I put my hand on yours. “I'm not sure about that,” I tell our lieutenant. “I think it was… a rifle grenade?”

Our lieutenant nods wisely, seems to think for a moment, then says, “Let's take a look at your castle, Abel, shall we?”

“It's easy enough to find,” I tell her. I glance back the way we've come. “Just “

“No,” she says, opening the carriage door and swinging her short frame up and in to sit across from you. She levers some bags aside to get more comfortable and places the long gun across her knees. “You take us back,” she tells me. “I always wanted to ride in a carriage like this.” She pats the plush surface of the seat. “And a little local knowledge can be useful.” She fishes inside her jacket some sort of dark, ceremonial thing, torn in a few places, stained and smudged with dirt then pulls out a gleaming silver case, opening it and offering it to you and me. “Cigarette?”

We each refuse; she takes out a cigarette then puts the silver case away.

“I don't think going back is a good idea,” I say, trying to sound reasonable. She is taking off her cap, pushing a hand through her short, mouse brown curls. “Well, too bad,” she says, frowning to inspect something inside her cap and running one finger round the inside rim. “Consider yourself requisitioned.” She puts her cap back on and glances up at me with a small cold smile. “Turn the carriage round and head back there.” She pulls a lighter from a breast pocket.

“But it took us since dawn,” I protest. “And that was with the flow. It'll be after dark “

She shakes her head quickly. “We'll put the trucks in front.” She flicks the skip of her cap. “People get out the way for a truck with a machine gun; you'd be amazed. It won't take too long.” She makes a delicate twirling motion with one finger as she lights her cigarette with her other hand. “Turn around, Abel,” she says through a cloud of exhaled smoke.