The Devil's Pay (Dogs of War) - By Dave Gross Page 0,13

damned if I thought he could do that.”

The Steelheads who could still stand did so, cheering as their commander returned triumphant, but their voices were tempered with loss. Too many of their fellows tended the wounded or lay helpless on the ground.

“Why Stannis,” said Sam. “You always bring me the most charming gifts.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stannis Brocker kneed his horse toward her. As it came closer, the Dogs could see that it was the size of the draft horses in their wagon train. Only its gigantic rider made it seem smaller from a distance.

“You mean apart from saving you from those Corruptors?”

“I had it under control.”

“If you’d retreated any faster, by now you’d be shoveling snow in Korsk.”

After pronouncing the hated name, Sam turned her head and spit on the ground. All of the boys and most of the men did the same in perfect unison.

A surprised laugh escaped Dawson. Brocker glared at him until he covered it with a feigned cough.

The other Steelheads looked to their leader, holding their breath as they awaited his reaction.

“You drill them in that spit thing, don’t you?”

“We all have our little indulgences. Those smudges on your lip, for example. Has anyone ever mistaken them for proper mustaches?”

Brocker showed his teeth. In contrast to his tanned and battle-scarred face, they were very large and very white. When he grimaced, his brush-stroke mustaches appeared all the more ridiculous. “You’re funny, MacHorne,” he said. “For a woman. I don’t usually like my women funny, but in your case I’d make an exception. After we finish running down those thralls, you can come into my tent and tell me some bad jokes.”

The Dogs bristled. Burns stepped forward, but Lister put a hand on his big shoulder.

“A bad joke is about all I’d find in your tent, Brocker.” Sam covered the grip of her sword, leaving only two inches between her hand and the butt.

Even the Steelheads chuckled at that, at least until Brocker silenced them with a look of death.

“But enough about your shortcomings,” said Sam. “Who hired you to hunt Cryx?”

“The better question is, who the hell would hire your band of rejects? Or are you out here on your own, scavenging for parts? I see you’ve found enough to make two puppet-show warjacks.”

“You mean the big lugs who just saved your asses?” said Sam. “You didn’t answer my question. It’s Baird, isn’t it?”

Brocker shrugged. “I can’t think of a reason to tell you anything.”

“I can,” she said, raising her voice. “Think of how many more of your men those Corruptors might have turned inside out if we hadn’t showed up. At the very least, you owe me thanks.”

A few of the Steelhead troops nodded until they saw Brocker watching. He scowled and considered before answering. “King Baird is very careful where he commits his own troops, especially in spots like the Wythmoor. Yes, we’re collecting bounties on Cryx infiltration units, and would have been fine without ‘help’, but this run was different, like they were after something other than the standard grave culling.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard. Any day now, you’re going to work your way up to, ‘Thanks for saving my skin, Sam.’”

“I’d sooner put you across my knee,” he said. His sneer vanished, replaced by a naked leer. “And teach you to like it.”

“Why you red, boot-licking son of a—” Burns lunged forward. This time it took the combined weight of Lister, Smooth, and Crawley to hold him back.

Sam held her gaze on Brocker. “While I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed our little chat, I can see you’re in a hurry. If you don’t leave now, you’ll never catch up with the rest of those Cryx.”

“You never said what you’re doing in the Wythmoor,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“But I told you—”

“And I appreciate it. Let me show you my appreciation.” She bowed and made a flourish with her hand. “Thank you, Stannis. See how easy that is?”

As Brocker glowered at her, Sam continued. “Come along, Dogs. Let’s leave the Steelheads to bless their dead and gather their bounties.”

Sam called to Foyle and Gully, the latter of whom had developed a shrieking whine with every other step. The Dogs headed back toward their wagons, past the bodies of Cryx thralls and Steelheads.

When Sam paused to look back, so did those nearest her. Behind them, the Steelheads combed the fields to retrieve their dead. They collected hands from the dead thralls and cut out cortexes from the helljacks.

“You know he’s