Page 97 of The Infernal Battalion

“Winter,” Winter said. “I wanted to ask you a few questions, if I could. About what’s going on here. I didn’t expect there to be so many people.”

“No one did. Everyone thought they were the only one with the idea of running to the army when the summer froze or when the demons came stalking.” Fyotyr spat into the fire with a sizzle. “I’ve been to the garrison many times. It’s on my route east, when I go that way. But I’ve never seen it like this.”

“What are the soldiers going to do with everyone?”

“They don’t know, God help them.” Fyotyr shook his head. “That bastard Kollowrath would put everyone out of the gate and let the demons take them, but Lieutenant Dobraev and Sergeant Gorchov have more sense. If it were up to Dobraev, we’d have been gone from here days ago, but Kollowrath insists on waiting for orders from high command. Orders!” He snorted. “The world has gone to hell—​anyone should be able to see that. Blizzards and demons and now Vhalnich says he’s the new emperor. What’s the sense of holding down a little fort in the middle of nowhere?”

Dobraev. As she’d expected, that was the man she needed to talk to. It sounds like he already wants to evacuate. We just need to convince him to take us along.

“Why is there such a heavy guard on the boats?” Alex said. “Are they afraid someone is going to steal them?”

“Some of the refugees already tried,” Fyotyr said. “Kollowrath was furious. He ordered the sails and oars stripped and stored in the keep so it wouldn’t happen again. I think he’s terrified but can’t bring himself to admit it.”

“What about this morning?” Winter said. “Somebody told me there was an incident.”

“Some savages wanted to take shelter.” Fyotyr shrugged. “I heard it was a trick. Two soldiers were killed. Now we have them to worry about, on top of the demons.”

“You don’t seem very concerned,” Abraham said mildly.

“Eh,” the old man said, “I’ve seen worse days. This is Murnsk. If we got excited over every little catastrophe, we’d never be stopping.” He leaned forward. “Now, what brought you all the way out here?”

Winter spun him a tale about sick parents, a trek for medicine, and a journey that went awry in foul weather, with Alex adding a few creative details where necessary. It seemed to satisfy Fyotyr, who nodded solemnly.

“You’re a good child,” he said. “If only my own sons had such respect for their father.”

“I don’t even know if Mother is still alive,” Winter said. “If I can get back to Dimiotsk, then I can find my way home.”

“Well. You’re safer in here than out there, but I wouldn’t count on leaving anytime soon. The worse things get, the more that stubborn bastard Kollowrath will dig in his heels.” He waved a hand. “If you’ve got tents, spread them anywhere there’s room.”

“We will.” Winter hesitated, then decided to push her luck. “Can you tell me where Lieutenant Dobraev is? I wanted to ask him for news of the army. I have a brother, you see.”

Fyotyr frowned and pointed. “That’s his shack over there. But don’t wake him; he’s worse than a bear. Try to catch him after breakfast.”

“Thank you.” Winter yawned. “We’d better find a little space for ourselves.”

“Check the west wall. It’s close to the privies, so the smell isn’t great, but there should be room.”

Fyotyr grinned, and Winter smiled back. She and the others slipped into the darkness, passing between tents and lean-​tos until they were well out of sight of the old man.

“We’re not actually going to sleep next to the toilets, are we?” Alex said.

“I think we may not be getting a lot of sleep tonight.” Winter looked up at the keep, its solid stone bulk looming over the rest of the encampment. That’s where Kollowrath will be. “First we need to have a chat with this Lieutenant Dobraev.”

*

Dobraev had one of the nicer shacks, as befit an officer. It was built against the east wall, leaning on the palisade for support, tucked in neatly underneath the wall walk. Unlike most of the others, it had been there for some time, and someone had tried to make it proof against the elements. It was built out of awkwardly split logs, with the gaps stuffed with rags and a doorway covered by half a rug nailed to the top of the frame. It was big enough that Winter guessed it might even have two rooms.

A corporal stood by the door, hands cupped around a twist of something he was smoking. He wore Murnskai white, with a nonregulation fur cap on his head and a musket slung over his back. Winter didn’t think he was much of a threat, but they couldn’t afford for him to raise the alarm.

“How long will someone stay out when you do that sleep trick?” Winter said.

“As long as I want,” Abraham whispered. “Up to maybe six hours.”

“And how long does it take?”

“Once I’m touching them, just a couple of seconds.”

“Good. Give our friend here a nap while I distract him.”