‘What scouts?’ Mallen asked. ‘Few enough left. Can’t get out, these days. Denlander sharpshooters all over. Could be true, for all I’d know.’
Tubal gritted his teeth and looked to Emily. ‘You spoke with the man.’
‘I don’t claim to be an expert in telling truth from falsehood, but he sounded . . . convincing. He wants the war to end, and not to lose any more of his men. It could be true. It could be false.’
‘So we’re left with his deal,’ Brocky summarized. ‘Let’s all go on holiday to Locke to see what the Denlanders have done with the place. If it’s true. If it’s not just an ambush.’
‘What would they gain from an ambush? A handful less of us to fight. There must be more to it than that,’ she told them. ‘But what?’
‘And you agreed to go and have a look,’ Tubal noted.
‘I’ll go alone, if you want me to, but . . .’
‘But?’
‘I asked for them to send a cart here from Locke.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘It’ll be more proof, in a way, but mainly it’s so you can go, if you wanted to see for yourself. See if it’s true.’
‘It isn’t true!’ Scavian insisted.
‘Giles, please.’ She touched his hand across the table. He was flushed, angry. His skin felt feverishly hot. ‘If it is true, then Tubal will be the one to make the final decision. He has rank.’
‘I don’t want it,’ Tubal said wretchedly. ‘I never wanted command. I just wanted not to have to dig latrines. What damned fate put me in charge? Who’d ever have me as an officer?’
‘You’re the first I’ve had that I liked,’ Mallen told him, and Tubal flashed him a painful smile.
‘I will not make this decision on my own,’ he declared, nonetheless. An odd look came into his eyes. ‘Today has gone mad – can we agree on that? What’s normal for any time and place has been suspended. Motley reigns supreme right now. We have an invitation that must be a trap, we have a story about ending the war, only now we don’t want it to end. The world is mad, and us with it. I have a toast, gentlemen.’
‘Toast your toast,’ Brocky invited.
‘To the sights of Locke. Who’ll drink with me?’
‘You’re not seriously considering putting yourself in such danger?’ Scavian demanded.
‘Oh, I am, Scavvers. I won’t let Emily carry this burden on her own, as she has so often before. I intend to review the troops like a good commanding officer. What matter if they be enemy troops?’
‘Well, then.’ Scavian raised his glass. ‘In that case you can have no objection to my coming along with the two of you. If your life is cheap as coloured glass, then why the devil not mine?’ His eyes sought Emily’s across the table. ‘What better company could a man ask for?’
‘Survivors together,’ Mallen said. ‘Made it this far, so why not?’ His glass came up as well. ‘We’ve had some fine times, here. Kept us all together, this hut, the Club. Why not all of us together, at the last?’
‘You are all lunatics,’ Brocky grumbled. ‘Listen to yourselves. This isn’t some . . . grand adventure.’ He stared at his half-empty glass upon the table. ‘The last time I did something mad like this, I got shot.’ He caught himself on that last word, and Emily knew he was thinking of Marie Angelline. She thought that it must have been her memory, what she would have done, that inspired him in the end, for he never was a man of courage. His hand was still shaking as he raised his own glass.
‘To the sights of bloody Locke, be they ever so fine,’ he said. And, as they all raised to drink: ‘You’ve been a bad bloody bunch to fall in with, you bastards, but I’ll not regret it.’ He blinked rapidly. ‘I couldn’t have asked for better.’
They emptied their glasses as though they had all the time in the world. It was a good vintage Brocky had picked; his best, Emily suspected. Something he had been saving.
‘We’ve come a long way whilst going nowhere, haven’t we?’ Tubal said at last.
‘That we have,’ agreed Mallen.
‘And few enough left on the road with us,’ Scavian added.
‘If this is the end, at least we’ll be in good company,’ said Tubal, agreeing with him. ‘Do you think I’ll get my leg back, after I die?’
‘You’re dying as a soldier, man,’ Brocky reminded him. ‘It’ll depend what they’ve got