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Ahn-Kha's loss was real, fresh and raw again like a stripped scab. "I saw a Golden One.
Thought it was Ahn-Kha. It wasn't."
She sat up. "That bites. I-I can't believe it. I heard the stories about him organizing the partisans."
"Ahn-Kha's not the only Grog who could organize a revolt. This one wasn't as well-spoken.
I got about three words out of him," Valentine said. "He's probably wary of strange uniforms."
"This is still a big deal, Val. You helped make it happen. I remember you laboring over reports about Kentucky, when we wintered. You had a stack of papers the size of-well, you remember."
Valentine didn't say anything, willing her to be as miserable as he was.
"In a way, it's still Ahn-Kha's victory. You decided Southern Command could march across Kentucky, what with the Kurians few and far between in the legworm ranch country."
"I know."
"Look, I should just say it: I was an ass to you back then. You were killing yourself looking for Ahn-Kha. I thought you were wasting your time, tried to slap you out of it. Plus we fought about that baby Reaper. Is it doing well? Did you tame it-er, him?"
"Blake's well enough. Growing fast. I don't think anyone but Narcisse could have brought him up."
"Want to talk about Ahn-Kha some more?"
"No," Valentine said. He hated the celebration he was missing. It felt like a dance on the Golden One's grave.
"I've got a bottle," she said, patting one pocket on her long coat. "Want a drink?"
"I ordered everyone in camp searched," Valentine growled.
"If they can't locate someone, it's a lot harder to search them," Duvalier said. "You've got some good guys here, but they're not that good."
He could stand her company. She'd known Ahn-Kha almost as long as he had. "Pour it out. I don't want liquor in the camp. We'll arrange passes soon so people can go into town if they want to get drunk."
"I'll do no such thing. There's no swiping liquor. I had to buy that with some of Karas' funny money."
"Strange that they took his coin. Or did you offer a little personal bonus to get the boozer"
"Fuck off. I've blown a few sentries to get over a bridge or through a fence, but I'm no whore." She angrily shoved the bottle back into the coat.
Valentine retrieved his ten-dollar piece from his pocket. It was crude, and it had nothing more than the word of some jumped-up legworm rancher behind it. Maybe the citizens of Utrecht were swept up by patriotic fervor.
"I sometimes think we fight just to keep from falling in love," Duvalier said.
Valentine almost dropped the coin.
She rolled on her side, not the easiest thing to do in a hammock. "So, you going to dance with me at the glam-up? I'll get dressed. Ediyak has a civilian skirt and a top she said she'd loan me." She gripped the edge of the hammock and put her delicate chin over the edge, smiling like the Cheshire cat after a three-canary meal.
"I volunteered to stay in camp," Valentine said, shaking his head. "Speaking of which, my four hours starts soon."
"I'm not a fan of parties either. But I did go to the trouble of swiping some new underwear.
Cute knit stuff, like lace from a fancy doily."
"Ali, these people are patriots," Valentine said. "It's not some KZ three-dollar store."
"I guess so. They're making a very patriotic profit on fresh bread and pies for the soldiers who liberated them."
In worthless coin, Valentine thought. Something about that was bothering him.
