Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [123]
“No, we haven’t cut off any um ers, sir. Only hair.”
Blouse looked incredibly relieved.
“Well, and then there’s the female bodyguards of King Samuel in Howandaland. All seven feet tall, I understand, and deadly with the spear. Throughout Klatch, of course, there are many stories of female warriors, often fighting alongside their men. Fearsome and fearless, I believe. Men would desert rather than face females, Perks. Couldn’t deal with ’em.”
Once again, Polly felt the slight unbalanced feeling of having tried to jump a hurdle that turned out not to be there. She took refuge in:
“What do you think’s going to happen now, sir?”
“I haven’t a clue, Perks. Um…what’s wrong with young Goom? Some kind of religious mania?”
“Could be, sir,” said Polly guardedly. “The Duchess talks to her.”
“Oh dear,” said Blouse. “She—”
The door opened. A dozen soldiers filed in and spread out on either side. They wore a variety of uniforms—mostly Zlobenian, but Polly recognized several as Ankh-Morporkic or whatever they called it. They were all armed, and held their weapons like men who expected to use them.
When they had lined up and were glaring at the squad, a smaller group of men stepped in. Again, there was a variety of uniforms, but they were a lot more expensive. These were worn by officers—high-ranking ones, to judge by the expressions of disdain.
The tallest of them, made taller by his high, plumed cavalry helmet, stared along his nose at the women. He had pale-blue eyes, and his face suggested that he did not really want to see anything at all in this room unless it had been thoroughly cleaned first.
“Who is the officer here?” he said. He sounded like a lawyer.
Blouse stood up and saluted.
“Lieutenant Blouse, sir, Tenth Infantry.”
“I see.” The man looked at his fellow officers. “I believe we can dispense with the guard now, don’t you? This matter should be handled quietly. And, for heavens’ sake, can’t we find this man a pair of pants?”
There were a few murmurs. The man nodded to the sergeant of the guard. The armed men filed out, and the door shut behind them.
“My name is Lord Rust,” said the man. “I head the Ankh-Morpork detachment here. At least,” and he sniffed, “the military detachment. You have been treated well? You have not been manhandled? I see there is a…young lady on the floor.”
“She’s in a swoon, sir,” said Polly. The blue eyes lighted upon her.
“You would be—?” he said.
“Corporal Perks, sir,” said Polly. There were some barely suppressed smiles from the officers.
“Ah. I believe you are the one seeking her brother?” said Lord Rust.
“How do you know that?” said Polly.
“We are an, mm, efficient army,” said Rust and treated himself to a little smile of his own. “Your brother’s name is Paul?”
“Yes!”
“We shall locate him, eventually. And I understand another lady was seeking her young man?”
Shufti curtsied nervously.
“Me, sir.”
“Again, we shall locate him, if you give us his name. Now, please listen to me carefully. You, Miss Perks, and the rest of you, will be taken from here, tonight, entirely unharmed, and escorted back into your country as far as our patrols can take you, which, I suspect, will be quite a long way. Is that understood? You will have what you came for. Won’t that be nice? And you will not return here. The troll and the vampire have been captured. The same offer applies to them.”
Polly was watching the officers. They looked nervous……except for one at the back. She’d thought all the guards had gone, and, while this man was dressed like a guard—dressed, that is, like a badly dressed guard—he wasn’t acting like one.
He was leaning against the wall by the door, smoking half a cigar and grinning. He looked like a man enjoying a show.
“Very generously,” Rust went on, “this offer applies to you too, Lieutenant…Blouse, wasn’t it? But in your case, you would be on parole in a house in Zlobenia, very pleasant I understand, healthy walks in the countryside and all that sort of thing. This offer has not been extended to your superior officers here, I may add.”
So why make it