Rau had, of course.
"Very nice—what is that English word?—'dive,' I think."
"And what would you have done?" asked Anse crossly.
"Diven, of course. Only an idiot wouldn't."
"Dove," Anse corrected. "Or maybe it's `dived.'"
"Amazing that you aren't all idiots. Speaking the language the idiot way you do."
To Anse's relief, no further battle was necessary. As they neared the compound—a wooden fortress, basically, much like the forts put up by the nineteenth-century American army—he discovered that the routed garrison had already been intercepted by the city's militia before they could reach the shelter of their compound.
What must have happened, clearly enough, was that after Noelle gave the city authorities copies of her documents and explained the situation, they'd called out the militia. The militia would have mustered behind the city hall and had managed to get between the fleeing mercenaries and the entrance to the garrison compound.
Just as clearly, the garrison hadn't put up any resistance. After the bloodbath on the gunmakers' street, all the fight had been knocked out of them. They'd simply submitted to arrest.
The militia officers were standing there with their men. Those would be the ones who hadn't been in the gunmakers' street, and Anse hadn't already enrolled in his impromptu posse. Someone would have to sort that little problem out later, Anse thought. But, for the moment, the officers clearly had that look which proclaimed: awaiting further orders.
Lieutenant Ivarsson emerged from the compound's gates. Smiling very cheerfully.
"Good day, Herr Hatfield. How delightful to see that the new garrison commander has come to pay a visit."
Anse frowned at him. "Meaning no offense, but where have you been?"
Ivarsson jerked a thumb over his thick shoulder. "Inside, of course. Once von Dantz and Horton took out most of the garrison, that is. I thought it would be imprudent to make an appearance earlier."
Anse looked up at the walls of the compound. A couple of very nervous-looking soldiers were stationed up there. Holding their weapons, but carefully not pointing them at the militia outside the gates.
"Where's Felder? And what's more important—where is Noelle Murphy?"
Ivarsson's smile seemed as cheerful as ever. "The former commander of the garrison is sitting in his office. Waiting—eagerly, I assure you—to be relieved of his command. Fräulein Murphy is there with him. She is quite unharmed."
There was something very suspicious about that smile.
"I wouldn't think Felder—"
"Oh, certainly!" Ivarsson made an expansive gesture with his big hands. "At least, after I explained to him that he might—just barely—be able to persuade General Kagg that he simply couldn't stifle the mutiny led by the dastardly Captain von Dantz. If I put in a word for him."
Dastardly, no less. Ivarsson's English was really quite good.
"I believe he was also helped in seeing his proper course of conduct by Fräulein Murphy's presence. Although she is unharmed, she is rather furious, in her quiet sort of way. There were threats made, it seems, of a most lascivious variety. 0nce I removed the guards placed over her, I returned her pistol. She assures me that in the close quarters of Captain Felder's office, she can't possibly miss."
Anse laughed. "This, I want to see. All right, Lieutenant Ivarsson, please lead me there."
Noelle did, indeed, seem irate. At least, in her rather prim-and-proper manner of expressing most emotions. Her face was pale, and the pistol leveled at Felder didn't seem to waver at all.
"You okay?" he asked.
Her face got pinched. "Well. Yes. I suppose. They were very insulting. Well. That's not quite the right word, I guess. Filthy motherfuckers!"
The pistol did waver a bit, then. Quiver, rather, from the restrained fury of the slender hand that held it.
Felder's face was at least as pale as hers. His eyes had never once left the barrel of the gun, not even when Anse and Ivarsson came into the room.
"Felder?" Anse asked.
"No, not him," Noelle hissed. "Although he's still responsible. Some of his men. The two he had guarding me."
Anse turned to Rau, who was standing just beyond the door to the captain's office. "Track 'em down, Jochen."
"Shoot them?"
"No, that'd be illegal. Just see to their discipline."
Rau made something that might charitably be called a salute, and left. Anse turned back to Felder.