“Oh, it’s not your conduct. Your mistake was the letter you showed Ellis—the one from the Militia HQ, promising you a lieutenancy.”
“Ellis told you about it?”
“She was spitting mad,” Jan said with emphasis. “Because of her record, Ellis thinks she’s the best sergeant in the whole of the Rangers. She’s been expecting promotion for years, and she stands as much chance of it as I do of flying. Seeing Bergstrom promoted over her was the last straw. She wants that star on her badge so badly it hurts, and at last, she knows she’s never going to get it. Then you show her the letter. You could have been a lieutenant. Even if you were only in the Militia, you’d have outranked her, and you turned it down. She hates you.”
“Ah…right.” Katryn rolled her head back and looked up through the branches at the stars. It explained some of Ellis’ cryptic remarks.
“It may not sound too comforting, but if you hang on another ten months, I predict you’ll be okay.”
Katryn looked back at Jan. “Why?”
“Ellis is coming toward the end of her first seven-year extension of service. She may not apply to re-enlist, but even if she does, I think Captain Dolokov will reject her. Dolokov was a sergeant alongside Ellis for years. She’s got a fair idea of what Ellis is like, and if she needs more information, I’m sure Val Bergstrom will be happy to give it.”
“I’ve noticed Bergstrom and Ellis don’t like each other.”
“Bergstrom was once a private in Ellis’ patrol and one of her favorite targets for abuse. Ellis was nearly as down on her as she is on you.”
“What did Bergstrom do to upset her?”
“She was a new recruit at the time of the massacre, less than three months in the Rangers. When the bodies started dropping, she completely went to pieces—at least according to the way Ellis tells the story. Ellis has her marked down as a coward. Bergstrom’s performed okay ever since I’ve been in the squadron, but it’s had no effect on Ellis’ opinion of her. Ellis tried to block her promotion to Leading Ranger. In the end, Bergstrom transferred to another patrol. There was a nasty feud between them while they were both sergeants. Ellis was completely stunned when Bergstrom got the vacant post of lieutenant instead of her, but there’s not much she can do now that Bergstrom outranks her.”
“The feuding can’t have been good for the squadron,” Katryn said thoughtfully.
“It wasn’t. The 12th has not been a…” Jan paused, searching for a word. “…satisfactory squadron since the massacre. Ellis is one of the problems and the major thing preventing the other problems from being sorted out. The 12th has got some bad habits. Take the scene when Fitz died—sergeants squabbling like two drunks in a tavern. It shouldn’t happen. The 12th desperately needs a sense of unity, and it’ll never get it with Ellis around, because she only works on the ‘divide and rule’ principle. That’s why Dolokov wants to get rid of her. The captain has been in the squadron long enough to know its weaknesses. She has to get all thirty-four women fighting on the same side, and she’s prepared to be quite ruthless to achieve it.”
“She could have blamed Ellis for Fitz’s death and gotten rid of her that way,” Katryn suggested.
“Not without setting B and D Patrols against each other. And she knows it’s less than a year until Ellis has to re-enlist.” Jan spoke through a yawn. She shifted back slightly and looked around. Dusk had thickened into night, and both moons were rising. “It’s time for us to turn in. Make sure you’ve got your sword at hand. It’s a good habit. But we don’t need to take turns on watch. Nothing is going to bother us, and I’m an extremely light sleeper.”
Her earlier jitteriness had gone, yet it still took Katryn some time to drift off. She lay wrapped in her blanket beside the fire and thought about Jan’s comments. They helped explain a lot, including the events surrounding Fitz’s death and Dolokov’s response. The final, official account was that the wind had changed after the two patrols had separated. D Patrol had been downwind of Bergstrom and had heard her first signal, but the sound had been carried away from B Patrol. When she saw that Ellis’ Rangers were not attacking, Bergstrom had changed position and repeated the signal. It explained everything except why Ellis had not used her initiative and gone to Takeda’s aid.
Now Katryn could make sense of it. Ellis had stuck to the letter of Bergstrom’s orders as a bloody-minded protest against someone she thought was unfit for the job. She must have assumed that any blame would be attached to Bergstrom rather than to her. Dolokov had been angry but did not want to divide the squadron still further. Assigning blame would not bring Fitz back.
At last, Katryn fell asleep and dreamed of waking up in Woodside with Allison beside her and the smell of baking bread in the air. The feeling of relief was so great that tears rolled down her face. But when she went downstairs, Ellis was there, eating breakfast with her mother.
*
Two months after arriving in Roadsend, a report came of a raid on a farm to the south, and Captain Dolokov rode out to investigate with A and C Patrols. Katryn wondered at the wisdom of leaving Ellis under Bergstrom’s command, especially in the company of D Patrol. Yet Dolokov could not compromise the flexibility of the squadron by avoiding that particular combination permanently, and it was better that the potential trouble be left behind in the barracks. For a week, the routine patrols and drills ran smoothly. If anything, the atmosphere in the barracks was even more controlled than usual, as though people were avoiding conflict consciously. But Katryn had the nagging feeling that the control would not last—that something was about to go very wrong. When it did, however, it was not in the direction, or from the source, that she had expected.
It began late one day as Corporal Sivarajah led half of B Patrol back down the trail to Roadsend. The summer solstice was only a few days past, and the evenings were long. The incessant bleating of sheep carried on still air. Colors were muted in the soft light, like a smudged painting. Katryn was tired and hungry, but she felt no eagerness to reach their destination. They had been on a two-day trek through some of the gorges upriver, checking for any signs of illegal activity. Katryn had enjoyed the time. Jan was a good teacher, and just being away from Sergeant Ellis was cause for joy. Sal and Tina made up the rest of the group. Katryn was still not on good terms with the other members of her patrol, but at least when Ellis was not around, they could behave in a reasonable fashion toward her without incurring sarcastic abuse themselves. Normally, any friendly remarks to Katryn would put the speaker in the firing line for Ellis’ bad temper.
They approached the barracks from the west, riding over the bridge and around the outer wall. As they turned the last corner, two Rangers were visible, standing sentry duty at the entrance. Katryn wondered who had upset Ellis in her absence. But when they reached the gates and dismounted, she saw that both Rangers were from D Patrol. Neither sentry moved a muscle as Katryn caught hold of her horse’s reins and followed Jan the short distance to the central parade ground. B Patrol’s stables were off to the right. Straight ahead, on the far side of the open space, were two more sentries standing guard outside the small lockup. Tina also noticed the motionless women and exchanged speculative comments with Sal. Something unusual had happened.
Pat Panayi was just leaving the stables as they arrived, with a bucket in each hand from watering the horses. Tina hailed her immediately. “Hey, Pat, what’s up with Takeda’s girls?”
Pat turned around; her face slid gradually into a disinterested smile of greeting. “Oh…we’ve had all sorts of fun while you’ve been gone.” She waited until the rest drew close so she could drop her voice before continuing. “Last night, D Patrol went into town in a group; just Takeda and Corporal Kiani stayed behind in the barracks. There was an argument outside a tavern over someone’s girlfriend, and a fight broke out with a gang of locals.” Pat shrugged. “That wouldn’t be so bad, but the new recruit, Zoe, drew her trail knife and stabbed a woman.”
Simultaneous exclamations greeted the news.
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“No!”
“Was she badly hurt?”
Pat shook her head. “Word is that the local will survive, but you can imagine the fuss people have been making. The town mayor wanted to turn Zoe over to the Militia, but Bergstrom managed to keep hold of her here. She’s in the lockup. By general consensus, the only one from D Patrol who didn’t get involved in the fight was Taz, so she’s been sent with Kiani to let Dolokov know what’s happened. The other four have had all their free time canceled and are standing sentry duty until the captain gets here. As a final point to calm the mayor, knives are banned off duty outside the barracks. We have to be searched as we go out.”
A few more questions and comments followed, but it was getting late, and the horses needed attention. While she removed the saddle and brushed the mare’s coat, Katryn thought about Zoe—Fitz’s replacement, although no one referred to her that way. It would be wrong to imply that a dead woman was a replaceable item. Katryn had been jealous of Zoe and of the easy way she had become an accepted member of her patrol. The only teasing Zoe received was what anyone might expect upon joining a tightly knit group. Katryn was still an outsider. She knew that it was partly her own fault. She should have made compromises to fit in. She had chosen to become a Ranger; no one had asked her.
Katryn chewed her lip. She had been wrong to join the Rangers. It was a military unit, not a haven for heartbroken lovers. But it was too late to change her mind, so she was going to have to make the best of it. Perhaps it would be possible to improve her relationship with the other members of the patrol—if not for Ellis.
When they finished tending to the horses, the four Rangers left the stables and walked around to the doorway of the mess. They were too late for a hot dinner; however, Jan had sent Pat off with instructions to find bread, cheese, beer and (no doubt) cold mutton. As they reached the corner of the parade ground, the door to the officers’ quarters opened, and Ellis and Takeda came out. Ellis saw the members of her patrol and strolled over, a broad grin on her face.
“You’ve heard what D Patrol has been up to?” Ellis made no attempt to keep her voice down. In fact, she seemed deliberately to be pitching it loud enough so that Takeda could not help hearing. “It’s bad enough stabbing a civvy, but she couldn’t even make a proper job of it. It’ll save her neck, but her training can’t be up to much. Some patrols are very sloppy. Isn’t it a good thing that I make you practice your knife play?”
Katryn was pleased that there were other people around to reply. There was nothing even remotely appropriate she could say. Her voice would have failed, merely uttering, “Yes, ma’am.” Fortunately, Jan took the lead and moved straight into a brief report on what they had seen upriver.
Katryn averted her gaze. In the middle of the parade ground, Sergeant Takeda had come to a stop and was glaring at Ellis with a look of pure, venomous hatred.
Chapter Thirteen—Disobeying Orders
Early sunlight glinted obliquely on the dusty earth of the parade ground the next morning. Birds screeched in the treetops. The rangers of B Patrol stood to attention in two rows of four. A little to one side, the depleted ranks of D Patrol were also present for the dawn inspection. Lieutenant Bergstrom paced deliberately along the line, her eyes scanning each woman as she went. Quartermaster Adebayo and the two members of her staff stood a short way back. No one else was in sight. During her time in the Rangers, Katryn had witnessed a couple of dawn parades with fewer women present, but she had never known one that felt so empty.
At last, Bergstrom returned to the top of the steps outside the officers’ quarters and read the orders for the day. D Patrol was assigned to routine drills and maintenance tasks that would keep its members inside the barracks. Bergstrom turned to B Patrol. “There is a report from Three Firs Ranch in Upper Tamer Valley of a pack of mountain cats. Sergeant Ellis, take half your patrol and go and investigate. You need to talk to a rancher called Wisniewski.”
Katryn was standing directly behind Ellis. She noticed a twitch in the set of the sergeant’s shoulders and a faint backward movement of her head. Neither gesture was pronounced enough to count as defiance, but it was clear that Ellis was not pleased. To Katryn’s left, Sal breathed out sharply. It sounded like a contemptuous sigh, but the noise was too soft for Bergstrom to hear, even if she had not already moved on to the final few assignments.
When the parade had been dismissed, Ellis turned to her subordinates. “Okay. Militia, you seem the right person for a wild-goose chase. Hassan, you’ll come with me as well, and…” She looked at the other women. “Agosta. You’ll be good at keeping a straight face when Wisniewski starts describing the fifty gigantic cats that have slaughtered half her flock.”
Katryn was confused. Normally, she was not the first choice for a serious mission, but obviously, Ellis was not expecting the patrol to find any trace of the mountain cats. Katryn glanced at the other Rangers. They all looked either bored or scornful. Even Jan seemed unbothered. Katryn assumed that rancher Wisniewski had a reputation for false alarms.
*
It was midmorning when the four Rangers arrived at the Three Firs homestead. The sun blazed down on the ramshackle collection of buildings from a clear blue sky. A shepherd working in the barn volunteered to escort Ellis and Tina in search of the ranch owner. No conversation had taken place during the ride out. Ellis had not made any attempt to conceal her bad mood, and the rest of the patrol had wisely kept silent. However, once the sergeant strode out of earshot, Bo muttered, “I wonder how many thousand sheep Wisniewski has lost this time?” The heavy irony in her voice was plain.
“Can I take it that Wisniewski often complains about mountain cats?”
“Oh, mountain cats, bandits, dishonest neighbors. Next thing will be invisible pixies rustling her sheep.”
“She’s got an overactive imagination?”
“She’s got an underactive wallet.” Bo hesitated. She was the member of the patrol who made the most effort to distance herself from Katryn; however, Bo was also very fond of the sound of her own voice. After a few seconds, she continued, “Wisniewski won’t hire enough hands for the size of her flock, so she’s always losing sheep. She uses the Rangers like auxiliary shepherds. Bergstrom should have sent the message back that we were too busy, except that she knew she could irritate Ellis by sending her here.”
Ellis and Tina reappeared from around the end of the barn in the company of a woman Katryn assumed to be the ranch owner. Wisniewski was gesturing to the southeast, her hand flapping and pointing while she told her story. It looked as though she was cut off short when Ellis turned away and marched back to the horses. Tina tagged along behind.
Ellis provided no information as she led the way, heading in the approximate direction indicated by Wisniewski. In half an hour, they reached the top of a deep gully and turned east, following a sheep track that ran along the rim. After a few more minutes, the path disappeared into a loose thicket of thorn-covered shrubs, and Ellis signaled for them to stop. “Apparently, the savage beasts are all down there,” she jeered, indicating the gully with her thumb.
Katryn twisted her neck to peer over the edge. The sides were steep, sheer in places and covered in loose gravel. Only a few low bushes sprouted on the slopes, but more plants grew at the bottom. A small river cascaded over broken rocks twenty meters below the path where they stood.
Sergeant Ellis swung her leg over the head of her horse and jumped down from her saddle. “Let’s check it out quickly so we can get back to Roadsend and do something more useful—like combing our hair. Agosta and Hassan, come with me. Militia, stay here with the horses and look after them. That means make sure they don’t run away.”
Katryn grabbed the reins of the horses and stood watching as the other three scrambled carefully down the steep incline. Bo tripped at one point and slid several meters until she fetched up against a buttress of rock protruding halfway down the side of the gully. Tina was the first to reach the bottom. She crossed the stream, jumping
onto a flat-topped boulder midway and then using another stepping-stone before pulling herself onto the far bank.
“You’ve got five minutes to play beside the river. Then we can all go home and say we searched the area. If you spot any sign of the missing sheep, don’t bother making notes. We aren’t going to report back to Wisniewski. She can find her own sheep,” Ellis turned downstream, ducking under the branches of a spindly tree. Bo picked up a handful of pebbles and began tossing them into the water as she followed. Tina headed upstream. A rockslide reaching down to the water’s edge blocked her path. Tina clambered over the fallen rocks and moved on, disappearing behind a clump of bushes.
Katryn stood alone in the glaring sunlight. The air smelled of dust and baked leaves. The horses shuffled their hooves and took a few mouthfuls of dry grass but were too well trained to stray far. Minding them was an excuse—isolating Katryn with a pointless task to demonstrate Ellis’ opinion that she was incapable of doing anything useful.
A soft wind stirred the bushes, carrying a fresh scent to Katryn. She wrinkled her nose and looked around, trying to identify which plant was the source. It certainly would not win any prizes for its fragrance. A hint of overripe apples was in the odor, but the general effect was of decay—like rancid cider. Even as the thought occurred to Katryn, a second gust blew, confirming her impression.
She leaped to the gully’s edge and opened her mouth, about to shout a warning, but then she stopped. If she was wrong, Ellis would not merely make a joke of it. The story would provide ammunition for months of baiting—proof of weak nerves and gullibility.
Katryn took an indecisive step backward and then spun around and dived toward her mount. She tore the bow from her horse’s saddle pack and strung it with quick, practiced movements. She grabbed four arrows from the quiver, stuck them in her belt and returned to the vantage point at the head of the slope.
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