Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [100]
“Do you think we ought to try to take the sack out of his mouth?” said Shufti nervously.
“I tried, but he fights,” said Polly.
“But he’s unconscious!”
“He still won’t let go of it! He’s sucking it. I’d swear he was out cold, but he just sort of reached out and grabbed it and bit! It dropped out of a clear sky!”
Tonker stared at Wazzer.
“The Duchess does room service?” she said.
“No! She says she d-didn’t!”
“You get freak rainth of fish,” said Igorina, kneeling down by Maladict. “I suppose it’s possible that a whirlwind tore through a coffee plantation, and then possibly a lightning discharge in the upper ether—”
“At what point did it blow through a factory making small coffee sacks?” said Tonker. “Ones with a jolly, turbaned man printed on them apparently saying ‘Klatchian Rare Roasted! When a Pickax Is Not Enough!’”
“Well, if you’re going to put it like that, it does seem a little far-fetched…” Igorina admitted.
She stood up, adding, “I think he’ll be fine when he wakes up. Possibly a little talkative, though.”
“Okay, lads, get some rest,” said Jackrum, stamping in. “Let’s give the rupert a couple of hours to muck things up, and then we can nip around the valley and slip down through and join the rest of the army. Good grub and proper blankets to sleep on, hey? That’s the ticket!”
“We don’t know he’s going to mess up, Sarge,” said Polly.
“Oh, yeah, right, maybe he’ll have married the commander of the garrison by now, eh? Stranger things have happened, although I can’t remember when. Perks and Manickle, you’re on watch. The rest of you, get some shut-eye.”
A Zlobenian patrol went past in the distance. Polly watched it out of sight. It was turning into a fine day, warm with a bit of wind. Good drying weather. A good day to be a washerwoman. And maybe Blouse would succeed. Maybe all the guards were blind.
“Pol?” Shufti whispered.
“Yes, Shuf…look, what was your name back in the world?”
“Betty. It’s Betty. Er…most of the Ins-and-Outs are in the Keep, right?”
“Apparently.”
“So that’s where I’m most likely to find my fiancé, yes?” We’ve talked about that, Polly thought.
“Could be.”
“Might be quite hard if there’s a lot of men…” said Betty, a woman with something on her mind.
“Well, if we get as far as the prisoners and ask around, they’ll be bound to know his name. What is it?”
“Johnny,” whispered Betty.
“Just Johnny?” said Polly.
“Er…yes…”
Ah, Polly thought. I think I know how this goes…
“He’s got fair hair and blue eyes, and I think he had one gold earring and, and a funny-shaped…what d’you call it? Oh, yes…sort of carbuncle on his, his…bottom,” Betty went on.
“Right. Right.”
“Um…now I come to tell someone, it doesn’t sound very helpful, I suppose.”
Not unless we’re in a position to have a very unusual identification parade, Polly thought, and I can’t imagine what position that would be.
“Not as such,” she said.
“He said everyone in the regiment knows him,” Betty went on.
“Right? Oh, good,” said Polly. “All we need to do is ask.”
“And, er, we were going to break a sixpence in half, you know, like they do, so that if he had to be away for years we’d be sure we’d got the right person ’cos the two halves would match…”
“Oh, that would be a bit of a help, I expect,” said Polly.
“Well, yes, except, well, I gave him the sixpence, and he said he’d get the blacksmith to break it in his vise, and he went off and, er, I think he got called away…” Betty’s voice trailed off.
Well, that was about what I expected, Polly thought.
“I expect you think I’m a silly girl,” mumbled Betty after a while.
“A foolish woman, perhaps,” said Polly, turning to watch the landscape intently.
“It was, you know, a whirlwind romance…”
“Sounds more like a hurricane to me,” said Polly, and Betty grinned.
“Yes, it was a bit like that,” she said.
Polly matched smile for smile. “Betty, it’s daft to talk about silly and foolish at a time like this,” she said. “Where are we going to look for wisdom? To a god who hates jigsaws and the color blue? A fossil government led by a