Michael Stackpole - At the Queen_s command

Nathaniel wandered into town and right up to Gates' Tavern. He made a hand signal and Justice took the fourth squad around toward the back while Makepeace brought the Bookworms in tight. He pulled open the door and entered, but got only four feet in.

A blond-haired young man in the 31st Horse Guards uniform barred his passage. "This headquarters is off limits to your kind." Beyond him a squad and a half of men sat at tables drinking and playing cards. From above came sounds of laughter, giggles, and creaking beds.

"I reckon I best speak to your commanding officer."

"I reckon," the man began, slowing his speech to affect a Mystrian accent, "you'd best sod off."

Nathaniel smiled, then drove his right knee into the man's groin. The cavalryman jackknifed forward, clutching himself. Nathaniel grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head into the wall, then pitched him back into the room, upsetting a table. Cards flew and before a one had fluttered to the floor, Nathaniel had his rifle's muzzle nestled between the downed man's chin and silver gorget.

"A one of you makes a move or a sound, and he dies."

Justice and Makepeace led their men into the room and spread them out. The Summerland boys gathered all the cavalry carbines and then directed the men to crowd into the narrow end of the room. Justice looked to Nathaniel. "Fix bayonets?"

"I reckon."

The cavalrymen paled, with more than one having occasion to pee on himself. Infantry bayonets added eighteen inches of spade-shaped steel to a six-foot long musket. Every single one of the Queen's soldiers had seen the grisly damage done by bayonets. All would sooner be hit by a cannon ball than have that much steel twisting in his guts.

"Makepeace, with me." They headed outside, and took the back stairs to the second floor. They ignored the guest rooms and instead headed for the commotion in the Gates' living quarters. They made enough noise coming through the door that anyone with half a mind would have known something was wrong, but the cavalry commander was firmly in the saddle and, therefore, distracted.

Distraction that ended when Makepeace grabbed him by an ankle and yanked him off the bed.

Nathaniel tugged the brim of his cap to the lady. "Sorry to be bothering you, ma'am. Got a need for the, uh, Captain, ain't you?"

The officer had pulled his hat to him, using it to cover his rampant embarrassment. "Captain Percival Abberwick. I should warn you, sir, that Her Majesty does not tolerate brigandry. You will be hung from the nearest tree."

"Brigandry? I'm thinking you mean thieving, right?"

"You know what I mean." He reached out for a pair of breeches, but Make-peace slapped his hand away. "Really, man, this is outrageous."

"I reckon outrageous is a regiment of horse-sitters coming here to Hattersburg and just eating and drinking and stealing as they like."

The Norillian snorted. "It is all right and proper. We are here at the Queen's command. All good citizens of Mystria are required to give aid and comfort to Her Majesty's soldiers. Once our Colonel gets here with our horses and our treasury, the people will be reimbursed at a proper rate for the provisions we have taken."

"I will be powerful pleased to see that, Captain." Nathaniel smiled. "Now you go and get dressed, then get your men out of here on account of Mister Gates is coming back in residence. This here is going to be Major Forest's headquarters."

"Now see here, a Colonial Major does not outrank me. I will not give up my headquarters."

Nathaniel squatted. "Well, I reckon this is how I sees things. You got fifteen men downstairs with five carbines between them. I'm gonna reckon more than your horses is being sent on upriver. I got a hundred forty of the hardest fighting, best shooting men in all of Mystria. They ain't had a drink in two weeks. They are going to be powerful sore angry if you done drunk this town dry. They ain't gonna let you stand between them and this tavern."

Abberwick stared at him incredulous. "Do you mean to tell me you would attack soldiers of Her Majesty's government?"

"No. I am just telling you that out here there are places where your children and your grandchildren could search every day of their lives, and they'd not find hide nor hair of you. We'd just tell folks the Ryngians got you. Now I reckon that any Mystrian here in Hattersburg would back us up on that. Ain't that right, ma'am?"

The woman, who was buttoning up her dress, nodded emphatically.

"So you see, Captain, you are going to make the right choice."

"You have not heard the end of this."

"No, but I reckon I've seen more of your end than I want. Get dressed. Give orders. You'll want your men on parade to welcome Major Forest when he gets in."

Forest eyed Nathaniel curiously as he sat at a table in the tavern. "Do I want to know how you organized that welcome, Captain?"

"I don't reckon you do." Nathaniel half-filled an earthenware cup with whisky and slid it across the table before filling one for himself. "Drink up. You ain't gonna like the news."

Forest picked up the cup, sniffed, then set it down again. "Tell me."

"Supplies ain't made it up from Temperance. They was supposed to go first, but Colonel Thornbury got it stuck in his craw that supplies going afore his men was disrespectful. He done changed orders, sent his men with no grub nor money, and here they be. They's waiting for horses and all. And they're thinking that will be slow as there ain't enough barges for to ship it all upriver."

Forest shot the whisky, wiped tears from his eyes, then held the mug out for more. "So you're telling me we have no food, no spare shot or brimstone?"

Nathaniel refilled his cup. "Well, these here cavalry ain't the first raiders Hattersburg ever done seen. Last winter came early and spring wheat weren't much, but folks did put some stuff by. Makepeace done tole folks we was part of the Prince's procession, so that loosened up some provisions. Shot and brimstone not as much, but we will be fine."

"I trust you are correct." Forest sipped at the whisky, wincing as he did. "We have decisions to make. Men to leave here."

Nathaniel nodded. The journey out had been arduous. Major Forest had chosen two extra squads because he assumed that sickness, injury, accident, and desertion would deplete his numbers. He was not disappointed as much as he might have hoped to be. Two men had broken legs and three broken arms or wrists. Two men had simply vanished and Nathaniel figured they'd gone off on the winding path. Many more, however, were feeling the effects of the long journey, including most of the Bookworms.

"How long we gonna stay here to Hattersburg?"

"Not as long as I would have liked." Forest ran his good hand over his stubbly jawline. "I wanted at least a week, but I expected us to be here a week ago."

"'Cept for the rain slowing us down, we woulda been."

"I can only imagine it caused more problems for those following us. I don't like it that no runners have come forward."

"Kamiskwa will find them."

"I hope. I want him and his men to be leading us from this point forward." Forest shook his head. "If we had powder and shot we could try some close order drills. We've got good men. Many of them hard men, but I need them acting together. I can still drill them, but resting would do them more good."

"I reckon."

"The question remains: Who will we be drilling?" Forest reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a small notebook and the stub of a pencil. "We have five casualties who can go no further. Two men are missing. Second company has three more men who are hurting badly."

"You counting Benjamin Beecher?"

Forest sighed. "I was rather hoping he would choose to remain behind here of his own accord."

"He cain't even tote his own Bible, Major. You should leave him here to tend to the spiritual needs of our wounded."