“What?” said Three-Spire, his translator croaking in Latin. He hopped out of the chariot and stepped so close to Froggie that the centurion had to look up if he wanted to see anything above the barb’s neckline. “Where is Sawtooth? He should be—”
Changing tack in the middle of the question, Three-Spire cawed a demand at Queenie. Before she could speak—not that Froggie was worried about Queenie forgetting the story they’d worked out together—Froggie said, “Sawtooth went off last night with one of the girls, citizen. The others tell me he’d been feeding her meat from army rations.”
That set the barb back like Froggie’d caught him at throat level with a shield-rim—an image which’d been going through Froggie’s mind, sure enough. “Sawtooth did that?” Three-Spire said.
This time Queenie answered, speaking slowly enough that Froggie caught the word for disgrace. She even squatted down and raised her hips, the way the girls here did to honor a man.
Three-Spire’s translator shot a question at Slats. The administrator answered just as smooth and polite as he would’ve the Commander. Speaking of Blue-Suit, he’d stuck a finger in his mouth and was rolling it around like a pestle in a handmill.
The aide bobbed his head, indicating a complete lack of understanding. To Froggie he said, “Well, the females must return on their own, then. They won’t need food—it’s a short journey since they no longer have burdens.”
“Ah . . .” said Froggie. It griped his soul to have to treat this barb like he was real people, but whatever was going on was deeper waters than Froggie was ready to swim in yet. “I guess the girls can stay with us. We’ll need cooks and, and washing done, so—”
Three-Spire’s crest twitched, sticking straight up and then spreading out like a drop of water splashing on bone-dry ground. Instead of talking to Froggie, he turned and flung another load of gabble at Slats through the lavaliere. Slats twice tried to reply, but the barb snarled him down before he got out more than a few clicking words. When Three-Spire finally finished, he glared at Froggie.
Slats spread his limbs in acceptance. Very carefully he said to Froggie, “Three-Spire, speaking in the Commander’s name, says that the females cannot remain within Kascanschi because they are not of this tribe. He says that would cause offense—”
The administrator flicked his middle limbs out minusculely.
“—although my briefing cube failed to note this cultural peculiarity. Furthermore, Three-Spire rejects my suggestion that we could camp outside the walls as we did on the way here. That would be a rejection of the villagers’ hospitality that again would give offense, Three-Spire says. Speaking for the Commander.”
In Latin Three-Spire said, “The Commander wishes to inform you that if you do not carry out his orders at once, his terrible weapons will burn all you warriors to ash for mutiny. To ash!”
“I see,” Froggie said. He looked over his troopers. Verruca had lined them up five squads abreast with the carts behind them and the Sixth Squad acting as a rear guard and reserve. “Century, mount up! We’ll be billeted in that big-ass building right inside the gates until we hear different. By squads, march!”
In truth Froggie didn’t see very much, but at least he knew for sure where he stood. He’d met plenty of Three-Spire’s type, politicians who always landed on their feet. By now all of that sort had been weeded out of the legion. No matter how well you sucked up to the high command, in a battle there was a lot of stuff happening. Sometimes javelins flew from a funny direction.
Glabrio joined his fellows as they clashed off on their left feet. He gave Froggie a hard glance from beneath the brim of his helmet.
The Commander had slumped down onto the chariot’s floor. The bodyguards remained stolidly motionless but the driver was peering over his seat-back at the Commander, her scaly hide turning mauve in concern.
The Guild had long ago made sure the legion knew about those weapons that could find a man wherever he hid and burn him alive through solid rock. It was interesting that a barb aide knew about them, though. Froggie wasn’t about to bet that those weapons wouldn’t be used on him and his boys, even though the Commander didn’t look in much shape to give orders.