Guns of the Dawn - Adrian Tchaikovsky Page 0,145

But that’s a . . .’

His grey clothes: not a doctor’s smock but a grey jacket, bisected by a baldric hung with a powder flask, just as hers was.

That’s a Denlander name . . . A Denlander accent and a Denlander name.

Then she fought. She wrenched at the coarse ropes at her wrists and ankles, feeling every joint and muscle cry out, every bruise and cut awake into shrieking life. The interior of the lean-to wheeled around her, and she felt whatever she was tied to creak and complain, but she had not the strength, not yet. She could not break it, or break free of it. Doctor Craulen had retreated from her and was staring at her with concern.

‘Please,’ he insisted. ‘You will only injure yourself further. Your rib—’

‘Get me out of this!’ she rasped at him. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

It was a frame built of canes, splaying her out like a rat ready for dissection. They bent and groaned as she yanked at them, then snapped back straight, wrenching her shoulders. Doctor Craulen left the lean-to hurriedly as she continued to strain furiously, then she sagged back, dizzy and exhausted.

In the aftermath of her striving, she realized that she was near-naked, and must have been completely so not long before. The shirt and undergarment she was wearing now must be Denlander issue, ill-fitting and definitely not her own. Had they—

She froze with the horror of the mere thought. Had they . . . ?

She felt no specific pain down there; no sense that she had been violated, but would she know?

A trembling started inside her, threatening to burst forth into outright panic. She fought it down. She had to remain in control, remain calm.

The flap of the lean-to was pushed open, revealing only darkness beyond, and then a pair of soldiers stepped in, remarkably cautiously for armed men confronting a bound woman. They regarded her suspiciously, and she stared back at them with as much venom as she could muster. She saw Doctor Craulen bobbing behind them, a small man with a receding hairline. But, then, they were all small men.

‘She’s ready to travel?’ one of the soldiers enquired.

‘She mustn’t be beaten any more,’ Craulen told them. ‘Don’t handle her roughly. You laid a heavy hand on her in the jungle.’

The soldier looked sour and muttered something that she translated a moment later as, ‘I didn’t realize she was a she.’

‘Bloody Lascans,’ the other man said. ‘We’d better get her out of here. Fetch her down, Doctor.’

Craulen obviously didn’t like the sound of that. ‘You bring her down. She was going mad just a moment ago.’

‘No real surprise, is it?’ said the first soldier, approaching her. For a moment, she was going to go for him, to bite him or something, but she got herself under control. He was going to cut her loose. That would leave her in a better position. She could fight or run then. She could do something.

She expected him to take out a knife and just cut through the ropes, but instead he fiddled with the knots until they came loose about one of her wrists. The other soldier had moved in as well, and was standing outside of arm’s reach. He had a musket slung across his back, a hatchet at his belt.

Maybe I could grab this one, hold him hostage. He was on to her other wrist now. Wait until you’ve got use of your limbs back. Be ready to make your move.

The cane frame was leaning at an angle, so that her weight had not been strung on her arms. She leant back in it, trying to look helpless, bruised and pliant, bringing her arms down to her sides slowly, feeling the bruises. The soldier moved on to her ankle, briskly tugging and teasing at the knot until it came free. It was all she could do not to tense, not to tip the Denlanders off before she struck.

The rope around her other ankle came loose, and she kicked the man in the face.

Or that was the plan. Her leg barely moved, merely tapping his shoulder limply. She heard him laugh wheezily. ‘She’s a real terror, Doctor. I can see why you keep your distance.’

Doctor Craulen muttered something and the soldier stood up, looking her in the eyes. He was almost as tall as she was.

‘Now, you listen,’ he told her, without malice. ‘Two lessons. One is that I took you in the forest, and I

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