Soldiers Live

97

Beside the Cemetery: Among the Dead

It had been over for more than a day but the surgeons remained hard at work. Men still lay in long rows awaiting attention, moaning, screaming, some delirious. And some dead. A burial detail walked the rows, picking up those who had gone. Too many of those had died alone amidst the hundreds, without comfort.

The glory of war.

The ultimate fear. Mine, anyway.

I checked quickly to make sure that everyone was conforming to my decrees concerning cleanliness and sepsis. A few of the wounded would stand a better chance if the surgeons and their helpers cleaved to the rules. Even when they were exhausted, as they were now, and the temptation to cut corners became overwhelming.

Beyond our wounded lay those from Mogaba's army. They were likely to get no treatment at all, except what they could manage for themselves. I was sure that our medical supplies were as strained as our medical staff was. It looked like this was a much bigger fight than I had expected. Or, at least, a more desperate encounter with more casualties than expected in a short time.

Runmust Singh on crutches took me in to see Sleepy.

She appeared disoriented. I knew that look of old, having been there myself. She was on the edge of collapse. She had not done more than catnap since the fighting started. "You can't do it all yourself, Captain. You'll be a lot more effective if you just trust the rest of us to get things done and get yourself some rest. If Mogaba comes back now you won't be able to think fast enough or straight enough to do anybody any good."

She eyed me irritably but was too exhausted to squabble. "I take it you didn't come here past the dead."

"I came through the hospital area." She knew that I would have to do that. After we talked I would, probably, go back to offer what little help an old man with a bum hand and a bad eye could.

"Then you don't yet know that there isn't anybody left for me to trust while I take a nap. Swan is dead, Croaker. Blade is dead. Iqbal Singh is dead. Riverwalker is dead. Add Pham Huu Clee, Li Wan, both the Chun brothers and your old engineers, Cletus and Loftus. There's going to be a lot of opportunity for advancement. Name a name. Almost everybody is dead or injured. Hell, even Sahra may be dead. We haven't been able to find her."

"We're back," I said. That ought to take a load off her shoulders. "Successfully, I might add. What about Suvrin?"

"Suvrin made it through. Suvrin saved the day. Suvrin and I have agreed to take turns resting as soon as we're sure Mogaba isn't coming back. Right now we're taking turns holding everything together."

Based on what I had seen and heard already the Great General would not return any time soon—unless he came on his own. His soldiers had had enough.

Mogaba would have been back already had he had any troops he could use. Caution and procrastination were not sins you could pin on the Great General.

I heard Tobo's voice outside, overhead. He was addressing the folk of the hidden realm. Before long we would know all we wanted to know about Mogaba's current situation. In moments thousands of wraithlike things would be involved in the search for Sahra—and everyone else still missing.

The kid was taking charge.

Sleepy mumbled, "I shouldn't have engaged him till Tobo came back."

Unwittingly, I repeated comments she had heard from Suvrin already. "Mogaba wouldn't have given you a choice. He doesn't have our intelligence resources but he does make use of the tools he has. That was our failing. Not remembering that. We should've given at least the appearance of having left a sorcerer in camp."

Sleepy nodded. "Water down the creek. Which I'll thank you to remind me whenever I begin to feel sorry for myself and start picking the thing's bones to indict myself for doing things differently."

"You're a strange bird, little girl."

"What?"

"Sorry. One-Eye's been on my mind lately." I did not explain. As long as I kept my genius sealed up inside my head there was a fair chance Kina would not find out anything she would make me regret. I asked. "What about Goblin and the girl? If there was fighting in the grove... "

"We don't know yet. I assume Tobo will inform us. I assume everything is going to be just peachy now that Tobo is back." She was striving for sarcasm but it was not working. She did not have strength enough to speak in anything but a monotone.

"Lady and Murgen will be here in a few minutes. Let them manage the little shit while you get your rest."

I went for an excursion amongst the unburied dead, to make goodbyes. They were laid out in rows, awaiting disposal. The weather was cold and damp so putrefaction was not far advanced but there was stench enough of blood and open bowels. Flies were rare, it being the wrong season. And crows of any sort were a rarity these days. Buzzards circled but dared not come down because the welcome they received from the living tended to be discouraging.

Once someone identified one of the fallen, Taglian prisoners moved the body to the appropriate funeral procedure group. Recruits and additional prisoners were busy building ghats, burning corpses, digging graves and filling them, or erecting exposure platforms for the few whose fate it was to leave the earth that way.

A lot of corpses had been dealt with already but I could see that, despite the season, we were going to have to dig mass graves for the Taglian fallen. There would not be time to get each man a decent funeral. Although civilians who had had men serving with Mogaba had begun to show up already, hoping to reclaim their dead.

I wondered if, in some mystical fashion, new standing stones were materializing on the glittering plain, their faces crawling with golden memorial characters.

A subaltern from the Land of Unknown Shadows approached me. It was obvious he was not pleased about having been assigned to the funeral detail. He must have embarrassed himself during the fighting. The unpleasant duty would be his reward. "Sir," he said, with a salute so crisp it should have gotten his sentence commuted, "it would be a great help if you could offer me the funerary preferences of your old comrades." There was a mildly repulsive fawning edge to his otherwise businesslike demeanor.

He led me to a spot where he had isolated non-Taglians who did not hail from Hsien. My former henchmen and a couple of Nyueng Bao occupied that little square.

"Soldiers live," I murmured. Now there was only Murgen and Lady left from the farther shore of the Sea of Torments. "Bury Swan and the engineer brothers. Inside that cemetery over there. Make sure that their graves are clearly marked. I'll want to find them later in order to put up a proper memorial. They deserve more than a parting mention in the Annals." I wondered what Swan would think of lying to rest beside all those Shadowlanders. He and Blade and Cordy Mather had helped put most of them there.

I had no idea what funeral customs obtained amongst Blade's people. Neither I nor anyone else ever learned who those people actually were. "Lay the black man down in a grave near Swan. Maybe they can be buddies in the next world, too. Maybe they'll finally get to start that brewery they always wanted."

The subaltern was puzzled by that but did not comment. The soldiers of the Land of Unknown Shadows were growing accustomed to the religious absurdities of the new world. I walked on, across ground covered by the corpses of men Sleepy had recruited during the time of Captivity. Their number was disturbing. Before long she would be as isolated from her own generation as I was isolated from mine.

A great many excellent soldiers from the Land of Unknown Shadows lay upon that cold, hard ground, too. And, unsurprisingly, so did many men who had joined us recently, locally. Poorest trained, they had stood the least chance during the fighting.

I surveyed all that death and hoped Sleepy had reached a watershed here, that henceforth she would seek solutions that did not require headbutting until somebody staggered away and collapsed from concussion. Not that all this could be blamed on her. Based on information available I could fault none of her decisions. And she was a better tactician than I had been.