Captain of Mercenaries

Part 3. The Whipping House

Allein strode through the dark corridors, head up, arms swinging as if on parade. He knew the way. Women in delicate silks skittered out of his path, laughing gently. Warm air and perfume. He was tempted to turn aside, he had been so long away, at the minehead, on the trail. A bath, he thought, some comfort would be... but not yet. He paused, smiling.

"Where is Lieutenant Malin, Clarisse?"

"Lydia has kept him all night! She is always so greedy!"

Jacksontown was a city built on a mine. Some came here to profit from the dirt, and others to wash it away. To the highest rank, the finest comforts. The Oriental Theatre, better known as the Whipping House, was a place of great ease, and greater discretion, and therefore popular with the officers in Company service. Allein opened the door indicated, and gazed for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"I'm sure that can't be good for you."

"Ow! Gods! Allein, I'm not paying for you too, you know! Yow! Stop, Lydia, please! Look, you're making Lieutenant Allein cry. Would you like a turn?"

"No, seeing that was punishment enough. Come on, Malin, get up. I have news."

Allein waited for Lydia to leave, and sat. "He's going! Captain Duroc! He's going!"

Malin gave him a languid glance. "Going? Where is our heroic commander going? Did someone suggest a hearty breakfast? Or has a vat of wine been unearthed close enough to his room for him to walk to without falling over?"

No, you ass! He's gone! Discharged, packed his bags, first mule out dumb enough to carry him! Order came at three o'clock in the morning, by seven he was gone!"

Malin sat up. "That is news. The fat captain. Who have they sent to take over? A failed politician or a bored financier? It hardly matters as long as they know the rudiments of military command. Stuffing their faces, pilfering our shares, and sending us round and round in circles while the caravans get cut up one by one. What difference will it make?"

Allein sat back, smiling in triumph. "That's just it," he said. "Noone has come! The Lady has called a meeting - all the senior people - for today at three!"

Malin breathed in slowly. "You mean, it could be one of us...? To take over?"

"Yes! Why not? After the last fiasco? Tyrell dead, eight casulaties, more maybe if Seargent Bale hadn't been such a cool hand. And Captain Duroc fast asleep in bed. Maybe now the fools are going to give command to someone who knows what they're doing. One of us!"

"That would be you, then, Allein. You're senior. Career man. Solid army background before joing the Company."

"I would like that - of course. This outfit has been run into the ground! People laugh at us. And those damn hill savages kill Tyrell and desecrate - descrate! - his body and nothing, nothing is done about it. Well, I would. I'd bring back some respect." Allein calmed himself. "But more likely you. I just one more low-born greasy mercenary to them. I'll never go higher than I am now. But you - you're from a family - connections, money, all that."

Malin laughed. "I am special, can't deny it. But my family? Why do you think I'm out here? They needed me to be well out of sight."

"A scandal? Often wondered... wasn't there something about a senator's wife? And you..."

"It was the senator's mistress and me. The scandal arose because the old fool allowed his jealous indignation to be too obvious, arousing the interest of the his wife, and a great deal of noise and regret followed all round. And so here I am. Where I can't cause any more trouble. But if I did make captain, get the captain's share, leave all this dung behind, go home a hero, well now..." For a moment Malin seemed to catch sight of something beautiful, then let it go. "But it won't be."

"So. Neither of us then. That would leave Brinn."

Malin lowered his voice. "The weeping drunk? Please."

"Have you seen Brinn? This morning?"

"Seen, no. But I can almost smell him from here. Another losing battle with a bottle, last night."

The glow faded from Allein's face. "Again. A little... wild?"

"Wild? Damn, Allein, if I hadn't gone in there the girl might have got hurt. He was out of control! If he doesn't stop this soon..."

Allein looked up. "Malin, he has been unhappy recently. I've known him a long time. He is not normally like... "

Malin snorted. "Normally? When was Brinn's last period of normality? Of course he's unhappy. He's unlucky. First, he had the bad luck to fall in love with a woman far beyond him. Then he has the extraordinary misfortune to marry her. And of course events took their natural course leaving him alone, stuck in the middle of nowhere and miserable. Now he spends half his time staring at her picture and the other half throwing up on it. The whole business is ... unhygenic."

Allein was silent. Malin spoke again.

"Didn't you know her? Susannah, I mean, the beautiful and glorious Susannah, who pickled our poor Brinn before moving on to better things?"

"Yes. A long time ago." Allein did not seem willing to say more, so Malin continued.

"So, the command. None of us is fit for it. But we all want it. Even Brinn - it would give him something to woo back his perilous Susannah. I hadn't thought of it before, but now, Allein, I'll tell you something."

"Yes?"

"I want it."

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