Chapter 3: First Impressions

Richard Taylor waved Sergeant Hoi over to him. Sergeant Chak, who led the second company's archers, was already seated in front of Richard's tent, watching the bustle of the new camp.

"Anything new, Hoi?"

"Dickie, I tell you true. It's beginning to dawn on a few of them that this is serious. I mean, they've marched for two months straight, and they are only realizing it now! Even the sergeants."

Richard turned to Chak. "And what did you see outside the walls?"

"They've lost a patrol. It was due back day before yesterday. It might make it back late tomorrow, but not before -- we'd have seen them otherwise. Dickie, there are signs everywhere out there. Small groups, medium groups, very large groups of Harn. A body of men, at least ten or twelve thousand went north two weeks ago, about six miles west of River Bend camp, where we stopped last night. I didn't want to waste men, so we didn't follow their back trail, but I'd say they came out of the southwest, heading due north.

"Winslow is the closest town. The garrison there is about six thousand," Chak added. They'd been there; it really wasn't news.

Richard nodded. "Hoi, visit the sutler's. I want to know about traffic in and out of Fort South."

"We passed a north-bound wagon train the second day out of Winslow," Chak reminded Richard.

"North from here, that's a two week trip," Richard mused. "First that damnable canyon, then the long climb up to the plateau."

Chak snorted. "Give me two companies of Coreans to defend that canyon and King Hadrian could bring his whole army and we'd send him back with his tail between his legs."

Hoi laughed. "In that canyon, a puling babe with two companies of Coreans could repel Hadrian and the King of Man and their combined armies!"

"Hoi!" Richard barked, angry.

Hoi flashed him an angry glance. "It's true!"

"No, it's not! Either one would know what's there. You'd be waiting there with your two companies of archers, and they would go around you."

"Body of Christ!" Chak muttered to himself. "They were insane not to keep you!"

"But they didn't. The men who sent us here want us dead, don't ever forget that. Hadrian is scum, but he's standup scum. He came at us from the front; although he was rather more hurried when he turned back for home. These bastards specialize in the knife in the back, down some dark alley." Richard waved to Hoi. "Get going. Have a beer. Have two or three. Find out what's going on!"

"There's an officer's call shortly," Hoi said, standing. "Are you going to crash that?"

Richard smiled. "I think I've about used up my welcome with the colonel. Lieutenant Snot will be back later, drunk, like as not. I'll ask him what happened."

The two sergeants grinned wolfishly. Lieutenant Smit might be a drunk, but he was their drunk. His cousin, Lieutenant Festung, nominally had the other company of Coreans, but he usually stayed in his tent, suffering ague. Trembling. Lieutenant Smit could manage to stand and look officer-like, even drunk as a man could be. He was only too grateful for his efficient sergeants, who took care of things ... even if it was to supply a post to keep him from falling on his face.

Richard slept for a while before seeking out his lieutenant.

He learned that the officer's call had consisted of Colonel Danna telling off the company that would be detailed to escort him back to prepare to be underway the day after tomorrow, at dawn. Since it was the Headquarters Company that had been chosen, Richard had to smile at the thought of Sergeant Major Innis having to make a decision.

Later he made a round of the Corean pickets, something that not even the headquarters company had set, inside the fort. Not surprisingly, Colonel Randall had different notions and half a company had been assigned inner picket posts as well.

Richard toured the guard posts again a little before dawn, curious how it was being handled. Their lieutenant was asleep; the sergeant of the guard had been to the sutlers and was drunk. One of the corporals of the guard was halfway good, but trying to keep track of a hundred men at posts he didn't know himself, was too much. The other corporal of the guard was asleep.

Richard worked patiently with the one good man, who was honestly trying his best. Only as it was just light did they realize one of the pickets was missing. The man's route was supposed to be a hundred paces along the outer wall of the dependent's quarters, a right turn and two hundred more paces, then an about turn and retrace the route.

Richard eyed the spot where the man was supposed to turn. There was a road there, plenty wide enough for a wagon. The road was lined on each side with high adobe walls, with an occasional heavy wooden door, all barred from the other side.

The corporal didn't know the man, so Richard walked a ways down the road. There were too many footprints to be sure, but Richard had suspected the man had failed to make the turn on his return trip, and had gone straight into the dependent's area.

He already knew from the corporal that none of the men on guard duty had any idea why duty guarding the dependent's area normally went to the oldest, steadiest men in a company.

"You run and get your sergeant awake," Richard told the corporal. "Tell him shit's going to happen and he'd better wake up the officer, too."

The corporal stared at the forbidding walls around them. "You think he got lost back here?"

Richard nodded. The corporal grimaced, then hurried to do as he'd been told.

It took a while to sort out the footprints; once he'd done it, though, Richard kicked himself. The private had marched for two months to get here; the people at Fort South had better shoes. He went faster, then faster still when he saw the private had panicked, and was simply trying to cut a straight line towards the bivouac area.

He went over one of the walls, and stopped when he saw the girl. She was about sixteen, tall and dark. Her eyes were almost black; her hair was black as midnight. Her skin was deeply tanned, and even wearing just a housecoat, she looked positively regal. Her back was straight, her eyes clear and discerning. She stood facing him, unafraid. Not only unafraid, but coolly questioning him about his business, understanding what he was telling her.

When Richard heard another woman call out though, duty required a hasty exit. When the girl reappeared there, still wearing the housecoat, he was impressed. Not that it had stopped him from doing what had to be done. The private was one of the new Corean recruits -- that and a lost and scared young man, taken from his home and moved nearly a thousand miles south, into an alien landscape. Richard did what he could to keep the boy alive. He was mildly surprised and pleased that Colonel Randall understood what he was about.

Richard had met any number of beautiful women when he'd served at court. They were either dumb as stumps or manipulative as hell. And, all too frequently, both. This girl wasn't so much beautiful as radiant; there was a quality about her that took his breath away. An officer's daughter, he was sure.

They held another hasty Soldier's Council, right under the noses of the officers in late afternoon. The men had all but completed the camp; the stores had been unloaded and warehoused. Colonel Randall had ordered them to stand down for the afternoon and passed out a beer ration to all the men. Richard had smiled at that, knowing that was probably the last beer they were going to be served free beer for a long, long time.