'As you say, sir. We'll wait for the snake, then — how long should we give him afore we chase after you?'
'Spindle assures me the delay will be a short one. Expect Quick Ben some time today.'
'And if he don't show?'
'He'll show.'
'But if he don't?'
With a growl, Paran marched off.
Antsy swung a baffled expression on Picker. 'What if Quick Ben don't show?'
'You idiot, Antsy.'
'It's a legit question, dammit! What got him all huffy about it?'
'You got a brain in there somewhere, Sergeant, why not use it? If the mage don't show up, something's gone seriously wrong, and if that happens we're better off hightailing it — anywhere, so long as it's away. From everything.'
Antsy's red face paled. 'Why won't he make it? What's gone wrong? Picker-'
'Ain't nothing's gone wrong, Antsy! Hood's breath! Quick Ben will get here today — as sure as that sun just rose and is even now baking your brain! Look at your new squad members, Sergeant — Mallet, there, and Hedge — you're embarrassing the rest of us!'
Antsy snarled and clambered to his feet. 'What're you toads staring at? Get to work! You, Mallet, give Detoran a hand — I want those hearthstones level! If the pot tips because they weren't, you'll be sorry and I ain't exaggerating neither. And you, Hedge, go find Spindle-'
The sapper pointed up the hill. 'He's right there, Sergeant. Checking out that upside-down tree.'
Hands on hips, Antsy pivoted, then slowly nodded. 'And it's no wonder. What kinda trees grow upside-down, anyway? A smart man can't help but be curious.'
'If you're so curious,' Picker muttered, 'why not go and look for yourself?'
'Nah, what's the point? Go collect Spindle, then, Hedge. Double-time.'
'Double-time up a hill? Beru fend, Antsy, it's not like we're going anywhere!'
'You heard me, soldier.'
Scowling, the sapper began jogging up the slope. After a few strides, he slowed to a stagger. Picker grinned.
'Now where's Blend?' Antsy demanded.
'Right here beside you, sir.'
'Hood's breath! Stop doing that! Where you been skulking, anyway?'
'Nowhere,' she replied.
'Liar,' Picker said. 'Caught you sliding up outa the corner of my eye, Blend. You're mortal, after all.'
She shrugged. 'Heard an interesting conversation between Paran and Trotts. Turns out that Barghast bastard once had some kind of high rank in his own tribe. Something about all those tattoos. Anyway, turns out we're here to find the biggest local tribe — the White Faces — with the aim of enlisting their help. An alliance against the Pannion Domin.'
Picker snorted. 'Flown then dropped off at the foot of the Barghast Range, what else did you think we were up to?'
'Only there's a problem,' she continued laconically, examining her nails. 'Trotts will get us face to face without all of us getting skewered, but he might end up fighting a challenge or two. Personal combat. If he wins, we all live. If he gets himself killed …'
Antsy's mouth hung open, his moustache twitching as if independently alive.
Picker groaned.
The sergeant spun. 'Corporal — find Trotts! Sit 'im down with that fancy whetstone of yours and get 'im to sharpen his weapons real good-'
'Oh, really, Antsy!'
'We gotta do something!'
'About what?' a new voice asked.
Antsy whirled again. 'Spindle, thank the Queen! Trotts is going to get us all killed!'
The mage shrugged beneath his hairshirt. 'That explains all those agitated spirits in this hill, then. They can smell him, I guess-'
'Smell? Agitated? Hood's bones, we're all done for!'
Standing with the rest of the Bridgeburners, Paran's eyes narrowed on the squad at the foot of the barrow. 'What's got Antsy all lit up?' he wondered aloud.
Trotts bared his teeth. 'Blend was here,' he rumbled. 'Heard everything.'
'Oh, that's terrific news — why didn't you say anything?'
The Barghast shrugged his broad shoulders, was silent.
Grimacing, the captain strode over to the Black Moranth commander.
'Is that quorl of yours rested enough, Twist? I want you high over us. I want to know when we've been spotted-'
The chitinous black helm swung to face him. 'They are already aware, noble-born.'
