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I wondered what Red Hand had paid them to do, other than listen to the General's conversations with his Captains over breakfast, but like the other bodyguards, I kept my mouth shut. All the bodyguards were kept out of the General's tent later while he had a private conference with the Captains. The other two Captains, Blade and Grip, had shown up, finally. They could be excused for being late, though—they'd been up part of the night with the Sergeants, quelling a disturbance or two among the Regulars.
"I hope I don't have to tell you not to let him down," Warn was in front of me suddenly while I was watching The Red Hand troops, who were camped just north of us. The High Commander was sending a couple of men away on horseback. That made me frown. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," Warn demanded, jabbing a finger in my chest.
"I don't have any argument with you," I pushed his hand away. "And whatever the General wants, he'll probably get unless he asks for sex. Why is the High Commander sending two men toward Phergis?" Phergis was the capital city of Farus, where Rindle's castle stood. It was also the nearest city to Seaport, where the Pelipu's troops had landed on Farus.
"He's sending two back?" Warn whirled to look. The two racing horses were all that could be seen, now. That caused him to snort. "Fucking spies," he muttered.
"Probably on their way to deliver a message to the Pelipu," Gus said. "It'll take a day and a half to ride back to Seaport, and then another two days to cross the channel, and a day beyond that to get the message to The Red Hand himself."
"So, we have ten days or so, before a message comes back?"
"Sounds about right," Ander agreed. "And who knows what was in that message to begin with? Could just be that the commander didn't like his breakfast this morning." The others laughed. If I were free to go and wasn't worried over my discovery, I'd go right then, place compulsion on the High Commander and find out things for myself. Meanwhile, I was forcing myself to play by the rules.
The Captains came out after a while, ordered everybody to saddle up and we were on our way half an hour later, after the General's tent was taken down and packed away.
We were still traveling over wet ground—the wagons got stuck as usual, which held everything up and we went about half as far as the General wanted to go. He was frustrated by our lack of progress and grumbled when we were forced by darkness to camp for the night. The High Commander was giving us the cold shoulder, too, choosing to show up for meals only.
"This bread is disgusting," Desmun tossed the dry lump onto his plate. "Is it too much to ask to get decent bread, at least?"
He was right—the bread was disgusting, but I had a feeling that the people in the cooking tents were the ones being punished for infractions, since the regular cooks had been arrested and sent back to Phergis. What could you expect except a lousy meal?
"With your permission, General, I'll go out and find better cooks," I volunteered.
"Can you get me a good breakfast tomorrow morning?" The General asked.
"I can try," I nodded. He gave permission, Warn offered to watch the General and Captain Solis, so I went looking for cooks among the Regulars.
"Who can cook? Show me your hands," I said to the first tent filled with Regulars, all of whom were trying to eat what we'd been served. Two hands went up. "Do you like to cook?" I asked my second question. Both hands stayed up. "Good. Meet me at the cooking tents tomorrow morning, two hours before sunrise." I went to the next tent and asked my questions again. Before it was over, I had thirty-five willing hands, and they all showed up at the cooking tents very early the following morning. I kept my shield up around the General's and the officers' tents—I'd have an early warning in case anything happened while we all went over basic biscuit and bread making. The bread dough had to be set to rise in special pots hauled in the cookwagons. We sliced the bacon thin enough that it would cook quickly and wouldn't be so tough we couldn't chew it. We made gravy to go with the biscuits and fried potatoes—we had plenty of flour and potatoes. Few eggs, though; those were as precious as gold until we reached a town to the north and east. I learned we were hoping to get more salted beef and pork, there, and perhaps a fresh meal or two.
"Well, this is certainly an improvement," Solis said as I sat between him and the General with my plate of food. I'd taught the new cooking staff that one of the perks of cooking was getting extra rations. It was only fair.
"You get to decide how to punish the ones we took off cooking detail," I said, biting into a decent piece of bacon. "Take my advice and don't let them anywhere near the cooking tents from now on."
It was a better day all the way around; the wagons barely got stuck once, and only three fights broke out. "Feel like doing a little sparring?" The General had taken his green coat off and dropped it onto a campstool as soon as a handful of Regulars got his tent up.
"If you want," I nodded. Actually, I wasn't looking forward to it. I figured we'd have an audience, and I wasn't wrong.
"You won't upset me if you give me a thrashing," he grinned and lifted his blade. At least the ground was firmer, here, and the new grass was taller. I was happy with the smell of spring in the air, but I wasn't crazy about the horse poop and the trenches that were dug every night. They were far enough away that they didn't bother the others, but if the wind was right, it carried the stench straight to my supersensitive nose.
The General and I had a good exercise but I didn't go on the attack, I just blocked his blows as I usually did when sparring. He was good, I'll give him that. Our audience seemed disappointed, though.
"You think she's going to upstage the General?" Solis barked at them when they started grumbling. That got everybody's attention, and they turned back to their bladework.
"Here, you're holding that wrong," I went to correct a young man, who was struggling with his opponent. This one was around nineteen; I'd gotten his age from his scent. I placed his hand in the correct position. "And there's no shame in holding it with both hands, if it'll save your life," I told him. "If it came down to holding it with both hands or losing my life, I think I'd hold it with both hands. If your wrist gets whacked, let the other hand help out." He was nodding at me, his eyes wide. I watched him clack his wooden blade against his opponent's, who was more experienced, I could tell.
"Parry with the flat of your blade," I added after a while. "If you nick your blade, it could break, or at least cause you problems getting a good edge back on it," I suggested. He nodded and whacked away, conscious now of using the flat as opposed to the edge.
