerlant-with a bump. It wasn’t that Ceorl was wrong. Ceorl was too likely to be right. Sidroc turned to Werferth. “See, Sergeant, there’s another reason I need leave. I should have told the lieutenant. How am I going to meet a girl in this miserable country?”

“Drag one down on the floor and have a couple of your pals hold her,” Werferth said. “It’s not like we haven’t done that before, either.”

“Curse it, that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Sidroc said. “Even if we do father brats on these Unkerlanter women, we’ll never find out about it. I want to meet a nice girl, settle down-if I live, I mean.”