‘Take your time,’ said Koryk.
Another piping laugh from Throatslitter. Cuttle scowled. ‘What’s so fucking funny?’
Corabb had been sleeping, or pretending to sleep, and now he sat up. ‘I’ll go find out, Cuttle. It’s getting on my nerves too.’
‘If he’s being a bastard, Corabb, punch his face in.’
‘Aye, Cuttle, count on it.’
Cuttle paused to watch him tramp off. He grinned over at Tarr. ‘Catch all that?’
‘I’m sitting right here.’
‘He ain’t on the outside of us no more, is he. He’s our heavy. That’s good.’
‘So he is and so it is,’ said Tarr.
‘I’m this squad’s heavy,’ said Koryk.
Tarr resumed lacing his boots. Cuttle looked away and ran a hand through what was left of his hair, and then realized that the hand was thick with grease. ‘Hood’s breath!’
Tarr looked over and snorted. ‘Won’t keep it from cracking,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Your skull.’
‘Funny.’
Koryk stood as if he didn’t know where to go, as if he no longer belonged anywhere. After a moment he walked off, in a direction opposite to the one Smiles had taken.
Cuttle resumed rubbing down his hauberk. When he needed more grease he collected it from the top of his head. ‘He might, you know.’
‘He won’t,’ Tarr replied.
‘Gesler and Stormy, they’re his excuse. That and Kisswhere.’
‘Kisswhere didn’t care about anybody but Kisswhere.’
‘And Koryk does? Used to, maybe, but now he’s all inside his own head, and in there it’s as Smiles says, burnt up, nothing but cinders.’
‘He won’t run.’
‘Why are you so sure, Tarr?’
‘Because, somewhere inside, in all those ashes, something remains. He still has something to prove. Not to himself-he can convince himself of anything-but to all of us. Like it or not, admit it or not, he’s stuck.’
‘We’ll see, I guess.’
Tarr reached over and collected some grease from Cuttle’s temple. He started rubbing down his boots.
‘Funny,’ said Cuttle.
Corabb walked round the command tent to find Throatslitter, Widdershins and Deadsmell crouched in a huddle just beyond the latrine trench. He made his way over. ‘Stop that laughing, Throatslitter, or I’ll have to bash your face in.’
The three men looked over guiltily. Scowling, Throatslitter said, ‘Like to see you try, soldier.’
‘No you wouldn’t. What are you doing?’
‘Playing with scaled rats, what’s it to you?’
Corabb edged closer and peered down. Three of the scrawny things were struggling in the grass, their tails tied together. ‘That’s not a nice thing to do.’
‘Idiot,’ said Widdershins, ‘we’re going to eat them for lunch. We’re just making sure they don’t go nowhere.’
‘You’re torturing them.’
‘Go away, Corabb,’ said Throatslitter.
‘Not until you either untie their tails or snap their necks.’
Throatslitter sighed. ‘Explain it to him, Deadsmell.’
‘They ain’t got brains, Corabb. Just ooze, like pus, in those tiny skulls. They’re like termites, or ants. They can only do any thinking if there’s lots of them. Looks like three ain’t enough. Besides, they stink of something. Like magic, only oilier. Me and Wid, we’re trying to figure it out, so leave us alone, will you?’
‘We’re eating greasy magic?’ Corabb asked. ‘That sounds bad. I’m not eating those things any more.’
‘Then pretty soon you’re gonna go hungry,’ Widdershins said, reaching down to flip one of the scaled rats on to its back. The other two attempted to drag it away, but chose opposite directions. ‘There’s millions of these things out here, Hood knows what they live on. We saw a swarm of ’em this morning, like a glittering river. Killed about fifty before the rest took off.’ The flipped-over rat managed to right itself and once more the three were all pulling in different directions. ‘More and more of them, every day. Like maybe they’re following us.’
The notion chilled Corabb, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though the rats could do anything. They didn’t even seem to be going for their food supplies. ‘I heard they got a nasty bite.’
‘If you let ’em, aye,’ said Deadsmell.
