“Stubborn whoreson,” Sergeant Panfilosaid, dragging one such soldier in rock-gray out of his hole once he’d beenstalked and slain. His coppery side whiskers and waxed mustachios were sadlydraggled. “Don’t know what he thought he was doing, but he isn’t going to do itanymore.”

“He wounded two of ours, one of thempretty bad,” Tealdo said. “I suppose he figured--or his commanders figured--that’sfair exchange.” His own mustache and little chin beard, about as red as Panfilo’s,could also have used sprucing up. No matter how fastidious you wanted to be,you couldn’t stay neat in the field.

From up ahead, Captain Galafrone called, “Comeon, you lazy bastards! We’ve got a long way to go before we can take it easy.Unkerlant isn’t much of a kingdom, but it’s cursed big.”

“And that’s the other thing this fellowwas doing,” Tealdo said, stirring the dead Unkerlanter with his foot: “Slowingus down, I mean.”

Panfilo swept off his hat and gave Tealdoa sardonic bow. “I thank you for your explanation, my lord Marshal. Or are youperhaps pretending to be the king?”

“Never mind,” Tealdo said. Arguing withhis sergeant didn’t pay. Neither did showing Panfilo up.

They started marching west again, toward acolumn of smoke that marked a burning village. A young lieutenant with sootstreaking his face came up to Galafrone and said, “Sir, will you order in yourmen to rout out the last of those miserable Unkerlanters in there?”

Galafrone frowned. “I don’t much like todo it. I’d sooner leave ‘em behind and push on. If we fight for every miserablelittle village, we’ll run out of men before King Swemmel does.”