Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [23]
She saw Lofty whisper something to Tonker, who half-turned and gave Polly a look of instant hatred and a hint of threat.
I can’t tell her, she thought. She would tell him. I can’t afford to let them know. I’ve put too much into this. I didn’t just cut my hair and wear trousers. I planned…
Ah, yes…the plans.
It had begun as a sudden strange fancy, but it had continued as a plan.
At first, Polly had started to watch boys closely. This had been reciprocated hopefully by a few of them, to their subsequent disappointment. She watched how they moved, she listened to the rhythm of what passed, among boys, for conversation, she’d noted how they punched one another in greeting. It was a new world.
She had good muscles for a girl, because running a large inn was all about moving heavy things, and she took over a number of the grittier chores, which coarsened her hands nicely. She’d even worn a pair of her brother’s old breeches under her long skirt, to get the feel of them.
A woman could be beaten for that sort of thing. Men dressed like men and women like women; doing it the other way around was “a blasphemous Abomination Unto Nuggan,” according to Father Jupe.
And that was probably the secret of her success so far, she thought as she trudged through a puddle. People didn’t look for a woman in trousers. To the casual observer, men’s clothes and short hair and a bit of swagger were what it took to be a man.
Oh, and a second pair of socks.
That had been gnawing at her, too. Someone knew about her, just like she knew about Lofty. And he hadn’t given her away. She’d feared it was Eyebrow, but doubted it; he’d have told the sergeant about her, he was that sort. Right now she was guessing it was Maladict, but perhaps that was just because he seemed so knowing all the time.
Carbor—no, he’d been out cold, and in any case…no, not the troll. And Igor lisped. Tonker? After all, he’d know about Lofty so maybe…no, because why would he want to help Polly? No, there was nothing but danger in owning up to Lofty. The best she could do was try and see to it that the girl didn’t give both of them away.
She could hear Tonker whispering to his girl.
“…had just died so he cut off one of his legs and an arm and sewed ’em on men who needed ’em, just like I’d darn a tear! You should’ve seen it! You couldn’t see his fingers move! And he has all these ointments that just…”
Tonker’s voice died away. Strappi was haranguing Wazzer again.
“Dat Strappi really gets on my crags,” muttered Carborundum. “You want I should pull the head off’f him? I c’d make it look like a accident.”
“Better not,” said Polly, but she did entertain the thought for a moment.
They’d reached a road junction, where the road down from the mountains joined what passed for a main highway. It was crowded. There were carts and wheelbarrows, people driving herds of cows, grandmothers carrying all the household possessions on their backs, a general excitement of pigs and children…and it was all heading one way.
It was the opposite way to the way the squad was going. The people and animals flowed around it like a stream around an inconvenient rock.
The recruits bunched up. It was that or be separated by cows.
Sergeant Jackrum stood up in the cart.
“Private Carborundum!”
“Yes, Sergeant?” rumbled the troll.
“To the front!”
That helped. The stream still flowed, but at least the crowds parted some distance further along the road and gave the squad a wide berth. No one wants to barge up against even a slow-moving troll.
But faces stared as the people hurried by. An old lady darted out for a moment, pressed a loaf of stale bread into Tonker’s hands, and said “You poor boys!” before being swept away in the throng.
“What’s this all about, Sarge?” said Maladict. “These look like refugees!”
“Talk like that spreads Alarm and Despondency!” shouted Corporal Strappi.
“Oh, you mean they’re just people getting away early for the holidays to avoid the rush?” said Maladict. “Sorry, I got confused. It must be that woman carrying a whole haystack we just