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"Major Valentine, I've got a question for you, if you don't mind."
"Shoot."
"Last night, you sent me down into the communications bunker. That's the safest place on this hill. Even a Reaper would have trouble clawing through that door Solon had put in. Why did you want me there of all places?"
"I notice you didn't stay. You're my second in command. I couldn't risk us both being killed."
"I'll take over the battery if you take my place in the headquarters. I heard what you did last night, running around in the dark with Reapers everywhere. I've been scared all day thinking about it."
"Are you afraid of having to take command?"
"Not that. I-"
"Courier, Major Valentine," a staff soldier called. "A courier's come in. She's asking for you, and she said for you to hurry."
"She?"
"Yes, popped up on the west side. Pretty gal, red hair, says she's your mama but she's too young for mat. I think she climbed the cliff, just like the Reapers."
"Where is she?"
"Eating in the main galley."
"Thanks." Valentine turned to Styachowski. "Sounds like we're getting intelligence. Want to come?"
"For news? Naturally."
They found Alessa Duvalier shoveling rehydrated scrambled eggs into her mouth. She had changed into an outfit Valentine knew as her "traveling clothes." She wore a long, deep-pocketed riding coat, wide-brimmed hat, hiking boots and a backpack blanket-roll combination.
"Hello, Ali. Tired of the showgirl routine?" He and Styachowski sat down opposite her. The cook brought a plate of fried potatoes and Duvalier loaded them with salt before digging in.
"They've got you boxed in tight here, Val. I had to wade across a swamp to even get to mat damn cliff. This sort of reminds me of the day we met."
She still had her fast, deft hands, now working knife and fork instead of tying dressings. Both of them had added a few pounds since men. They shared a smile at the memory.
"Then it must be important."
"First, Hamm's back in town with his whole division. Another is moving for Pine Bluff. They won't be there for a couple days maybe; bad roads, guerillas, mines and no rail. Hamm's going to be going across the river in small boats to get south."
"You're not going along?" Valentine asked.
"He's always been unpleasant. Last night he was a bastard. Mean as a stuck pig. The Trans-Mississippi is crashing down around his ears, he's angry at everyone. Executed a junior officer himself."
"Anything from us?"
"Yes. Two days ago a Cat came in from Mantilla. He got your answer, and it's in this letter." She reached into her coat. "What good can come of it beats me. We had to run risks to get this to you. Hope it was worth it."
Valentine opened the envelope and looked at the page. A few bare paragraphs, handwritten, told him what he suspected.
"Where are you off to, Duvalier?"
"South. Every Cat's on the hunt for Solon. He was supposed to be assassinated at the outset of all this, but the Cat shadowing him missed. He disappeared and the Cat's dead."
"Damn. Hamm's division is moving on too?"
"He was supposed to dust you off this hill cheap. They were supposed to take you out while the Reapers were up here causing trouble, but there was some screwup at headquarters. Only half his division got here in time. The Ks lost a lot of Reapers. I think they're gonna blame him."
"What happened that made you choose last night to leave?"
