"I thought you looked familiar," Taniel said. "I never forget a nose."
Flint laughed and punched Finley in the arm. Finley fell off his chair, and Taniel heard himself chuckle. It was a raspy, nasty sound, like an instrument desperately in need of tuning. How long had it been since he'd laughed?
Flint fetched a folding cloth chair and brought it to Taniel. Finley poured them each a pewter tin of soup, and then bread and mutton was passed around.
They ate in quiet for several minutes. Taniel was the first one to break the silence. "I heard the Second took a beating a couple of weeks ago."
"Aye," Flint said. "That we did."
"We were on the wall," Faint said. "The wall in Budwiel when the Black Wardens came over."
Finley stared quietly into his soup.
"Faint here," Flint said. "She punched one of those Wardens in the nose with that ham fist of hers. Knocked him right off the bulwark."
"I'd imagine that gave him quite the shock. I heard it was bad," Taniel said. "I'm glad to see you got out."
"Most weren't so lucky," Finley said quietly. Flint and Faint's smiles disappeared.
Taniel cleared his throat, looking around. Usually a squad would eat together. "All that's left of your squad?" he asked as respectfully as he could.
Faint chuckled. Finley pushed her. "It's not funny," Finley said.
"It's a little funny," Faint said.
Taniel wondered whether to smile at the joke. "What?"
"Not our squad, sir," Flint spoke up. "This is all that's left of our company."
Taniel felt his mouth go dry. A company was usually about two hundred men. To lose all but three …
"No wounded?" he asked.
"Probably," Faint said. She ladled herself another tin of soup. "But not that we've seen. This deal with the Kez, where we clean up our own dead and wounded after each battle, only came about after Budwiel. We left Budwiel at a run. Left behind supplies, ammunition, weapons … loved ones. Everyone who couldn't run is now a slave, or worse."
"What's worse than being a slave?" Flint asked.
Finley looked up from rolling a cigarette. "Where do you think they keep getting those Wardens? Why torture and twist your own people if you've got prisoners?"
"It takes years to make and train a Warden," Taniel said.
"Does it?" Finley asked. He lit his cigarette with a burning stick from the fire. "Rumors are going around the men, rumors that they've got Kresimir himself in the camp."
Flint shook his head. "If they had Kresimir, we'd all be dead."
"We've got Adom reborn," Faint said. She held up her mutton and bread. "Mihali is keeping Kresimir from destroying us all."
Flint rolled his eyes. "Come on, now."
"There's another rumor," Finley said. He looked up, meeting Taniel's eyes across the fire. "There's a rumor Taniel Two-Shot put a bullet in Kresimir's eye, and now Kresimir wears a mask that covers half his face – and it don't have no eyehole in it." He leaned over, offering his smoking cigarette to Taniel.
Taniel took a long drag at the cigarette. Nasty things, he'd always thought, but he made exceptions for nights like this, when it was more about camaraderie than habit. "I heard a rumor," he said, coughing and turning his head toward Flint, "that there was Doubin rum at this fire."
"Now that" – Faint pointed at Taniel – "is fact." She retreated to her tent for a moment and came back with an earthen jug. "Get your flute, Finley," she said. "I've had enough of this dark talk."
Taniel was offered the jug first. He took a sip of the stuff and felt his whole body shudder. "Gah," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"My da works for Doubin and Company," Faint said, taking the jug. "Tastes like a demon's own piss, don't it!" She threw back the jug, taking a long, hard drink.
Taniel leaned back, watching the fire, unable to keep from laughing when Flint spat a mouthful of the rum into the fire and the flames flared up momentarily.
"Don't waste it!" Faint shouted, nabbing the jug.
It didn't take more than a few more passes before Taniel could feel the stuff working through his system. His body loosened and his mind became bleary. He leaned back and watched the fire, and before long Finley began to play his flute.
It was a low, mournful sound. Not at all the kind of shrill dance Taniel had heard from that kind of instrument before. It didn't take long until Faint began to sing. Her voice, much to Taniel's surprise, was a clear tenor that cut through the night.
He found himself drifting in his own mind. The aches in his body dissolved and the front seemed a hundred miles away.
There was a rustle of sound, so very slight he could have imagined it, and then Ka-poel slid into his lap. Just like that. No asking or hesitation, but as quick as a long-familiar lover. Taniel would have been uncomfortable if he didn't already feel so warm. Content. Happy, even.
Taniel drifted for what seemed like hours, and woke with a shiver. He didn't know how long he'd been gone, but the sun had set and the starry sky spread out above them. Had he dreamed that moment of contentment?
No.
Flint stared into the red coals. Finley was putting away his flute, and Faint snored softly on the ground beside the fire. Ka-poel was nestled in the crook of Taniel's arm. Her eyes were closed, a small smile on her face.
Taniel lifted his free arm and brushed a bit of red hair from her forehead. It was growing back after the fight on the mountain, and it seemed a deeper, more vibrant red than before.
Taniel felt eyes upon him. Flint was watching.
"She's a pretty little thing," Flint said.
Taniel didn't answer. He didn't trust himself to. Words like impropriety and savage went through his head, but they didn't have the bite they usually did. What did those things matter? He might die tomorrow.
"Thank you," Taniel said to Flint, "for inviting me."
"It was our pleasure, sir. Not often soldiers get to dine with a hero like you."
"No hero. Not me. Just a man with nothing but rage in his heart."
"If you really had nothing but rage in your heart, that girl wouldn't be sleeping there sound as can be," Flint said. He winked at Taniel, and Taniel felt his cheeks grow warm.
"I should warn you, sir," Flint said.
"Yes?"
"The provosts are looking for you. Rumor is General Ket wants to hang you."
Taniel scoffed. "If they were looking for me, they could have found me. I'm on the front line every day."
"They don't want to arrest you in front of the men. You've saved a right large number of soldiers every day on the line. The men aren't sure whether you're a demon or an angel, but they think you're watching over them – fighting while the senior officers sit farther back and watch us die. There might be a riot if they arrest you on the line."
"It's not hard to find my room," Taniel said, glancing toward the little shed he and Ka-poel were staying in.
"The provosts are questioning around all quiet-like. They've asked us a couple times." Flint shook his head with a little smile. "Everyone tells them to look on the front."
Taniel picked at a bit of gristle stuck between his teeth. So, the infantry were watching his back. It made him feel sad, more than anything. He didn't deserve to be looked out for. He was only on the front because he knew nothing but killing. Not because he wanted to save the soldiers.
"Then I have something else to thank you for."
"Don't thank me, sir," Flint said. "Just keep looking out for us out there. No one else is."
"I'll try."
"Also, sir, avoid the Third. General Ket's brigade love her. Don't know why, but her men are loyal, and they might just turn you over to the provosts themselves."
Taniel shifted Ka-poel's weight on his shoulder and climbed to his feet, balancing her in his arms. She didn't respond to the jostling except to nuzzle her face closer to his neck. It was a feather's touch, soft and warm, and Taniel felt his body react to it.
"Good night, Flint," he said.
"Good night, sir."
Taniel carried Ka-poel back to their shed. He laid her down in his bed and covered her with a blanket before pulling a powder charge from his pocket.
He stared at the charge for several moments. A small hit of the powder and he'd see better in the dark. He wouldn't have to light a lamp. It wasn't like he was sleeping these days anyway. How long had it been? Two weeks since a proper night's sleep? Could humans exist like that? He felt wooden and sluggish, as if walking in a dream.
But when he had a bit of powder, he was as alive and awake as always.
Taniel took a pinch of the powder and raised it to his nose. He stopped. Lowered it and rewrapped the powder charge. He found a match and struck it, touching it to the lamp beside the bed. The shed was suddenly thrown into the light.
He got his rifle out from beneath the bed and began to clean it. The process calmed him, let him think. He pulled his mind away from Ka-poel, lying there in his bed, and away from the provosts and General Ket, and away from his father's death and the Kez army's inexorable push into Adro.
Taniel finished with the rifle and cleaned his pistols, then wrapped a few dozen powder charges. He looked at that powder. He needed it. Wanted it.