Page 27 of The Infernal Battalion

“Come in.”

Marcus ducked inside. It wasn’t as large as his army command tent, but it was laid out in a similar fashion, with a map table and a bedroll stowed in one corner. Leaning over the table was a slender young woman, her long dark hair falling forward from her shoulders as she frowned in concentration.

The ranker’s warning had apparently been lost on her. Marcus cleared his throat, and she looked up.

“What—​oh!” She came to attention, crisp and professional, and saluted. “Column-​General d’Ivoire. Welcome to Second Division. I’m Colonel Cytomandiclea. Please call me Cyte, if you like.”

Marcus acknowledged her salute and smiled. “We’ve met. Before that mess at Gilphaite.”

“Of course, sir.” She smiled back cautiously. “I wasn’t sure if you remembered me.”

Marcus was tempted to say that he hadn’t met that many female officers, but on second thought reckoned it might be impolitic. He coughed to cover the pause, and scratched his beard. “I’ve, ah, received good reports of your work here.”

“Thank you, sir. Colonel Giforte has seniority, but I was the head of General Ihernglass’ staff, so I’ve been doing the planning and paperwork.” She shook her head. “I’m glad you’re here. Before we go into action, I mean. I’m... not a line officer.”

“I take it you have no objection to continuing as head of staff?”

“No, sir.”

There was an awkward pause. Marcus felt trapped. One set of instincts saw a young woman and prompted him to make polite conversation; another, military set told him there was work to do. Pretend you’re talking to Fitz, damn it. He gritted his teeth. How did Ihernglass manage this?

“I’ll read the strength reports when I get the chance,” Marcus said. “Anything I should be aware of, in general terms?”

“Nothing major, sir.” Cyte seemed as eager as he was to move on. “We took on a lot of new recruits in the last few weeks, including a big draft of men for the Third Regiment. Colonel Giforte’s ordered extra camp guards to make sure everyone stays in good order.”

“Good idea.”

“She also said she wanted to see you, sir,” Cyte said. “When you arrived.” She paused. “At your convenience, of course.”

“I’ll pay her a visit. Can you arrange for the colonels to join me for dinner? And yourself, of course.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My things should be arriving at some point. You can just move them in here.” A thought struck him. “You do... ah... have your own tent, don’t you?” It wouldn’t be at all unusual for a staff lieutenant to sleep in a tent with his commander, but in this case the thought had Marcus’ face going red.

“I have my own, sir.” If Cyte noticed his discomfiture, she didn’t say anything. Of course she does. This used to be Ihernglass’ command. He’d have had the same problem. Unless... He stamped firmly on that line of thought.

“Good. That’s good.” Marcus patted his uniform vaguely. “I’ll go and see Colonel Giforte, then.”

“Of course, sir. With your permission, I’ll stay here and sort some of this paperwork.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” Marcus turned away, shaking his head.

*

The First Regiment—​otherwise known as the Girls’ Own—​had a sort of camp within a camp, complete with its own inner ring of sentries. They waved Marcus through, and he headed for the command tent. Women, in uniform and out, straightened up and saluted as he passed. He did his best not to stare. One contingent must have freshly returned from bathing in the nearby stream—​some of them were wrapped in blankets and others... less so. Marcus could have sworn they saluted with particular vigor and barely hidden grins. But apart from the bathers—​and the shapes of the underthings drying on the laundry lines—​there wasn’t much to distinguish the camp from any other regiment’s, with muskets stacked neatly, cook fires burning, and dice and card games in progress.

Outside the command tent, Colonel Abby Giforte was easy to spot, striding up and down spitting fire in the face of a pair of cowed-​looking lieutenants.

“—​I don’t care what Captain fucking Jathwhite told you,” she was saying. “I’ve got the maps from the general and they’re quite fucking clear. Tell him his idiots will have to move their goddamned horses.”

One of the lieutenants, a tall, willowy girl who couldn’t have been older than twenty, said pleadingly, “I know, sir, but he might be more willing to listen if you would just come and talk to him—”

“I have better things to do with my time,” Abby said. “And so do you. Balls of the Beast, you need to learn not to let some second-​rate moron push you around because he’s got stripes on his shoulder and a cock between his legs. Get back there and tell him to move, and don’t let him alone until he fucking gives the orders. Got it?”

The other lieutenant, a shorter, slightly older woman, was grinning broadly. They saluted together and hurried off. Marcus waited while Abby let out a long breath and looked around.

“What’s everyone staring at?” she said. Then, catching sight of Marcus, she raised an eyebrow and offered a sloppy salute. “Made it at last, General?”