“That’s a little difficult to stomach when you have a pistol in my face.”
“Would you have spoken to me if I didn’t, or just called for the guard?”
“Fair, I suppose.” His face darkened. “What did you do to Vlissy? If you’ve hurt him—”
“He’ll be fine. He’s just asleep, for now. My friends are keeping watch outside.”
“More savages?”
“No.” Winter fought down a twinge of guilt. “These are... other friends. Now, I really need to speak to Lieutenant Dobraev. Is he here?”
“Kila?” Another man’s voice came from behind the curtain. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Byr,” Gorchov said. “Just making a cup of tea.”
There were a couple of footsteps, and then the curtain was pulled aside. A younger man, blond, pale, and completely naked, blinked in the light and froze when he saw Winter.
“Tell him to stay quiet,” Winter hissed.
“Don’t scream, Byr,” Gorchov said. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Who exactly are you?” The young man, presumably the lieutenant, mustered as much dignity as he could given his state. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m trying to save everyone in this garrison,” Winter said, letting a little bit of her frustration into her voice. “If I put the pistol down, do you think we could have a talk about that without anyone doing anything stupid?”
The two soldiers looked at each other, and Gorchov shrugged. “Your call, Byr.”
“I think I would like that tea,” Dobraev said. “And some pants, if the young lady wouldn’t mind.”
*
Winter felt obligated to watch Dobraev dress, in case he took the opportunity to try to send for help. The second room was just a messy sleeping area, with a single huge bearskin apparently standing in for a bedroll. Dobraev pulled on his trousers and a white uniform shirt, then came back into the other room amiably enough. Gorchov was at work on the firebox again, and Alex and Abraham sat at the makeshift table.
“Winter Ihernglass,” Dobraev said. “Kila told me what you said this morning, about someone coming to attack the fortress.”
“It’s true,” Winter said. “And you’re not going to be able to stop them when they get here.”
“No bandits have ever been bold enough to raid a garrison,” Dobraev said.
“These aren’t bandits. They’re kind of... fanatics.” Winter struggled for something the two men would believe. “After the weather and the war, lots of people have been displaced. Some of them have fallen in with a cult. They’ve been grabbing everyone they can and killing everyone who won’t convert.”
The two soldiers exchanged glances, and Gorchov nodded slowly.
“I’ve heard of things like that,” he said. “In Novhora, when they had that terrible winter, they found whole villages turned to worshipping idols. Doing sacrifices in front of them.”
“Why?” Dobraev said. By his accent, Winter guessed he was city-?born. His speech was different from Gorchov’s and the other locals’.
“People do stupid things when they get desperate.” Gorchov turned back to Winter. “You really think they could take the fortress?”
“They’re crazy, and there are a hell of a lot of them,” Winter said. “We’ve been running for weeks, and they’re not far behind us.”
“Who are ‘we’?” Dobraev said. “This morning I heard you had a bunch of Trans-?Batariai. Now you have these two.”
“The people who were with us this morning are called the Haeta,” Winter said. “My friends and I have been traveling with them until now.”
“Abandoned you, have they?” Gorchov said. “The savages can’t really be counted on.”
“They want to kill you all,” Winter said bluntly. “As revenge for what you did this morning. One of the girls who died was their leader, and her sister is in charge now.”
“We didn’t intend to hurt anyone,” Gorchov said. “And we lost men, too.”
“I know,” Winter said. She gritted her teeth hard enough that it brought tears to her eyes. “I’m just trying to get everyone through this, and killing one another isn’t going to help.” She gestured at Alex and Abraham. “That’s why we’re here. We came over the wall to see if we could work things out before the shooting starts.”
“You came over the wall?” Dobraev said. “Just like that?”
“Alex is a thief,” Winter said.
“The greatest thief in the world, actually,” Alex said, cracking her knuckles. “This wasn’t exactly a challenge.”
“And you?” Gorchov said to Abraham. “I suppose you’re the world’s greatest lover?”
“I’m a healer,” Abraham said. “And... a priest, of a sort.”
“A thief, a priest, and... whatever you are,” Gorchov said, looking back to Winter. “You come out of the wilderness with a mad warning, and you want us to—?what?”
“Get everyone on the ships,” Winter said. “Invite my Haeta friends inside as well. Get us all downriver and away from the crazy bastards behind us.”
“Madness,” Gorchov said. “We’d have to load the ships to the rails, and there’d be no room for supplies. We’d have to leave our guns, ammunition, everything.”
“You’d be alive,” Winter said. “Which is more than I can say for you if you stay here.”
“You have to understand,” Dobraev said contemplatively, “that this is no small thing you’re asking.”
“I understand,” Winter said. “But you must know no orders are coming. Murnsk is in chaos. I doubt anyone remembers you’re still here.”
“It’s a moot point in any case,” Gorchov said. He turned to the firebox, where the pot had finally begun to boil, and began scooping the hot water into tin cups. “Kollowrath will never listen. Even if he believed there was an army of madmen coming, he’d say it was our duty to defend our posts.”
“You don’t agree, though,” Winter said. “What purpose would it serve for you to die here?”
“It has been suggested,” Dobraev said carefully, “among the common soldiers, that we would be better off moving to Dimiotsk. But the captain has made it clear that he views any such suggestion as mutinous.”
“What if you were in command?” Winter said. “What would you do?”
Time seemed to stretch thin. Gorchov froze, a cup in each hand. Winter watched Dobraev’s face. The young man gave very little away, but she could see the struggle.
“That seems unlikely,” he said eventually.
“If something happened to Kollowrath—” Alex said.
Dobraev turned to her. “I’m not stupid, young lady. Nor am I entirely without honor. I will not sit and listen to you speak of murdering my superior officer, no matter how... misguided he may be.”
“Besides,” Gorchov said, “people here are on edge as it is. If the captain were found dead, this place would go mad.”