A Mist of Grit and Splinters

by Graydon Saunders

  “Traditional brigade signallers are in the signa’s node, and do not command the brigade Colour Party.” The Captain’s tone is completely conversational. Brigade Colour Party’s a whole banner for size. “Slow and I agreed that for Creek battalions, having the information and the tactical direction flow through a single node is preferable.”

  I nod quickly and mostly. There isn’t time.

  The organizational schematics go away. A focus-pattern appears. The Captain says nothing, thorough nothing. I take a long look and try to understand it. It smells, not like raw fish, like the moment when you’re cleaning fish and you open the first one. Notable creepy.

  I make a ‘may I?’ hand motion and the Captain nods ‘yes’ and makes the passing-back gesture. Center the pattern on the full-captain, this makes more sense. They get their own node, could be taken as sacrificial, but, yeah. ‘Get the commander,’ and ‘Kill whoever is giving orders,’ are going to give different results when the foreign sorcerer starts instructing demons. More than one demon, variations of instruction. Contest between what the target can’t hide, or didn’t, and what’s binding on demons. This structure’ll even the pressure without active obscuration. Wouldn’t if the signaller weren’t given the overt authority.

  “Part-captains fight, signaller runs the fight, full-captain says what’s to fight.” The pattern’s singular of purpose.

  The Captain nods. “Slow’s intent.” The pattern convolves into a more distributed representation, with each banner perspective equally weighted.

  Something gets to Slow, command falls. Something gets to me, executive rises. Something gets both of us together, we’re done. The former structure lapses entirely into senior-surviving through the banner crosslinks. Old Line wouldn’t consider to do that with banners, didn’t have the output to stand on their own the couple-five seconds. Ought to work.

  The First don’t work that way; the Captain keeps executive. Got an officer with negative reaction time, you want them making the decisions.

  Poke at the pattern some more. Meek’s not there.

  “Sergeant-majors to handle movement.” It’s the inflection on ‘movement’ that means ‘drill’ along with marching. Brisket looked it up; graul-the-language hasn’t got a word for ‘walking’. Four words for why you’re going somewhere. I-am-sent, we-are-sent, the-unit-is-sent, we-must-go. Movement’s hard. Drill every day and it’s still hard; too much of your thought’s in the focus, and you step wrong on the ground and trip on rocks that aren’t there. Traditional response says ‘move slower’. Neither the Captain nor Slow like ‘move slower’. Someone handling movement for the whole focus can set your feet right. Got to accept your feet being set; ain’t easy. Brisket makes the-unit-is-going not-really-jokes, because the Line gets sent and the focus don’t. The focus goes.

  Meek gets to be going over there and it happens; we go.

  Meek didn’t have such a clear sense of what is and isn’t their job, they’d be a problem.

  Expletive.

  The Captain makes their best human smile.

  “Signaller is taking a bet you can do the job in a battle. Slow makes the point you’ve done the same job in a battle they have, and longer.”

  Don’t know what to say. Ain’t wholly correct. In the dark ain’t the same as the last fifteen.

  “Hardly anyone fights four times,” the Captain says. It’s a fair try at a kind tone, though the Captain thinks this is funny, too. “Someone who thought they were mighty would wander over the border into the absence of dominion and get crushed, and not often.”

  I can fill in ‘and then the hell-things got loose’ for myself. Hell-things, Reems, and now we’ve got Sea People.

  The Second’s signaller’s whoever Slow says it is. “Sir? Officer appointments aren’t formally consulted?” Another standard-captain’s inherently formal. Way lots more formal than the warrant-of-authority-and-commission interview I thought it was.

  “Crinoline evaluates your written as ‘pass’. That’s all three standard-captains in the Wapentake’s operational area.” Crinoline counts by co-ordination, so not ‘the Wapentake’. Officially Four/Twelve’s there to cover Parliament, which happens to be physically located in the Creeks. “This is not relevant to your appointment in the Second.”

  “Strictly in Slow’s grant.”

  The Captain nods. “Outside the Second, such qualification signifies, and I agree with Slow about Slow’s proposed organization of the Second. It should be tried.”

  I nod.

  “Slow’s design makes signaller a new appointment. The consensus of the standard-captains has the appointment senior to a banner command.” Whiff of burnt things as should not burn; graul grin. One of the graul emotions we ain’t found names to give.

  The Captain nods at the focus-pattern, still floating over the table. “Do this with a brigade, and the appointment would require a standard-captain.”

  “Sir?” Ain’t getting the questions into proper order.

  “Implicitly.” The Captain wills the focus-pattern off. “No list submitted to Chert has been altered.”

  Knives stays official-next to promote standard-captain in the Wapentake.

  The Captain stops attempting a social face. “When the Second fights, you could inherit the standard.”

  Lose the standard-captain, someone inherits the standard. The Old Line deployed by brigades, mostly. The brigadier would be there to sort out rank and appointments. No brigadier, so sense to plan.

  “Sir? What am I being asked?”

  “If you want to be Slow’s sword hand.” The Captain shifts, subtly. It’s not easy to notice the Captain has moved. How’s hopeless. A Creek would have said ‘take first spear’ and that’s Meek, so. “A job it does not suffice to do as you are assigned.”

  Everyone with a battalion appointment has to make a decision, or they’re a problem. Can’t or won’t, either’s a problem. That’s noted about authority, and appointing sergeants.

  The Captain’s gone withdrawn. Don’t ask me how there’s different kinds of utterly motionless.

  Slow thinks of everything as force concentration. The Captain, it’s balance, the kind involved in hopping across rocks or walking a top rail.

  The kind involved in heaping up corpses. You concentrate enough force, you can push anybody off their balance. With the Captain, enough is somewhere past twenty files of frothing berserks.

  Which, yeah, something wrong with Knives, but Knives knows it, and Knives knows where to cut.

  That’s enough. ‘Comprehensive excellence’ ain’t a requirement. ‘Win the fight’ is a requirement.

  Can’t see out of yourself.

  First’ll be attached to the Second by banners when the Captain’s under the water. Could inherit the Wapentake, the maneuver parts of it.

  Ain’t qualified for that before time.

  Which they’ll all know. Same thing with standard-captains, same sort of responsibility. This is maybe, not certain.

  “Needs must, sir. Needs must.”

  Thread 6

  Slow’s memoirs

  The Captain proposed to take a year of leave.

  Personal leave accumulates at a décade per year. The Captain had never used any, and, it was decided, would not use any. Their circumstances were sufficiently peculiar that the consensus held it desirable that any precedent should be specific to the circumstances. General Chert proved able to arrange matters of reassurance and schedule with the necessary gesiths and with Parliament.

  Chert had been considering to try shifting a single-banner battalion and its standard-captain out of the Folded Hills to provide the First with an interim commander before Crinoline had laughed. Crinoline laughed at socially awkward length. Chert wished to be stern about it; however formally standard-captains are peers, that much laughter could not be polite in any meeting. Crinoline showed no remorse and asked if Chert had met Knives. Chert had not.

  Both myself and the Captain held Part-Captain Knives, then commanding Fier
ce Company of the First Battalion, our preference for who should next be promoted standard-captain out of the Wapentake. While the day the Wapentake might have a third battalion was not soon, it was still thought best to have such recommendations recorded against the possibility of a sudden need. Knives knew — it does not do to surprise someone with the prospect of becoming a standard-captain — and the sergeant-majors also knew. Chert’s knowledge had not been extended to personal interviews in an absence of a present need or strong expectation. There were many tasks more presently required for the Army of the Western Hills than the maintenance of consensus concerning a hypothetical standard-captain in the Wapentake.

  Crinoline produced an explanation of authoritas among Creeks that I thought not inaccurate. Knives can obey a lawful superior, but not readily save as Knives acknowledges that superior would win a fight between themself and Knives. (And indeed Knives and I had needs must have that fight in former days.) This is not a unique flaw of Knives’ — I should say not less than a third of the Wapentake has this flaw — though Knives, being notably tall, strong, and quick, can be said to evidence it to a more readily perceptible degree than many others who possess this same deficiency of character. Crinoline’s point was that a Regular, Typical, or Elegant standard-captain, howsoever skilled and experienced, could not readily assume the authoritas necessary to the confidence of the First.

  With the Second being still so new that we had with certainty not become sharply distinct in custom, as I hoped we should not, and with my recent history with the First, it was decided that there was no reason not to attach the banners of the First to the standard of the Second for a year. This is a thing the Line has commonly done when moving replacements to an active brigade as formed companies; Chert allowed as how these circumstances are not that, but similar enough. The standards of the Second Commonweal have a greater capacity to connect company banners than that capacity the diverse standards of the First Commonweal possess, and it is not a risk of organization or capacity to have ten banners attached to one standard.

  It may be a risk of co-ordination, and we expected the Sea People to return. That hour we could not control. The necessity to keep watch along the whole length of the Edge Road meant we would be deployed across it in companies wherever our standards might reside.

  So were we deployed when the last of Reems came into the Eastern Waste, pursued by what had destroyed that nation. Shifting east and concentrating was the work of two days, even with the news brought swiftly to us. The length of the Edge Road from the West Wetcreek to Edge Creek is two days’ regular march, and it would not do to leave a battalion gap or to have banners arrive spent after a march in haste. In those two days, those pursuing the fled remnant, those who had destroyed Reems, met a provisional battery of the Fifth Battalion in the Waste for a training shoot. The battery did well and destroyed the pursuing army; the Independent Blossom destroyed the sorcerers. It was not done without cost, but at much less cost than it might have required had the Wapentake been compelled to cross Edge Creek against the pursuer’s set array.

  Our chief cost was the Independent Grue, discovered by a Reems pre-eminent and the remnants of their retinue. This pre-eminent was a third force and had reached the End of the Edge, the area of wetland just before Edge Creek departs over the Southern Edge, without detection by any Commonweal person. This undetected arrival was to me a greater concern than Grue’s loss, lamentable though that was.

  None of the heavy Line banners reached the Eastern Waste before the invading army was destroyed. Two banners of the Second and one of the First went across the Waste as escort to a Line-gesith fylstan sent as a Parliamentary emissary. This emissary was sent to speak to the fled of Reems. We did not wish to return those fled back over the Fallen, those rough mountains beyond the extreme east of the line of the Northern Hills and before the sea. Anyone so returned would carry more knowledge with them than we might suppose in our best interest to have go back into that uncertain land. To leave them on a desolate coast would be to leave them prey to the Sea People and another more immediate risk of an unwelcome transfer of knowledge. To absorb thirty thousands of the remnant of Reems was not obviously within our present capacity, especially considering that Reems was not composed of familiar ilks of folk. The initial difficulties of providing medical care would be great.

  I was on the whole pleased that the disposition of the fled remnant’s persons was the problem of the emissary.

  Three banners of the Second proceeded up Edge Creek. The fighting in the Eastern Waste had raised a great quantity of dust from that dry and variously toxic land. While the dust would fall from the sky of itself with time, it was much a better prospect if it did not fall anywhere arable, nor linger in the sky so long it shaded fields. Dusting the sky is more difficult than road building; dust in the air is diffuse, and you do not wish to grab the air with the dust. It took several attempts for each of the banners to find the necessary proficiency, and some days thereafter to have the whole of the sky over the valley of Edge Creek made clean again.

  D-Day Minus 645

  Year of Peace 545, Vendémiaire, Eighth Day (Early Fall)

  Duckling

  Slow tells you to take a décade off, you take a décade off.

  I’m due one. Don’t want one. Flinch’s got their warrant, it don’t mean Flinch’s got enough practice being a sergeant.

  I catch myself thinking that; it’s factual, but I never got any. Trooper, banner signaller, battalion signaller. Never even a file-closer. Anybody from the Old Line gets fussed.

  Meek’d tell me this is practice for Flinch. Meek’d be correct, not complete. Slow wants to see Flinch exercise authority being Observer.

  Nothing keeps memory aligned with circumstances. Home is all little changes this visit. Getting so you can see when people will have always gone outside all year round. They’ve been holding outdoor dances at Festival. The critter situation was always better; the bugs ain’t better for being a critter. You can weed one little valley at a time, same as always. It’s been an increase to the general prosperity. There’s recent shouting arguments about where the next mill-dam should go; everyone’s still talking about it. All I would say was “As long as the dams get built.” Mother didn’t quite smile, but the thought was there. Any of my siblings used to be able to get me to argue.

  Wound up having an actual chat with folks of Mother’s generation. There’s an expectation having the bug charms will change custom in the Corner more than alter trade, but no consensus concerning how. People admit they’d be more worried if it weren’t for the lack of bug bites.

  Barge tomorrow; all the way down the West Wetcreek and then find the Second. No point in asking when I left where the Second’s going to be. Predictable’s not a desirable thing, less when the expected enemy’s fond of demons. Tonight I get a bit hopeful with an unambiguous dress. Lots of folk through Headwaters in the summer. Then the prospective pleasant lad calls me ‘Adjutant’ in place of going from conversational to specifically attentive.

  “We’re using ‘Signaller’.”

  “Apologies. I’m Acrisias, I clerk for the Speaker.” There’s an embarrassed look aside. “There are some questions.”

  “You think I can answer them?”

  “Perhaps inform them.” Acrisias looks worried more than uncomfortable. The Speaker’s responsible for the operations of Parliament, which we have the collective opportunity to be sensible about. Ain’t heard the opportunity ain’t being taken.

  “The Captain has recommended that young graul be taught by independents. The Captain has pressed for certain independents to be granted warrants of authority and commission.” Acrisias settles into themself. “The possibility of dominion presents itself.”

  Those lists of independents overlap. This isn’t hard. “The Captain’s a pragmatist.” We have this corner to ourselves, I misdoubt by chance. “Graul were made to have an overlord. They’re miserable without one. The regular graul thing has been to wa
it for Laurel’s return. By inference of their misery by its hundred thousands, it’s not been a benefit. The Captain’s overlord is the Commonweal. They instruct those who wish to hold warrants of commission about this as a desirable character trait.”

  Acriasias nods, once and narrowly. ‘I understood all those words’; ‘I might agree with what you’re saying’ is over the horizon somewhere, dust with all other dust.

  “By further inference of misery, abstracting your overlord is difficult.” Those hundred thousands, several centuries, and one example. “So if the new graul cannot, or cannot immediately, think of it like the Book-gesith’s fylstan, someone to help them along.”

  It could be there’s physical pain to go with Acriasias’ expression. Ought to be for that expression.

  “If Shadow does not uphold the Peace, Parliament needs to kill Halt and Wake and Blossom, because they’re all in on it. All of Fire’s Team.” I say it smiling. “If Parliament holds such a course unnecessary, there is no risk. Impose your own doubts, and what have you done?”

  Conquest, by centuries of precedent. Judges say it like it hurts their faces.

  “Social bonds between those of long lifespans aren’t bad things.” I do the whole rhetorical posture for the immutability of fate; it doesn’t suit the dress. “If Parliament is concerned for the young and full-mighty, let not all their friends be soon to die.”

  “That’s a strange concern.” Strange to Acriasias, certainly; face and voice and posture all have startlement.

  “We die; our battalions are immortal.” ‘Immortal’ and ‘unkillable’ ain’t the same. “We’d just as soon have our standards among their friends.”

  Acriasias goes formal enough for Parliament, I expect that’s what this is, and says “This is not a thing that the Line has ever done before.”

  “We have recent proof we are not now sufficient in count of battalions.” The Captain’s said it since the Captain came to the Creeks. Slow says “The Captain’s correct” if you can get Slow to speak aloud. “The Line don’t like it but let’s be forthright about it.”