Dust of Dreams (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #9)

Dust of Dreams (The Malazan Book of the Fallen #9) Page 160

They emerged into the parade square and halted before a ragged row of what looked like civilians with nowhere to go but up, an even dozen in all. Seeing the two at the far end, Pores’s spirits sank.

‘I am promoting you sideways,’ Kindly said to him. ‘Master Sergeant.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I do this out of recognition of your true talents, Master Sergeant Pores, in the area of recruiting from the local population.’

‘Ah, sir, I assure you again that I had nothing to do with those two whores’-and he gestured at the pair of immensely obese women at the end of the row- ‘showing up unannounced in your office.’

‘Your modesty impresses me, Master Sergeant. As you can see now, however, what we have before us here are Letherii recruits. Indebted, mostly, and, as you observed, two now retired from a most noble and altruistic profession.’ His tone hardened. ‘And as every Malazan soldier knows, a life before joining the ranks has no bearing once the vows are sworn and the kit is issued. There exist no barriers to advancement beyond competence-’

‘And sometimes not even that, sir.’

‘Even confessions are insufficient cause to interrupt me, Master Sergeant. Now, these venerable recruits belong to you. Kit them out and then take them for a long hike-they clearly need to be worked into fighting trim. We march in two days, Master Sergeant.’

‘Fighting trim in just two days, sir?’

‘Your recruits rely upon your competence, as do I,’ said Kindly, looking nauseatingly satisfied. ‘Might I suggest that your first task lies in sobering them up. Now, I leave you to it, Master Sergeant.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ And he saluted.

Captain Kindly marched back into the headquarters.

Pores stared after him. ‘This,’ he whispered, ‘is war.’

The nearest recruit, a scrawny man of forty or so with a huge stained moustache, suddenly brightened. ‘Can’t wait, sir!’

Pores wheeled on him. ‘I’m no “sir”, dung beetle! I am Master Sergeant!’

‘Sorry, Master Sergeant!’

‘You don’t think, I trust, that my sideways promotion is not a bold announcement of Captain Kindly’s confidence in me?’

‘Absolutely not, Master Sergeant!’

Pores strode down to the far end of the row and glared at the two whores. ‘Gods below, what are you two doing here?’

The blonde one, her face glowing in the manner of overweight people the world over, when made to stand for any length of time, belched and said, ‘Master Sergeant, look at us!’

‘I am looking.’

‘We ain’t had no luck cuttin’ the lard, y’see. But in a army, well, we got no choice, do we?’

‘You’re both drunk.’

‘We give up that, too,’ said the black-haired one.

‘And the whoring?’

‘Aw, Master Sergeant, leave us a little fun!’

‘You’re both standing here out of breath-kitting you out and running you will kill you both.’

‘We don’t mind, Master Sergeant. Whatever works!’

‘Tell me the name of the soldier who hired you to visit the captain.’

The women exchanged sly looks, and then the blonde said, ‘Never gave it to us.’

‘Man or woman?’

‘Never said either way, Master Sergeant.’

‘It was dark that day,’ added the black-haired woman. ‘Anyway, Big Kindly said-’

‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’

‘Oh, uhm. Captain Kindly is what I meant, now that he’s back in uniform, I mean-’

‘And it’s a nice uniform,’ chimed in the blonde.

‘And he said that you was the best and the hardest working, most fit, like, and healthy soldier in the whole Miserable Army-’

‘That’s Malazan Army.’

‘Right. Sorry, Master Sergeant, it’s all the foreign names done us in.’

‘And the jug of rum, I’d wager.’

She nodded. ‘And the jugs of rum.’

At the plural Pores’s two eyes found a pernicious will of their own, and fell slightly down from the woman’s face. He coughed and turned to study all the other recruits. ‘Running from debt I understand,’ he said. ‘Same for armies the world over. Indebted, criminal, misfit, pervert, patriot and insane, and that list’s from my very own military application. And look at me, promoted up to Lieutenant and sideways to Master Sergeant. So, dear recruits,’ and Pores slapped on a broad smile, which was answered by everyone in the line, ‘nobody knows better where you’re coming from, and nobody knows better where you’re going to end up, which is probably in either the infirmary or the stockade. And I mean to get you there in no time flat!’