The Wrong Trail Knife

PART ONE

CHIP COPPELLI

16th September 533

Chapter one

A new girl in the squadron

The new recruits to the rangers were gasping as they stumbled up the road at an unsteady trot; many looked as if their legs were turning to rubber. Wisely, Sergeant 'Chip' Coppelli stopped to let them pass, rather than relying on rank to grant her right of way. The recruits were clearly in no state to undertake evasive manoeuvres. A grin spread across Chip's face at the sight of the exhausted women; it wasn't smug or malicious, a easy-going smile was merely her normal expression. Initial training for the rangers was hell, as she well remembered, but sending out ill-prepared recruits would be verging on murder.

The trainees tottered to a halt in an open space nearby. Chip watched them form up in a line, swaying noticeably. A drill-sergeant strutted forward slowly. The heavy, menacing steps made Chip's grin grow still broader. She wondered if newly appointed drill-sergeants were given lessons in swaggering, or whether their gait was assessed before they were offered the job. And the voice! There must be a knack to sounding sarcastically ironic at full bellow. Chip could see the recruits flinch. It was a fair bet they were all bitterly cursing themselves for applying to join the rangers. Chip knew she'd done so during her months as a trainee, but not seriously, or for long. And the eight years since she'd become a proper ranger had been the happiest of her life - although it was fair to say the previous nineteen did not offer much in the way of competition.

With her path clear, Chip continued walking across the site, through the collection of barrack-blocks, admin offices, stores, stables and training fields known as Fort Krowe. Her eyes took in the surroundings. The paths between the buildings were worn bare of grass, the ground still damp from the previous day's rain. From its hillside perch, the site commanded a good view of the roofs of the town below and beyond them the lowland pastures and the Landfall road heading south-east. Overhead the sun shone from a cloudless blue sky, but the weight had gone from its heat. The wooded hillsides held the first tinge of red and orange. Autumn was on the way.

It had been a busy summer for the 23rd squadron, chasing from one side of the Homelands to the other. The missions had been successful, and the only losses from the squadron were two women who had completed their period of enlistment and had decided not to rejoin. The one from Chip's patrol had gone only two days before and was probably still nursing her hangover. Chip was not sure if the woman was wise (in leaving rather than celebrating). While out on assignment you always looked forward to returning to Fort Krowe for the chance to take things easy. It was only when you got back you remembered how dull it was. Leaving the rangers might well be the same.

The barracks allocated to the 23rd were on a gentle slope to one side, slightly detached from the rest of the site. Chip looked at the wooden buildings fondly. Fort Krowe felt like home, far more so than her parent's house had ever done. She was just approaching C patrol bunk-house when a voice called out, "Sergeant Coppelli."

Chip stopped and looked around. "What is it?"

The ranger who had hailed her jogged closer. "Ma'am, Captain LeCoup wants to see you in the briefing room. Your new recruit is here."

"Already? That's great." Chip switched direction.

The briefing room was in the block housing the officer's quarters. In a normal barracks it would have fulfilled a range of administrative functions, requiring desks, bookshelves and cabinets, but at Fort Krowe there were divisional offices to take care of such things. The only furniture in the room was a large central table and benches pushed back around the walls.

          When Chip entered the room Captain LeCoup was half-sitting on the table, with one foot dangling free. LeCoup was short and square, with a face that epitomised determination. In Chip's opinion it would be a brave brick wall that dared stand in her way. LeCoup was looking displeased, which was not such an rare expression for her, although her fairness and competence meant it didn't stop her being generally approved of by her troops. The current focus of her displeasure was the woman standing to attention in front of her.

          LeCoup's eyes shifted as the door closed. "Sergeant Coppelli, the new member of your patrol is here, Private Katryn Nagata." Her voice was clipped.

          Chip covered her surprise. Everyone managed to annoy LeCoup at some time, however doing it within minutes of arriving in the squadron was both unusual and unwise. Chip took a few steps forward, until she was standing beside the newcomer, and then turned to look at her.

          She was almost exactly the same height as Chip, her body lightly built, but too well balanced to appear weak. Her head was small and neat, with finely cut contours. The first thought to strike Chip was that Katryn Nagata was incredibly good-looking. The second that she was older than expected, in her mid-twenties, which was immediately followed by a mental double-take - LeCoup had given her rank as private, not leading ranger. A quick glance at Katryn's shoulder badge confirmed it. The shield was blank.

          Promotion to leading ranger was a formality, granted when a woman had completed two years in the rangers. It was marked by a single bar on her badge. It was possible for an officer to recommend the promotion be delayed, but it was exceptional, and certainly for no more than a year. The only time you could expect to find someone of the newcomer's age with an empty badge was if she'd been busted to private for a disciplinary offence.

          LeCoup's next words supported this inference. "Private Nagata has been transferred to us from the 12th."

          Chip mentally completed the story. The offence had not only been serious enough to merit demotion, but it had made Katryn so unpopular with the other members of her squadron it had been necessary to move her. Gross cowardice would have done it, or stealing from her comrades, and either would probably have earned her a flogging as well. Whatever the crime, she was unlikely to be an asset to the 23rd. Chip could understand LeCoup's annoyance.

          Chip studied Katryn's face in profile. The new arrival's gaze was fixed on the wall, her jaw clamped shut. She was trying to look impassive, but her the line of her mouth gave her away. She was miserably nervous, and she was very beautiful. Chip knocked the thought away and turned back to LeCoup.

          The captain was glaring at Katryn, but then she sucked in a deep breath. "Okay Private. You're not the person I'd have chosen but I suppose someone had to have you. I'll assume all appropriate action had been taken, and we can draw a line under the past. You're in the 23rd squadron now, and this is day one. Behave yourself and things will be fine. Step out of line and you'll regret it. Understood?"

          "Yes ma'am."

          "You'll be in C patrol, under Sergeant Coppelli here. She'll be watching you very carefully. Make sure she only sees good things." LeCoup paused, glaring. "She's all yours Sergeant. Dismissed."

          Chip lead the way to C patrol bunk-house. The dormitory lay-out was standard. An unlit iron stove was close by the door. A single bed for the corporal and double-bunks for the other six members of the patrol stood in the corners. There was a doorway to the sergeant's separate room at the end. All remaining wall space was taken up with lockers to hold the ranger's possessions.

          Chip pointed out the vacant upper bunk and spare locker. "They'll be yours."

          "Yes ma'am." Katryn's voice was taut to breaking.

          Chip looked at her. Katryn's hands were shaking visibly. Her eyes were bleak and despairing. 'Trapped' was the word that came to Chip's mind. A ripple of sympathy flowed though her. Everyone made mistakes. You should only have to pay for them once. In a lighter tone she said. "Don't be too worried by Captain LeCoup, she doesn't do the chummy act, but she's not vindictive, and she means exactly what she says. She's given you a clean sheet in the squadron, the rest is up to you."

          "Yes ma'am, thank-you." Katryn sounded no happier. She looked like a condemned woman on her way to the scaffold.

          Chip stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. You're over the worst bit with LeCoup and me. The rest of the patrol can do reasonable impersonations of human beings - on a good day."

          On cue the door opened and Lee came in. Chip accosted her and made the introductions. "This is Private Katryn Nagata who has joined C patrol, and this is Corporal Lee Horte who is going to sort out your horse in the stables, and show you where everything is and trot you around to say hello to everyone, while I go and put my feet up in the approved fashion for sergeants."

          Chip shot a warning glance at Lee before heading out through the door. Lee would be a good person to help Katryn settle in. It must be stressful to be dumped in a group of strangers who were going to distrust you. Lee was the calmest person Chip had ever met. In five years in the rangers, fighting their way out of countless dangerous situations, Chip had never heard Lee lose her composure enough to mutter an oath stronger than 'Oh dear'. Lee was far more diplomatic than the average ranger and could be counted on to not overplay a drama. Lee would also protect Katryn from too much tactless curiosity by the other patrol members.

          Standing outside the bunk-house Chip paused and thought. It was not just her and the captain who would add things together and draw conclusions. For the sake of unity in the patrol it would be nice to have the facts - no mater what, they would be better than rumour. While Lee sorted out the practical details Chip decided to go back to talk to Captain LeCoup, and see if she could find out exactly what Katryn Nagata had done.

          **********

          General mail arrived at Fort Krowe once a week. Rather than have the staff pestered by every woman on site, it was the responsibility of sergeants to collect and distribute mail to their patrols. It was Chip's next task after leaving Captain LeCoup.

          "You're early, you'll have to hang on." the clerk shouted as Chip entered the office.

          "You mean you're not ready yet?" Chip tone was teasing.

          "That was the general implication."

          "You'll have to start taking shorter lunch breaks."

          "I haven't had a lunch break today."

          "You mean your morning tea break overran so much there wasn't time to fit one in?"

          In reply the clerk merely glared at her tormentor with animosity which was utterly unconvincing. Chip's good-nature made her universally popular. The mock arguments were part of a ritual game between divisional staff and those on active service in the squadrons.

          Most of the office was taken up with desks and cabinets, but in a corner were a few stools. Chip selected one and sat down. After a few minutes the door opened again and Sergeant Aisha O'Neil of A patrol entered, with Kimberley Ramon close behind. They were, respectively the oldest and youngest sergeants in the 23rd. Ash O'Neil had been a sergeant when Chip joined the squadron. It was known she had repeatedly turned down promotion to lieutenant, claiming she preferred to stick with what she was good at. And there was no-one who'd deny that Ash was an exceptionally good sergeant.

          Kim Ramon was also well-respected. Reaching the rank of sergeant at twenty-four was fast work, and there was little doubt she would go a lot further. She'd been tipped as captain since her first month in the rangers. Chip felt no resentment at knowing she would be overtaken on the promotion ladder, especially since Kim was her best friend.

          "You can tell who hasn't got enough work to do." Kim teased, seeing Chip already there waiting.

          "I'm merely maintaining good morale by making sure my patrol get their mail promptly." Chip answered in kind, and then raised her voice. "Or at least they would if the staff didn't fart about so much."

          "Sod off." The answer was shouted back.

          "What has happened to witty repartee?" Chip shook her head sadly.

          "You weren't expecting wit from divisional staff, were you?" Kim spoke in mock innocence.

          The three sergeants grinned at the harassed clerk, and then settled down to wait. Ash rested her back against the wall and said, "I hear we've got a new girl in the squadron. I take it she's in your patrol."

          "Yes, turned up about an hour ago." Chip confirmed.

          "You frowned when you said that." Kim made the observation.

          "Mmmm." Chip hesitated. Not because she had doubts about the discretion of her fellow sergeants - they would soon learn everything via the grapevine anyway, but because she herself was uncertain of what to make of the information she had to give.

          "There's a problem with her?" Kim prompted.

          "Well... she's not a new recruit, she's a transfer." Chip began. "Her name's Katryn Nagata. She must be twenty-five or so, and she's got the rank of private."

          There was a few seconds of silence while the other two added things up. "What did she do?" Ash asked eventually.

          "We don't know, which is really winding up LeCoup, I've come here straight from talking to her. Apparently the transfer papers have got no information on them at all."

          "Isn't there a record of the court-martial?"

          "There must be - somewhere, but it hasn't got here yet. She's been transferred from the 12th which is in Western division... I think."

          Ash shook her head. "Eastern." she corrected.

          "Whatever." Chip shrugged. "The legal documents are probably still doing the rounds in Landfall."

          "It's not a good situation." Kim said, shaking her head.

          "No, not really. I've been trying to think of all the things you can get busted for." Chip pursed her lips. "I suppose blasphemy wouldn't bother me too much."

          "It's not being busted to private that's worrying." Ash gave her opinion. "It's having to be transferred. Upsetting the authorities can be a matter of bad luck. Upsetting your comrades points to something nasty."

          "How did she seem to you?" Kim asked.

          "I didn't talk to her much."

          "First impressions?"

          "Well..." Chip caught her lower lip in her teeth, working to hide her grin. "I don't know how to tell you this Kim, but she may well take your place as pretty-girl of the squadron."

          Kim laughed. "She's welcome to it - the bonus pay for the post is abysmal."

          Chip tilted her head sideways. "She may be trouble, but at least she'll be ornamental."

          Ash joined in the joking. "Don't knock it. When you've been a sergeant as long as me you'll know the value of an ascetically pleasing patrol. Remember, for one reason or another, you have to spend an awful lot of time looking at them."

          "Okay the mail is ready." The clerk shouted over, interrupting the discussion.

          The three sergeants picked up the appropriate pile of letters and wandered back to the barracks. "So, what are you going to about your new ranger?" Kim asked when they were outside.

          "What can I do? She's been assigned to the 23rd. Anyway, maybe she's learnt her lesson. It's not fair to assume we need to do anything."

          "I meant about finding out why she was court-martialled. You don't want to leave it to rumour."

          "Oh, that." Chip said cheerily. "I've worked out just what to do. I'm going to ask her."

          **********

          A small town had grown up next to Fort Krowe. Initially it had existed solely to supply the needs of the rangers, but over the years it had acquired a life of it's own. Unsurprisingly, from the first, the town had attracted bowyers and swordsmiths, and these no longer confined their trade to the military. Blades and bows from Fort Krowe were prized throughout the Homelands. The weekly market in the main square was the centre of this trade.

          It was the end of another frenetic day of buying and selling. Crowds were thinning and the stalls were being taken down for the night as the two rangers, clad in uniforms of green and grey, strolled across the cobbles. Anywhere else they'd have attracted attention, if only from wide-eyed children, but no-one here spared them a second glance. After all, this was Fort Krowe, home of the rangers.

          Chip and Kim wove their way between the crates and half-dismantled stalls, exchanging light-hearted banter. As they reached the far end Chip tapped Kim's arm and pointed down a side-street. "Do you mind if we go to the Cat and Fiddle tonight?"

          "No." Kim agreed easily and changed direction. "Any particular reason?"

          "The rest of my patrol are going there. I'm hoping the new girl will tag along so I'll get the chance for a little off-duty chat."

          "To try and find out why she was court-martailled?" There was a teasing edge to Kim's voice.

          Chip picked up on it. "Of course, why else?"

          "Well, you did say she was attractive."

          "I said she was prettier than you." Chip caught the sideways look her friend was directing at her and laughed. "Don't tell me you're worried."

          "At what?"

          "That she might take away some of the adoring hordes that chase after you."

          This time it was Kim who laughed. "There's enough women who are mesmerised by a ranger's uniform to go around."

          "And around and around." Chip grinned. "Well, you should know."

          Kim made no attempt the deny the gibe. It was true some women were fascinated by rangers, but even without the lure of her uniform Kim would have had no trouble finding lovers. What did draw comment was the unrelenting pace at which Kim worked her way through them, exceptional even among the free-living rangers. Only those who knew Kim well, like Chip, understood the painful memories that drove her.

          For Chip herself, the adolescent delight at being able to pick up lovers at will had long gone. The thrill had faded in the knowledge the women were attracted purely by her uniform. Chip had no narcissism concerning her own looks. The face confronting her in the mirror could most flatteringly be described as interesting, or more honestly as misproportioned. What Chip didn't realise was that only when studying the reflection was her face inanimate, humourless and critical, which made all the difference. Many women had told Chip she had a nice smile; her mistake was in not taking them seriously.

          The tap-room of the Cat and Fiddle was busy, even so it was not hard to spot the group of rangers in the corner. As they sauntered over loud voices hailed the two sergeants. Chip and Kim were well-liked and, off-duty, welcome companions. Chip spotted Katryn at the back of the group. The woman was clearly uneasy, although making an effort to fit in. The other members of the patrol were being polite, but they were also unsure of how to react to the new addition to the squadron.

          While they were still out of earshot Kim whispered, "I take it that's her?"

          "Yes."

          "Not bad." Kim said appraisingly. "But you don't need me to tell you to be careful."

          "I said I thought she was good-looking, I didn't say I planned on doing anything."

          "I heard what you said." Kim's voice was serious. "I also heard how you said it."

          A slightly sharper retort rose to Chip's lips but she bit it back as she caught her friend's eyes. There was no doubting the concern there. Friendship was too weak a word for the bond between them. Both had risked their life for the other on countless occasions, and the vigilance didn't stop when off-duty. Chip rapped her knuckles gently on Kim's arm. "Don't worry. I'm not about to do anything daft."

          "Just remember, she's trouble."

          **********

          It was late in the evening before Chip got the chance for a private chat. The tavern was slowly clearing. Kim, true to form, was homing in on a soft-faced trader from Landfall. Katryn was sitting at an otherwise empty table in an alcove. Chip took her drink and slid in opposite.

          "How are you going?" Chip opened the conversation.

          "I'm fine, thank-you ma'am."

          "We're off-duty. You can call me Chip."

          "Yes ma..." Katryn swallowed and looked anxiously towards the bar, as if searching for advice. Her eyes dropped to her almost empty tankard. Chip pointed towards it.

          "Can I buy you another one?"

          "Oh... no... I..." Katryn was floundering for words. "I don't drink much - but thank you."

          Chip studied the downcast face. She'd tried to work out a tactful way to approach the subject, but everything she'd thought of sounded contrived, and it didn't seem hopeful that Katryn was going to volunteer the information. Blunt honesty was going to have to do.

          Chip settled back slightly in her chair, so as not to appear too intimidating, and asked, "Why were you court-martailled?"

          "Pardon?" Katryn's head shot up.

          Chip did not repeat her words, judging Katryn's response was not due to mishearing.

          Katryn met her gaze for a few tense seconds and then shook her head. "I haven't been court-martailled."

          "So why aren't you a leading ranger?"

          "I haven't been in the rangers long enough to qualify, I only completed initial training in January."

          Chip opened her mouth and then shut it again. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. Of course it was possible. Before a woman could apply to the rangers she must complete two years probation in the militia. The full term of enlistment was fourteen years. Those whose application was successful spent the last twelve in the rangers. After that it was possible to reenlist in seven year extension periods; as long as the woman was not too old. Forty-four was the cut-off point for active field duty, sixty for divisional staff, and seventy for command. To enlist in the militia a woman could be aged anywhere between sixteen and thirty, but in practice it was extremely rare for anyone to join after the age of twenty. A fair proportion of the squadron had applied for the militia and then the rangers on the very first day they were eligible. Chip hadn't been quite so prompt but she'd still entered the rangers before her nineteenth birthday. She had never heard of anyone much older even wanting to transfer to the rangers, let alone being accepted, but it wasn't prohibited by the rules

          "I didn't...er... I..." Now it was Chip who was lost for words.

          "I haven't been charged with any crime, let alone found guilty." Katryn's voice was soft, with a bitter undertone.

          "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I made assumptions from your age."

          Katryn bit her lip then nodded. "That's alright. I know it's unusual."

          There was still the question of why she'd been transferred, but Chip felt she had blundered into enough awkward mistakes for one evening. She decided to retreat to another subject, and it would be safest to let Katryn chose it. "Right well... um... is there anything I can tell you? About the squadron or whatever?"

          "I don't know much about Central Division, what the postings are like or..." Katryn's voice trailed away into a shrug.

          Chip nodded. It was a safe subject. "Varied, very varied. Northern, Eastern and Western divisions have their section of border to protect. Central has to cover everything else."

          "The coast to the south?" Katryn suggested.

          "Technically, yes. But, though I've heard tales of sea-monsters, they stay in the water and don't cause us problems."

          Katryn's face fell slightly. "A shame, I've always wanted to see the ocean."

          "Oh, you'll get to see it all right - and everywhere else in the Homelands as well. Whenever a local militia has a problem too big to handle they call on Central Division. We're the smallest division, only five squadrons, and we cover the largest territory. On top of that we are sometimes loaned to other divisions as reserves, particularly in winter when snow-lions get troublesome. We think of Fort Krowe as our base, but we don't spend much time here."

          "It sounds like the 23rd sees a lot of action."

          "Oh we do - of all sorts." Chip's grin returned. "The other divisions rotate around the garrison towns on the borders. We get to visit places where they don't normally see rangers. You won't believe how enthusiastically women will grab their once-in-a-lifetime chance to examine the contents of a ranger's uniform." Chip glanced across the tavern. Once in a lifetime or not, Kim's trader was clearly eager to undertake the investigation.

          "I'm not into... I mean if that's what other rangers want, it's okay, but for myself, I don't..." Katryn mumbled.

          Chip yelped with laughter. "Now, that's not the proper attitude for a ranger."

          The humour missed Katryn. "I had a lover before and she..." Her voice failed her. Katryn's expression had been starting to open. It snapped shut, but before it closed Chip saw into a raw pit of pain.

          Chip slipped down in her chair, letting her gaze rise to the blackened beams of the ceiling. It would explain the transfer. Affairs between rangers weren't approved of, but they were impossible to forbid. In the closed world of barracks and field-duty many rangers would sleep together, generally expressing no more than the intense camaraderie of active service. On a daily basis your life lay in your comrade's hands, binding you closer than sisters. The authorities would take no action, unless the relationship got out of hand, threatening the military discipline of the squadron. But then they'd step in - hard. It was particularly likely in the case of an affair between an officer and her subordinate.

          Katryn was attractive enough to make any ranger forget herself. It wasn't surprising if a sergeant, or someone of even higher rank, had fallen for her. Separating the lovers was the quick, ruthless answer; and Katryn, as the new recruit, would be the one to be moved.

          Chip's face softened in sympathy. As she had thought before, it must be hard to be dumped in a new squadron, in circumstances which guaranteed distrust. And so much harder to do it with a broken heart.

          Chapter two - A bad name

          The practice blades were blunt, but could still provide a painful jolt, even through a thick leather jerkin. Katryn gasped and staggered back a step, but kept her grip firm on her own sword and her eyes on her opponent. Chip followed up the advantage, thrusting forward again. This time Katryn managed to block - just. However, after a few more parries, Chip again got through the defence; a hard swipe to the stomach. Katryn doubled forward, ending up wheezing with both hands braced on the ground.

          Chip stood back and pursed her lips. It was not the point to leave people black and blue, but you did no-one any favours in playing patsy with weapons practice. Once Katryn had recovered her breath Chip lent a hand to pull her back to her feet. Katryn stood shamefaced under Chip's appraising stare.

          "I've known worse." Chip conceded at last. "But I expect better." In fact Katryn was average, or would be with a bit more practice.

          "Yes, ma'am."

          Chip bent down a picked up the dropped practice sword. "What are you like with a bow?"

          "Better."

          Chip tilted her head to one side. "Really? Well, we'll give it a go after lunch." She turned to look around at the other pairs, sparing on the grass.

          The weather was colder than the day before, overcast. The tops of the mountains were lost in cloud. Despite this, all eight women of C patrol had worked up a sweat, except for Lee, who seemed physiologically incapable of it. And it was impossible to criticise her performance. Lee had a knack of putting her sword where it needed to be even before her opponent had thought of where to strike.

          Chip was about to reallocate partners when a shout echoed over the field. "Sergeant Coppelli." She looked up to the top of the field. A ranger from D patrol was charging towards them. Something in the woman's tone prompted Chip to meet her halfway.

          "What is it?"

          "Captain LeCoup has summoned all the sergeants."

          Chip did not need to hear more. The 23rd squadron had another mission. "Corporal Horte, weapons practice is finished for today. Take the patrol back and check out their gear." Chip threw the order over her shoulder and raced off without waiting for a response.

          As she got close to the officer's quarters Chip saw the other sergeants converging on the building from different directions. Kim caught up with her by the door. "We're off again."

          "Looks like it."

          Captain LeCoup and Lieutenant Ritche were waiting in the briefing room. Seconds after Chip and Kim took their place the door opened and the other two sergeants came in. LeCoup ran her eyes over the small group and began. "I've not got many details to give you at the moment. A convoy was ambushed in the forest north of Redridge and the cargo stolen. Three women killed. We have to get to Redridge as soon as possible and liase with the local militia captain. There's an hour to lunch to pack. We'll stay and eat, then ride out straight after. Any questions?"

          There were none. LeCoup gave a crisp nod. "Dismissed."

          **********

          Late-afternoon, three days later, the squadron arrived at the outskirts of Redridge. From a long way off the rangers could see the toy-like silhouettes of houses, stuck atop the sandstone hill that gave the town its name. Redridge was situated high on the flanks of a long mountain chain. To the south was a pass, leading to Landfall. In summer there was a steady trade on the road, however those who couldn't avoid travelling in winter had to take the long detour, by Fort Krowe at the western end of the range. North of Redridge the road went through dense forests until it reached the rich farmlands around Fairfield.

          Captain LeCoup called a halt at the bottom of the hill. There was no need to drag the entire squadron and their horses through steep winding streets. With only Lieutenant Ritche beside her she set off in search of the town mayor and militia captain. The other rangers made the most of the chance to rest after the hard ride, stretching tired muscles and talking. Before long a messenger came back down the hill, with directions to a field where the squadron could set camp.

          The work of erecting tents and digging latrines went smoothly, watched by a curious group of locals. The rangers paid little heed to their audience; they were used to receiving attention from excited civilians. Of more concern was the suitability of the camp-site they had been allocated, something that was often an issue, but this time there were no grounds for complaint. The field was large enough and had been left fallow for summer grazing. There was still plenty of good pasture for the horses, and water ran nearby with woods behind for fuel. By the time the two senior officers returned the camp was finished and preparations for the evening meal had started. The first trails of smoke rose into the evening sky. Chip stood with her back to the tents, watching birds squabble in the nearby trees.

          "Briefing for the whole squadron in ten minutes outside the captain's tent." the ranger from A patrol passed on the message.

          Chip glanced over her shoulder to check all her patrol had caught the news. "Any indications?" she asked the messenger.

          "LeCoup is fuming."

          "Surely not over the robbery?" one of the newer members asked.

          The messenger laughed. "Outlaws are what we're paid to deal with. It takes the militia to get the captain screaming for blood."

          "A wild goose hunt?" Chip suggested.

          "I fear so."

          As soon as the briefing started it was plain from LeCoup's expression that the messenger had not exaggerated. The captain at the ring of uniformed women seated on the ground and ran a hand over her face, as if trying to rub away the scowl - it didn't work. "Okay. This is the story." LeCoup's tone was scathing. "There was a shipment of gold jewellery from Landfall to Fairfield. Rather than pay a fortune for lots and lots of guards, the merchant decided she'd disguise the cargo as something else. So the jewels were hidden inside bales of wool, and everyone on the crew tried to look as ordinary as possible. There were just two wagons, each with a driver and a guard, and one extra mounted scout. They got as far as Redridge without any problems, but a few kilometres to the north of here they were ambushed. Three of the crew were killed. Two managed to run like hell and got away." LeCoup paused, glaring. "And this happened over a month ago."

          There were groans from around the circle. "Yeah, I know. The militia have obviously got the rangers mixed up with some relatives of the tooth-fairy. I asked how they thought we could track down anything now. Perhaps they thought we'd brought our magic wands with us."

          "Why did they wait so long to send for us?" a ranger from D patrol asked.

          "The militia assumed it was a local gang who didn't know what was in the bales. They were expecting the wool to show up in town." LeCoup shook her head in disgust. "If it had been one bale pinched off the back of a wagon, maybe, but nobody is going to steal two whole wagons of raw wool..." her voice trailed away. "I'm surprised the militia didn't leave the door of the lock-up open and hope the thieves would walk in. And even if it was an ambitious bunch of petty thugs they'd have repacked the wool into new bales, with a different stamp on the seal. Once the goodies started dropping out they'd have forgotten the wool. But, wherever the gang came from, I think we can safely assume the jewellery has been melted down by now, and the thieves are drinking their way through the profits on the other side of the Homelands."

          "Since the thieves were so quick to murder three women it implies they were very determined, which in turn implies they knew what was in the cargo." Lieutenant Ritche gave her opinion.

          "You're probably right." LeCoup agreed.

          "Is there any clue as to how the thieves found out about the real cargo?" This time it was Kim who raised the question.

          "Nothing the militia picked up on, but there was something." LeCoup pulled out several sheets of paper from a pouch and riffled through them. "It's in the statement from one of the survivors. Let's see..." She unfolded one. "Yes. From a Clarinda Wright, who was the scout. She says here..." LeCoup scanned the paper. "One of the drivers who was killed had a one night stand with someone they met the other side of the pass. And Wright thinks, but can't be sure that she caught sight of the same person again in Redridge, hanging around the back of the inn. The implication would be the driver mumbled more than sweet nothings in her sleep."

          "Any description of the woman?"

          "Quote, a bit rough looking for my tastes, unquote." There was laughter around the circle. "Unfortunately, since Wright doesn't give any information on what her tastes are, we can't even use the description to eliminate suspects - if we find some. And Wright's now gone back to Landfall so we can't ask her." LeCoup folded the paper again. "Any other questions, suggestions, bright ideas?"

          There were a few whispered remarks, but nothing anyone chose to say aloud.

          "Okay, briefing over. I'll try and think of something sensible for us to do tomorrow. My big regret is we rushed here so quickly. We could have gone easier on the horses and had a chance to look at the nice scenery on the way."

          **********

          Dusk was settling by the time the evening meal was over. Chip and Kim stood at the edge of the camp, looking at the packed mass of buildings huddled on the hill. As the light faded lanterns glimmered in the windows. Beyond, on the skyline, white peaks of mountains caught the last of the rusty sunset.

          "Do you fancy popping in to check out a tavern or two?" Chip asked.

          "Just for a drink?"

          "It's all I intend, though I don't suppose you'll stick at that."

          "I meant you might want to try and catch any local gossip about the robbery."

          "And if we find a good-looking woman who might know something you'll volunteer to question her at length?" Chip teased.

          Kim gave a playful shove. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped at the sight of someone approaching. Chip followed the direction of her eyes and saw Katryn coming to an uncertain halt a few steps away.

          "Yes, Private?" Chip asked.

          "Ma'am. Could I have a quick word?"

          Kim backed away. "I'll catch you shortly."

          "It's alright ma'am. It's not personal." Katryn said quickly.

          "I've got a few things to sort out." Kim pointed at Chip. "And I will have that drink." She headed off in the direction of her tent.

          "What do you want?" Chip asked, once she and Katryn were alone.

          Katryn hesitated. "The woman the captain named, the survivor of the ambush... were there any other details about her?"

          "I don't know, I haven't seen the full statement. Why?"

          "It's just, the name..." Katryn spoke uncertainly. "When I was in the militia in Woodside there was a Clarinda Wright. The last I'd heard of her, she'd moved to Landfall with her cousin. But it might not be the same person, it's not so unusual a name."

          "And if it was the same person?"

          "No-one would be at all surprised to hear her name in connection with a robbery. Her being the victim of it is the unexpected bit."

          Chip thought for a moment. "Come on. We'll go and talk to the captain."

          Katryn looked even more unsure of herself, but followed after.

          The captain's tent was large enough to hold a dozen women, but was almost empty of contents. A lantern hung from the central pole. A pile of bedding was heaped at one side, with a few domestic items dropped on top. A board balanced across two saddles served as a low makeshift table. A map lay on it, its corners held down with stones. There were no seats. LeCoup stood, glaring at the map as if she was considering the possibilities of setting fire to it.

          Lieutenant Ritche was just leaving as Chip and Katryn arrived. Chip forestalled her departure. "Excuse me ma'am, but I think you might like to hear this as well."

          LeCoup looked up at the sound of Chip's voice. Seeing Katryn trailing behind, her expression became even more grim. "Yes, Sergeant?"

          "Private Nagata has some information which might be useful."

          LeCoup had obviously expected Katryn to be in some sort of trouble. She looked confused for a second, but then said, "What is it, Private?"

          "Please ma'am, you gave the name of one of the survivors of the ambush. I wondered... was the other one called Nosheen Paulino?"

          The captain's confusion returned, but she picked up the pouch from beside the table and flipped through the assortment of papers inside, holding them to the light. Eventually she stopped at one and studied it in more detail. "Yes, she was." LeCoup faced Katryn. "I assume there's more to this than an announcement you wish to perform a mind-reading trick to entertain the squadron."

          Katryn swallowed visibly. "Yes, ma'am. I told Sergeant Coppelli that I recognised the name of Clarinda Wright. She's a trouble-maker from my home town of Woodside. The same goes for Nosheen Paulino, who's her cousin. The last time I saw either I was pushing them into the station lock-up in Woodside. After the magistrate finished with them they both headed off to Landfall - or that's what the rest of their family said. Our captain sent a letter, advising the militia there to watch out for them. I didn't hear if there was any reply."

          "You think these are the same people?"

          "Yes ma'am. If it was just Wright's name it might be a coincidence, but not with Paulino there as well."

          LeCoup nodded as she leafed through the papers. "There's no mention here of them being related." She looked up. "Tell me more about this pair."

          "The whole family has a bad name. Some are no worse than aggressive drunks - stupid with it. Most have been caught at some stage with property that doesn't belong to them. It's all been small scale stuff to date. There was talk that Wright's gene mother was involved in a bungled robbery at a warehouse some years back, where the owner got killed, but it was never proved. Wright and Paulino though..." Katryn paused. "Wright is a lot brighter than most of her family, and Paulino has had a vicious streak ever since she was a kid. They're a bad combination." Katryn's face twisted in a frown. "I'm just surprised any merchant would hire them."

          "But you say Wright's smart." LeCoup said thoughtfully. "It's surprising the places a smart crook can talk herself into." She walked to the door of her tent and stared out for a long time. No-one else said anything until the captain turned back. "It's obviously worth having a talk with the merchant to find out more. Wright and Paulino might also make for an interesting conversation, but they'll probably be a lot harder to find. Private Nagata, since you know the pair you're an obvious person to send, and I'd like Sergeant Coppelli to go as well. You can leave after breakfast tomorrow." LeCoup nodded to Katryn. "Dismissed... but I'd like a few more words with Sergeant Coppelli."

          LeCoup waited until Katryn had left the tent, She turned thoughtfully to Chip. "Either we've had a big stroke of luck, or our new private is playing some sort of game. I admit I can't see what or why, but that's one of the reasons I wanted you to go as well - keep an eye on her."

          "You could simply write to the Landfall militia asking them to investigate." Chip said brightly.

          "I wouldn't trust them to be able to read the letter, let alone act on it." LeCoup snorted. She directed a sideways look at Chip and went on. "I know you have your own reasons for wanting to stay away from the city, however you know the place and can find your way around. You also have a better understanding of the way merchants work than most of the squadron, and I'm sure you can use your name to pull strings if needed."

          Chip opened her mouth to protest. "Ma'am. I don't think my..."

          LeCoup cut her off. "I said your name, not your family."

          "Yes ma'am." Chip sighed.

          "Stay as long as you need and take whatever steps you think necessary, I trust you to use your head. Corporal Horte should have no trouble leading C patrol in your absence - it will be good practise for her. The rest of the squadron will stay around here for ten to twelve days, I'd like to leave tomorrow, but we have to go through the motions of hunting the gang. It won't be worth you coming back here when you're finish in Landfall, so go straight to Fort Krowe." LeCoup gave the nearest thing to a smile of the afternoon. "Dismissed."

          **********

          "I'm sorry, I know you thought you were owed for a few day's rest." Chip tightened the girth strap and patted the neck of her horse. The animal huffed, two clouds of white steam blossomed in the still air. Chip could feel the icy nip in her own fingers and toes, summer was gone from the mountains. She looked up at the crisp blue sky and the fading pink wisps of dawn.

          "You're about to be off?" Kim's call made Chip look around.

          "Nearly."

          Kim stepped closer and dropped her voice, although the smile stayed on her lips. "Okay, you were stalling last night, but now tell me how you wrangled it."

          "What?"

          "I know you're interested in Katryn, how did you talk LeCoup into giving you this little jaunt off together?"

          "She's a ranger, and my direct subordinate." Chip pointed out, her tones uncharacteristically rigid.

          "I just thought... a bit of companionship on the road." Kim's tones were playful.

          "I don't think Katryn is into bits of companionship. I know I'm not."

          "Ha." Kim jeered. "I know the descriptions of at least twenty women who'd dispute that. And I only stick at twenty because I was too busy myself at the time to make a note of all rest."

          "That was all some time ago."

          "And now you're too old? Or have you worn it away? I did warn you not to..." Kim yelped and ducked back from the dig aimed at her ribs. Her expression became more serious. "You're not happy, are you?"

          "You know how I feel about Landfall. I was hoping never to go near the place again." Chip said glumly.

          "You could try to avoid your family."

          "I could try to avoid breathing." Chip's face twisted into a wry grin. "But I guess I'll survive. And it will be a chance to get to know Katryn better."

          "Mmmm." Kim agreed as her own smile returned.

          "Talking - nothing else. There's something about her that doesn't fit. Maybe I can find out what."

          "It's..." Kim broke off. "Here comes your travelling companion now."

          Katryn jogged up. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I got delayed."

          "No problem." Chip said. "You're ready to go now?"

          "Yes ma'am."

          The pair of them swung up into their saddles. "I know you'll be miserable and bored without me, but try not to let it get you down too much." Chip addressed Kim with mock earnestness.

          "Don't knock it. It's a lot safer than fun and excitement... particularly the sort you've got in mind."

          Kim had to duck to avoid the playful swipe aimed at her ear, but the jibe had succeeded in putting a genuine grin on Chip's face. The two friends exchanged a amiable, informal salute, then Kim stepped back and watched as Chip and Katryn rode off around the edge of the campsite. They reached the open gateway and joined the track bordering the field. The riders turned towards town, the first stage on the route which would take them over the pass, and on to Landfall. As the figures dwindled Kim's expression lost the smile and a frown crept in.

          "Is there a problem?" Ash appeared at her shoulder.

          "I'm worried about Chip." Kim said.

          "She's a big girl, she can take care of herself."

          "In most things, yes." Ash's eyes prompted Kim to continue. "I've got doubts about her judgement when it comes to the new girl in her patrol, Katryn."

          Ash nodded. "I know, I've wondered myself. Chip swallowed the story of late enlistment much too easily - and the explanation of why she was transferred. I'm not sure why Chip was so quick to take the woman's word on it."

          "She fancies her." Kim explained.

          "Oh." Ash said softly.

          "I don't want Chip getting hurt."

          "You think she might?"

          "Yes. Just now I was teasing her about being attracted to Katryn. Chip did everything except deny it. I've had this nasty feeling growing for a year or so that Chip's about to get serious over someone. Which would be bad enough in itself, but when you add it to the questions concerning Katryn..." Kim let the sentence hang.

          "It's awful when a ranger starts getting serious over someone." Ash spoke ironically.

          "I know. If ever it happens to me I'd like to be put down humanely."

          "I might remind you of those words someday."

          Kim grinned by way of answer. The two sergeants watched the distant riders disappear around a bend in the road. "I've got some contacts in Eastern Division. "Ash said at last. "I think maybe I'll make a few inquiries."

          Kim glanced at her and then away. "Yes. Why not."

          Chapter three – Back in Landfall again

          The city of Landfall was a sprawling maze of buildings on the banks of the river Liffey. It was noisy and crowded. Despite the sewer system it stank in high summer. It’s inhabitants were habitually rude and impatient. There were back-alleys where militiawomen were frightened to walk alone – and the militia in Landfall was the toughest in the Homelands. It marked the spot where the Elder-ones had first set foot on the world, the spot where the Blessed Himoti had lived, worked and died. It was the holiest place in the universe, and it was a monument to money, politics, ambition and greed.

          Chip stopped to study the city in the distance, and could not prevent her lip curling. She could not remember when she had started hating the place; somewhere far back in her childhood. The city still felt like a deep, dark trap; and there was the irrational fear that if she entered its streets she would be snared. Chip took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. It was silly. She had escaped once, she could do it again. She urged her horse forward. Katryn kept pace beside her.

          It had taken them seven days to make the journey from Redridge; a fair pace without pushing the horses too hard. Chip had fought with the incompatible urges to delay, putting off the moment of arrival, and to press ahead and get the visit over with as soon as possible. Now, as she rode into the last kilometre, Chip was suddenly aware of a strange eagerness to see the city, if only to confirm it was as bad as she remembered.

          "Have you ever been to Landfall before?." she asked Katryn.

          "Yes, ma’am. Twice. The first time I was quite young and I don’t remember much of the city itself. The other time I passed through on my way to Fort Krowe when I applied to the rangers. I’m afraid I had my mind on other things then as well."

          The corner of Chip’s mouth twitched at the ma’am. Riding together, Katryn had opened out, and would talk amiably to pass the time, but she never lapsed into anything which might be considered disrespectful. It was true they were technically on-duty, since they were in the process of obeying orders to go to Landfall, but few rangers would have stood on rank – not so much because they were lax on military protocols, rather they adapted it to the conditions. Unlike the militia, most of whom went to their homes each night, the rangers lived in the closed community of the squadron. It would be unnatural not to form friendships with all your comrades. The lines between the ranks would blur, only to snap into focus when the situation demanded.

          "So what do you remember?" Chip prodded.

          "The council room inside the joint military command building, and eating in the officers’ mess."

          "They let an applicant to the rangers eat in the officers’ mess!"

          "Oh no, ma’am. It was on the first time I went to Landfall." Chip’s expression of surprise grew, prompting Katryn to grin and continue. "My gene-mother had been a lieutenant in the militia, there was an award ceremony for her."

          "She took you with her?"

          "She was dead – that’s why she got the award."

          "Oh… I’m sorry." Chip murmured.

          "It’s okay. It was a long time ago and I don’t remember her very well."

          Katryn did not seem distressed. Chip considered her thoughtfully. Although they had chatted on a range of subjects, this was the first time Katryn had offered information about her family, or any other part of her life before she joined the 23rd. Chip’s lips pulled into a wry grimace; of course she herself hadn’t been giving away much of her own life story.

          There was something decidedly enigmatic about Katryn. Over the previous days Chip had found a dry, understated sense of humour, coupled with quick wits and sharp observation. It was a description which could be given of many rangers, but Katryn was quiet and unassuming – and that was unusual. Rangers tended to bravado. It was not easy to earn the right to the green and grey uniform, and even Lee Horte was not above flaunting it.

          Katryn’s behaviour was untypical of rangers in other ways. Chip had not seen Katryn drink more than two tankards of beer in an evening. The women who were drawn by her good-looks and uniform wasted their time. The nearest Katryn had got to anger was with the groom who had given soiled oats to her horse, and it had shown itself only in her clipped tone as she’d overseen the feed being replaced. It was an awkward fact that Chip’s initial attraction to Katryn’s appearance had been strengthened by knowing her better as a person.

          They rode on in silence until they reached the first outlying buildings of the city. The road squeezed between the crooked, overcrowded shanties of the poorest labourers. These constructions looked as if they could be washed away in a storm, but soon the houses became more substantial. As the river approached there was even the occasional run-down mansion, a relic from the days when the north side of the Liffey had been a prestigious neighbourhood, before it had been swallowed by the expanding slums. They reached a band of docks and warehouses, and then the buildings fell away on either side to be replaced by a view over the river. It was slow progress making headway on the overcrowded bridge but at last they crossed into the heart of the city.

          Ahead of them the great temple to Celaeno dominated the skyline. The street was wide and crowded. Waves of screams, shouts and laughter rose on all sides. Women, children and crones swarmed over the cobblestones. Chip’s eyes flowed over the scene. Her stomach churned. It was so familiar, and the most awful thing was she could almost feel she belonged there. It was so tempting to search out the memories; the tavern where she’d first got drunk; the small upstairs room where she’d first made love; the cold doorway where she’d cried and slept on a wet miserable night.

          "Um… ma’am. Do you know where we’re going?" Katryn asked hesitantly.

          "Yes." Chip forced her thoughts onto the present.

          Even without her knowledge of Landfall their first destination was very easy to find. All the main roads converged on the old market. Just before they came to it Chip turned aside into a smaller street, and then through an archway leading to a gravel square. Around it were the offices of the joint military command complex. The two rangers slipped from their saddles, hitched their horses to posts, and entered the nearest doorway.

          It took several repetitions of their story, but eventually they were shown in to see a militia lieutenant seated at a desk. She listened to what they had to say, read the dispatch from Captain LeCoup, and scribbled a note. "Of course we’ll do what we can to help. We can give you billets and stables, and this will get you fed in the mess." She offered the sheet to Chip. "I’ll have someone show you where everything is."

          "Thank-you, ma’am."

          The lieutenant walked to the doorway and called to an orderly. She glanced at LeCoup’s report once more before returning it to Chip. "Coppelli? You know that’s a distinguished name in Landfall?"

          "Yes, ma’am."

          The orderly arrived and lead them outside to reclaim their horses. The stables were the first stop, followed by a short tour of the site. Conversation was limited to the practical, most of which Chip already knew. The room they were finally shown into was on the third story of a block behind the mess-hall. It was small but very clean, with scrubbed wooden floorboards. The only things in it were two unmade bunks and a chest. A tall window was opposite the door.

          Once the orderly had gone Chip threw open the shutters and leaned her shoulder against the frame. Late afternoon sunlight flooded in; with it came the sounds and smells of the city, and memories. She was back in Landfall again. Chip stuck her head out, taking in the full panorama. There was little more than a view of rooftops on offer, but if she twisted her neck she could just catch sight of one corner of the temple.

          Katryn dropped her saddle bags on the chest and stood in the middle of the room. "What do we do now, ma’am?"

          Chip turned around. She felt tired and sticky after the days on the road, and if you couldn’t avoid civilisation you might as well make the most of what advantages it held. She knew exactly what she wanted to do.

          "There is a really first-class bath-house around the corner. I want to get clean." Chip spoke with feeling.

          Katryn smiled. "That sounds like a good idea."

          It then occurred to Chip that maybe it wasn’t.

          **********

          Chip sat on the bench with her back against the wall, feeling the sweat bead and trickle all over her skin, taking with it the dust, odours and muscle aches of the journey. Her eyes were closed – it was safest. There was a fine mist of steam in the hot room of the baths. It condensed on the mosaic wall tiles and occasionally dripped from the ceiling. It carried a clean lemon scent. And it did very little to obscure visibility. Chip had tried not to make too obvious a point of not looking in Katryn’s direction, and not to make her response too evident when she did.

          There was a slapping of feet as the three other women who had been sitting nearby got up and waddled off towards the cold pool, still gossiping about the affairs of their acquaintances. Katryn took advantage of the space left by their departure to lie face down on the bench, her head buried in her arms. Chip took advantage of Katryn’s pose to stare at her. She couldn’t help herself; the rest of Katryn’s body was as perfect as her face. Chip’s examination started at the ankles and travelled slowly upwards, pausing only briefly at the bottom. The skin of Katryn’s back was flawless, whatever else she had never been flogged. Chip felt painfully guilty at the shameless ogling, and even more guilty at wanting proof Katryn hadn’t been court-martialled.

          Katryn turned her head. Chip tried to pretend she’d been staring blankly into the distance.

          "What the lieutenant said about the name Coppelli." Katryn began. "I’ve been trying to think where I’ve heard of it. Wasn’t it the name of the previous mayor of Landfall? The one who held the post for years?"

          "Yes." Chip closed her eyes, but for a different reason than before.

          "I don’t suppose you’re related?"

          Chip bit her lip. "My birth-mother."

          "What!" Katryn’s head shot up. "Aren’t the family incredibly rich, own half of Landfall?"

          "No, no, you’re thinking of the Tangs; they’re the really wealthy ones… that's my gene-mother’s family." Without looking Chip knew Katryn’s jaw would be hanging open. She went on. "You’re now going to ask what someone from my background is doing as a sergeant in the rangers." Chip met Katryn’s astounded gaze. "It’s simple. I’m running away from home."

          Katryn dropped her eyes. "I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to pry."

          Chip laughed, happy to have something else to pick up on. "For the love of the Goddess, drop the ma’am. We are definitely off-duty at the moment."

          Katryn smiled and lay her head back on her arms. "We could discuss mission plans for tomorrow."

          "Not much to plan. First we’ll talk to the merchant, Mistress Drummond, I’ve got her address. Then we’ll talk to the local militia captain. And then we’ll pick up on any leads we get." Chip settled back against the wall. "How far is it to Woodside from here?"

          "A day and a half to the south. Why?" Katryn sounded suddenly defensive.

          "We might need to go there. Talk to more people who know the suspects." Chip glanced over. "It would be a good excuse for you to visit your family."

          "I’m not too bothered about that." Katryn’s voice was muffled by her arms, but her unease was unmistakable.

          Chip pursed her lips; obviously she wasn’t the only one who lacked fond memories of home. Aloud she said. "On the short term plans, when we leave here we can get a meal. I know I’ve got a chit for the mess, but there are some wonderful eating places in Landfall, and they won’t even make too big a dent in a ranger’s pay."

          Katryn turned her head on one side, smiling again. "Great, I could do with getting something inside me."

          Chip thought about that statement for a few seconds, then went and jumped in the cold plunge pool.

          **********

          Early the next day they set out on foot. The merchant had a large property in the slightly less fashionable part of town. It was on one of the older streets, close by the temple. For years the area had been in decline, but as Chip lead the way on the short walk she noted signs of money flowing back. Several facades were freshly painted, repairs were in hand on one rooftop.

          Their destination looked much like its neighbours. Chip and Katryn were let into a large open hallway and asked to wait while a servant went in search of Mistress Drummond. Chip looked around. Like its surroundings, the inside of the building had the air of a place undergoing alterations. She guessed Drummond’s fortunes were changing, but whether it was up or down was harder to tell.

          It was not long before the two rangers were escorted into a counting-room. A middle-aged woman rose from her ledgers to greet them. She was overweight and overdressed, and had the expansive gestures of a market trader. "Ladies, how may I assist you?" Her eyes narrowed. "I assume your visit has something to do with the appalling events in Redridge?"

          "Yes ma’am." Chip spoke formally. "We have a few questions."

          Chip did not get the chance to go further. Drummond leapt in. "It was shocking. Business has been going well, but there’s no way I can afford losses like that. And three of my employees dead! What do I tell their families? When the news came I couldn’t believe it. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and wouldn’t have happened this time if Grosskopf had listened to me."

          "Grosskopf?" Chip queried.

          "The buyer in Fairfield. Going via Redridge was her idea. She said it would be cheaper to take the river to Petersmine and cut down on the land part of the journey, even though it meant crossing that high pass. I’d have sent the shipment via Fort Krowe – you don’t get bandits hanging around there. When Clarinda told me the militia were trying to find the murderers on their own I knew it wouldn’t work and they’d have to call in the rangers."

          Chip managed to get a word in. "That would be Clarinda Wright?"

          "Yes, praise the Goddess that she survived. My business has suffered enough without loosing one of my best workers."

          Katryn could not disguise her astonishment at the description of the suspect. Her eyes narrowed as a disbelieving frown creased her forehead. The response was noticed and Drummond faltered, her own expression less confident.

          "Has she been with you long?" Chip asked in the sudden silence.

          Drummond’s eyes flicked between the two rangers. "Just over a year." The abrupt cut-off in the flow of words was conspicuous.

          "And she has been a reliable worker?"

          "Yes. I don’t employ people who I don’t trust."

          "I wonder if it would be possible to talk to her? Or the other survivor?"

          "I’m afraid not." Drummond’s composure and talkativeness returned in a rush. "After what they’d been through it was only right to let them take a short holiday. In my experience it pays to treat your staff sympathetically. You can’t expect loyalty if you don’t act like someone it’s worth being loyal to. When Clarinda came to me last week and asked for a month’s leave to go and visit her relatives I agreed, of course; and Nosheen went as well."

          "Her relatives? That would be in Woodside?"

          Again there was the hesitation, but Drummond recovered more quickly. "Yes… yes, I think that’s where she said. It was definitely to the south of here. But my foreman in the warehouse spoke to them at length before they went, maybe she could answer your questions about the robbery. I’ll send…"

          Chip cut in before Drummond got going again. "I afraid it was those two who we really wanted to get in contact with. It seems as if we might have to follow them to Woodside. If they return early could you sent word to us at military command?"

          "Yes, of course, Sergeant Coppelli – and I’m not going to forget that name. You know that the last…"

          "Yes." Chip interrupted. "Well, thank you for your time, ma’am."

          The two rangers said nothing until they were out of the building and surrounded by the mid-morning bustle on the street. Katryn voiced their joint impression. "I don’t trust her."

          **********

          In response to their request for a meeting at the militia station the rangers were asked to come back after lunch. After lunch they were asked to return again still latter. When they were put off for a third time Chip lost her patience and announced they would wait by the captain’s door until she was free. She selected a chair and threw herself down with an uncharacteristic scowl on her face.

          "Must be an epidemic of lost dogs today." Chip made no attempt to keep her voice down. Katryn took a seat beside her in a calmer fashion.

          There were three branches of the military; the militia, the rangers and the temple guard. All three sections disliked the other two. There was bitter rivalry between the rangers and the guards. For different reasons they both saw themselves as the elite service. And, though everyone started in the militia, the opinion was frequently voiced that only the second-rate stayed there – an attitude which did not endear itself to the militiawomen any more than the repeated trivialising of the work they performed. It was a distortion to claim that, even in rural districts, the job of the militia amounted to no more than rounding up drunks and stray animals. The gibe was particularly unfounded in Landfall, where the militia saw more violent encounters with more criminals than most squadrons.

          It was half an hour before Chip and Katryn were shown into the room. The thin-faced captain in her black uniform scarcely bothered to look up from the papers on her desk. "Good afternoon Sergeant. I am Captain Gutmann. Can I do something for you? But you’ll have to be quick."

          "Yes ma’am. We’re investigating a robbery and three murders that happened just north of Redridge. We’re trying to locate two suspects." Chip said crisply.

          "You think they might be in Landfall?"

          No, we just came here for the pleasure of seeing you. Chip restrained her first sarcastic thought. "This is were they said they were going."

          "You’ve spoken to them already?"

          "We have copies of statements they gave."

          "And you let them go?" The captain’s voice was smug. "That was careless."

          "They had been released before my squadron arrived in Redridge. I’m afraid it was the militia who were careless… ma’am."

          "You’re saying the militia made a mistake?" There was a dangerous edge to the captain’s voice.

          "An error of judgement, ma’am."

          The two antagonist glared at each other – or, more accurately, the captain glared at Chip, while she glared at the wall a few centimetres above the captain’s head. Eventually the captain drew a sharp breath and snapped, "So, who are these two?"

          "Their names are Clarinda Wright and Nosheen Paulino, ma’am."

          "I’ve never heard of them."

          "They work for Mistress Drummond in Upper Street."

          "If you have questions about her employees I suggest you go to Mistress Drummond herself." The captain’s tones implied the meeting was over. She returned to the paper’s on her desk.

          Chip was speechless in frustrated anger, but Katryn entered the debate. "Ma’am. If I may, I have some more information. "

          "What?" the captain barked.

          "Before I joined the rangers I was in the militia in Woodside, which is where I came across these two. As a member of the militia I’ve personally arrested them both, and they were picked up on other occasions as well. Clarinda Wright was a particular problem. After we in the militia had done our job, half the time she’d talk her way around the magistrate, and walk out of court free. We’re concerned she might have similarly duped Mistress Drummond."

          Some of the hostility faded from the captain’s face. After a few seconds thought she pulled a sheet of paper out from a pile. "What did you say their names were?"

          "Clarinda Wright and Nosheen Paulino from Woodside, ma’am."

          The captain scribbled a note quickly. "I’ll see if anything is known about them." She glanced up, her eyes still glittering angrily. "And if that’s all…"

          This time there was no avoiding the dismissal. Outside again on the street Chip could finally give vent to her irritation. "Yet another bloody waste of time, courtesy of the militia."

          "She said she ask around." Katryn pointed out.

          Chip sighed bitterly. "Yes, she did, and that was down to you. Thanks, you did well, I’d lost my temper and couldn’t think straight." Chip kicked a loose pebble across the cobbles. "I noticed you didn’t try and confuse her with doubts about Drummond’s honesty."

          "I just tried to keep things as simple and calm as possible."

          "Well, you obviously knew how to handle her."

          "It was just down to knowing militia captains hate gullible magistrates more than they hate arrogant rangers."

          Chip stopped short. There was definitely the hint of criticism in the remark. "You think I could have been more tactful?"

          "Um…" Katryn hesitated, searching for words. "I’m not sure blaming the militia for letting them go was wise."

          "The captain was the one who started making accusations of carelessness."

          Katryn shrugged. "How would LeCoup react to a militia sergeant who told her rangers had got things wrong, and then asked a favour from her?"

          Chip opened her mouth and then closed it again. Actually it didn’t bare thinking about – if you were squeamish.

          Chapter four : Old arguments

          A bay-fronted inn stood at the corner of the road a short way along from the military command compound. Noisy groups of Landfallers crowded the front, but the rear of the tap-room was quiet and half empty, occupied mainly by inn guests taking an evening meal. Yellow lamplight brought out the warmth of the wood panelled walls. The low beamed ceiling made the large room feel snug. Chip and Katryn found an empty corner table and sat down with their drinks.

          "I suppose the day hasn’t gone too badly." Chip conceded. "We’ve probably made more progress than they have up in Redridge."

          "I think it was all worth it just to hear Clarinda Wright described as a reliable worker. I was so impressed at the way Drummond kept a straight face while she said it. I was waiting for her to add that little Nosheen is kind to children and old ladies." Katryn’s voice held amused disbelief.

          "You don’t think it’s possible they’ve become reformed characters?" Chip was joking.

          "Not unless the Goddess has paid a personal visit to Landfall this last year. Because I can’t see anything less than her physical intervention doing it."

          "And it would be too ironic if they became victims of bandits immediately after they’ve joined the side of the righteous."

          Katryn’s face became serious. "Drummond has to be involved in some way. Wright and Paulino have never done an honest day’s work in their lives. Even if it was part of an elaborate plan to defraud they couldn’t have kept it up for a year. Drummond has to know what they are like and is lying to protect them. I just can’t see why, since she’s the one who loses."

          "That’s if she is." Chip’s voice was suddenly thoughtful.

          "How?" Katryn asked when the silence dragged out.

          Chip’s gaze was focused on the distance. "Something Drummond said has just registered on me."

          "You’d trust her word?"

          "Oh yes, because I don’t think she realised she’d given herself away ... or that I’d understand the significance."

          "What?"

          "When she said Grosskopf in Fairfield was the one who insisted on the route via Redridge." Chip smiled at the incomprehension on Katryn’s face. "You obviously don’t come from a family of merchants. Usually a trader goes to where she can get the thing she wants, pays for it, and takes it away with her. But for some items ... and custom made jewellery would be a good example, the trader has to go to a supplier, put in an order, and have the goods sent to her when they are ready. When she pays is subject to negotiation. A really reputable supplier will take cash on delivery, but I think we’re agreed that Drummond isn’t reputable."

          "You think Grosskopf paid money up front?"

          "That’s where Drummond made the slip. The buyer must have had some financial stake in the cargo to have a say in the route, else it would have been entirely down to Drummond how the jewellery got to Fairfield. My guess is Grosskopf paid half on ordering with the rest due when she got the goods."

          "So Drummond would still have lost half the value of the cargo."

          "Not if it never left Landfall. Consider whose word we’ve got that the bales contained hidden jewellery."

          "Three women died!" Katryn started to protest, but then fell quiet.

          "Drummond said the three were her employees, but didn’t say for how long. With Wright and Paulino in on the fraud, the others could have been expendable dupes, stabbed in the back when they weren’t expecting it." Chip paused and then asked, "Do you think Nosheen Paulino is up to murdering in cold blood?"

          "Yes." Katryn said slowly. She looked troubled and her eyes were focused somewhere far beyond the tap-room. "So what do we do now?"

          "Information about the robbery should be held at joint command. From it we can get names and addresses of the women who died. It would be interesting to find out if they were long-term employees, or casual hands Drummond picked up the week before; although it doesn’t mean she’d have put any value on them, even if they’d been with her for years." Chip frowned. "Basically we need to get enough evidence together to persuade a magistrate to give us a search warrant for Drummond’s place."

          "We’ll need to get the Landfall militia behind us."

          Chip sighed. "True. I think we’ll have to visit Woodside." She glanced across. Katryn’s face had fallen. "I know you’re not keen on it, but a report from the militia there about Wright and Paulino could be vital in building our case - and convince the militia here to take us seriously."

          "Oh! I understand. It’s just that there are some people in Woodside who I’d rather avoid." Katryn shrugged. "I’ll survive it though."

          "I can sympathise, because I’m not looking forward to the other thing we need to do."

          "Which is?"

          "We need proof that Drummond could make a profit out of faking the robbery. A copy of her contract with Grosskopf will be logged with the merchant’s guild. We need to see it."

          "What’s the problem?"

          "To view a contract without written consent from one of the parties we’ll need the personal authorisation of the guildmaster. Her name’s Prudence Tang." Chip grimaced. "She’s my sister, and we didn’t part happily." Chip fought back the painful memories but her mouth was suddenly dry. She picked up her tankard, only to discover that it was empty. Waving it towards Katryn she asked, "Do you want another drink?"

          Katryn pulled a half smile and shook her head. "I’ve still got most of mine left."

          "You’ll never get drunk like that."

          "That’s my intention."

          "I’ll just get myself another half." Chip slipped out from the table. She had barely reached the bar when a woman sidled over. Chip wasn’t surprised, she had already noted the woman smiling in their direction.

          "Good evening Sergeant. Could I buy that drink for you?"

          "No, but thank you! it’s! I’m okay." Chip tried to politely excuse herself.

          The woman looked disappointed, but continued. "I’m a trader, visiting Landfall. A drink would be the least I could do to show my appreciation of the women who keep our roads safe for commerce." Her voice was low, her tone implied other ways of showing her appreciation were also on offer.

          "No! really."

          "Maybe another time?"

          "Maybe."

          "I’ll be here tomorrow night as well." The woman would not give up.

          "I’ll keep that in mind."

          Chip got her drink and headed back. On the way she risked another quick glance at the trader. The woman was pretty in a mature way, with a well shaped body. There had been a pleasant lilt to her voice. A ranger could do far worse for a night’s entertainment, however Chip was not tempted ... not with Katryn sitting at the table waiting for her.

          **********

          The clerk at the merchants’ guildhall did a double-take when Chip gave her name, but her expression immediately settled. No doubt she was mentally marking it down as a coincidence. She listened to the request for a meeting with the guildmaster, muttered, "I will see what can be arranged." in tones which implied the middle of the next week was the time-scale the rangers should expect, and trotted out of the door.

          The clerk’s face when she returned looked as if she was trying to perform compound interest calculations in her head. She beckoned the two rangers to follow her. "The guildmaster can see you now." The words were devoid of emphasis, but you could see the sums whirling past behind her eyes.

          Chip and Katryn were lead along a wide tiled hall. The décor was plain, but unmistakably expensive, intended to whisper, rather than shout, quality. There were no hanging drapes to deaden the sharp clack of footsteps; even sound was used to bolster the impression of purposeful progress. The door the clerk stopped outside was carved from solid wood. The panels were without ornamentation, but the proportions were perfect.

          "Guildmaster Tang’s office." The clerk pushed open the door. "Sergeant Coppelli and Private Nagata of the rangers to see you ma’am." She backtracked out, allowing Chip and Katryn to enter.

          Prudence Tang sat behind a huge desk. Even allowing for the excess weight, and an extra dozen or more years, there was little family resemblance to Chip, except maybe in their noses. Her frozen expression also did not help, she looked as if she was rooted in her chair. It was some seconds after the door had been closed that she found her voice. "By the Goddess! Piety! It is you, isn’t it?"

          Chip ignored the unorthodox greeting. "Thank-you ma’am for seeing us so promptly. I’ll try not to take too much of your time. We’re investigating a robbery and multiple murder, and need information concerning one of your members."

          Prudence Tang’s jaw sagged. She shook her head sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You! you just reappear after!. And now you! what?" She sounded dazed.

          "I said, ma’am, we’re investigating a robbery and multiple murder, and need information concerning one of your members." Chip’s voice was less steady than at first.

          "And that’s all?" Prudence’s composure had solidified in disbelief. "No ‘hello sis, how are you doing?’ No word about where you’ve been the last ten years?"

          Chip’s gaze dropped briefly to at the floor. "I assumed, if you’d wanted to know that, you’ve have tried to find out for yourself ... you do have the resources."

          "You just walked out on the family and!"

          Chip cut her off. "I was thrown out. Remember? You were there."

          "Mama Izzy was angry..."

          "Oh, surely not!" Chip said in savage irony.

          "I couldn’t have done anything to help you."

          "So you didn’t bother trying."

          "I thought! we all thought, that you’d go back to the sanctum."

          "That I’d just knuckle under like the rest of you, and do what our mothers wanted?"

          Prudence slumped in her chair. "No. I knew you’d find a way out. I just wish you’d! come to me. At least let me know where you were."

          "You really had no idea?"

          "Some years back, Sandy finally told me you’d called to see mama Izzy a few days after the row. And that you’d been wearing the black uniform. I checked with the militia. I was told you’d transferred to the rangers."

          "Then you knew where I was."

          "That was years later." Prudence’s voice intensified. "But back, when we first learned you’d abandoned the temple. Mercy, Constance and I were distraught ... we all were. You could have been lying dead in a gutter for all we knew."

          "Then you should have searched the gutters on the night I was thrown out." Chip was implacable.

          "So you’ve come here dig up old arguments?" Prudence spoke with a flash of anger.

          "No. As far as I’m concerned it’s over and finished. I’ve come here to get information on one of your members who we think might be involved in robbery and murder."

          Prudence took a deep breath, reining in both her confusion and irritation. "All right, we’ll play it that way. Who is the merchant you want to know about?"

          "Mistress Drummond of Upper Street."

          "Really?" Prudence retreated behind a mask of businesslike authority. "It’s awful to say, but I’m not totally surprised to hear you name her. She doesn’t have a good reputation. Her accounts balance, however they don’t tie in with her visible expenditure. There have been rumours, but no proof. I’m afraid there’s nothing definite I can tell you, unless you have a specific question."

          "What I’m interested in is sight of a recent contract between her and a trader called Grosskopf, from Fairfield. It concerns jewellery which was supposedly stolen in transit. I suspect it never left Landfall, but I need to be able to show Drummond could have made a profit from faking the robbery. Since I don’t want to ask Drummond’s permission to see the contract I’ve come to get your authorisation."

          Prudence nodded crisply. "I understand. I’ll get someone to check the archives. A certified copy of the contract will be ready for you to pick up here tomorrow afternoon."

          "Then I won’t take any more of your time. Thank you for your assistance." Chip backed towards the door.

          "Wait! please." Prudence’s aloofness had slipped again. The two sister locked eyes once more then Prudence scrambled out from behind her desk. Standing face to face with Chip, it could be seen that the guildmaster was a good ten centimetres shorter. She put her hands on Chip’s upper arms and examined her face. She spoke softly, almost whispering, "Just tell me everything is okay. That you’re happy now. And that you’ll forgive me for not standing up to our mothers ... you know I was never very good at it."

          Chip flushed softly. For the first time since entering the room a trace of her usual grin returned. "I know, and it’s okay. I’m happy. Give my love to anyone you think deserves it."

          **********

          During the course of the interview with the guildmaster Katryn had been a confused onlooker, now she trailed after Chip down the street. The ranger sergeant set a energetic pace, but after a hundred metres halted abruptly and rubbed her face with her hands. She gave Katryn a shame-faced grimace. "I’m sorry to have dragged you through that."

          Katryn shrugged. "It’s okay. I don’t get on very well with my sister either."

          "Oh, Prudence is all right, she just!" Chip sighed and stopped. "I! er! I need to take a break and get my head back in order."

          "Fine."

          Chip started walking again, this time a aimless stroll. Nothing was said until they reached a small empty square overlooking the river Liffey. The flagstones had been washed clean by the overnight rain; damp patches remained in the shade of tall buildings. There was a waist-high wall on the embankment, and steps leading down to a mooring jetty. Chip rested her forearms on the wall and stared out over the water, watching the river barges and wading birds. Katryn took a place beside her.

          Chip felt the need to talk. "It was odd seeing Prudence again. She was always my favourite sister, which was what made it so hard when she wouldn’t stand up for me. I never expected much from the other six."

          "You’ve got seven sisters?" Katryn was surprised.

          "Oh yes." Chip grinned. "It was all part of my parents’ plans for world domination."

          "I was thinking of the imprinting fees."

          "Remember we’re talking Tangs."

          "Of course, they’re rich."

          "Forget rich. Did you hear of the golden chapel extension on the temple, fifty years back? The Tangs paid for it as proof of their devotion. In gratitude the Sisterhood waved all their imprinting fees for three generations."

          Katryn weighted it up. "Who got the better deal?"

          "Financially?" Chip wrinkled her nose. "The Sisterhood. I doubt the Tangs took advantage of the exemption. They’re landowners; half of Landfall pays them rent. They don’t think in terms of money, they just sit there and rake it in. But the Coppellis!" Chip smiled wryly. "They’re merchants. Waving the word ‘free’ in front of one of them is like waving a bone in front of a starving dog. It went without saying my birth-mother made full use of the exemption once she had a Tang as a partner. I’m only surprised they stopped at eight. Maybe they’d run out of suitable careers."

          "Pardon?" The last sentence had lost Katryn.

          "My mothers’ alliance marked the union of boundless ambition with money. My birth-mother, Isabel Coppelli, was the one with schemes for the future. My gene-mother just let her get on with it ... and of course provided the funds. Mama Izzy had this idea of a large family of sisters, each of them taking a key role in the city. Of course, we didn’t get a say in it, our future was decided for us. Prudence was marked down as guildmaster before she was born. My oldest sister Constance has had a bit more of a struggle, but she should achieve her destiny and become mayor in another few years."

          "What were you supposed to be? Or is the rangers!?"

          "Hardly." Chip paused, then said bleakly, "I was headed for the Sisterhood. I don’t know if my mothers thought they could bribe my way to Chief Consultant, but it was their chance to see how far money could push a woman up the temple hierarchy. Except I was completely unsuited to the role. The only flaw in the plan. All my sisters were taught suitable subjects at home by tutors; I was enrolled in the temple school when I was four. One of my parents’ bodyguards, either Sandy or Jez would escort me across town. The Sisters would spend the day trying to drum theology into my head, and then I’d be taken home again. I hated it, the lessons were so boring, and when I realised my mothers expected me to become a Sister and spend my whole life in the temple!" Chip fell silent at the memory.

          "But the Sisterhood is a calling, you have to make your vows freely before Celaeno."

          Chip gave a cynical grunt. "I don’t think it ever occurred to my birth-mother that her daughters could have minds of their own. Certainly my sisters never gave her reason to consider the idea. When I finally told her I didn’t want to enter the Sisterhood I think she was genuinely astounded."

          "What did she say?"

          "I was told not to be silly. So I tried to get myself expelled from the school ... all I got was a few good hidings; my mothers kept bribing the Sisterhood to let me stay. I felt trapped. I was actually pushed as far as becoming an initiate when I turned sixteen. I entered the outer sanctum at the temple; white robe and all." Chip’s eyes were no longer focused on the river before her. "I’d been there five months, but I hadn’t taken full vows, so I was allowed home for my gene-mother’s birthday; and I knew I couldn’t go back. All hell let loose when they realised I meant it; threats, screaming. Mama Izzy tried to box my ears. I pushed her away; I didn’t hit her, but she fell over. So she called Sandy and Jez to throw me out of the house ... literally."

          Chip could feel her eyes filling at the memory. "And that hurt; Sandy particularly. She’d been around for as long as I could remember; playing with me when I was little, taking me to school, looking after me. I just took it for granted she was there to protect me, and she physically threw me out of the house, while nobody else said a word. I couldn’t believe it. I walked the streets in a daze. It was pissing down with rain. Eventually I found a dryish doorway and tried to get some sleep."

          "They left you to!" Katryn was dumbfounded.

          "My birth-mother is rather good at politics; outmanoeuvring opponents; things like that." Chip’s voice was artificially calm. "It was one of her rare miscalculations. She thought if I had nowhere else to go I’d have to return to the temple; I’d rather have died ... and I nearly did. I woke in the middle of the night, freezing cold, with a couple of thugs sizing me up. Then the militia appeared and scared them off. I don’t think the militiawomen even noticed me huddled in the corner, but they gave me the idea. The next morning I went to militia HQ and signed the next fourteen years of my life away. And that’s when I nearly died." Unexpectedly Chip gave a genuine laugh.

          "I was sixteen and a half years old and I’d never been outdoors in the streets without a bodyguard before, I’d never handled real money, I’d never been in a tavern. And there I was dealing with thugs and crooks and drunks. I don’t know how I survived the first week. I may have the height and build, but I had the muscles of a Sister. I can’t believe I passed the physical exam to get in. I suspect the militia was short on recruits and accepting anyone that month. I was the joke of the division."

          "You’ve obviously!" Katryn looked Chip up and down and then blushed faintly.

          "It was shape up or die. I had to work a bit harder than anyone else, no-one would overlook any mistake I made. As far as most of the division was concerned I was a spoilt rich kid playing at soldiers, and they all knew my mother was mayor, which didn’t help."

          "Did she know where you were?"

          "Yes, I went to see her the day after I’d done my first night patrol, realising what I’d let myself in for. She said she’d buy me out of the militia if I’d go back to the temple." Chip pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Actually, if she’d phrased it as an offer I might have accepted ... but she declared it was what was going to happen, whether I wanted it or not. I threatened that if she tried to get me back to the temple I re-enlist again. For once she missed the chance to call my bluff. We had another screaming row and she formally disowned me."

          Chip pushed away from the wall and began to pace along flagstones. Katryn fell into step beside her They left the square and entered a narrow riverside passageway.. "What made you join the rangers?" Katryn asked after a while.

          "Partly to get away from Landfall and the daily reminders of my family! Like the time I arrested a woman stealing bread in the market. She only had one leg. I found out later she’d lost the other in an accident in one of my mothers’ warehouses." Chip's shoulders twitched uncomfortably. "Their lawyers had managed to wrangle the family out of paying any compensation."

          "You weren’t responsible."

          "Some thought I was, although by the time I’d completed my two year’s probation things were getting better. I’d done my exercises, lost my naivety. I’d like to think I was quite good at the job, but I still didn’t get on with my colleagues, except for two friends. They were both desperate to join the rangers ... it was the only reason they’d enlisted in the militia to start with. I didn’t want to be left alone in Landfall when they went, so we agreed we’d all apply to the rangers at the same time. We went for appraisal together." Chip shrugged. "I was accepted, they weren’t ... that’s how it goes." She turned her back on the river and leaned on the wall. The familiar lopsided grin returned as she tilted her head to one side and looked at Katryn. "I know it’s early, but I think I could do with a drink. We could take an early lunch in the mess and track down the relatives of the murdered women after."

          Katryn nodded her acceptance and the pair set off along the crowded streets of the city.

          Chapter five - Lies

          "Sergeant Coppelli." a voice called out as they returned to the command compound.

          Chip looked around. One of the orderlies was waving to her through an open window. There was a piece of paper in her hand. Chip crossed the gravel. "What is it?"

          The orderly held out the paper. "This message came for you just a few minutes ago. I was going to have it sent to your room, but then I saw you come in."

          "Right, thanks." Chip took the folded note. The orderly smiled and swung the window shut.

          Chip took a few steps before opening the sheet to read.

          Sergeant Coppelli

          Rangers 23rd Squadron

          Following our discussion yesterday I learnt that Captain Kalispera of the Woodside militia is currently in Landfall attending a regional meeting. I was able to talk to her last night. She confirmed the highly dangerous nature of the two women you are seeking. It was her opinion that they should be taken for questioning as a matter of urgency. She has asked that you get in contact with her in the officer's quarters at the JMC to co-ordinate our effort in tracking them down.

          Captain Gutmann

          Landfall Militia

          "Typical. Now someone in a black uniform has agreed with us the militia will take what we say seriously." Chip said angrily

          "Are you going to try and speak with Captain Kalispera now?" Katryn asked.

          "Might as well, come on."

          "Do you want me to... go with you?" Katryn finished weakly.

          It occurred to Chip that the captain might be one of the people from Woodside who Katryn wanted to avoid. Chip hesitated, disconcerted by the idea Katryn may have been in trouble with her superiors in the militia. However Katryn had evidently decided the answer to her question was obvious and started walking towards the senior officers' accommodation block without waiting for further debate.

          The entrance hall was a chilly, dim chamber, with long corridors leading off on either side. They were looking around, hoping for someone to ask directions from, when three militia captains appeared in the corridor to the right and began walking towards them. Katryn froze and then whispered. "That's Captain Kalispera on the right."

          Chip nodded and moved forward to intercept the women in black. "Excuse me, ma'am. I'm Sergeant Coppelli of the 23rd squadron. I believe Captain Gutmann has spoken to you concerning our visit to Landfall. Would this be a convenient time to talk?"

          Captain Kalispera was staring over Chip's shoulder at Katryn. A frown of hostility crossed her face, then she pulled her eyes back to Chip. "Um... yes Sergeant. I've got a few minutes free before lunch." The captain nodded at her two colleagues who continued on their way without her.

          Chip and Kalispera stepped a little to the side. Katryn hovered in the background. "Okay, what can you tell me about this reported robbery?" Kalispera asked.

          Chip quickly went through the details, known and conjectured. She finished with their request for a copy of the contract and plans to learn more about the murdered women. The captain nodded frequently but asked no questions. Once the account was complete she said, "Wright and Paulino hadn't shown up in Woodside when I left three days ago. I think we can be sceptical of claims they've gone there. I agree this Drummond seems suspect. As an associate of known criminals there should be no trouble getting a warrant, although I'm not too sure what we'll find."

          "I think the guild of merchants would be very happy to loan us a couple of competent accountants to look through all of Drummond's paperwork, not just the bits she chooses to show to their auditors. And, if we put the pressure on, maybe one of Drummond's women will tell us where Wright and Paulino really are."

          Kalispera gave another sharp nod. "That might produce results. Do you want to apply for the warrant?"

          "I think it would be better if the request came from the local militia. I'll contact you once I've got the copy of the contract."

          "Yes, I think you're right." Kalispera lips pulled in a tight smile. "The case isn't proven yet, but you've done well to be onto it so quickly."

          "We were lucky to have someone in our squadron who recognised the names of Wright and Paulino." Chip beckoned Katryn forward. "I know that you're already acquainted."

          "Yes." Kalispera's smile became sour. "I hadn't expected to see you again so soon, Sergeant Nagata... but, of course, you're not a sergeant anymore." The slip was blatantly deliberate. "Well, Sergeant Coppelli, Private Nagata, I will hopefully hear from you shortly." The captain moved away.

          "Ma'am." Chip snapped briefly to attention to acknowledge the end of the meeting. She stared after the departing captain, her face blank, but her thoughts in turmoil. She realised that Katryn had lied - about being court-martialled, about being demoted, and possibly about a lot more.

          **********

          The crowd at the inn seemed identical to the night before, including the obliging trader, who was still casting hopeful eyes in the direction of the rangers. They managed to get the same cosy corner table, and the beer was just as good, but Chip took no enjoyment from it. She was in a miserable mood.

          The afternoon had been productive, in a negative way. After hours of hunting through cramped streets on the poorer side of town they had not succeeded in tracking down any grieving relatives. They had only found two women who would even admit to having seen any of the deceased, and these had little to tell except for the names of people who might know more. By default it seemed to prove that the three dead women had not been established figures in Landfall, and therefore unlikely to be long-standing employees of anyone.

          Now Chip and Katryn sat in silence at the table. Katryn had made the effort to talk, but Chip had lacked the desire to reply; her short answers had died in her mouth. She felt like a fool to have taken Katryn so quickly on trust, yet it had made no sense to lie when the truth must come to light. Chip knew she had desperately wanted Katryn to be innocent of any wrong-doing. Or, more truthfully, she had desperately wanted Katryn,. She dared not poke around at her own feelings to see if she still did.

          Captain Kalispera had made saying 'Sergeant Nagata' sound like a slip of the tongue, but it had been a pointed dig, a reference to Katryn's past. Obviously Kalispera knew the story - no wonder Katryn had wanted to avoid meeting her. The urge to go in search of the militia captain and ask just what Katryn had done was almost irresistible. Chip clenched her teeth and swallowed. It could wait until they got back to Fort Krowe, when she would have the chance to read the full transcripts of the court martial.

          Chip drained her beer. Getting drunk was not wise, but she did not want to sit looking at an empty tankard all night. "Do you want another?" she asked, off-hand.

          "Um... yes... okay." Katryn also sounded distracted.

          Chip's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. It was the first time she had known Katryn to match her in finishing a drink. Maybe, now Kalispera had broken Katryn's game of lies, she would reveal her true colours as a drunken lecher. It wasn't a nice thought. Chip headed to the bar, her lips compressed tightly. She was waiting to get served when there was a voice at her shoulder.

          "Well, Sergeant. What are my chances this night of getting you to accept a drink from me?" It was the trader.

          Chip twisted her neck to see the woman standing, smiling, behind her. She took a deep breath. "It's um..." Then Chip's expression changed slowly to a grin. "A lot better."

          "Good. I was also hoping that I could... er... chat to you."

          Why not? Chip asked herself. It might be the very thing to disentangle her emotions from Katryn. Aloud she said, "I was getting a drink for my comrade as well."

          The trader laughed. "I'll buy one for you both. I can afford it, business has gone well this visit."

          "That's awfully generous."

          "I'm a generous person." Her eyes flicked across the room. "Do you want to go back and sit with your subordinate?"

          There was a hint in the trader's tone on the last word which made it clear it was not only a ranger's uniform which attracted her - she obviously took note of the rank insignia on the shoulder badge as well. Of course, if she was looking at the woman wearing the uniform there's no way she'd hit on me rather than Katryn, Chip thought bitterly, and for a moment her intention wavered. But the trader was merely being honest - and wasn't that what she wanted?

          "I'd rather stay here and talk to you." Chip grinned again. "But I'll carry her drink over... I'll be back in a second."

          Chip placed the full tankard in front of Katryn. "It's a present from my friend at the bar."

          Katryn looked across the room at the smiling trader. "Friend? You know her?"

          "Not quite as well as I'm expecting to in the next few hours." Chip whispered. "You don't mind me leaving you here, do you?" It was not Chip's usual practice to ditch another ranger in this fashion, but Katryn was in no position to claim a comrade's loyalty.

          Katryn looked uncomfortable, and mumbled, "Oh... no. Of course not."

          Chip took a half-step back. "I, er... should see you tomorrow morning."

          Katryn nodded.

          Back at the bar the trader had wedged herself into a corner. "So Sergeant, what exciting missions have you been on recently?"

          "How gullible are you?" Chip asked.

          "Why?"

          "It makes a big difference to the story I tell."

          "Which story is the most entertaining?"

          "The one for the gullible - no question."

          Chip started a tale of a bandit raid. It was soon apparent the trader was just as interested in discussing fluctuations in the price of copper ore. The two of them did not have anything in common to talk about but, before long, the trader made the expected suggestion that they continue the conversation in her room upstairs. As they left the tap-room Chip glanced towards the table in the corner. Katryn's tankard was still there, but no sign of Katryn herself.

          Once in the trader's room all pretence of dialogue went. Chip put her arms around the woman and pulled her close. The trader's lips moulded against hers, her breath coming fast and ragged. The kiss was long and forceful. In businesslike fashion Chip removed the trader's clothes and then undressed herself. It had been a warm day, warm enough that there was no rush to get under the bedclothes. The two of them stood naked in the centre of the room. Chip nuzzled the trader's neck while her fingers traced the outline of shoulders, ribs and hips - the woman was very nicely constructed.

          By the time they slipped between the sheets they were both were fully aroused. Passion would carry them over any hurdles of clumsiness with a stranger's body. It was going to be very easy, Chip knew. It was what she wanted, what she needed. A simple cure for heartache. All she had to do was stop herself imagining that the woman in her arms was Katryn.

          **********

          "When you find the bitch remind her she owes me ten dollars." the bricklayer snarled, peering down from the scaffolding.

          "I'm afraid she's dead." Chip called up.

          The brickie put down her trowel and swivelled around so her legs dangled over the drop. Her face was as stony as the building she worked on. Her eyes bored into the middle distance, then shifted back to the two rangers. "I suppose that means I'm not going to get my ten dollars?" The woman snorted. "My own stupid fault for lending it to her. She had the room under mine, said she was new in town, needed a bit of cash to tide her over until she got work - last I saw of her or the money. Jose said she got a job as guard on a wagon... was going to pay me when she got back."

          "She was killed when the wagon was attacked."

          "Was that it?" The woman's face became regretful. "Oh well, best not to think ill of the dead... perhaps she would have repaid me."

          "Do you know anything else about her? Where she came from? Who are her relatives?"

          "Not a clue."

          "Do you know of anyone else who might?"

          The woman shook her head. "Like I said, she was new in town."

          "Okay. Thanks for your time."

          The brickie returned to her work. Chip and Katryn left the building site. It exhausted the last of their leads on the dead women, but they had learnt something. All three women had been new to Landfall, none of them had any relatives, lovers or close friends to start asking questions.

          "You know, it was all very well thought out by Drummond." Chip conceded.

          Katryn nodded but said nothing. She had been subdued all morning and hardly eaten at lunch.

          Chip went on. "She had the militia - and us, wasting our time searching for the jewellery up by Redridge, when it had never been anywhere near the place. A report of the robbery would have been sent back here, but there was no reason for the Landfall militia to take any action on it. I'll bet Drummond offered to inform the relatives, knowing that nobody was going to give a toss they were dead."

          "Umm." Katryn agreed dejectedly.

          Chip glanced sideways, and felt her stomach flip. It wasn't that Katryn looked any more attractive when she was miserable, just that Chip felt the overwhelming urge to hug her. The night with the trader hadn't worked at all. Chip set her feet to a crisp march. She had to get a grip on her emotions.

          Nothing else was said until they reached the merchant's guildhall. The porter by the door told them Prudence Tang was not in her office, and directed them to a nearby room with a tired looking clerk. The woman listened to their request as if she was being subjected to personalised victimisation. Her body posture gave the impression it took vast amounts of energy to walk to a cupboard, take out the rolled sheet of paper and hand it over - not forgetting shutting the cupboard door after her. She then gave a beaming smile and returned to her work as if she had already forgotten of the rangers' existence.

          Chip unrolled the sheet.

          "What does it say?" Katryn asked, sounding more lively than she had so far that day.

          "That Grosskopf is a fool." Chip smiled. "Well... maybe not in so many words. She paid a third of the money on order, and another third on dispatch. The final instalment was to made when the jewellery arrived. The money was to be refunded only if Drummond was unable to ship before the end of the year, with some nicely artistic penalty clauses built in."

          "Grosskopf didn't get a refund if the jewellery was stolen before it got to her?"

          "Oh no. If fact, it is specifically mentioned in the contract. A financial jeopardy clause, taking account of the unorthodox method of transport." Chip rolled up the paper. "And I think this concludes our investigation for today. I need to get back to our room and write out a report to hand on to Kalispera. The militia can get their bits together and apply for a search warrant tomorrow."

          "Is there anything for me to do?"

          "No. You can take some time off. Look around the town."

          "I think I might visit the baths."

          "Good idea." Especially if I don't go with you. Chip added in her head.

          The two of them left the guildhall and walked on until their routes separated. "Have a nice time. I'll see you at dinner." Chip called out. Katryn gave a half-hearted smile and turned away.

          **********

          When she entered the room Chip saw two letters had been slipped under the door. They lay, corners touching on the scrubbed floorboards. Chip scooped them up, sat on her bed. and broke the seal on the larger with her thumb. It was dispatch from Captain LeCoup, written two days after she and Katryn had left Redridge.

          Sergeant Coppelli

          Some information which may be of use to you.

          Apparently the thieves did not steal the wagons and horses, which were all left standing on the road with the bodies. It's something the militia had not thought worth mentioning during their initial briefing. They had considered it proof the thieves were local women who did not need transport to remove their loot to a safe place. An interesting assumption, given the wagons were ambushed in the middle of a forest.

          Today, two of the militiawomen took myself and Sergeant O'Neil's patrol to see the sight of the ambush. I did not expect to find much, however O'Neil made an interesting discovery. Fifty metres from the road was a burnt circle. It looked the right age for the robbery. Turfs had been cut and replaced and an attempt made to hide the patch under dead leaves, but there was no excuse for the militia missing it.

          Taken together it seems obvious to me the thieves knew the jewellery was inside the bales and were not interested in anything else. After killing the three women the thieves took the jewellery from its hiding place and then destroyed the wool to cause confusion. That they felt they had enough time for this is pretty good evidence Wright and Paulino weren't racing back to Redridge to get help. I would say there must have been at least one more woman involved, to take away the small sack of jewellery, but possibly no others.

          I sincerely hope that you are making more progress than us.

          Captain LeCoup

          Chip smiled with satisfaction. More circumstantial evidence, but it tied in very neatly with the case she was building. Wright and Paulino waited until they were on a deserted stretch of road, murdered the other three women in the crew, removed the bales of wool and burnt them to make it look like a robbery, and then ran back to Redridge with stories of an ambush. Chip shook her head at the idiocy of the militia - whoever heard of thieves leaving perfectly good horses behind? The animals provided their own transport and were extremely easy to sell.

          Chip turned to the other letter. The address was written in Kim's handwriting. Chip looked at the outside apprehensively. On past form it would contain more teasing on the subject of Katryn, and she did not feel up to dealing with bad-taste innuendoes. However it would be better to read it now than when Katryn was present. Chip broke the seal and flipped the paper open.

          Chip

          Just a quick warning. Your new girl has not been honest with you. I was talking to Ritche and I mentioned the story about being a late joiner. Ritche disputes it, she's hasn't seen Katryn's full records, but she does know she's only got four more years of her enlistment period to go. When you add everything up it leaves seven years to account for.

          Sorry to be the one to pass on bad news. Look after yourself, if you get emotionally attached to her you're going to be hurt.

          Kim

          Chip put down the piece of paper. The warning had come too late.

          **********

          Neither Chip or Katryn suggested going out to find dinner, so they ended up eating in the mess. The food was not bad, by military standards, but Chip could muster little enthusiasm. Katryn also spent more time looking at her meal than eating it. Chip talked about the contents of LeCoup's letter, but it was Kim's one she was thinking of. It confirmed she had not misheard, or misunderstood, Kalispera's words.

          Afterwards they wandered back to their room. Katryn opened the window and stood staring out over the rooftops. "Are you going to meet with your trader again tonight?" She spoke without looking back.

          "No. She left Landfall this morning, heading down river." Chip lay slumped on her bunk with her arm over her eyes.

          Katryn turned around and leant on the window sill. "I... er... I feel I've done something to annoy you. I thought at first, this morning, you were preoccupied with the trader... but you don't seem to be... happy with me." She bit her lip. "What have I done?"

          Chip took a deep breath, then sat up and swung her legs around. If Katryn wanted to force the issue it was okay by her. "You've told me lies." She spoke bluntly.

          "I... no, never." Katryn sounded genuinely bewildered.

          "Okay. I asked you once informally. This time it's an order, and I want the truth." Chip snapped out the words with a vehemence LeCoup could have been proud of.

          Katryn sprung upright, her eyes fixed on the wall. "Yes, ma'am."

          "What did you do to get court-martialled?"

          "I swear I haven't been court-martialled, ma'am."

          "Kalispera called you sergeant, yet you told me you hadn't been demoted. You said you were a private because you hadn't been in the rangers long enough to get to leading ranger. You enlisted ten years ago."

          Katryn's cheeks were flushed. "I wasn't demoted, ma'am. I gave up my rank voluntarily."

          "Oh, what..." Chip shouted in outraged anger.

          "I told you the truth. I have only been in the rangers for a year, but before that I served nine years in the militia. I was a sergeant in Woodside. The rank was forfeit when I joined the rangers, which I knew when I applied."

          Chip stared at Katryn who was shaking visibly. "Why didn't you say that before?"

          "Permission to talk informally, ma'am."

          "Yes." Chip snapped.

          "Because I know that not applying for the rangers the day after you become eligible is proof you're a fool and coward, and only fit for rounding up stray dogs."

          "That's..." Chip's voice died. Maybe you didn't have to apply bang on the day after, but there were some rangers who would see nine years in the militia in those terms. Chip bowed her head and interlaced her fingers behind her neck. It all sounded too glib. She did not know what to think and for once her instincts could not help her. She desperately wanted to believe Katryn, and for that very reason distrusted her. Chip tried to work her way forward. "So why was Kalispera displeased to see you? It wasn't exactly a happy reunion when you met."

          "Captain Kalispera didn't want me to leave the militia. I can't prove it was her, but someone pulled strings to get me a promise of promotion to lieutenant if I withdrew my application to the rangers." Katryn lips compressed in a tight line. "She made a personal appeal to me to stay, but I ignored her. Now she feels angry and I feel like a fool, because she was right. I shouldn't have left."

          "And that's your story?"

          "It's the truth ma'am. You don't believe my word, but you could go and find Kalispera and ask her about it."

          Chip got to her feet and stood directly in front of Katryn. She stared into her eyes; they were filling with tears, but there was no faltering, no deceit, no sign of bluffing. Chip didn't know what to do, what to believe. The situation was hard enough, made impossible by the intense desire to kiss Katryn. Chip felt her arms starting to move of their own accord.

          "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." Chip could not find the words she wanted. She stepped over to the window. Katryn remained to attention. "Oh, dismissed... stand down... whatever."

          Katryn relaxed but stayed where she was. "I should have told you that I'd spent so long in the militia, but I wanted a chance to prove myself... before I got pre-judged."

          Chip shrugged. She was partly convinced there was more Katryn was not telling her, but lacked the certainty to probe. Going in search of the militia captain was not a good idea. If Katryn was still lying Chip didn't want to deal with it until they were back in Fort Krowe. And if she was telling the truth it would destroy any hope of trust between them. Trust was vital to a patrol. How could she ever ask Katryn to trust her if she was not prepared to trust Katryn?

          "Do you want me to come with you and find Kalispera?" Katryn asked.

          "No, I want you to come with me to the inn and let me buy you a drink."

          Katryn flinched, but then nodded.

          Outside the building the air was fresher and Chip felt calmer, but no less unhappy. Kiss and make up. The words echoed in her head, along with the mental picture of giving Katryn a big hug and saying sorry. Neither idea was a safe one to play with. Chip glanced sideways, Katryn looked understandably subdued, but hopefully she would be willing to rebuild a friendly working relationship.

          Chip cleared her throat. "While the militia sort out the warrant tomorrow morning we can take it easy. I can show you around the sights."

          "You don't think we should be there with the militia at the magistrates?"

          Chip pulled a wry grimace. "Probably best if my face doesn't get seen. My sister, Honesty Coppelli, is the city's chief magistrate and we never got on, even before I left home."

          Chapter Six - The First Time

          The great temple of Celaeno was awe-inspiring, or so Chip had been told. She could not remember it ever inspiring awe in herself, only boredom and despair. However, in showing Katryn around the cavernous central hall, she felt she was seeing a different aspect of the place. It was amazing what knowing you were free to walk out did you your perceptions.

          The shrines to the Celaeno’s servants, the Elder-ones, filled every centimetre of wall space. Still more were clustered around the supporting pillars. The Blessed Himoti, greatest of the Elder-ones, had her monument in the very middle of the hall. Her eternal flame danced in its crucible; the light flickered over the faces of worshippers.

          Katryn appeared genuinely moved by the temple. Without going into religious rapture, she knelt and bowed her head before Himoti’s flame and prayed silently. She also paused to offer a short prayer to her namesake, Katryn Novak, the Elder-one who was patron of bakers. Chip waited for her to finish and then carried on around the perimeter of the hall.

          They next stopped at the alcove housing the military shrine. In the middle stood the statue of Natasha Krowe, patron of rangers, with her iron grey hair and green skin. She was flanked on either side by Su Li Hoy of the guards and David Croft of the militia. Again the colours reflected their followers uniform. Su Li Hoy had yellow skin and bright red hair, while David Croft’s skin and hair were both jet black, making her the most monochrome of the Elder-ones. Chip could not restrain the grin which spread across her face, she knew how much it rankled the guards that the rangers’ patron took the central position; but, of course, the rangers were the oldest branch of the military.

          The two women went on and paused again outside the entrance to the sanctum. Six guards stood on sentry duty by the hanging drapes that hid the secret inner part of the temple from view. The six women in their dazzling red and gold uniforms stood stiffly to attention, long swords drawn and held upright. Light from candles glinted off their helmets and braid.

          "Don’t they look pretty!" Chip spoke just loud enough for the guards to hear. She was rewarded by seeing a flush darken the face of the youngest. The jeering was part of the ritual game played between rangers and guards. Chip did not push things any further. It was unfair to taunt when the guards could not retaliate and, at odds of six against two, unwise to do it when they could.

          "Did you used to go in there?" Katryn whispered, pointing to the curtains.

          "No. That’s the inner sanctum, only full sisters and imprinters are allowed in. As an initiate I got no further than the outer sanctum."

          There was a faint stirring in the hall behind them. Chip glanced over her shoulder and drew Katryn back out of the way. A small group were marching towards the entrance to the sanctum. It was an escort of six more guards; Chip knew they would take particular pleasure from shoving rangers aside if they got the chance. In the centre was another woman, clad in simple blue – an Imprinter.

          For the first time something like awe did sweep over Chip. Imprinters were the one great mystery the sisters could not reduce to tedium. They were the ones chosen by the Goddess to receive Himoti’s gift, the gift of calling new human souls into existence. They were the ones so strongly blessed with the healer sense they could not merely cure sickness and injury, or induce cloning in farm animals, but they could imprint genetic patterns on an embryo. It was the gift of Imprinters to copy DNA sequences from a gene-mother onto the cloned cell inside her partner’s womb, creating a new life that was not a soulless clone but a true human, a daughter of the Goddess.

          Chip felt her mouth go dry as the woman in blue was ushered by and disappeared through the hanging drapes of the sanctum.

          "Did you ever meet an Imprinter?" Katryn asked another question.

          "Who me? You’re joking. Despite my parents’ money I was the lowest of the low – especially after I entertained my schoolmates by demonstrating my scoring ability at basketball, using the Chief Consultant’s knickers as a goal."

          "You did what?"

          "It was one of my failed attempts to get expelled."

          "How…?"

          "She wasn’t wearing them at the time. I raided the laundry."

          "But…"

          Chip laughed and pointed to the exit. "Come on. We’d better go if we want to be on time for the briefing."

          Katryn was still thinking as they passed under the high, arched doorway of the temple and into the day outside. A soft drizzle was falling, but the weather showed signs of brightening up. The gardens surrounding the temple held the first misty suggestion of sunshine.

          "You don’t seem very devout..." Katryn said hesitantly after a few steps.

          "The Chief Consultant’s underwear isn’t mentioned anywhere in the Book of the Elder-ones, so it can’t be that sacred." Chip joked, and then became more serious. "But no, you’re right. I tend to be a bit of a sceptic."

          "But you were educated by the sisters."

          "That’s why." The pair of them reached the exit from the temple grounds and strolled into the street beyond. "Most people in the school wanted to be there. I didn’t, so I tended to ask questions, and a lot of the answers didn’t hold together – not if you probed deep enough."

          "Such as?"

          "Well… we had a lesson on the teachings of the heretics. It was after I became an initiate – they don’t give the information to ordinary people… don’t want things getting out of hand."

          "Why to they tell initiates about it?"

          "So we will recognise a heretic if ever we meet one." Chip glanced sideways, wondering at the advisability of saying more before she had worked out the depth of Katryn’s religious beliefs. But eventually she went on. "I wouldn’t put much store in what the heretics say, but their beliefs made me focus on the holes in the sisters’ teachings."

          "Don’t the heretics deny the existence of Celaeno?" Katryn sounded curious rather than appalled.

          "Worse than that. They claim Celaeno isn’t the physical manifestation of the Goddess. They claim humans originally came from another planet, and Celaeno is just the name our ancestors gave to a boat they built to carry them between the stars."

          Katryn looked thunderstruck, and then she laughed. "If the heretics are that insane I shouldn't think it takes much training to spot one."

          "You aren't as familiar with Sisters as I am. I fear that some need training to find their own arse in the dark." Chip said in mock-serious tones. Her expression changed to match Katryn’s grin. "Maybe it’s not the heretics’ strongest point. The bit that got me was about the Elder-ones. The heretics claim they looked pretty much like us, with one big exception."

          "But it says it in the Book of the Elder-ones – Their skins were diverse in tone, and their hair was yellow and red and black, and all the shades between."

          Chip took up the quote. "And some were tall and hair grew on their faces; which the heretics do agree with – it’s the exception I mentioned. According to the heretics the main way the Elder-ones differed from us was they had males as well as females. The males were the ones with hairy faces."

          "Like wild animals?" Katryn was dubious.

          Chip nodded. "The Sisters teach that the Goddess had to give a different method of reproduction to wild animals because the Cloners couldn’t get near, but something always…" She sighed. "I just felt there was a gap. It was after the lesson about the heretics I went back to the passages that bothered me – the direct quotes from the Elder-ones. If you reread them with an open mind, without imposing the Sisters’ teachings, you’ll see the Elder-ones considered male-female reproduction the norm, and using the healer-sense was the modification, forced by circumstance."

          "That would be…" Katryn’s voice died in confusion.

          "If you think about it we do divide the Elder-ones into two groups. You’ve been named after Katryn Novak of the bakers, but it’s considered inappropriate to name a baby after half of the Elder-ones – like David Croft."

          "The ones shown with hair on their faces."

          "Right. Which implies we have something in common with the hairless Elder-ones that we don‘t share with…" Chip had been getting carried away. She broke off sharply. Regardless of how Katryn might respond to the heresy it was not a wise conversation to have in the middle of a street in Landfall. She fought the impulse to look back over her shoulder to see who was listening. "Er… perhaps we should discuss it another time, this isn’t really the place. We could just manage a quick look around the market before we need to get to the briefing."

          Katryn opened her mouth as if to ask another question, then she too seemed to realise the risk of being overheard and nodded her agreement.

          As ever the market was crowed, sounds, smells and gaudy colours fought in a riot for the senses. They sauntered between stalls laid out with goods from all over the Homelands. If something could not be got in the market at Landfall it probably didn’t exist. Neither of the two rangers bought anything, although not for lack of effort from the traders they passed.

          "Do you think the militia will get the warrant?" Katryn asked.

          "Kalispera seemed confident, and they stand a better chance without me there. Honesty and I always used to enjoy irritating each other. She’d probably ask for extra information just for the fun of watching me run around."

          They walked on further, leaving the market square and heading towards the militia station.. Katryn’s face was creased in thought. At last Chip asked. "What are you thinking?"

          "I’m trying to work out what Chip is short for."

          "It’s not short for anything. It’s a small fried piece of potato."

          Katryn gave a yelp of laughter. "I think not. I’ve just got the handle on your parents’ idea of names – Prudence, Constance, Mercy, Honesty. I just can’t see how Chip fits in."

          Chip bit her lip to hide her smile. "I’ll give you a clue. Chip has nothing to do with what my parents called me. I got the nickname when I was six and I’ve clung onto it – it’s a big improvement."

          "That isn’t much of a clue."

          Chip’s smile escaped. "How about… my mothers’ picked names to help us in our careers. They felt the merchants would like entrusting the guild to someone called Prudence, and you couldn’t doubt the fairness of a magistrate called Honesty. Now remember I was headed for the Sisterhood…"

          "I know," Katryn exclaimed. "Faith."

          "Oh, they probably would have liked to, but I’m afraid great-aunt Faith disgraced the family some while back, and the name has been out-of-bounds since."

          The lines on Katryn’s forehead deepened. "Chastity, Devotion, Diligence…"

          "She’s the tax auditor." Chip interjected.

          Katryn dissolved in stifled giggles. "No, I can’t guess."

          "You don’t have to. Prudence called me it when we meet. Obviously you weren’t paying attention. They named me Piety." Chip was fighting with her own laughter. "My parents were cruel bitches."

          Chip felt light-headed, standing close by Katryn, sharing laughter. She did not know whether she totally believed Katryn’s story, but could not bare to let the doubts surface. She suspected there was more to come out, Katryn was still holding back on her for some reason. Yet Chip knew, from the depths of her being, that she trusted Katryn as a ranger should trust her comrade – with her life.

          **********

          There were over twenty women crammed into the briefing room at the militia station. Captains Gutmann and Kalispera stood at the front, giving the necessary background and assigning roles. Most of the assembled squad of black-clad militiawomen were squashed onto benches; others lined the walls. The two guild accountants sat to one side. Their faces looked as if they were trying to project ‘serious professional’, but were at risk of lapsing into ‘kids on a picnic’. Chip and Katryn were in a corner at the back. Chip was resigned to the militia taking control since they were providing the manpower, but she had been angered at initial suggestions the rangers would play no part in the raid at all. In the end it had been an unexpected piece of news which had settled the issue.

          Gutmann was moving on to the discovery. "Wright and Paulino have kept their noses clean since they’ve been in Landfall, so we haven’t had dealings with them. One of our regular informants is a delivery girl who works in the area. We decided to tap her, see if she could tell us anything interesting. She knew who we were referring to, couldn’t say much about the pair, thinks they’ve spent a lot of time out of town. But one thing she could say, they aren’t out of town at the moment. She saw Wright at Drummond’s place yesterday morning – so much for their visit to relatives."

          Gutmann gestured towards the back of the room. "Since they know our colleagues from the rangers are in town looking for them we’re think they’ll be staying out of sight, so we’ve got good hopes of finding them in Drummond’s house. But they might try to bolt when the raid starts. There are two rear exits. We want to have people waiting outside both, and we want someone there who will recognise our suspects. Unfortunately their faces aren’t known in Landfall, but we have Captain Kalispera from Woodside and ranger Private Nagata, who are familiar with the pair. Captain Kalispera will be on the gates to the stable block. Private Nagata will be on the scullery door. Ideally we don’t want anyone to leave, but our top priority is to catch Wright and Paulino. If they are spotted make damn certain they don’t get away."

          The militia captain went on to name the members of each group, and to allocate specific duties. She finished, "We go on the first strike of the noon bell. Any questions?"

          "Are they likely to be carrying weapons?" one of the women called from the centre of the floor.

          Gutmann turned to Kalispera for an answer. "They’ll both fight if cornered, and Paulino often carries a knife, Wright usually relies on talking her way out of things. If they’re forced to make a run for it they won’t have time to grab anything nasty on the way out."

          "Why didn’t they use false names in Redridge?" someone else asked.

          Gutmann snorted. "We’ll ask them when we catch them. My guess is it kept the paperwork above board. Remember it was a real long shot that they were recognised."

          "Do we have a description of what this jewellery is supposed to look like?"

          "It’s in the contract. The accountants have it. But it’s likely the jewellery has never existed and Drummond just pocketed the money."

          Chip looked around the room as the questions continued. The only one that interested her was the first. The militia traditionally went armed with long batons, although swords and bows were issued on occasion. Because of the triple murder this was judged to be one of those occasions, it was probably what had prompted the question. However Chip wondered how proficient the militia were with the weapons. She would have liked a few more trained rangers. Her sweeping scan of the room finished on Katryn, who was passable with a sword – just.

          Chip leaned over and whispered. "You know you said you were better with a bow?"

          "Yes ma’am."

          "A lot better? A little bit better?"

          "A lot better, ma’am." Katryn said confidently.

          "Take your bow with you."

          **********

          The scullery door to Drummond’s kitchen opened onto a small yard, which in turn had access to the side-street via an iron gate. Both gate and door were currently ajar, although nobody had gone in or out for a while. Chip waited with Katryn and three militiawomen in the shadow of a nearby alley, at a point where they could see the gate without being visible from the house.

          The militiawomen fidgeted with their weapons while they exchanged comments, excluding the two rangers from the conversation as much as possible. Chip considered them. The sergeant appeared competent but, like her subordinates, over-eager to show that she was just as good as a ranger. Hopefully they would not do anything stupid in a crisis. Katryn looked calm but preoccupied. She had checked her bow and arrows once, and now stood with her eyes fixed on the gate.

          The side-street was no more than three metres wide and virtually deserted, although the sounds of passers-by echoed from the main thoroughfare at the end. The cobbles were worn, some were missing. The walls on either side rose high, with few windows and less ornamentation. Signs of the area’s new prosperity had not yet spread down this back-way. A group of labours had been busy at the junction with the main street, although they were now quiet, presumably at lunch. Several of their larger tools were leaning against the wall.

          The temple bell struck the hour of mid-day. Like runners in a sprint the militiawomen surged forwards. Chip and Katryn followed more slowly and by the time they had reached the entrance to the yard the three militiawomen were lined in front of the scullery door, swords drawn. Chip stood in the gateway. The enclosed cobbles were four metres square; the space empty apart from two broken barrels and a small heap of rotten sacking. She looked up just in time to catch someone leaping back from a upstairs window.

          Chip turned her head to speak to Katryn who was directly behind her. "Our friends can mind the door. I’ll stay here. You would be better some way back, where you can get a clean shot, if necessary."

          "Yes ma’am." Katryn retreated several steps.

          Chip continued standing in the gateway. For a while there was no sign of anything happening. Then she heard the sound of shouting inside the building, but it was impossible to make out any words. The militiawomen were getting twitchy again. Abruptly the scullery door was wrenched wide open, a head poked out, saw the militia, and ducked back in again. The door slammed shut. The militia privates seemed unsure of whether to pursue the attempted absconder, but the sergeant ordered them to stay put. Chip mentally gave a nod of approval. The waiting went on.

          "Sergeant!’ Katryn called urgently.

          Chip twisted around. Katryn had positioned herself on the other side of the street, in the mouth of the ally they had just left. She was pointing passed Chip’s shoulder, up towards the junction with the main road. Chip’s head turned, following the direction of her outstretched hand.

          There were figures moving on the roof. A blur of motion showed where a rope had been lowered. One woman was just reaching ground level and a second was preparing to follow, clambering out over the edge.

          "It’s them." Katryn shouted.

          Chip didn't need the confirmation. She yelled to the militia and charged up the street.

          The first woman was on the cobbles, holding the rope steady and looking up. At the sound of Chip’s cry she backed off a step, then turned and ran. The second woman flung herself down the rope, using her hands merely to slow the speed of her descent. She let go two metres from the ground and dropped the rest of the way.

          The woman hit the cobbles hard, her foot twisting, sending her staggering sideways. She recovered her balance immediately and turned to follow her companion – but too late. Chip made a diving tackle and hurled the fugitive to the ground. The impact must have driven the air from the woman’s body, but desperation gave her strength. There was a moment of struggle and then Chip saw the knife.

          Chip cracked the heel of her hand up under the woman’s chin, snapping her head back. She grabbed the wrist and smashed the hand down onto the cobbles. Still the woman clung to the knife and fought on, but Chip had gained the mastery. She sat astride the woman’s chest, pinning both her wrists against the ground. There was sound down the street of the militiawomen coming to her aid. Then Chip heard other, closer footsteps. She looked up. The first woman was returning, brandishing above her head a long iron crowbar, no doubt taken from the labourers’ discarded tools.

          Time dropped to a crawl. Chip watched the attacking woman seem to float closer, at the same time aware of the other woman beneath her, who was also armed and struggling. There was no way to avoid the iron bar without releasing the hand holding the knife. I’ve got a choice, the words came to Chip, I can sit here and get brained, or try and move away and get stabbed. She had hours to make up her mind, but no sensible conclusion. The sound of the militiawomen was very close, but not close enough to matter.

          Suddenly feathers sprouted on the chest of the woman with the bar. She shuddered to a halt, looking just as surprised as Chip. But Chip’s confusion faded quickest – she had seen such things enough times before. She did not need to wait for the patch of red blood to seep through the woman’s clothes, or for her ears to recognise the hiss as the flight of an arrow. The shot woman still looked bewildered, unable to work out what had happened, but her legs were failing her. The crowbar twisted and slipped from her fingers. It hit the ground at the same time as her knees. And then the militiawomen arrived. Two of them needlessly hauled the dying woman back, the third joined Chip and tore the knife from the hand of the woman on the ground.

          The militia were shouting to each other in three disjointed conversations. The sergeant shouted the loudest. "This one’s finished. Help Sergeant Coppelli get the other tied-up."

          The women was dragged to her knees and her arms pulled behind her back. For the first time she saw the state of her companion and screamed, "Clary!. You bastards! I’ll fucking kill you. I…" she broke into sobs.

          "Too late, you’ve missed your chance." The sergeant was smug. She looked at the dead woman lying on the ground and then to Chip. "Straight through the heart. I hope that wasn’t just a very lucky shot from your private. I felt the arrow go past."

          Chip turned her head. Katryn was still standing by the gateway, her bow hanging loose in her hands. It was a distance of, at most, twenty metres – a close range shot. But the sergeant was right, it wasn’t what Katryn had hit that was impressive, it was what she’d missed. With three women running up the narrow street, and Chip herself kneeling in front of the target, shooting the woman must have been like threading a needle by throwing cotton at it. Chip remembered the confidence in Katryn’s voice when she’d said, ‘a lot better’. She hadn’t been idly boasting.

          Chip’s gaze narrowed to Katryn’s face. What she saw prompted her to stand, leaving the captive in the care of the militiawomen, and walk back down the street. Katryn did not move. Her eyes were fixed on the dead woman, her face a mask of horrified disbelief. It was an expression that Chip was also familiar with – the spontaneous gut response of a woman who, for the first time, has killed another human being.

          Chapter Seven - Rumours

          Katryn was still distracted back at the militia station as the initial reports were gathered. She answered questions when they were put to her, but volunteered nothing. Her first spontaneous words were on the walk to their quarters, when she said she wanted to visit the baths. Chip nodded, understanding the common and futile wish to metaphorically wash the blood from your hands.

          Afterwards they again took dinner in the mess – there was no point paying for food Katryn would not taste. She ate each mouthful as if she was having to concentrate on working out how to swallow. Chip managed to keep an attempt at a conversation going, confined mainly to issues within the 23rd squadron, although Katryn did little more than nod at the right places. Chip watched her in sympathy, remembering the first time she had killed someone. She had been five months in the rangers, a private in Sergeant O’Neil’s patrol.

          It had been high summer. The patrol had spent four days on the trail of a gang of cattle thieves, and had finally overtaken them at dawn. Ash had called on the gang to surrender but they had come out fighting, and Chip, inexperienced, had been caught on her own, isolated when one of the gang rushed at her, waving an old sword that looked better suited for use as a meat-cleaver. The bandit’s clumsy swipe had been easily avoided, then Chip had moved in, ducking the back-swing and driving her own sword into the woman’s body.

          Chip could not forget a single detail. It had been the classic stroke they teach new rangers, the point of her sword entered under the bandit’s ribcage, angled upwards to slice the heart and lungs. She fancied she could feel the texture of the flesh, transmitted though the hilt of her sword to her hand. There was the odd sound at the back of the dying woman’s throat, and unrelated details, the smell of mint-grass and cattle, the pattern of stitching on the woman’s shirt, the taste of dust in her mouth. The only thing Chip could not recall was the woman’s face. In her dreams for years after it had been a faceless corpse which had fallen against her and crumpled to the ground.

          But Chip could remember her state of mind that night, the unrelenting rerunning of the fight through her head, the pointless questions. The rangers had handed the surviving members of the gang over to the militia in the nearest town. Afterwards Ash had dragged Chip to a tavern, bought a bottle of rough spirits and poured most of it down her throat. Years later, when Chip had also become a sergeant, the two of them had spoken about the incident. Ash had said getting drunk wasn’t a good way of coping with the reaction, but it was still a lot better than anything else she had come up with.

          It had been a long time since the dead bandit had intruded into Chip’s dreams, but she still had only to close her eyes to revisit the scene. Chip flexed her hand, trying to dispel the tactile memory of the sword hilt, and the feeling of resistance as the blade had slid into the body. She looked across the table. Katryn’s eyes were fixed on her plate although it was doubtful if she saw it, or anything else in the mess-hall. The remains of her food were starting to congeal. It was obvious she would eat no more.

          "Come on. I’m taking you to the inn." Chip said as she stood.

          Katryn looked up. "I don’t know. I’m not sure I want…"

          "Believe me. You want to come to the inn with me."

          Katryn lacked the will to protest further, until they were seated in the tap-room and Chip placed a large shot of brandy next to Katryn’s tankard of beer. "I don’t drink spirits."

          "You do tonight."

          "No." Katryn shook her head. "You don’t understand… my gene-mother. I swore on her grave I’d never... She was murdered by a drunk... It wasn’t a outlaw, not even a petty-crook, just an ordinary woman who drank too much and lost control and killed someone… like me today." She was rambling.

          "You weren’t out of control."

          Katryn showed no sign of hearing. "It was like hitting a straw target. You’d think a person would be different. I can still feel the string on my fingers, the bow jerk as I loosed the arrow. And when it hit I felt that…" She clenched her fist. "…that… flash of triumph… like waiting for a judge to call bull’s-eye, and then she fell down and died. It was just like target practice, but a woman should be different."

          "A woman is different – that’s why you’re sitting here with your head in pieces."

          "It was so easy."

          "I wouldn’t have said it was an easy shot. I know I couldn’t have managed it."

          Katryn’s face twitched in a quick grimace. "The militia in the way didn’t help, but I couldn’t have missed at that range. She didn’t stand a chance."

          Chip considered Katryn. It was said far too matter-of-factly to be boasting. It might be worth finding out just how good she was with a bow, but it could wait.

          "Katryn, I know how you feel, we’ve all been through it. Drink the brandy. It blurs the mind so you can’t think straight, and when you’ve had enough you’ll sleep. You’ll wake up tomorrow feeling like shit. You’ll be sick and have a headache. It will be lunchtime before you’ll be in a fit state to worry about anyone else, and by then Clarinda Wright will have been dead a whole day, and you’ll have enough distance to be able to cope with it." Chip picked up the glass of brandy and held it out. "If your gene-mother were here tonight, she’d tell you to drink this."

          Katryn met Chip’s gaze. For a while neither moved, then Katryn’s lips twisted as her eyes filled with tears. She reached out for the glass.

          **********

          At the end of the evening Chip had to half-carry Katryn back to the room. They staggered out of the inn and along the road. Katryn babbled some story from her childhood, a game of football which had become a fight. Clarinda’s name featured, though the recounting was so disjointed it was not clear whether she was the hero or the villain. Of course, Chip thought, that is one big difference. I had never met the bandit before, I never even knew her name; but Katryn grew up with the woman she killed. Chip wasn’t sure if it made things better or worse. At least there would be fewer unanswered questions.

          Their irregular footsteps took them through the archway and across the main square of the compound. Their room was not much further. Katryn was still rambling. "Her fam’ly won’t wanna buy anymore bread… mama won’t be pleased… she never is w’ me… she and Cy…"Her voice ground to a halt and she slumped against a nearby wall.

          Chip stood protectively close to ensure she didn’t fall. Abruptly Katryn’s shoulders started to shake with sobs. Without hesitation Chip wrapped her arms around Katryn and hugged her close, stroking her back. It was what she would have done for any ranger in similar distress, but Chip could not shake off the awareness it was Katryn she was holding. She tried to ignore the effect it was having on her, tried to stop herself enjoying the feel of Katryn’s body filling her arms, and she partially succeeded.

          After a while Katryn calmed down but she still leaned against Chip. Her face was buried in Chip’s shoulder and at some stage her arms had wrapped around Chip’s waist. Cuddling like a pair of lovers. Chip mentally stamped on the thought. She tried to pull back slightly, ready to suggest they carry on walking, but Katryn’s grip remained firm and she began talking again. "I shouldn’t have joined the rangers. I can’t cope with it. I don’t like killing people."

          "There’s no place in the rangers for anyone who does." Chip said firmly.

          "I’m no good as a ranger."

          "You’re doing fine."

          Katryn moved her head slightly, burrowing into Chip’s neck. "It’s better in the 23rd. In the 12th… my sergeant there… her and me… we…" Katryn broke off, gulping air.

          She was the affair that got you transferred. Chip surmised, but Katryn’s next words went in completely the opposite direction.

          "I didn’t get on with her… not like you. I like you, you’re nice."

          Katryn’s arms tightened around Chip, who was caught so completely off guard that she failed to react as one of Katryn’s hand slipped up under her jacket, while the other dropped down, pressing their hips hard together. Katryn’s head twisted, her lips brushed Chip’s throat and started to climb towards her mouth. The hand on Chip’s back was trying to pull her shirt free from her waistband. It was something that had to be stopped, Chip knew, if they weren’t to deeply regret it the next day. She didn’t know where she found the will-power, but somehow Chip managed to muster the resolve to peel Katryn off her.

          Katryn stood swaying, fighting to focus her eyes. Her expression was surprised, then upset, and then surprised again. The final shift was one Chip recognised very well after eight years in the rangers. She was just able to get out of the way in time and direct Katryn’s head in a safe direction as the drunken woman threw up in the gutter. It was, Chip thought, a pretty good metaphor for her love-life in general.

          Afterwards Chip manoeuvred Katryn into the latrine block and got her cleaned up. Katryn sat on a water butt, looking half dazed. "I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean…"

          Chip patted her shoulder. "I know you didn’t mean it. Come on. Time for sleep."

          In the room Katryn collapsed on her bunk. As Chip removed Katryn’s boots and outer clothing she kept a firm hand on her thoughts, letting her eyes focus only on each button in turn. There was no way Chip would let herself sink to the level of getting an emotionally vulnerable subordinate drunk and then seducing her. Chip folded the clothes into a neat pile beside the bed.

          "You don’t have to stop there." Katryn mumbled, indistinctly.

          Chip turned her head, but Katryn’s eyes were closed, and within a few seconds it was obvious she was fast asleep. Chip tugged the blankets free and arranged them over Katryn, then stood, staring down at the sleeping face. For herself, Chip felt quite sober, she hadn’t attempted to match Katryn drink for drink.

          Eventually Chip turned away and pushed open the window. She hitched one leg up onto the sill. Wisps of thin cloud obscured half the sky, shielding the stars over Landfall, but the auras of both moons were visible through it. The fussy crescent of Laurel was low, brushing the rooftops, while the larger glowing orb of Hardie hung high overhead. The air was crisp. Chip leaned her head back against the window-frame and considered the town of her birth.

          She was pleased she had returned to Landfall, it had given the chance to put her past in context. A process not so much of laying ghosts to rest, as finding out they no longer existed. The spirits had been exorcised years ago, she just hadn’t noticed until she went looking for them. Her family had no hold on her and the temple had no hold on her. She may have been running away from them to join the rangers, but she had ended up where she belonged.

          Meeting Prudence had been the point of illumination. Chip had spoken to Katryn afterwards to prove to herself that she could, with a swelling sense of freedom. And Prudence had asked her, not if she was financially solvent, or in line for promotion, but if she was happy. It was a choice of question that said much about Prudence’s own situation.

          Of course, happiness didn’t mean she had no problems. Chip shifted around, turning her back on the rooftops. Katryn was now snoring. Chip studied her outline in the moonlight. She remembered Katryn hugging her, trying to kiss her – and she had stopped Katryn. Chip groaned softly, but she had no regrets. Katryn had been drunk and upset, probably not even fully aware of who she was with. If Chip had taking advantage of Katryn’s situation she would never have forgiven herself. It would have been deeply wrong – an abuse of trust.

          Chip sighed and let her eyes return to the scene outside the window. Of course it was just as well Katryn had been drunk, and hadn’t meant it, because if, by the grace of the Goddess, Katryn should ever come to return her feelings they would be doomed. It would be blatantly obvious to everyone it was more than a comradely sharing of a bed, and the ranger command would simply separate them. That would go badly against Katryn, to twice be transferred between squadrons.

          A bitter grin at her own expense spread over Chip’s face – adding things up like there was ever a serious chance of it happening. With Katryn’s looks she could have just about anyone she wanted, and Chip had no expectation of ever coming towards the top of anyone’s list. It went without saying someone like Katryn would have to be blind drunk to take slightest interest in someone like her. And in that lay the only hope for a solution. Unrequited love would not last forever, someday it would fade. But until than, Chip knew she did love Katryn, with every scrap of her being.

          **********

          It was several days before Chip and Katryn were free to leave Landfall. They had to give evidence at the preliminary hearings against Drummond and Paulino, and provide swore testaments to the magistrate (fortunately not Chip’s sister) who would try the case. There was also a brief inquest into the death of Clarinda Wright.

          When not occupied with these matters the pair of them spent their time in a wandering tour of Landfall. Chip even discovered in herself an odd affection for the city as she showed Katryn around. They accepted an invitation to dinner with Prudence and her family, to the delight of Chip‘s young nieces, who were overwhelmed to have two real live rangers in the house. Chip called in on three more of her sisters, the favourite ones, and ignored the rest – including her parents.

          The best bit for her was an unexpected appearance from Sandy, her mother’s retired bodyguard. The elderly woman met Chip with tears in her eyes, words spilling form her mouth. "I was sorry to throw you out, you know I didn’t want to, but your mother ordered, and I couldn’t say no. But you shouldn’t have made off that night, you should have waited round the back. I came looking for you as soon as I could, searched half of Landfall. I knew you wouldn’t return to the sanctum, you always were too damned stubborn." The two of them had hugged and headed to the inn for an evening of drunken reminiscences. That night Katryn was the one to carry Chip back to their room.

          October was half way gone by the time they left for Fort Krowe. Chip and Katryn made haste to rejoin the rest of their squadron, but rain and bad weather slowed them down. The trees along the road were covered in red and orange. As they got closer to the mountains they could see the snows were already beginning to creep down the slopes. It was going to be a long winter.

          As they rode the last few kilometres to Fort Krowe Chip studied the cluster of buildings on the hillside above the town. "I wonder if the rest of the 23rd will be here waiting for us?"

          "Surely they’d have got back weeks ago?" Katryn said.

          "I was thinking they may have been sent out again. We’ll never get to stay here all winter. I’ll bet the border divisions have already put in requests for reinforcements."

          "Will they need it?"

          "They will by spring." Chip turned to look at Katryn. "Have you had any encounters with snow-lions yet?"

          "Yes, once." Katryn’s tone implied it was enough.

          "They’re nasty."

          "I know. A ranger in another patrol was killed by them."

          Chip’s face became grim. "It can happen."

          They learnt the 23rd was still billeted at Fort Krowe and had been back from Redridge for two weeks. Chip and Katryn arrived just in time to unsaddle their horses and give a full briefing to Captain LeCoup and Lieutenant Ritche before dinner. Their arrival in the mess-hall was greeted by friendly shouts and light-hearted banter. Chip slipped into her place on the C patrol table with strangely mixed feelings. It was good to be surrounded by all her comrades, and it would be less strain to no longer be forced into such close personal contact with Katryn, but she was not sure if less strain was really want she wanted. Katryn’s company was the most enjoyable torment she had ever known. However she was so busy talking she did not have time to think about it, everyone wanted to hear of what had happened in Landfall.

          After the meal Kim caught up with Chip by the door. "I need to have a word with you."

          "In the tavern of your choice?" Chip suggested.

          Kim shook her head. "Not the right venue."

          "What is it?" Chip was apprehensive at the expression on Kim’s face.

          "Not here. Come over to my room."

          Chip followed her friend across the parade ground to B patrol’s bunk-house. As sergeant Kim had a small private room at the end. Kim closed the door and sat down on the edge of her bed, leaving the padded lid of the chest opposite for Chip. Her expression was serious.

          "You got my note about Katryn?" Kim asked.

          "Yes, thanks, but she hadn’t, strictly speaking, been lying. I challenged her and…"

          Kim interrupted. "Yes. I know. When we got back here Ritche looked at her records. I admit it was something I hadn’t thought of." She paused. "Nine years in the militia. Did she tell you why she left?"

          "No. I didn’t ask."

          Kim looked faintly uncomfortable. "Did you get on well?"

          Chip couldn’t help smiling. "Are you trying to find out if we slept together?"

          "Not quite that simple. But since you’ve raised the issue…?"

          Chip shook her head.

          "Do you still want to?"

          "Kim!" Chip protested, mainly from confusion. "Where is this going?"

          Kim combed her fingers though her hair. "I just wondered, how you got on. What you made of her as a person. How you would sum her up."

          "I like her." Chip caught her lip in her teeth. "And since you asked, yes I do still want to sleep with her, but I’m not planning on doing it."

          "She didn’t tell you why she left the militia after nine years?"

          "No. I’ve already told you that."

          "Did she tell you why she was transferred from the 12th?"

          "No."

          "Do you think she’s been completely honest with you? Is she trustworthy?"

          Chip hesitated before answering. "I think she’s still holding something back. But I trust her."

          A frown appeared on Kim’s face. She pinched the bridge of her nose as if trying to ease it, or to muster her thoughts. At last she began, "Ash has some contacts in Eastern Division – she’s got contacts everywhere. She sent a letter to a friend there, to see what was known about Katryn… why she was transferred. Ash got a letter back yesterday morning. What it said was…" Kim sighed and looked at Chip. "It said she murdered her patrol sergeant… stabbed her in the back."

          "What…!" Chip shouted in disbelief and then slumped back in her seat. "Oh, come on Kim, be sensible. If she’d murdered someone she’d have been strung up by the neck, not transferred to another squadron."

          "What Ash’s friend said was that everyone knew she’d done it, but it couldn’t be proved. She’d have been lynched if she’d stayed in the 12th, so they had to move her."

          "How could anyone know she’d done it if there was no proof?"

          "Apparently there was no direct evidence, but the sergeant was found with a trail-knife in her back, and Katryn was the only one with the opportunity to put it there."

          "If there had been any sort of case to answer they wouldn’t have let her go."

          "Logically you’re right." Kim conceded. "But we don’t know the circumstances. That’s why I asked for your impression of her."

          Chip closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands, thinking. Eventually she dropped her arms and looked up. "She didn’t do it."

          "You sound very sure."

          "I am."

          "Why?"

          "In Landfall… you heard she killed one of the bandits – a pretty neat shot with a bow. I saw her reaction. It was the first time she’d ever killed anyone."

          "Are you sure it wasn’t just a prod to a guilty conscience?"

          "Yes." Chip answered simply.

          "It’s not exactly conclusive proof."

          "That puts it level with the evidence against her. She didn’t do it, I’d stake my life on it."

          "It might come to that if she’s in the habit of sticking knives into her patrol sergeant."

          "I owe her my life as it is; that thug would have killed me if Katryn hadn’t shot her first. But you weren’t there, you didn’t see how it affected her. I tell you, she’s never killed anyone else."

          Kim pursed her lips. "The letter also said there were rumours she’d left the militia to escape some trouble that was catching up with her."

          "Rumours?" Chip made the question a challenge.

          Kim gave a dismissive wave of the hand for a reply.

          "Who else knows what was in the letter?"

          "Just Ash and me. We wanted to wait until you got back."

          Chip stood up. "Okay. I’ll try and get some answers."

          "How?"

          "Like before. I’m going to ask her."

          "You already have." Kim pointed out.

          "This time I’m going to ask for the complete story. Nothing less than the whole truth."

          **********

          Katryn was in the C patrol bunk-house when Chip entered, talking to Lee Horte and some others from the patrol. They were asking about the raid on Drummond’s, and Katryn was clearly being modest about her archery skills.

          "Here she is at last." Lee exclaimed, spotting Chip. "We were about to head off to a tavern, but thought we’d see what you were doing."

          "It’s okay. I have something I need to sort out up here."

          "You’re trying to tell us we needn’t have wasted valuable drinking time waiting for you?" Lee joked ironically. "Okay, let’s go. We’ll be in the Cat and Fiddle if you have time later." She went to the door with the rest of the patrol trailing behind.

          "Um… Private Nagata." Chip spoke up. "I’ll need you to stay here as well."

          "Yes ma’am." Katryn stopped immediately. Like the others she had a ranger’s thick winter cloak around her shoulders. After a quick, questioning glance at Chip she took it off and hung it in her locker.

          Once the others had gone Chip indicated the door to her room. "We’ll talk in there."

          All the four bunk-houses were identical in layout, including the sergeant’s accommodation. The room wasn’t large; the bed completely filled one wall. The only other furniture was a cupboard, a low chest with padded lid that served as a seat, and a small folding table, which was currently collapsed against a wall. Chip pointed Katryn to the chest. She considered remaining standing herself, but in the end sat on the edge of her bed, reversing her position from the conversation in Kim’s room. Katryn waited for Chip to start talking, her expression was mystified, but Chip fancied there was apprehension as well.

          It took some time for Chip to find the words. "It’s just occurred to me, although I’ve twice accepted your assurance you haven’t been court-martialled, I’ve never actually asked you why you were transferred from the 12th." Katryn’s eye widened slightly, but she said nothing. "And now I’ve heard some rumours concerning a dead sergeant."

          "I didn’t murder her." Katryn interjected.

          "Was it murder?"

          "Yes ma’am, but it wasn’t by me."

          "You make it sound as if someone has accused you."

          "Someone did. But I wasn’t charged."

          "You haven’t mentioned this before."

          "No, ma’am." Katryn clenched her teeth, but then went on talking. "I didn’t think it was a good way to introduce myself. To tell people as soon as I met them I’d been transferred because some people thought I’d murdered my previous sergeant."

          "It was going to come out eventually."

          "I know." Katryn’s eyes dropped to the floor. "I’ve not been wasting much effort worrying about my long-term future."

          Chip studied Katryn’s face. She remembered her first impressions of Katryn, the hopelessness and the fear, which she now understood. It had not merely been apprehension at meeting strangers in an unfavourable situation, it was the knowledge things would get worse, not better. The rumours would catch up, and no squadron was going to respond well to a murderer in their midst – certainly not one who had killed another ranger.

          Chip decided to push things a little bit further. "I’ve also heard you had to flee from the militia, which is why you applied to the rangers."

          This time Katryn looked confused. She shook her head. "No, ma’am. That’s just people making things up." Then despair swept over her face. For a moment it seemed her composure would collapse completely, but she brought herself back under control.

          "So why don’t you tell me the full story?" Chip spoke more softly.

          "It isn’t straight forward."

          "It doesn’t matter. Take your time. But this is your chance to tell me everything. I don’t want to be back here in another month, asking for explanations of the next set of rumours."

          Katryn turned her face and stared at the darkened glass of the window. Her expression held the hopeless despair of their first meeting, her hands were balled in fists in her lap, but after several ragged breaths she nodded unevenly. "Okay, but I’m not sure where to start."

          "Why don’t you start with why you left the militia after nine years?"

          Katryn nodded again. Her face was now calm, resigned, almost relived. "That would be in August last year. There was a heat wave at the start of the month. I guess it all began with me doing a night patrol with another colleague …"

          END OF PART ONE

          PART TWO : KATRYN NAGATA

          2nd August 532

          Chapter eight – A jilted lover

          As midnight grew near the streets of Woodside were so silent it seemed as if, not only the inhabitants, but the houses themselves, were sleeping. The dark ranks of buildings were huddled in the light of the moons, the walls slowly oozing out the heat they had absorbed during the long, hot summer’s day. The only sounds were the whooping of a night-bird and the dull clop of two pairs of militia boots striking the cobbles in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

          The women in their black uniforms paused in their rounds at the edge of the market square. Militia Sergeant Katryn Nagata gazed around thoughtfully. The time to hunt for law-breakers was when the market was in full swing, and there would be pick-pockets and traders giving short measure. During the day the square would be the scene of as much illegal activity as was to be found in Woodside (which still wasn’t saying much) but now it was utterly devoid of life – law-abiding or otherwise.

          Katryn’s eyes lifted to the upper stories of the buildings. The heat had prompted many occupants to leave their shutters open, which might attract the attention of thieves, however even the most stupid of burglars would have the sense to wait until the militia were out of sight before scrambling up a wall. The chances of stumbling across any criminals were very slim, but the rules decreed that two members of the militia must patrol the streets each night, and that was what she and her colleague were doing. At least pounding the beat in the cool of night was less unpleasant than during the sticky midday heat, but Katryn would rather have been at home, asleep in bed with Allison.

          She glanced at the woman standing beside her, a new recruit to the militia, just passed her sixteenth birthday and still in her probation period. Private Dekker was stifling a yawn. Judging from her expression it owed as much to boredom as tiredness.

          "Are you finding life in the militia as exciting as you hoped?" Katryn asked dryly.

          Dekker’s mouth turned down at the corners. "Well… shall we say no worse than I feared. I reckon I can put up with it for two years."

          "And then you’ll apply for admission to the rangers?" Katryn guessed as she began walking again.

          Dekker fell into step beside her. "Oh yes. I’m applying the day I finish my probation – just one year, nine months and three days to go."

          Katryn laughed and said nothing to crush the young woman’s hopes. However she knew of too many others who had joined the militia, intending to transfer to the rangers once they had completed their two year probation, only to fail the rigorous entry test for the elite service, and be forced to complete all fourteen years of their enlistment period in the militia.

          "It is so dull here, I don’t know how you stand it. Did you never think of joining the rangers?" Dekker asked curiously as they left the market square.

          "Not really." Katryn scrunched her nose a little as she replied. "It crossed my mind once or twice, back when I was your age, but I’m happy in Woodside. I’ve got family here, and a partner." Her expression shifted to a contented smile. Meeting Allison just before her probation was complete had put the final block on any ideas of applying for the rangers, and never once in the following seven years had Katryn regretted her choice. "We’ve been saving money. This time next year we’ll have a place of our own and a child."

          "You’ve got enough for the imprinting fees?"

          Katryn grinned at Dekker. "Well, I’m not expecting the temple to imprint us a baby for free."

          "Your partner must be quite something to keep you here in Woodside."

          "She is." Katryn agreed. "But even without her I don’t think I’d have joined the rangers – I’m not the adventurous sort. And I always wanted to be in the militia."

          "Because of what happened to your gene-mother?"

          Katryn glanced sideways. "You’ve heard about her?"

          "Someone mentioned her back at the station – the last militiawoman in Woodside to be killed on duty. They weren’t too sure about how it happened though."

          "It was a stupid accident. She stepped in to stop a tavern brawl and got stabbed in the back by someone too drunk to think or see straight. The killer was probably aiming at the person standing beside my gene-mother."

          "That’s bad luck."

          "Even worse luck that it was her first month back at work after giving birth to my sister."

          "How old were you?"

          "Just turned six."

          "So your birth-mother lost her partner and was left with two young children – that’s rough. I guess the widow’s pension wouldn’t begin to compensate."

          Katryn nodded and said nothing, but she suspected her childhood would have been far happier for everyone with both her mothers present. She hoped Dekker’s curiosity would not set her off probing any deeper, but was, in any case, saved by a sudden outbreak of shouting in the distance. The two militiawomen spared only a sharp glance at each other before breaking into a run towards the sound of the disturbance.

          They charged into a side alleyway and emerged onto a wider street at the far end. The shouting was louder, although it was still impossible to make out the words. With Katryn in the lead they rounded the last corner. Standing in the middle of the road was a woman, clearly the worse for drink. She swayed and staggered as if the cobblestones under her feet were the deck of a pitching boat. From her mouth came a string of abuse, screamed at the closed front door of a house.

          "Bitches. You’re just a pair of fucking bitches."

          Katryn’s initial thought was that the shouter was an adolescent troublemaker, unable to hold her drink. However, when she got closer, she saw the woman was closer to forty than fourteen and, from the cut of her clothes, not an destitute alcoholic. The woman seemed unaware of the militia arriving, but it was possible the occupants of the house had been watching from a window, judging when it was safe to emerge. As the militiawomen reached the angry drunk the door opened and two other middle-aged women emerged. One of them held a small lantern aloft and the yellow light flowed out over the cobbles.

          At the sight of them the drunk made an indecisive lurch forward and then her face crumpled. "Why?" Her voice cracked as she spoke the single word. Then she launched into further speech. "Why? I love you. You know I do. I love you. Why d’you leave me? Come home, please."

          "Elli…" one of the women in the doorway began, but the other cut her off with a hand on the arm.

          A jilted lover. Katryn thought, sizing up the situation. A depressingly common occurrence; and one that would require tact. The drunk was probably a honest citizen who had made the mistake of trying to drink away her grief. Katryn stepped between the antagonists, with her face towards the drunk. "I think, ma’am, it might be best if you went home – sleep it off. It will be easier to sort things out in the morning."

          The drunk ignored Katryn, and stared instead, with tears in her eyes, at the women in the doorway. "You promised you’d love me forever…"

          From behind Katryn came a snort that sounded half-way to a laugh. Katryn glanced over her shoulder. It was impossible to say what the rights and wrongs of the situation were; but, from the patronising expressions of the two women in the doorway and the distraught misery on the face of the other, Katryn knew where her sympathies lay. It was a shame that it wasn’t against the law to stand on your own doorstep looking unbearably smug.

          Katryn turned back to the drunk. "Ma’am, come on now. Why don’t you go home?" She pitched her voice low and reassuring in the hope that the tone, if not the words, would register.

          The drunk’s eyes fixed on Katryn for the first time. "Why are you on their side?"

          Katryn met the combative glare. "I’m not. I’m on the side of the law, and you can’t stand in the street at midnight, shouting and waking the whole neighbourhood."

          Their eyes were locked for several seconds, but then the other woman dropped her gaze. The fight went of her and her shoulders sagged. Katryn put a hand on her arm and gently steered the unsteady woman away. With her other hand she gestured for Dekker to join them. "If you tell us where you live we’ll see you safely home."

          The drunk went meekly for the first few steps, but then a sneering voice rang out. "By the Goddess, if you could see yourself now, you wouldn’t come around asking why."

          The drunk tensed and jerked free of Katryn’s grip. Katryn gave her a firm shove in the right direction, and then turned back to face the two women in the doorway, trusting Dekker to keep control of the other.

          "You are not helping matters. Could you both please go in and close the door. We will deal with the situation." Katryn said sharply. She glared at the women, waiting for them to obey her instructions.

          Without needed to look Katryn could tell the drunk had staggered on for a few steps before regaining what she could of her balance. Now the sound of her uneven footsteps were approaching, having outmanoeuvred the inexperienced Dekker. Katryn put out an arm to stop the women lumbering past, but instead the sounds came directly behind her, and then the back of Katryn’s head imploded. The buildings jolted sideways and blurred. The cobblestones of the street turned to water, then raced up to meet her. A whirling cartwheel of sparks was swallowed by darkness.

          **********

          Katryn awoke in the militia station with one of the town healers bending over her. The woman’s eyes were unfocused as she concentrated on the mysterious other senses of the healer’s craft. Lieutenant Rashid’s anxious face wavered in the background. The window beyond was dark, so it was still night. Katryn’s head felt hollow, but she could detect the soothing influence of the healer’s talent flowing out from the hand on her brow. She let her eyes-lids close, and drifted in the ripples of well-being, while vaguely wondering how she had got to the station and what had happened to the drunk.

          Eventually the healer sat back and announced, "I guess you’ll live. You’ve got a thick skull, it didn’t crack as easily as the bottle."

          "Was that what she hit me with?" Katryn said slowly. "From the way it felt I’d have guessed at a slab of granite – except I didn’t see how she’d kept it hidden."

          The healer’s smile broadened. "And the blow obviously hasn’t shattered your wits. You should go home now and get as much rest as possible, but I’d like to see you again, first thing tomorrow."

          The healer patted Katryn on the shoulder and rose to her feet. She gave a respectful nod to the lieutenant and bustled out through the door. Katryn sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bench she’d been lying on. The motion left her a little queasy and light-headed, but her eyes had no trouble focusing, which, as she was experienced enough to know, was the most important thing.

          Lieutenant Rashid slipped into the chair vacated by the healer. "How do you feel?"

          "Like a fool. Of all people I should know not to turn my back on a drunk."

          "Is that what happened? The report I got from Private Dekker was a bit confused."

          "That’s not surprising." Katryn said ruefully. "If Dekker had been more aware I wouldn’t have got hit. But again that’s my fault – I should’ve made allowances for her inexperience."

          The lieutenant’s lips pursed into a thin line. "Maybe, but I’m not going to question you about it now. Are you okay to walk, or shall I get someone to help carry you home?"

          "I think I’m okay – the healer would have warned me otherwise."

          "Fair enough. But I’ll come with you. We don’t want you passing out in a gutter."

          Katryn had no problems on the short walk and the lieutenant parted company with her at the doorstep of her mother’s shop. Inside it was dark and silent. The lantern was in its place beside the door. Katryn hesitated for a second before lighting it. Normally she had no fears negotiating the house in the dark, but the last thing she wanted was to trip on an unexpected obstacle and bang her head again.

          The four walls of the baker’s shop sprung up around her as the wick flared into life. Katryn looked around with mixed emotions. The shop had been her home all her life – but for not much longer. Katryn was eager to be gone. It was not that she could accuse her mother of anything serious. There were no examples of malice or physical cruelty to point at, merely a lack of affection and the constant sense of being on the outside. Throughout their childhood her sister, Cy, had been cuddled and indulged, while Katryn had been mainly ignored.

          As a young girl Katryn had been hurt and confused by the favouritism. As an adolescent she had got the idea her mother was over-compensating for the lost of Cy’s birth-mother, so the neighbours couldn’t say Delia Nagata was neglecting her gene-daughter by comparison with her birth-daughter. Now Katryn suspected the truth was far less convoluted – her mother simply liked Cy better than her. The money for the temple imprinting fees had been ready for over a year, but Katryn had wanted to put off having the child until she and Allison could also afford to move out from her mother’s house. She wanted to raise their child somewhere she felt she belonged.

          Katryn walked out through the back of the shop and past the ovens. Even this late at night she could still feel the unwelcome heat radiating from them. Then she climbed the twisting rear stairway to the upper floor. She paused on the landing and looked at the three closed doors. Of course, the smallest room was hers. Her mother had explained Cy needed the bigger room since she worked in the shop and therefore spent more time in the house. Katryn’s lips tightened at the memory. Cy didn’t have more possessions or spend more time sleeping, and she didn’t have a permanent partner. However logic didn’t come into it, and Katryn and Allison were squeezed into a tiny cubby-hole.

          Katryn pushed open the door to her room and stepped inside. In the light of the lantern she saw at once that the bed was empty. Katryn ran a hand over her face, the after-effects of shock were catching up with her and she just wanted to go to sleep without more delay. Obviously someone, Dekker probably, had brought news of the assault, and Allison had gone out to meet her. Katryn did not fancy wandering around the streets, especially as she would doubtless miss Allison on the way to the station. Hopefully, if Cy was awake, she would know how long Allison had been gone.

          Katryn did not wait for an answer to her knock on Cy’s door. It would be nice to think Cy cared enough for her to go out looking with Allison, but, in any case, Katryn was too spent to bother with formalities. She felt as if she had been through a mangle, and the beginnings of a headache were knotting at the back of her skull.

          The sight of two figures in Cy’s bed didn’t surprise Katryn. With her nineteenth birthday less than a month away, Cy was well into the stage of casual relationships – in fact she was a year older than Katryn had been when she met Allison. And then the two women jerked awake and sat up, staring towards the door and blinking in the light of the lantern.

          Nobody spoke. There wasn’t much to say, although Katryn found herself desperately hoping for some innocent explanation. A forlorn wish, the expressions said it all. Allison had the grace to look guilty, but on Cy’s face, for the second time that night, Katryn found herself looking at a smug, triumphant sneer.

          **********

          The anteroom outside the captain’s office was empty apart from Katryn. She sat, staring at the door and trying not to cry any more – for what good it did. She knew her eyes were as red as they were going to get. The healer had clucked over Katryn’s condition when she had called in that morning. Screaming rows were not a recommended treatment for head injuries and, despite the healer’s instructions, Katryn had got very little rest, finally bedding-down on the floor of a friend’s house just before dawn.

          The angry words had been predictable and pointless. Their mother had felt that, although Cy had been a little inconsiderate, Katryn was making too much fuss, and it was all obviously Allison’s fault anyway. Cy had been defiantly provocative. Allison herself had said very little, and had soon settled into a mood of sullen bravado, doing no more than occasionally muttering, "So what?"

          Katryn had mainly wanted to get away. It had been Cy, with an appalling sense of timing, who had tried to draw out the confrontation. But then, confrontation had probably been Cy’s main motive from the start. It wasn’t that Cy disliked her older sister, rather that she was driven to continually prove her favoured position. Katryn was coldly certain Cy did not want Allison because she was attracted to her. Cy wanted Allison because she was Katryn’s. It had been the same since they were children, and their mother had encouraged Cy in thinking she had a right to anything she wanted.

          Katryn remember a rag-doll she’d had as a child. Cy had taken a fancy to the doll, making so much fuss that, in the end, their mother had declared eleven-year-old Katryn was too old for dolls, and must give her loved toy to her younger sister. For two weeks Cy had taken every opportunity to flaunt her prize, but, once the satisfaction of victory had faded, the rag-doll was forgotten. Katryn had found it some months later, filthy, rain-soaked and discarded in the yard at the back of the house.

          To her dismay, the memory of the doll’s pathetic remains brought fresh tears to Katryn’s eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, trying to fight them back. At that moment the door to the captain’s office opened and Katryn’s name was called. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched in.

          Captain Kalispera was sitting at her desk. She looked up as Katryn entered. "Sergeant Nagata, I’m pleased you’ve asked to see me. I’d have wanted to talk to you anyway about last night. I trust you’re feeling well." Her voice sounded uncertain as she examined Katryn’s appearance.

          "I’ve got no problems as a result of the blow, ma’am."

          "But you have some other problems?" the captain suggested.

          "Yes ma’am."

          "I haven’t seen the report yet, but with your record I’d think it went without saying no blame was attached to you."

          "Thank you ma’am."

          "So what’s your problem?"

          "I wish to transfer to the militia in another town."

          "Which one?"

          "Any one – the further away the better."

          The captain looked at her in surprise. "Surely not because of what happened last night?"

          "Not the incident with the drunk."

          "Then why?"

          "Personal reasons." Katryn had to fight to keep her voice steady,

          Captain Kalispera sat back and considered her shrewdly. "Can I assume your early return home last night caught someone by surprise?"

          "Yes ma’am." Tears were again burning in Katryn’s eyes.

          "I’m sorry, I’m really sorry." Captain Kalispera said softly. "And it wasn’t telepathy on my part in guessing. I’ve seen it happen far too often before. Which is why I can be confident in telling you that running away isn’t the right response. Someone has taken your lover. If you run away she’ll have taken your friends, your family and your home as well. In a few months you’ll be feeling stronger, and will regret having given her so much. You need to stay and overcome your difficulties."

          "I don’t think so." Katryn could not bring herself to say more. "I can’t stay in Woodside."

          The captain shook her head. "I’m afraid I can’t help you. The garrison is understrength. So, by the rules, I’m only allowed to transfer people out in certain exceptional circumstances, and your situation doesn’t qualify."

          Katryn hung her head. It was not just losing Allison. Cy would be wanting to wring as much out of the situation as she could. Even if Katryn used her share of the savings to move away from her mother’s shop, Cy would track her down and lay siege to the front door. If she couldn’t see Katryn suffering then half the fun would be lost. Cy would make sure Katryn couldn’t avoid the sight of her parading her new toy through town. The thought of months of torment ahead was unbearable.

          There seemed no way out, and then a new idea launched itself into Katryn’s head – something Dekker had said the previous night. It was every militiawoman’s right to apply once, and once only. Katryn had never availed herself of her right. She had never wanted to before. She looked up. "I wish to apply for admission to the rangers."

          Chapter nine - Welcome to Fort Krowe

          Katryn's lungs were burning, her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, and the shoulder straps of her weighted backpack were biting deeper into her shoulders with each stride. Sweat stung in the chafed cuts. Her legs were both leaden and rubbery. Every muscle in her body was in agony. Her life had reduced to the effort to throw one foot in front of the other on the rough woodland track.

          Birds whistled in the branches, the rich scent of firs filled the air. The warm sunlight would have been pleasant on an afternoon's stroll, but only added to the torment on the assessment run. A slight breeze stirring the tops of the trees did not reach the forest floor to dry the sweat on her face. Stones and roots broke the surface of the path; twice Katryn stumbled and nearly fell as the trail climbed the wooded hillside.

          At the top of the incline the track emerged onto coarse pastureland. Sheep were dotted over the slopes. The sun was hotter, but the wind could now offer some relief. In wordless agreement the applicants for the rangers paused to try and regain part of their breath.

          Katryn rested her hands on her knees, sucking in lungfuls of air. Probably stopping was not a good idea, she could feel her body trembling, but she could not afford to give in to weakness yet. She had to keep going. The sun was dropping towards the horizon, and the finishing line at Fort Krowe was still kilometres away. The team of applicants had to complete the run by sunset if they were to be considered for the rangers. The timed endurance run was the last, and most gruelling, of the entrance tests.

          Katryn looked at the seven other women. They were all either eighteen or nineteen, making her the oldest by several years, but their youth did not seem to be conferring any advantage. Most of them appeared just as exhausted as herself, and one looked an awful lot worse. This woman, Laura, was shaking visibly, her skin was blanched, and her eyes were glazed. She had been the pace-setter for the first two hours of the run, and had obviously pushed herself too far.

          "Are you all right?" Katryn asked in concern.

          Laura nodded, but could not speak.

          "Come on. We need to get moving." one of the other applicants called out. Katryn glanced across. The speaker was Gitana, the tallest and strongest of the applicants. Throughout the series of tests her manner had made it clear she felt a place in the rangers was hers by right. She was so arrogantly sure of herself she had managed to convince most of the other applicants as well. Many of them now looked to her for a lead - a role Gitana also seemed to feel she deserved. But a leader must take responsibility for her followers. Katryn opened her mouth, about to express doubts concerning Laura's condition, but Gitana had already set off running, and Laura was trotting after. Katryn tagged on at the rear.

          For another two kilometres the route kept to the highland, and then it dropped again into a valley. At the bottom a wide stream rippled over stones. Katryn's boots splashed down into the water which barely covered the toe. In three strides she had crossed the stream and scrambled over the undercut ledge on the far side. Three of the applicants struggled awkwardly on the waist-high bank. The weakest woman did not make it. Laura collapsed against the edge of the stream and then began to slip sideways into the water.

          Katryn jumped down and, with two other applicants, got Laura onto dry land. They lay her on the ground, virtually unconscious. She was not going to run any further. Someone took her pulse while the rest stood around or collapsed on the grass, exchanging anxious looks.

          "What do we do?" one of the applicants asked of the group in general.

          "We'll have to carry her." Katryn answered between gasps..

          "Then we'll never make Fort Krowe in time." Gitana objected immediately.

          "We can't leave her here." Katryn spoke up again.

          "I'm not giving up my chance to join the rangers, just because someone else isn't up to it."

          "We're supposed to be a team. We should carry her."

          Most of the group hung their heads, too exhausted or too unsure of themselves to want to voice their thoughts. Gitana glared at Katryn, trying to intimidate her into backing down. When this didn't happen Gitana scowled and looked away, thinking of fresh arguments. "The people at Fort Krowe need to get a healer out here as quickly as possible. Therefore we need to get to them as quickly as possible. Which means we run flat out. If you want you can stay here and keep an eye on her."

          The delivery made it more an ultimatum than a plan. Katryn looked around at the others. None of them would meet her eyes. It was obvious whose side they took - they weren't happy about abandoning Laura, but wouldn't risk failing the test for her sake. Katryn finished with her gaze on the woman on the grass. She pursed her lips, trying to keep the sarcastic anger from her expression. Was it really fair to judge the other applicants? Maybe they were simply more committed to the dream of joining the rangers than herself, or maybe her added experience made her value team unity more. However there was no way she could desert a colleague in need. She raised her eyes again to meet Gitana's, and shrugged. "Okay, it's on your conscience."

          "Right." The woman smiled, ignoring the implied criticism. "Keep an eye on her. We'll let them know where you are." Already Gitana was back on form, making it sound as if she was the one giving orders. She turned to the other applicants. "Come on, now. Let's get going." At a steady trot she lead the remaining women up the trail.

          Katryn knelt down and slipped the backpack from her shoulders. It hit the ground with a heavy thump. She fumbled to remove the collapsed woman's pack as well, and loosen her clothes. Laura groaned, her legs were starting to shake spasmodically. Katryn lifted one of Laura's eyelids with her thumb, and saw mainly white. The woman was clearly in a very bad way.

          Katryn turned her head. The other applicants were about to disappear over the brow of the hill. Katryn felt angry at their self-serving callousness, and irritated at her own impotence. In applying to enter the rangers she'd had to forgo her rank of sergeant. Now she found herself missing the three stripes on her badge. If she'd been in charge she could have insisted on the others carrying Laura. Katryn's expression became even more grim. Perhaps, if she'd been applying to the rangers out of real ambition, rather than as a bolt-hole, she'd have had the determination to challenge Gitana's lead.

          But there was no point wasting time on ifs. The sick woman needed her help. Katryn dragged one of the packs over. Most of the weight was made up of sandbags, but there were some useful items in them as well. It did not take much digging around to find the salt rations, a tin cup, and a blanket. Katryn filled the cup from the stream and added the salt. She took the first draught herself and was surprised at how good it tasted, then she got Laura into a sitting position and tried to get her to drink - with partial success, much of the water dribbled down Laura's chin.

          The sun was still warm, but, now they had stopped running, Katryn was starting to cool, and Laura's skin felt icy. Katryn wrapped her in the blanket and then lay down herself, hoping to recover her strength, but it was impossible to rest. Tingling cramps clawed at her legs The sun was sinking lower, and the temperature was falling with it. Lying on the cold ground was not a good idea.

          Katryn shielded her eyes to stare along the track, wondering how long it might be before a rescue arrived, and whether it would be in time for Laura. Katryn examined her again, there was no doubt her condition was worse. It might be exhaustion, salt loss, or some other medical condition. Laura was now fully unconscious, and her pulse was weak. She was in real danger, and a few minutes either way might prove crucial. It would be a good idea to minimise the distance the rescue party had to travel from Fort Krowe.

          Katryn got to her feet. She felt weak and shaky. Her legs ached, and her stomach was nauseous, but it was not her life at stake. After a lot of effort she managed to get the sick woman up and over her shoulders, and then, resolutely, Katryn began to walk along the trail.

          **********

          The light had gone and stars glittered in the deep blue sky. The wind had increased, with a cold stinging edge. Katryn had lost all sense of who or where she was. It was hard even to focus her eyes on the ground. Her feet kept to the trail mainly out of instinct. There was no thought in her head except the determination to keep going, although she could no longer remember why or where.

          Lost in exhaustion, Katryn was unaware of the sound of approaching horses, or the shouts when she was spotted. The riders reined in their mounts and dropped to the ground, surrounding her. Katryn stared at the circle of faces in confusion. Her feet came to a standstill, and then, without warning, her knees gave way. Hands caught hold of her, and Laura was lifted from her shoulders. Something was said, Katryn thought it was a question, but she was unable to make sense of the words and shook her head. The night sky whirled when she did so. Katryn felt as if she was simultaneously drunk and hungover.

          A horse was positioned in front of her. Katryn stared at it as if she had never seen one before. More words were spoken. She was hauled up like a sack of potatoes, and placed in the saddle. A second rider swung up behind, reaching around take the reins and holding her so she would not fall. There was a period of confused milling around, voices called out, and then another rider, a healer, brought her horse alongside, close enough to reach out and put her hand on Katryn's brow. For a moment the fog lifted from Katryn's mind, and then she drifted off into a gentle, healing sleep.

          **********

          It was late afternoon the following day when Katryn was giving the meeting to formally be told the result of her application. Not that she was in any doubt of what the decision would be. Via the camp grapevine she had already learned all the other applicants had been rejected, even those who had completed the run inside the time limit, whereas she had not even finished the course.

          However the attempt to join the rangers had not been a complete waste of time and effort. A month away from Woodside had given her the space to regain her self-control, sufficient to face down Cy and her mother, and maybe even Allison. Also the post that morning had contained a letter from the regional militia HQ. In nearly so many words it had promised her a lieutenancy within the year if she stayed in the militia. It was nice to think that someone didn't want to let go of her.

          The room Katryn was shown into was furnished with a single large desk and was clearly someone's office rather than a general admin room. The woman sitting behind the desk was wearing a major's badge, which was also cause for surprise. Katryn had been expecting a far more junior officer for the routine interview..

          The major treated Katryn to a long thoughtful stare before she started to speak. "So what are we going to do with you?" It was a rhetorical question.

          "Ma'am?"

          "Do you realise what an awkward decision you've given us?"

          "With regard to...?" Katryn was confused.

          "Your application for the rangers."

          "I would have thought it was quite straight forward, ma'am," At Katryn's words the major raised an eyebrow, her expression inviting Katryn to continue. "I failed on the timed run... I didn't get back in time."

          "Yes." The major gave a drawn out sigh, tapping the knuckle of her forefinger slowly against her chin, her eyes fixed on Katryn. Abruptly, she sat up straighter, her manner more decisive. "However we do have a degree of discretion in interpreting the results when unusual events occur - although I'll admit that someone collapsing is not as rare as I'd like. We screen everyone to make sure they're fit enough. Still accidents happen, or, like yesterday, errors of judgement. The woman was capable physically, but made the mistake of burning herself out in the first part of the run."

          "I'd heard that everyone else in the team had been rejected... ma'am." Katryn blurted out.

          "Yes, because you were a team, as was made quite clear at the start. You were not timed as individuals, it was the last person in who counted. But, as I said, things like this have happened before, and we don't fail an entire team because of one member. We can make allowances for unfortunate events - except the rest of your team carried on as if nothing had happened. Since they didn't let the incident affect their actions, they disqualified themselves from any special considerations as a result of it. Whereas you gave a remarkable performance. And the tests are more about character than fitness - we can rectify the latter by exercise, but we can do nothing with a woman who'll abandon her comrades for personal gain."

          Katryn felt her pulse kick, as the thought shot through her head, They're going to accept me... or are they? The major's attitude was not that of someone giving good news.

          The major carried on talking. "The allowances that can be made aren't formally specified, and they are at the discretion of the senior recruiting officer. What it boils down to is, it's up to me whether you're in or out. I'll be quite blunt. If you were an eighteen-year-old, who'd applied to the rangers the day after she'd completed her probation, I'd accept you without a second thought. But you aren't, and this gives me a problem on two grounds. Firstly your commitment to the rangers is in question. I have the impression you made your application to escape some unpleasantness back home, rather than as a positive choice." She settled back in her chair, her eyes boring into Katryn. "Do you have anything to say?"

          Katryn felt a blush start to rise on her cheeks, but she could not deny the accusation. "My reasons for leaving the militia had nothing to do with any trouble relating to my work."

          "I wasn't suggesting they were." The look in the major's eye hinted that she was fully aware of the truth.

          "Also..." Katryn paused, hunting for words. "Just because a woman is eager to join the rangers doesn't mean she's doing it for the right reasons. In my experience a lot of young women apply because they're bored in the militia and are expecting life in the rangers to be full of excitement and adventure."

          "And you're not?"

          "I'm expecting it to be hard work."

          A suspicion of a smile flicked at the corner of the major's mouth. "A good answer." She took a deep breath. "My second concern is about the length of time you have left to serve. You've spent nearly nine years in the militia. By the time you finish your basic training you'll have less than five left to go. We would like to see some return on the investment we make in training you."

          "I've always intended to reenlist." Katryn said. In fact she had planned on completing both of the permitted seven-year extensions to active duty and following them with an administrative post, if she had reached a sufficiently senior rank by the time they expired.

          "You might - but we can't count on it." The major picked up a few sheets of paper from her desk and began to scan through them, although she was clearly already familiar with the content. "You have shown good general aptitude, and you scored very... no... you scored exceptionally high at archery - that's always a good skill to have in a ranger."

          The major turned her face to look out of the window, tapping the papers on the desk. Katryn allowed herself a faint grin as she remembered the expression on the face of the ranger assessing her marksmanship when she had produced one highest score ever recorded for an applicant. Archery had been her favourite pastime since she was a child - she'd won the town competition a record six times in a row.

          The waiting dragged out as the major mulled things over, but at last she turned back, her decision made. For the first time a true smile showed on her face. "Welcome to Fort Krowe, ranger."

          **********

          Katryn spent the next four months at Fort Krowe, going through the initial training programme for the rangers - wilderness crafts and weapon practise. It was four months of hell, exceeding her worst expectations of hard work. Most nights she stumbled into the bunk-house with the other trainees, too tired to see straight. She developed an intense, personal dislike for all of the drill-sergeants and devoted much of her spare energy to wishing something nasty would happen to them. However she knew she was having an easier time of it than many of her co-trainees.

          The assessor who had written she had 'good general aptitude' had obviously known what she was talking about. Katryn was well towards the top of the group for everything except swordsmanship, which she more than compensated for with her skill at archery. It was predicted she would end up as a squadron's sharpshooter.

          It was shortly after midwinter's day when Katryn completed her training and was issued with her kit. The senior drill-sergeant personally signed her papers and shook her hand, smiling; which stunned Katryn - for a second the woman had looked as if she might just possibly be human.

          Back in the bunk-house Katryn laid the new uniform out on her bed. Instead of the plain green clothes of a trainee these had the grey piping of a full ranger, and the grey leather belt and jacket, designed to offer some protection without sacrificing manoeuvrability. There was a sword and trail knife, her own personal weapons rather than the general issue used for training. There was also the wide-brimmed grey hat.

          Katryn lifted this last item up and examined it. Sewn inside the crown was a steel cap. Further reinforcement was in the brim to protect the face from slashing attacks. Katryn knew that in parts of Landfall the militia was also issued with helmets - but not somewhere safe, like Woodside. Her thoughts slid back. Supposing she had been wearing a helmet during the encounter with the drunk. She wouldn't have been knocked out, wouldn't have gone home early, wouldn't have found Allison where she did. And would she have been any happier? Katryn shook her head. Ignorance had never been a real option. She was sure Cy had wanted the affair to come out and had probably pre-planned some big scene. Cy always had gone overboard on drama.

          In her new uniform of green and grey Katryn reported to the main administration office for her posting. Woodside was on the boundary between the regions allocated to Central and Eastern Divisions. Katryn had been asked if she had any preference and had chosen Eastern out of a desire to get as far away from the drill-sergeants as possible.

          The clerk in the office riffled through various papers, and eventually slid a form towards her. On top of this the clerk placed two arm-badges. The insignia was the empty green square of a private, and beneath it was designated the 12th squadron.

          Katryn picked up the embroidered cloth badges. She would sew them to her uniform that night. On the paper underneath were her orders. Ranger Private Katryn Nagata will report to Captain Dolokov of the 12th Squadron currently posted at Highview Barracks by 1st February 533.

          Chapter ten - A lot of bad feeling

          The town of Highview was the most northerly posting in the region covered by the Eastern Division and, as its name implied, it was situated in the highlands. It was the centre of the timber industry for the area upstream of Landfall. In summer the Liffey would be filled with rafts of logs, floating down to the sawmills and timber-yards of the city. Now the river was icebound and the surrounding countryside was smothered under a thick coating of snow, but the roads had been kept clear and Katryn reached her destination by the allotted date.

          It was mid-afternoon when the road finally emerged from the forest and Katryn saw the town perched on hilltop ahead. The skies were clear, but there was the smell of more snow on the wind. The thought of resting with a hot meal beside a fire was enticing, and even canteen food in a mess-hall did not sound too bad.

          Neither Katryn nor her uniform attracted much notice as she rode through the streets. Rangers were a common sight for the local population. The face of the woman Katryn stopped to ask directions showed not the slightest curiosity. However it did show a mixture of emotions that set Katryn musing as she rode on.

          The black uniform of the militia was met with fear from those with a guilty conscience, and with relief when going to people's aid. The rest of the time people simply looked blank, in an attempt not to attract attention. The green and grey of the rangers produced a markedly different response. Of course the rangers were respected, particularly in the border-lands, where they risked their lives protecting the ordinary citizens. Katryn was still taken aback by the effect she'd had. The local had looked at her with admiration, almost deference, and had acted with a childlike eagerness to be helpful. Katryn grinned at herself when she realised that, without thinking, she was now sitting straighter in the saddle.

          The ranger barracks were set just beyond the town, inside a high wooden stockade. Katryn dismounted at the gates and lead her horse by the reins. There was no sentry on duty, but her unfamiliar face attracted attention immediately. Another ranger hailed her, and, after a brief discussion, she was escorted further into the site.

          On one side of the road were stables, on the other buildings Katryn guessed to be the bunk-houses. After a dozen metres or so the road opened out into a central parade ground. Directly ahead was a single story building which the other ranger identified as the admin block and officer's quarters. Katryn tied her horse outside and followed her guide up the short flight of stairs to the open balcony.

          Inside the doorway was a long room, the walls lined with books and maps. A desk took up a fair proportion of the floor space. Two officers were seated there, leaning over a report. From the badges on their shoulders Katryn saw that one was the 12th squadron's lieutenant and the other a staff sergeant. They broke off their conversation and looked up.

          "Ma'am, it's the new recruit." Katryn's guide announced.

          "Good." The lieutenant got to her feet. "Go and find Sergeant Ellis."

          "Yes, ma'am." The ranger departed.

          Katryn stepped forward, holding out her orders. "Private Nagata reporting, ma'am."

          The lieutenant took the offered sheet and glanced at the contents quickly. She then raised her head and studied Katryn thoughtfully. It was a two way exercise. The lieutenant was a thin faced woman in her early thirties, whose air of crisp efficiency struck a slightly false note, as if she was consciously working at it. Katryn wondered what lay underneath.

          After a few seconds of silence the lieutenant put the paper on the desk and began speaking. "Captain Dolokov is currently out on patrol with half the squadron. I am Lieutenant Bergstrom, and I'm in charge of the barracks in the captain's absence. You are assigned to B patrol, under Sergeant Ellis, who'll be here in a moment. She'll see that you're allotted a bunk and stabling for your horse. She will also instruct you in local procedures and restrictions. If you have any problems you should report them to..."

          She broke off as the door opened again. Lieutenant Bergstrom looked at the new arrival with an involuntary expression of distaste that was suppressed so quickly Katryn half-thought she'd imagined it. The woman in the doorway was a sergeant. She was short, stocky, and a few years older than Bergstrom. She projected an air of belligerence which, Katryn realised, was utterly genuine.

          "I understand my new recruit has turned up..." the sergeant paused for a fraction of a second, "...ma'am."

          Katryn managed to hide her surprise. The effect of the hesitation was blatantly insolent, however Lieutenant Bergstrom acted as if she hadn't noticed. It was obvious the dislike between the two women was mutual. "Yes, Sergeant Ellis." Katryn detected an emphasis on the rank. "Private Nagata has just arrived from Fort Krowe. See that she is settled in." Bergstrom stared coldly at Ellis, and then snapped, "Dismissed."

          Katryn followed Ellis out of the building and collected her horse. There was obviously a lot of bad feeling between her new sergeant and the lieutenant, which could lead to all sorts of complications. Katryn was determined to keep well out of it.

          They were half-way across the parade ground before Ellis spoke. "This your first posting?"

          "Yes, ma'am."

          "You look a bit on the old side for a new recruit."

          "I served nine years in the militia."

          Ellis came to a standstill as if she'd run into a wall, contempt on her face. "Oh... Himoti's tits. And they thought they'd dump you on us?"

          Katryn also stopped, stunned by the speed and vehemence of the reaction. Although the militia was not held in high regard by the rangers, she hadn't expected her long service to be held against her. However Ellis was acting as if it as were an admission of cowardice and incompetence.

          Ellis poked her finger into Katryn's shoulder. "Right, listen. You are in the rangers now. We don't find lost dogs and we don't arrest kids who've been scrumping apples. If you make a mistake people are likely to die, yourself being the most probable candidate. You sharpen up. You do what I say, when I say it, and we'll get along fine. Understood?"

          "Yes, ma'am." Katryn said, reining back her own flare of anger. She prayed Ellis's response was in part displaced hostility from the encounter with Bergstrom, otherwise life in B patrol would not be pleasant.

          Ellis snorted as if she also foresaw a stormy future and lead the way into one of the stables. Two other rangers were working there. "Sivarajah, Wan. This is..." Ellis broke off and looked to Katryn. "What was your name again?"

          Katryn took a deep breath. "Private Katryn Nagata, ma'am."

          The sergeant's lips showed a faint sneer as she turned back. "Right. Well our new patrol member is straight out of nine years in the militia. So she'll have lots of experience in helping drunks get home - and we all know who that'll be useful with. Only the Goddess knows what other good she'll be. Show her where to put her horse, how to take it's saddle off... things like that. Sort her out in the bunk-room and I'll have another chat with her before dinner." Ellis gave a last, exaggerated sigh and left.

          The older of the two rangers had been standing at the back of the stable, her eye flitting around nervously, as if looking for somewhere to hide. Only once Ellis had gone did she walk forward. She stared at the doorway where Ellis had disappeared with an expression that was hard to read, beyond a degree of relief, and then shifted her gaze to Katryn.

          "Hi. I'm Jan Sivarajah... corporal in B patrol." There was a trace of defensiveness as she her stated rank, as if it might be open to dispute. She was at least fifteen centimetres shorter than Katryn and her build was verging on scrawny, giving the impression she could be knocked over by a stiff breeze. But she had to be tougher than she looked, both physically and mentally, to have lasted in the rangers. She pointed to the other woman. "That's Nikki Wan."

          The other ranger had also wandered over. She was young, barely twenty, and her shoulder badge was blank like Katryn's. Her face was square, with an adolescent blandness. She nodded in response to her name but said nothing, while subjecting Katryn to scrutiny.

          Jan Sivarajah combed her hands through her hair, as if needing to straighten her thoughts, and then dropped her arms with a sigh. "Okay. These are B patrol's stables. There's room for your horse on the right. I assume it was issued to you at Fort Krowe with your kit and isn't a relay..." She broke off at Katryn's nod of confirmation. "Your tack goes in that box there, and brushes are on the shelf above."

          Katryn lead her horse to the side of the stable and tied its reins to a ring on the wall. Nikki came and stood to one side and then spoke for the first time. "You need to loosen that buckle first and then..."

          "I know how to unsaddle my horse." Katryn snapped the words through her clenched teeth.

          Nikki took a step back, confused. "It's just... the militia don't use horses much, and Sergeant Ellis said..."

          "I know, I heard. Basic training must have become more extensive since whenever you went through it. They now give lessons in things like caring for horses." Katryn tried to control her anger but the sarcasm in her words came out more biting than she'd intended.

          "Oh, you've been through basic training?" Nikki spoke with naive surprise.

          "No, I bribed the major to let me off it."

          The expression on the face of the young ranger switched from confusion to embarrassment to anger. She squared her shoulders, muttered, "Fine." and then turned on her heel and marched away, slamming the door of the stable behind her.

          Katryn set her jaw and returned to her horse. Jan came over and patted her shoulder. "It's okay. Take a deep breath and count to ten. If you're going to survive in B patrol you can't afford to let Ellis wind you up." The corporal's voice was a conspiratorial whisper.

          Katryn opened her mouth to speak sharply and then closed it again. Jan was right. Nikki had been trying to be friendly, and was now probably feeling stupid that she'd taken Ellis's words at face value. A moment's thought would have told her that ranger command wouldn't send out someone untrained. Katryn wished that she had also thought before speaking - with a sergeant like Ellis, she knew she couldn't afford to start antagonising the rest of the patrol.

          **********

          Katryn met the other four members of B patrol at dinner. The ranger's mess-hall held one long table for each patrol and a smaller one for the officers. With half the squadron gone two tables were empty. Katryn would have preferred not eating with Sergeant Ellis, but no-one showed any wish to spread out, possibly the rules forbade it. Fortunately the sergeant finished eating her food quickly and left. With her absence the atmosphere at the table eased. After a few questions about Katryn's background, the conversation settled down to banter about long-standing issues, giving Katryn the chance to observe the rest of her new comrades.

          All four had served long enough to merit the single bar of a leading ranger on their badges. The tallest was Tina Agosta, a huge slab of a woman. She gave the impression of being slow and easy-going to the point of torpor, but, as the conversation progressed, a series of sharp comments made Katryn reconsider her evaluation. It was apparent Tina's sluggish demeanour masked a critical, dry sense of humour. It was also apparent that Tina thought far more than she said.

          Bo Hassan was the patrol joker. Her voice was the one heard most often around the table. Her stream of gibes, puns and innuendoes were directed at everyone. The witticisms were of variable quality, frequently crude, but nobody took offence - probably due to Bo's willingness to make herself the butt of her own jokes and the total lack of malice in her tone. Jan Sivarajah, the corporal, was the only one to show a trace of impatience with Bo.

          Pat Panayi had well-formed features, and she knew it. She smiled a lot, but there was no warmth in her expression. She sat back at the table, tossing in the occasional remark. Her eyes shifted from person to person without regard to the flow of conversation. When she caught Katryn's gaze she raised her eyebrows slightly, as if they were sharing a private joke, but Katryn had no idea what it was supposed to be.

          The oldest and quietest was Sal Castillo. She sat hunched over the end of the table, staring at her knuckles and playing little part in the talking, despite attempt by the others to draw her in. Her eyes kept shifting to the door. She was the one who eventually broke up the gathering when she stood and announced her intention of going into town. After a fair amount of dithering the others, as a group, decided to join her.

          It was a short walk to the patrol's favourite tavern in Highview. The seven women straggled along the road in an untidy bunch; Sal lead the way purposefully, there was laughter and playful shoving at the rear. Katryn tagged on in the middle, walking next to Nikki who ignored her - the young woman was apparently someone who nursed a grudge. Hopefully it wouldn't last.

          The tavern was a two story, timber construction, much like every other building in Highview. It was identifiable by the beer-keg hanging outside and the volume of noise from within. As the door came in sight Bo Hassan side-stepped over and put her arm around Katryn's shoulder. "Now, this is probably the first time you've been out for an evening's entertainment in a ranger's uniform."

          "Um... yes." Katryn replied cautiously.

          "You are in for a very interesting learning experience."

          "I..." Katryn's voice trailed off in confusion.

          "You may have heard the world is full of women who are dying for the chance to examine the contents of a ranger's uniform. Tonight you can get to see how many, and how much." Bo pulled away slightly and looked at Katryn's profile. "In fact, with your looks, you might even get to challenge Pat's position as the squadron's champion clit tickler."

          Pat Panyani was only a few steps ahead and heard the remark. She paused with her hand on the door of the tavern and looked back, smiling. "I reckon I can cope with the competition."

          "You want to make a competition of it?" Bo laughed. She mimed the actions of a race official. "Okay, first one to reach ten, starting... now."

          Katryn tried not to look offended. Luckily the disruption as the group shifted around to file into the tavern gave her time to recover. Of course she had heard of the rangers' reputation for promiscuity, but had not thought of it in relation to herself. Casual sex had never interested Katryn, and she certainly was not in the mood to start, with her heart still raw over Allison. For some women it might have provided a temporary salve for the pain, for herself, Katryn knew, it would merely be a reminder of what she had lost.

          As she stepped through the doorway, Katryn was hit by a wave of heat and noise. Several voices called out as the rangers were recognised. The tavern was doing good trade, but the rangers managed to find a relatively clear spot in the corner. Katryn squeezed herself onto a bench at a table next to Jan. Bo and Sal also sat down, while the other three remained standing closer to the bar. Tina ordered the first round.

          The drinks arrived quickly. Sal drained her immediately, something Tina had evidently expected as there was a second tankard ready. For a while the conversation flitted over a disjointed succession of subjects before Bo and Jan got stuck into a debate about stable duty rosters which began light-heartedly but became more touchy. It was obviously something Jan thought important, while Bo was being deliberately provocative.

          "Give her a rest, Jan." Sal spoke up at last, smiling to remove any sting from her words. "She gets enough ear-ache from Ellis."

          Katryn peered at the speaker. It was the most animated response she had yet heard from Sal, then she noticed the three empty tankards by Sal's hands. Katryn was still on her own first drink and had not seen the third arrive. She looked back at Sal, for the first time picking up the signs she had learnt to recognise from her work in the militia. Sal Castillo was not yet lost to alcoholism, but she was well on the way. Surely the others must know, yet nothing was being said. Katryn looked away to hide her surprise. She had expected the rangers to be stricter on such things. Ellis had been so dogmatic about the high standards of the elite service.

          The conversation had just started to move on again when sudden angry voices erupted at the bar. Katryn jerked her head around to see a local woman squaring up to Tina Agosta. Tina was the taller by a good head, however the local was either too drunk or too furious to care. Almost before Katryn had noted the details, Jan was out of her seat and between the two adversaries. She put her hands on Tina's shoulders. Not that the slight corporal could have physically restrained the larger woman, but she clearly had a calming effect, and Tina made no move as a couple of the local's friends wisely bundled her away.

          Jan returned to the table with Tina in tow, Katryn gave up her seat to make room. Bo also stood and the two of them wandered over to the bar.

          "What was that about?" Bo asked.

          Pat shrugged. "The local thought Tina had been ogling her girlfriend. She said something and Tina gave it back, with a bit added on for good measure. You know how drink can get Tina sometimes."

          "Was she ogling?"

          "Well, I don't know about Tina, but I certainly was - well worth watching." Pat said, grinning. She raised her tankard to her lips.

          "Where's Nikki?" Bo switched tack.

          Pat pointed to two figures wedged into a dim nearby corner. "She's found a friend. I think they're cleaning each other's tonsils."

          Bo glanced at them and then back. "It's not usual for Nikki to get into action before you. Aren't you being a bit slow tonight?"

          "I'm being sporting to the competition. I thought I'd let Katryn get a head start. But if she doesn't make a move soon I'll have to do something."

          Katryn blushed faintly as Pat and Bo both smirked in her direction. She shook her head. "It's not my game."

          "Oh, come on! You're a ranger now." Bo protested. "Say, I know what. Why don't you make a play for that local's girlfriend. Don't worry if the woman gets nasty, I'm sure Tina would love an excuse to flatten her."

          Katryn started to smile and then realised that Bo wasn't joking. Her blush deepened, now partly the effect of anger. She was saved the need to answer by a loud voice at her elbow. "I knew I'd find you layabouts here." Sergeant Ellis had arrived.

          Flustered, Katryn turned and spoke without thinking. "Ma'am, it's my round, can I buy you a drink?"

          Ellis looked her up and down as if she had done something absurd. "No." Then she snorted and relaxed slightly, "And you're off-duty - my name's Mel." Ellis turned to the group at the table. "Jan, I need to talk to you back at the barracks, something's cropped up. But there's no rush. Finish your drink in your own time."

          Despite Ellis's words, Jan drained her tankard immediately and stood up. "I'm ready."

          "Oh, right." Ellis seemed a little put out by the speed of the response. Her eyes scoured the group and finished on Pat Panyani. Her expression became softer, but no less intense and after the briefest hesitation she beckoned Pat to one side with a jerk of her head. The two of them exchanged a few whispered sentences, then Ellis stepped away and headed towards the door with Jan hurrying to catch up behind her.

          Pat watched them go and let out a long sigh. "Also I had a feeling that this would happen."

          Bo looked uncomfortable, obviously she understood what Pat meant; however it didn't take much tact for Katryn to know not to ask questions. Tina and Sal left the table and joined them at the bar.

          Tina turned her head to look sideways at Katryn. "A word of advice. Ellis may have implied you can call her Mel, but I wouldn't recommend trying it. Sarge is a safer bet - if you can't avoid her off-duty."

          "Thanks." Katryn said, trying to look more at ease than she felt. She could not afford to start judging the other members of the patrol - nor was it wise to isolate herself. She slipped her purse free from her belt. "Anyway, the offer still stands... it's my round, what do you want to drink?"

          Katryn turned to the bar, waiting to get the attention of the bar-staff. Behind her Bo started talking. "Now Auntie Jan has gone we can have some fun. Pat and I were just saying that Katryn ought to prove she's up to the standards of B patrol."

          "You had something in mind?" Tina asked.

          "We certainly did. That woman who was annoying you..." Bo indicated with her thumb. "Katryn should give her something to really get upset about - try and score with her girlfriend."

          Sal yelped with laughter and leant against the bar. "And she deserves it. I can't stand jealous women."

          Katryn clenched her teeth as the last remnants of fellow-feeling for her comrades vanished. At the other side of the room were the couple in question. It didn't help that the disputed girlfriend had a passing resemblance to Allison - their smiles were identical.

          Bo patted her back. "There you go Katryn, a unanimous vote. Are you up for it?"

          "No." There was ice in Katryn's tone, but no-one seemed to notice.

          Pat chipped in. "Why not? She isn't that bad looking."

          "Don't worry, we'll back you up if fists start flying." Tina added.

          "It's nothing to do with the woman or her partner, I'm just not ready to..." Katryn's voice died as she bit back her rising anger.

          "Oh you're not going to tell us you're nursing a broken heart for the woman you left behind, are you?" Bo screeched with laughter, oblivious to the accuracy of her taunt.

          Katryn bit her lip.

          "Do you know your problem?" Pat said. "You drink too slowly. If you'd been keeping up with Sal you'd have lost all your inhibitions by now."

          "And probably the contents of your stomach as well." Tina tagged on the end.

          Bo leant on the counter and looked at Katryn. The woman would not let things drop. "So... when are you going to make your move?"

          "I'm not." Katryn said grimly.

          "Why not?" Pat said. "There's no need to be nervous. With your looks and a ranger's uniform you could have any woman in the tavern. Five dollars says the girlfriend falls into your arms."

          Katryn snapped. She spun around. "I don't flirt with other people's partners, certainly not as a bet. I don't get drunk. I don't pick fights for fun. And I don't want to stay here any longer." She slammed her money down on the counter. "When you get the bar-staff's attention you can buy yourselves a drink on me. I'm going back to the barracks." She started to stalk off, elbowing her way through the groups of drinkers to grab her cloak.

          Behind her Tina said softly, "Then you should have joined the temple guard rather than the rangers."

          Katryn did not look back. The door of the tavern swung closed. Outside it was cold and a soft fall of snow had started. Katyrn's mood faded from anger to bitterness as she walked up the street, shoulders hunched. She stopped on the bridge and stared down at the ice-bound river. Things were not going well. All she had to do was say something unpleasant about Jan Sivarajah's mother and she'd have set the whole patrol against her.

          The cold wind attacked the tears which spilled down Katryn's cheeks. Six months before she'd been happy, with a job she was good at and enjoyed. She'd had friends, a partner she loved, plans to become a mother. How had everything gone so wrong? It had to be a nightmare. The trouble was she showed no signs of waking up.

          **********

          The next day started with the bell ringing out over the barracks. Katryn rolled over and sat up. She had heard the other rangers return some time after herself, but when she looked around the bunk-room she saw that two of the beds were empty. It did not take long to find out who was missing, even before the chimes had died away the door opened and Nikki trotted in, grinning broadly. Her appearance was greeted by a few ragged cheers and other, less polite, noises.

          The far door to the sergeant's room open and Ellis emerged. "Wakey-wakey, rise and shine." Ellis's voice made the words sound like a threat. She stopped by Katryn's bunk and looked up. "Parade in twenty minutes. And Militia..." She made it sound like a name. "Look tidy. Make sure you get the buttons in the right holes - your sword-belt not twisted. Get someone else to check your kit before you set foot outside here."

          Katryn might have felt annoyed at the patronising tone, but her thoughts were distracted by the sight of Pat Panyani slipping out of Ellis's room and heading for her locker. Nobody else showed any surprise, though they must have noticed. Ellis flung out a few more caustic comments and left the bunk-house.

          Tina wandered over and threw Katryn's purse up onto her bunk. "Thanks for the offer, but we didn't pay for the drinks with your money." Tina's expression and tone were both utterly blank, but Katryn already had enough of a feel for the woman to sense the underlying scorn.

          Katryn merely nodded in reply. If she wanted to fit in with the rest of the patrol, she was going to have to make concessions, but there was not time for explanations, and Katryn wasn't sure if she wanted to give them anyway.

          Pat was standing by the wood-burning stove, warming herself before venturing out. She rolled her head back and pulled an expression half-way between a pout and a smile. "I think a good long wash is called for this morning." She cast a further sideways look around the room, eyebrows raised, and left.

          At first it seemed there would be no comment, and then Tina said calmly, "And we all know which ranger won't be shovelling shit out of the stables this month."

          **********

          Sergeant Ellis shouldered her way through the door of the barrack room grasping a fistful of letters. "It seems as if your mummies haven't forgotten about you after all." Ellis shouted the words. Her face held a wide smile, but it was artificial, no more than a mechanical device to show that she was not currently angry with anyone. Even that much of a condensation to friendliness fell away when she stopped by Katryn. During the ten days Katryn had been in the patrol their relationship had not improved.

          Ellis's lips twisted into a sneer. She held up a letter. "Do you reckon that this is for you?" There was something challenging in the tone, however Katryn scarcely noticed in the shock of seeing the handwriting. In Allison's slanting scrawl were the words, Sergeant Katryn Nagata Ranger Headquarters Fort Krowe.

          Katryn only just remembered to reply, "Yes, ma'am." as she took the outheld letter. Ellis continued to glare at her, but the others were waiting for their post, showing as much impatience as they dared, and the sergeant eventually turned away.

          Katryn jumped up onto her bunk and sat, cross-legged, staring at the outer sheet of paper, oblivious to the noise and laughter in the barrack room. Someone had drawn a squiggle through the bottom two lines and written, 12th squadron, Highveiw Barracks, instead. Katryn wondered how long it had taken the redirected letter to reach its destination, presumably it had only just missed her at Fort Krowe. She toyed with the idea of returning it unopened, but not seriously. She had to know what the letter said.

          Her hands were shaking as she broke open the seal with her thumb. There were three sheets, all densely covered in Allison's handwriting. Katryn spread then flat and began to read. My darling Kat. I've been stupid, I know I have. Can you ever forgive me? How could I have thought your sister was in any way a match for you? I feel as if I have lost all right to say this, but I love you...

          Katryn put down the letter. Tears blurred her vision, partly from pain, partly from anger. She did not need to read any more to know that Cy had tired of another rag-doll.

          Chapter eleven: Misunderstandings

          "Hey, Militia."

          Katryn looked up from putting the finishing touches on polishing her boots, in acknowledgement of what had become her nick-name. Sergeant Ellis was standing over her. "Yes ma’am?"

          "Captain Dolokov wants to see you right away, in her office."

          "Yes ma’am."

          Katryn quickly pulled her boots on and headed towards the door of the bunk-room. Just as she reached it Ellis spoke again. "Someone’s reported a lost dog."

          There was scattered laughter from around the room. Katryn looked back, wondering if the summons was merely Ellis pulling her leg. "Does the captain really want to see me, ma’am?"

          Ellis did not speak, but waved her away with a gesture like swatting a fly. Katryn stalked out of the building and across the parade ground. If it was a joke Ellis would have to run after her - either that or explain to Dolokov why she was playing silly tricks on her subordinates. However, when Katryn did arrive at the main office, it turned out that the summons was genuine, and she was shown into the captain’s room immediately.

          Captain Dolokov was waiting for her, arms crossed, perched on the front of a battered old desk. Lieutenant Bergstrom was also there, standing to one side. As Katryn entered they both fixed her with hard, accusative stares. Something was clearly very wrong. There was a knot forming in Katryn’s guts as she came to attention. "You wanted to see me, ma’am?"

          Dolokov examined her in silence for nearly a minute. Katryn felt the pulse hammering in her throat. The captain had only been back from patrol for three days, and this was the first time Katryn had met with her, but she had heard a lot. Dolokov had been promoted to captain less than six months earlier. It was predicted she would soon be making changes in the squadron. Jan Sivarajah had implied that some changes were long overdue. Dolokov was said to have strong ideas, which didn’t always fit with the rule book. Arrogant, callous and bitch were three words often used to describe her. She made many people nervous, Katryn could understand why.

          When finally Dolokov spoke it was so sudden Katryn jumped. "Are you aware it is a severe disciplinary offence to impersonate someone of a higher rank?"

          "Yes, ma’am."

          "And have you ever done that?"

          "No, ma’am." Katryn relaxed a little as she guessed where the conversation was going. It shouldn't take too long to get there.

          Dolokov leant back and studied Katryn for a few more seconds. "Then can you explain why you've been receiving post addressed to Sergeant Nagata?"

          "Yes ma’am. I was a sergeant in the militia at Woodside. I relinquished the rank when I joined the rangers. The letter in question was from someone who knew me when I was in the militia, and used my old rank, unaware that it was no longer appropriate."

          Captain Dolokov looked startled. "You were a sergeant?" There was a faint edge of scepticism in her tone.

          "Yes, ma’am." Katryn answered. "It should be in my records."

          Dolokov’s gaze became thoughtful, but no less stern. Abruptly her posture eased and she gave a small nod, hopefully satisfied Katryn would not be stupid enough to make up a lie which could so easily be disproved. Dolokov’s head tilted to one side as she continued to examine Katryn. "You must have been very keen to join the rangers."

          "Yes ma’am, I was." Katryn tried not to emphasis the past tense.

          "When you next write home, impress on people your new status, so there are no grounds for misunderstandings in the future."

          "I’ll try ma’am."

          "Try?" Dolokov picked her up.

          "I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again."

          "Why not?"

          "My grandparents were very proud of my rank as sergeant, and their memories can be conveniently lax at times."

          There was the faintest suggestion of a twitch at the corner of Dolokov’s mouth. "Yes - I’ve got a grandmother like that as well." Her expression hardened again. "Very well. Dismissed. And Private, I'll leave it to you to explain the situation to Sergeant Ellis."

          "Yes ma’am."

          Katryn stepped outside the office and drew a deep breath. Surprise and alarm were giving way to anger. It had not taken the last sentence from Dolokov to work out who had reported her. Katryn thought of Ellis with contempt. As a sergeant in the militia, Katryn herself would never have accused one of her subordinates without talking to the person involved first. She'd have made sure she had uncovered all the facts, and would have supported the junior if there was any possible doubt of the guilt, and, if there wasn’t, she would have taken no pleasure from the consequences.

          Ellis had wanted Katryn to be in trouble. With hindsight, it was obvious from her face when she gave the message. Katryn stared across the parade ground, trying to compose herself before she returned to the bunk-house. The captain had told her to explain the situation to Sergeant Ellis, Katryn doubted her own ability to talk to the woman in a civil fashion.

          Ellis was still there when Katryn returned to the bunk-house. The sergeant stood back smugly as Katryn pulled open her locker and knelt to rummage through her belongings at the bottom, no doubt assuming Katryn had been sent to collect the evidence of her guilt. It took a few seconds for Katryn to find the item she wanted - the letter from militia divisional headquarters. Katryn scanned it quickly, refreshing her memory of the details. It was an official dispatch, with authenticating seal. It made clear reference to her rank in the militia and warned of forfeiture - as if she might have been unaware of the rules. It also contained the carefully worded promise of promotion to lieutenant if she abandoned her attempt to join the rangers. Let Ellis chew on that!

          Katryn stood up and closed the door of her locker. She walked over and held out the letter. "I think, ma’am, that this will make the situation clear."

          The sneer on Ellis’s face froze in confusion. Neither of them moved, and then Ellis snatched the paper. Katryn turned on her heel and left. Even the anticipated pleasure of watching the expression on Ellis’s face as she read was not enough to keep Katryn in the same room as the sergeant an instant longer than necessary.

          **********

          The buildings looked deserted from the hills above. There was not even a guard dog in the snow-covered yards around the six cottages. Then Katryn noticed the soft trickle of smoke from a chimney-stack, and heard the bleating of sheep inside a barn. When she got closer she saw footprints in the snow. Yet only the sheep and the wind disturbed the utter silence as the column of rangers rode into the centre of the hamlet.

          Suddenly a door opened and an elderly woman rushed out. "You’re here! Praise the Goddess!"

          Three more doors opened and other women emerged. Some had red eyes, all looked frightened. "!too late." Katryn heard muttered more than once.

          Lieutenant Bergstrom halted by the first woman. "You’ve seen them?"

          "No, but!" the woman broke off, fighting for control of her breath. "!two of my daughters went out to the East Woods early this morning, and they haven’t come back."

          "They went out?" Bergstrom repeated. "Haven’t you heard there’s a pride of snow-lions in the area?"

          "Yes, but we were running low on fuel, and we’ve got a wood-pile all ready cut and stacked back there. They took the sledge. They should only have been gone half an hour." The woman’s face started to crumple.

          A baby cried, too young to understand the words, but old enough to sense the fear. Katryn looked around at the villagers. In a tiny community like this they would all be related to the missing women; sisters, cousins, aunts. The expression of grief and dread on some faces was hard to bear. Even harder was the desperate hope on others. They stared at the rangers as if they were a miracle from the Goddess - it would be a miracle if the missing women were still alive.

          After a few more questions Lieutenant Bergstrom had got directions to the wood-pile and lead the column up the valley. Once they were out of ear-shot of the huddled family group Ellis said, "Looks like we’re closing in on the lions." The cheerfulness in her voice grated on Katryn after the misery left behind.

          Bergstrom was also disapproving. She turned her head to glare back at the sergeant. "We don’t know yet that it is the lions. There may be another reason for their delay."

          Ellis shrugged and dropped her voice. "True. A fool can always get into trouble. And you know what they say - only fools and rangers go out when snow-lions are around." She glanced purposefully at Katryn and added in a even lower mutter, "Of course, some folk belong in both categories."

          The rangers advanced as quickly as was safe, which wasn't that quick. Stumbling into the jaws of the snow-lions would help no-one, but many were clearly chafing at the delay as each clump of undergrowth was checked. It had been ten days since word of the snow-lions had reached Highview and Lieutenant Bergstrom had taken B and D patrols out to hunt down the dangerous predators. They had followed the trail of sightings and dead farm-animals, steadily gaining on their quarry. Now they were closing in. It would be tragic if they caught up with the pride a few scant hours too late to prevent the deaths of two women.

          Unfortunately the tragedy was not to be avoided. Before they had got half way to the wood-pile they came across the abandoned sledge, piled high with logs. Not far away was an area where churned snow was stained red. Jan Sivarajah swore under her breath, others were not quite so restrained.

          "Quiet!" Ellis hissed. "They’re close, we don’t want to make enough noise to scare them away."

          Bergstrom appeared to belatedly realise Ellis had given the order she should have issued herself. With a show of reasserting her authority, the lieutenant beckoned Ellis and Sergeant Takeda of D patrol to her side. After a few minutes of talking the two sergeants returned to their patrols with orders.

          "Agosta, Hassan, keep watch over to the right. Castillo, you and Panyani clear the logs off the sledge. Wan, stick with me. Sivarajah, check out the tracks, see what you can learn. Nagata!" Last of all the sergeant turned to Katryn. "We’re going to have to take the bodies back with us. See if you can find all the bits and load them on the sledge."

          The rangers dispersed to their tasks. Katryn walked over to the blood-stained snow. ‘Bits’ was a fair description; Katryn was not sure she could even identify some of the lumps of flesh as human. Her stomach heaved, but she fought back the spasm. She glanced over her shoulder. Ellis was watching her, smirking. The sergeant would love it if she threw up or fainted. Katryn grit her teeth, determined not to give Ellis that pleasure.

          Katryn knew it was not simply the luck of the draw that she was the one given the job of collecting the bodies. Ellis always assigned the most unpleasant and menial tasks to her. At first Katryn had thought it was some sort of apprenticeship for the newest member of the patrol, but since the incident with the letter it had got worse. Ellis seemed to have a personal vendetta against her. Not only was Katryn treated as the patrol skivvy, but she was continually criticised and ridiculed in front of everyone else. Her relationship with the rest of the patrol had got off to a poor start, and Ellis was doing her best to isolate Katryn still further.

          The parts of the dismembered bodies were strewn over a wide area. Katryn bent down and grabbed hold of the nearest large section, a torso. As she pulled on it the guts spilled out into the snow. Katryn knelt and took four deep breaths, building herself to scoop up the intestines with her hands. Suddenly there was a voice at her shoulder. "I’d say this one was caught by an old male. You can tell from the distance between the incisor marks on the shoulder." Katryn turned her head to see that Jan was crouched down beside her. Somehow the corporal’s footsteps had not even squeaked in the snow.

          Jan met her eyes, and then spoke in a whisper. "If I help you pick up the bodies Ellis will get mad, but I was told to examine the tracks, and the best place to start is here. I know it can be rough, the first time you come across victims of snow-lions. You have to learn to be detached. For one thing, getting emotional won’t help, and for another, there is a lot of information to pick up here. It might save someone else from the same fate. So don’t think, just watch and listen." She raised her voice again slightly. "Those prints there would be the male, and there are at least two adult females, one of them has a weakness in her back, left paw - you do know what I mean by male and female?"

          Katryn nodded, focusing her attention on the impromptu lesson. The assignment of Jan to investigation of the scene had also not been random. Everyone knew she was the best scout in the squadron. Her observations were astute, soon catching Katryn’s interest enough to let her mentally step back from the gruesome task she was performing. In fact a faint smile once touched her lips. If she was to have only one ally in the patrol, Jan was easily the best choice.

          **********

          By late afternoon the rangers were again on the trail of the snow-lions, heading towards the crest of a ridge. Dusk was not far off. Normally they would have stopped and returned to lodgings for the night, but dark clouds were building on the eastern horizon. A storm was blowing in. If they didn’t overtake the pride that day the tracks would be lost, and there would then be more days of scouring the countryside for sightings, and maybe more bodies.

          Katryn was positioned not far from the rear of the column - Ellis had implied it was the place where she would be least likely to get in the way. With nothing to do except tag along her thoughts were free to wander. The place they went most often was to memories of the dead women. Jan had assured her most of the damage had been inflicted after the women were dead, the lions mauling the bodies in frustration once they found they were unable to eat their prey; but it can not have been a pleasant death.

          Jan had asked if she understood the terms ‘male’ and ‘female’ in relation to the lions. The ranger’s basic training had covered it briefly, as far as was necessary to understand the composition of a pride. And, of course, Katryn was already familiar with the teachings of the Sisterhood - that the Goddess had to provide an alternate method of procreation for wild animals, since cloners could not get close to them. It meant snow-lions were genetically unique, like imprinted humans, and so, by the teachings of the church, had a soul. In order to prevent the sacrilege of eating anything with the divine spark, humans and wild animals were mutually inedible. It still left questions - such as the ethical status of wild animals eating each other, or why they couldn't eat cloned farm stock. The main question in Katryn’s mind, however, was why Celaeno had not completed the job, and given snow-lions the sense to know that humans were not a source of food.

          The brow of the hill was only a stone’s throw away when Katryn’s thoughts were interrupted. A signal rippled down the line and the rangers came to a halt. The horses stamped their feet in their snow. At the front, Bergstrom, Jan and the two sergeants slipped down from their saddles and walked the short way to the top of the hill on foot. Katryn waited with the rest in silence. After a few minutes the four returned and the signal was given to dismount and gather around.

          Bergstrom started to talk softly. "We’ve caught up with them, they’re settling down for the night the other side of the hill. There’s six in all, one a juvenile. A couple look unwell, they probably ate a mouthful, either of the women or some farm-animal. We’re going to split, B patrol left, D right. Follow your sergeant and stick to cover. I’ll stay up top. When both patrols are in position I’ll give the signal to attack, three short whistles. No-body must break cover until then. Okay?" She looked around. "Right, go."

          Katryn slipped into file directly behind Jan. Ellis lead them on a wide sweep, crossing the skyline behind the shelter of an outcrop of boulders, and then down into dense undergrowth. By the time the signal to stop came it was starting to get dark. Katryn crouched beneath the straggly branches of a bush and drew her short, ranger’s sword. There was neither sight nor sound of the snow-lions. She could almost wonder if it was another of Ellis’s stupid wind-ups, and then she heard a low rumbling growl. It was an awful lot closer than she had expected. Katryn’s mouth went dry. She braced her hands on the ground to hide the sudden shaking. Still there was no signal. The waiting was a nightmare, Katryn found herself longing for something to happen. Action would be easier that thinking.

          Without warning there were shouts, and the roars of snow-lions broke out in a frenzy. Confused, Katryn looked at Jan - had D patrol attacked before the signal, or had something gone wrong? Ellis was standing a little way to one side, peering through the branches at a point with a better view down the hillside. She was shaking her head and sneering. Her only other movement was when Tina rose and started to advance. Ellis held out her hand. "Remember the lieutenant’s orders - wait until the signal." Ellis’s voice was a low growl.

          The sounds of fighting got louder, then, above the shouts, came a long scream. Katryn stared at Ellis. D patrol were in trouble, was Ellis really going to keep them there, in deference to a plan that had clearly gone astray? But at last Katryn heard the signal, three short whistles. As one, the eight rangers of B patrol burst from the bushes and hurtled down the slope.

          Once she was in the open Katryn was able to see what was going on. Forty metres away, in the gloom at the bottom of the hill, three snow lions were prowling around a knot of women. A juvenile was hanging back and one other beast already lay dead on the ground. The largest lion was closer at hand, crouched over something, but at the sight of the new group of rangers it leapt up and began bounding up the slope.

          The animal was huge, nearly the size of a horse. Its shaggy white pelt hung like a mat of knotted rope, stained red around the muzzle. Sabre-like fangs slotted into groves in its square lower jaw. The beast headed straight for Jan, probably selecting her as the smallest target - a mistake. As the lion sprung Jan side-stepped. The dull light hit her sword in a silver blur. The lion either did not see, or did not understand the danger. Its momentum carried it on, impaling itself on the blade. Too late its body twisted aside and crashed down onto the snow. Even before Jan had torn her weapon free, Sal had come to her aid and embedded her own sword in the snow-lion’s throat.

          Meanwhile Tina had reached the juvenile and dispatched it with ease. The young lion, hungrier and less experienced than the others, had obviously forced down a mouthful from a body, and was suffering the effects of iron poisoning. At the bottom of the hill, the attack from B patrol had distracted the other beasts and the defending rangers seized on their confusion. Two more lions went down. The last remaining animal turned to flee, straight onto the swords of Bo, Nikki and Ellis - and it was all over.

          Katryn skidded to a stop. She stared around in confusion, realising she had drawn her sword in earnest for the first time, and done nothing more than run down a hill waving it about. Ellis would make joke of it. Even as the thought went through Katryn’s head the sergeant’s eyes turned in her direction, but before anything could be said, Sergeant Takeda charged over. "Where the fuck were you?"

          "Obeying orders. What were you doing?" Ellis snapped back.

          "Why didn’t you attack on the signal?"

          Ellis paused. "We did."

          "No you didn’t. I know you Ellis, and how you hang onto your record among the rangers. You let my patrol!"

          Ellis cut in, raising her voice. "You went too early, hoping to claim all the kills. And now you’ve been chewed up you want to shift the blame."

          "Chewed up!" Takeda almost screamed in outrage. "Yes, some of my girls of been chewed up, and I swear, if any of them are seriously hurt, you’ll pay for it."

          Lieutenant Bergstrom, her face grey, arrived to hear the last exchange. "Ellis, Takeda." Her voice cut through the argument. "This will be discussed at the proper time and in the proper way. Take charge of your patrols."

          The two sergeants became suddenly aware of their audience. They both stepped back and looked around. Most of D patrol were huddled around the spot where the large snow-lion had been crouched. Takeda stalked over to join them. A short way off was another ranger from D patrol, swaying on her feet, her uniform soaked in blood, her eyes glazed. Takeda directed two rangers to her assistance, but at first the women of D patrol seemed unwilling to disperse. Takeda had to literally push her subordinates into doing her bidding. As the tight knot of women separated a figure was reveal lying, unmoving on the ground.

          Jan had been standing close by the group, watching intently but making no move to intrude. Now she walked away, shaking her head. As she came closer Tina muttered. "Who?"

          "Fitz. Dead." Jan gave the terse answer.

          "Shit." Tina stared down at the blood on her own sword, her lips compressed.

          Katryn stood to the side, feeling like a detached observer. She could remember Fitz from D patrol that morning, complaining about her breakfast, yawning as she saddled her horse, adjusting the collar of her cloak to keep her ears warm. Katryn’s eyes fixed on the bar of red clouds lining the horizon. The sun had dropped out of sight, the day was over.

          Jan came and stood close by Katryn. "Are you okay?"

          "Oh! yes, sure." Katryn answered distractedly. "I didn’t get anywhere near a live lion."

          Jan glanced back. Several of D patrol were crying. "It’s not a good start to active service."

          "What went wrong?" Katryn needed the answers.

          "You were there. You’ve got as much idea as me."

          "What did Takeda mean about Ellis’s record in the rangers?"

          Jan’s mouth twisted. "Ellis has a lot of faults. But one thing she does well is keep her subordinates alive. Her patrol has the lowest injury rate in the entire rangers." Jan patted Katryn’s arm. "You may not have a nice time serving under her, but you stand the best chance of someday collecting your pension."

          Chapter twelve - Roadsend

          At the beginning of May the 12th Squadron was posted to Roadsend. Katryn knew regular shifts in scenery were a part of life in the rangers. The squadrons were rotated around all the bases covered by a division. It meant by the time a woman reached the rank of sergeant she was already familiar with the terrain throughout the region, rather than having to perform emergency reconnaissance during a crisis. It was also true the authorities liked rangers to be flexible, not overly attached to any location , or the women who lived there.

          The town of Roadsend was well to the south of Highview. The mountains were lower but no less rugged, carved into broken cliffs and canyons of red sandstone. Forests were confined mainly to the uplands, the valleys were stripped of trees. It was sheep country, with scattered flocks ambling over the scrub-land. Roadsend had got rich on the trade in wool. Mutton stew was the staple food.

          The barracks were virtually identical in layout to those at Highview, although the site backed onto the river and the position of the stores had been adjusted to take advantage of the loading wharf. The most obvious difference was that the buildings were made from brick and stone rather than wood. Within two days of arriving the squadron had settled back into its old routines , routines that included Katryn spending the evening standing sentry duty at the gates of the barracks.

          Only in the most exceptional of circumstances did sentries fulfil a military role, normally the gates were unguarded. Sentry duty was almost exclusively used as a punishment, a boring way of wasting time, and everyone going in or out would see the woman and know she had committed a disciplinary offence.

          It was this aspect that Katryn found hardest to take. The loss of her free time was not so bad; she had no wish to go into town, get drunk, and pick up a local woman, which appeared to be the only form of entertainment on offer. But she had spent so many nights at Highview on duty by the gates that, by now, everyone in the squadron must believe her to be either incompetent or a trouble-maker , she was half-way to doubting herself.

          That morning Ellis had found fault with the state of Katryn’s kit and had cancelled her free time for the evening. As she stood to attention by the gates Katryn’s eyes drifted over the darkening hillsides surrounding the town, while she went over the charges in her mind. All the equipment had been cleaned, polished and sharpened to the best of her ability, Katryn dared not do otherwise, but Sergeant Ellis had described it as a disgrace.

          Katryn chewed on her lip. Was it possible that Ellis was right, and her kit had been in so much worse a state than anyone else's? No. Katryn closed her eyes. She knew it was simply unjust, and especially galling since Bo had spent less than half as long as herself on the task.

          Katryn’s thoughts were disturbed by the crunch of footsteps. "Are we awake here?" Ellis’s voice rung out.

          "Yes ma’am." Katryn replied sharply. It was unwise to assume any of Ellis’s questions to be rhetorical.

          The sergeant came to a halt in front of Katryn and looked her slowly up and down, a scowl of distaste twisting her features. "Why are you here?"

          "My kit was not prepared to an acceptable standard, ma’am."

          Ellis took a half step back and then her face shifted into a sneering grin. "Oh, that’s why I set you sentry duty, but what I meant was, why are still here?"

          "Ma’am?" Katryn was confused.

          "I told you to stand duty for two hours, you’ve been here three."

          "I..." Katryn bit back her words. Ellis had originally stated the entire evening, Katryn was certain of it, but there was no point in arguing, or calling in others as witness. It was just Ellis’s idea of a joke.

          "Of course, if you want to stay here all night you can." Ellis threw the words over her shoulder as she started to walk away. "But you’ve got to be bright and alert for tomorrow. I’m sending you out with Corporal Sivarajah on patrol." Her voice was fading, but Katryn could still make out the last sentence. "I won’t start crying if she doesn’t bring you back, but that'd be too much to hope for. A few days without you will have to do."

          Katryn glared at the sergeant’s back as it faded into the dusk. "And I’m sure you won’t enjoy those days without me half as much as I’ll enjoy the days without you." She whispered under her breath. And then, as if the word was an obscenity she spat out, "Ma’am."

          **********

          The site Jan chose for their camp the first night was verging on the idyllic. A stream gurgled down a narrow valley sheltered by fragrant fir trees. The thick grass was as springy as a mattress. Through breaks in the branches the rich blue sky was speckled with the first stars. The only sounds were the water, the breeze over the tree-tops, chomping from the horses, and the crackle of the camp-fire. Best of all, there was no-one there apart from the two of them. However, as the light faded, Katryn found herself growing uneasy and having to fight the urge to peer repeatedly back over her shoulder.

          "You worrying about what’s creeping up behind you?" Jan asked, grinning and clearly amused.

          Katryn jumped, guiltily. "I, um... well..." She swallowed. "I’ve only been out in the wilderness in large groups before, and I guess I..." Her voice died.

          "Think we might be outnumbered by a pride of snow-lions?"

          "No." Katryn said quickly. There had been none of the malicious ridicule that Ellis would have put into the words, but she didn't want to give grounds to be thought a coward or a fool. "I know they’ll all have gone back north by now. And it would have to be a very hard winter to push them this far south to start with. The largest predator is going to be a mountain-cat, and they aren’t likely to be a problem at this time of year with plenty of their natural prey availa..."

          Jan cut her off with a laugh. "It’s alright. I was teasing you, not testing you."

          Katryn closed her eyes and sighed. There was no need to get defensive, but it was starting to become a habit with her. She pulled her lips into a lopsided grin. "I was just trying to show that I hadn’t slept through all my training classes."

          "Very wise too. They’ll be an unending source of amusement as you remember them in years to come. Like, when you’re being chased by three mountain cats in February , you can shout out, Shouldn’t you be hibernating?"

          "With all respect, in those circumstances, I think I might save my breath for running." Katryn matched Jan’s smile, feeling more relaxed.

          "You know, I think you’re right." Jan feigned earnestness. "The time it happened to me I did wait until I was safely up a tree before instructing them in proper behaviour."

          "So what else didn’t they tell us about mountain-cats that I should know?"

          "They’re far more timid than snow-lions, and a lot smarter. They usually run from people, and they can smell that they can’t eat us. The only ones that’ll try are ill; maybe they’ve lost their sense of smell , so watch out for cats with runny noses." Jan’s tone was not entirely serious. "The only time they’re generally dangerous is in a month or two, when the females are coming into heat, and the mature males are staking out territory. The younger males form packs to harass them and squabble among themselves , and pick fights with anything else that blunders their way. They mark the area with an oily secretion which smells like..." Jan wrinkled her nose. "...rancid cider. So, if ever you’re on your own and you catch a whiff of it, it means you should be somewhere else. The youngsters mainly stick to the backwoods, but once in a while a pack causes mayhem in an outlying farm."

          "It doesn’t sound like there is much need for a full squadron of rangers to be permanently stationed here."

          "Don’t get that idea. Roadsend can be a very lively posting; or should I say, very deadly."

          "What causes the problems?"

          "Nothing with four legs. Sheep country is bandit country , as the 12th has found out in the past. It’s down to size. If you kill someone else’s sheep you can pick up the whole carcass and walk off with it , not like a cow. And the land around here doesn’t help. There are hundreds of canyons where you can hide a flock for years. Shear them, and there's no way anyone can tell where the wool came from."

          "The 12th has had run-ins with gangs around here?"

          "Oh, yes." Jan poked at the fire, and then raised her eyes to meet Katryn’s. "Really major trouble, almost wiped out the squadron."

          "What!"

          "Thirteen... coming on for fourteen years ago. It’s part of the tradition of the 12th, I’m surprised no-one has mentioned it to you before."

          Nobody talks to me. Katryn thought but did not say.

          "The only survivors still left in the squadron are Ellis and Bergstrom. Although the Roadsend quartermaster, Gill Adebeyo, was a corporal in the 12th at the time."

          "What happened?"

          Jan pursed her lips. "There was a gang leader, called herself ‘The Butcher’ , everyone else added the word ‘mad’, she even scared the other thieves. She managed to get control of all the criminal activity in the area, then started extorting money from the town, which was her first mistake. The other crooks were too implicated to inform on her, but the shopkeepers had a lot to lose. Someone made a map of where the Butcher had her hideout and a raid was planned, but word was leaked to the gang. If the Butcher had been sane, she’d have fled. Instead she arranged an ambush, and the 12th walked straight into it. It was a massacre. Twenty-one rangers were killed and another six badly injured."

          "Twenty-one lost!" Katryn was horrified.

          "And four of the injured never returned to active service."

          "Did the Butcher escape?"

          "She did on that day. But, of course, central HQ immediately sent every ranger they could muster to Roadsend , eight full squadrons. Within two months every member of the gang was either captured or dead. And those who were captured didn’t last much longer. They were tried and hanged in the market square."

          "Do we know who leaked the warning to the gang?"

          "No." Jan shook her head. "Maybe a ranger engaging in unwise pillow talk, or bragging as part of her chat-up technique. The chances are whoever it was paid with her life. I don’t think the survivors were questioned too hard , they’d been through enough."

          "It must have been bad luck that so many died."

          "From what I’ve heard it was more like good luck that any escaped. The gang knew the time and date of the raid, and the route the squadron was going to take. They picked their spot. It was only down to Ellis that the massacre wasn’t complete." Jan’s expression hovered between awkwardness and defensiveness, then she shrugged and went on. "I can understand if you find that hard to believe, but, as I told you before, the one thing Ellis can do well is keep people alive. When all hell breaks lose she keeps her head and makes the right decisions quickly. No-one has ever seen her panic."

          "And that makes her a good sergeant?" Katryn said bitterly.

          "No. She’s a bloody awful one."

          "Then why...?" Katryn did not need to finish her question.

          "Because of the massacre. Ellis was only a leading ranger at the time, however the Butcher had planed her ambush well. The captain and lieutenant were the very first to be killed. There was utter chaos and the squadron became split. Ellis ended up in a group without any sergeants... I think there were a couple of corporals, but they were either wounded or panicking, so Ellis took charge and got most of the group out alive. Afterwards central HQ had to decide what to do with the 12th; there were only nine able-bodied rangers left. They considered disbanding the squadron, and assigning the survivors elsewhere, but in the end they rebuilt the 12th , that’s when I came in as a new recruit. Dolokov was transferred over from the 8th as a sergeant. There’s a few more of us around from that initial draft. Because Ellis had done so well during the ambush she was promoted straight from leading ranger to sergeant. I suspect if the captain or lieutenant or any of the old sergeants had survived there might have been objections raised, but there was no-one who could comment on her general suitability for the post."

          "In all these years, has nobody had second thoughts?"

          "You have to serve under Ellis to realise just how bad she is. She looks a lot better from above. I think the previous captain knew she was less than perfect, but there were no incontestable grounds for disciplinary action."

          Katryn stared grimly into the fire. "That never stops Ellis herself."

          Jan reached over and patted Katryn’s shoulder. "I know you’re having a rough time. It’s Ellis’s way of keeping discipline. There’s always one member of her patrol who’s out of favour. It’s intended to keep the rest of us on our toes so we don’t end up swapping places. Before you arrived Bo Hassan was the main victim, and she largely deserves it , she’s a lousy soldier, sloppy. The Goddess alone knows how she passed her entrance tests. The rest of the patrol are okay , or would be with a better sergeant. Sal drinks too much, which should’ve been stamped on years ago. Ellis has let it get worse and worse , maybe she thinks an alcoholic will be easier to intimidate. Tina bottles things up, and then explodes; she needs someone to give her direction. Nikki is young and blusters. It’s down to insecurity which is understandable in our patrol, but in a few months she’ll get her leading ranger badge, and then she’ll calm down. And Pat’s competent although not too bright."

          "She seems sharp enough."

          "She’s got a pretty face and she’s taught herself to say little and look as if she’s having profound thoughts, but..." Jan broke off, shaking her head. "She’s the most one-dimensional person I’ve ever met."

          "That must be a useful mental trait when you’re sleeping with Ellis."

          Jan snorted in amusement. "True. No matter who she’s in bed with, the only woman Pat will ever love is herself. It’s one of life’s ironies. Pat is good-looking enough to have any woman she wants, and she’s too self-centred to notice anyone else. She agrees to sleep with Ellis as it guarantees her place in the sergeant’s good-books."

          "So that’s what I’ve got to do." Katryn said sarcastically.

          Jan looked at her in sympathy. "I’m afraid your case is hopeless. It’s your own fault."

          Katryn glanced up sharply , did Jan think there was any truth in Ellis’s accusations? "I try my best."

          "Oh, it’s not your conduct. Your mistake was the letter you showed Ellis, the one from the militia HQ, promising you a lieutenancy."

          "Ellis told you about it?"

          "She was spitting mad." Jan said with emphasis. "Because of her record Ellis thinks she’s the best sergeant in the whole of the rangers. She’s been expecting promotion for years , and she stands as much chance of it as I do of flying. Seeing Bergstrom promoted over her was the last straw. She wants that star on her badge so badly it hurts, and at last she knows she’s never going to get it. Then you show her the letter. You could have been a lieutenant. Even if it was only in the militia you’d have out-ranked her, and you turned it down , she hates you."

          "Ah... right." Katryn rolled her head back and looked up through the branches at the stars. It explained some of Ellis’s cryptic remarks.

          "It may not sound too comforting, but if you hang on another ten months I predict you’ll be okay."

          Katryn looked back at Jan. "Why?"

          "Ellis is coming towards the end of her first seven year extension of service. She may not apply to reenlist, but, even if she does, I think Captain Dolokov will reject her. Dolokov was a sergeant alongside Ellis for years. She’s got a fair idea of what Ellis is like, and if she needs more information, I’m sure Val Bergstrom will be happy to give it."

          "I’ve noticed Bergstrom and Ellis don’t like each other."

          "Bergstrom was once a private in Ellis’s patrol, and one of her favourite targets for abuse. Ellis was nearly as down on her as she is with you."

          "What did Bergstrom do to upset her?"

          "She was a new recruit at the time of the massacre, less than three months in the rangers. When the bodies started dropping she completely went to pieces , at least according to the way Ellis tells the story. Ellis has her marked down as a coward. Bergstrom’s performed okay ever since I’ve been in the squadron, but it’s had no effect on Ellis’s opinion of her. Ellis tried to block her promotion to leading ranger. In the end Bergstrom transferred to another patrol. There was a nasty feud between them while they were both sergeants. Ellis was completely stunned when Bergstrom got the vacant post of lieutenant rather than herself, but there’s not a lot she can do now Bergstrom outranks her."

          "The feuding can’t have been good for the squadron." Katryn said thoughtfully.

          "It wasn’t. The 12th has not been a..." Jan paused, searching for a word. "...satisfactory squadron since the massacre. Ellis is one of the problems, and the major thing preventing the other problems being sorted. The 12th has got some bad habits , take the scene when Fitz died, sergeants squabbling like two drunks in a tavern. It shouldn’t happen. The 12th desperately needs a sense of unity, and it’ll never get it with Ellis around, because she only works on the ‘divide and rule’ principle. That’s why Dolokov wants rid of her. The captain has been in the squadron long enough to know its weaknesses. She has to get all 34 women fighting on the same side, and she’s prepared to be quite ruthless to achieve it."

          "She could have blamed Ellis for Fitz’s death, and got rid of her that way." Katryn suggested.

          "Not without setting B and D patrols against each other." Jan spoke through a yawn. She shifted back slightly and looked around, dusk had thickened into night and both moons were rising. "It’s time for us to turn in. Make sure you’ve got your sword to hand , it’s a good habit, but we don’t need to take turns at watch; nothing is going to bother us and I’m an extremely light sleeper."

          Her earlier jitteriness had gone, yet it still took Katryn some time to drift off. She lay, wrapped in her blanket beside the fire, and thought about Jan’s comments. They helped explain a lot; including the events around Fitz’s death and Dolokov’s response to it. The final, official, account was that the wind had changed after the two patrols had separated. D patrol had been downwind of Bergstrom and had heard her first signal, but the sound had been carried away from B patrol. When she saw Ellis’s rangers were not attacking, Bergstrom had moved position and repeated the signal. It explained everything except why Ellis had not used her initiative and gone to Takeda’s aid. Now Katryn could make sense of it. Ellis had stuck to the letter of Bergstrom’s orders, as a bloody-minded protest against someone she thought unfit for the job. She must have assumed any blame would be attached to Bergstrom rather than herself. Dolokov had been angry, but didn’t want to divide the squadron still further. Assigning blame would not bring Fitz back, and in under a year the problem, Ellis, would be gone.

          At last Katryn fell asleep, and dreamed of waking up in Woodside, with Allison beside her and the smell of baking bread. The feeling of relief was so great tears rolled down Katryn’s face. But when she went downstairs Ellis was there, eating breakfast with her mother.

          **********

          Two month after arriving in Roadsend there came a report of a raid on a farm to the south, and Captain Dolokov rode out to investigate with A and C patrols. Katryn wondered at the wisdom of leaving Ellis under Bergstrom’s command, especially in the company of D patrol, but obviously Dolokov couldn’t compromise the flexibility of the squadron by permanently avoiding that particular combination , and better the potential trouble was left behind in the barracks. For a week the routine patrols and drills ran smoothly. If anything the atmosphere in the barracks was even more controlled than usual, as if people were consciously avoiding conflict. Katryn had the nagging feeling it would not last, that something was about to go very wrong. However, when it happened, it was not in the direction, or from the source, Katryn had expected.

          It was late one day as Corporal Sivarajah lead half of B patrol back down the trail to Roadsend. The summer solstice was only a few days past, and the evenings were long. The incessant bleating of sheep carried on still air. Colours were muted in the soft light, like a smudged painting. Katryn was tired and hungry, but she felt no eagerness to reach their destination. They had been on a two-day trek though some of the gorges up-river, checking for any signs of illegal activity. Katryn had enjoyed the time, Jan was a good teacher, and just being away from Sergeant Ellis was cause for joy. Sal and Tina made up the group. Katryn was still not on good terms with the other members of her patrol, but at least, when Ellis wasn’t around, they could behave in a reasonable fashion towards her without incurring sarcastic abuse themselves.

          They approached the barracks from the west, riding over the bridge and around the outer wall. As they turned the last corner two rangers were visible, standing sentry duty at the entrance. Katryn wondered who had upset Ellis in her absence. But when they reached the gates and dismounted she saw they were both from D patrol. Neither woman moved a muscle as Katryn caught hold of her horse’s reins and followed Jan the short distance to the central parade ground. B patrol stables were off to the right. Straight ahead, on the far side of the open space, were two more sentries, standing guard outside the small lock-up. Tina also noticed the motionless women, and exchanged speculative comments with Sal , something unusual had happened.

          Pat Panyani was just leaving the stables as they arrived, with a bucket in either hand from watering the horses. Tina hailed her immediately. "Hey Pat, what’s up with Takeda’s girls?"

          Pat turned around, her face slid gradually into a disinterested smile of greeting. "Oh... we’ve had all sorts of fun while you’ve been gone." She waited until the rest drew close so she could drop her voice before continuing. "Last night D patrol went into town in a group, just Takeda and Corporal Kiani stayed behind in the barracks. There was an argument outside a tavern over someone’s girlfriend and a fight broke out with a gang of locals." Pat shrugged. "That wouldn’t have been so bad, but the new recruit, Zoe, drew her trail-knife and stabbed a woman."

          "No!"

          "Was she badly hurt?" There were simultaneous exclamations.

          Pat shook her head. "Word is that the local will survive, but you can imagine the fuss people have been making. The town mayor wanted to turn Zoe over to the militia, but Bergstrom managed to keep hold of her here , she’s in the lock-up. By general consensus the only one from D patrol who didn’t get involved in the fight was Taz, so she’s been sent with Kiani to let Dolokov know what’s happened. The other four have had all their free-time cancelled and are standing sentry duty until the captain gets here. As a final point to calm the mayor, knives are banned off-duty outside the barracks, we have to be searched as we go out."

          There were a few more questions and comments, but it was getting late and the horses needed attention. While she removed the saddle and brushed the mare’s coat Katryn thought about Zoe , Fitz’s replacement, although no-one referred to her in that way. It would be wrong to imply a dead woman was a replaceable item. Katryn had been jealous of Zoe and the easy way she’d become an accepted member of her patrol. The teasing Zoe received was only what might be expected on joining a tightly knit group. Katryn was still an outsider. She knew it was partly her own fault. She should have made compromises to fit in , she had chosen to become a ranger, no-one had asked her. Katryn chewed her lip. She had been wrong to join the rangers. They were a military unit, not a haven for heartbroken lovers. But it was too late to change her mind; she was going to have to make the best of it. Perhaps it would be possible to improve her relationship with the other members of the patrol , if it wasn’t for Ellis.

          With the horses seen to, the four rangers left the stable and walked around to the doorway of the mess. They were too late for a hot dinner, however Jan had sent Pat off with instructions to find bread, cheese, beer and (no doubt) cold mutton. As they reached the corner of the parade ground the door to the officer’s quarters opened and Ellis and Takeda came out. Ellis saw the members of her patrol and strolled over, a broad grin on her face.

          "You’ve heard what D patrol have been up to?" Ellis made no attempt to keep her voice down, in fact, she seemed to be deliberately pitching it loud enough so Takeda could not help hearing. "It’s bad enough, stabbing a civvy, but she couldn’t even make a proper job of it. It’ll save her neck, but her training can’t be up to much. Some patrols are very sloppy. Isn’t it a good job I give you a better lead?"

          Katryn was pleased there were other people to reply, there was nothing even remotely appropriate she could say. Her voice would have failed, merely uttering Yes ma’am. Fortunately Jan took the lead and moved straight into a brief report on what they’d seen up-river. Katryn averted her gaze. In the middle of the parade ground Sergeant Takeda had come to a stop and was glaring at Ellis with a look of pure, venomous hatred.

          Chapter thirteen - Disobeying orders

          Early sunlight glinted obliquely on the dusty earth of the parade ground the next morning. Birds screeched in the tree-tops. The rangers of B patrol stood to attention in two rows of four. A little to one side the depleted ranks of D patrol were also present for the dawn inspection. Lieutenant Bergstrom paced deliberately along the line, her eyes scanning each woman as she went. Quartermaster Adebayo and the two members of her staff stood a short way back. No-one else was in sight. During her time in the rangers Katryn had witnessed a couple of dawn parades with fewer women present, but she had never known one that felt so empty.

          At last Bergstrom returned to the top of the steps outside the officer’s quarters and read the orders for the day. D patrol were assigned to routine drills and maintenance tasks which would keep them inside the barracks. Bergstrom turned to B patrol. "There is a report from Three Firs ranch in upper Tamer valley of a pack of mountain cats. Sergeant Ellis, take half your patrol and go and investigate. You need to talk to a rancher called Wisniewski."

          Katryn was standing directly behind Ellis. She noticed a twitch in the set of the sergeant’s shoulders, a faint backwards movement of her head. Neither gesture was pronounced enough to count as defiance, but it was clear Ellis was not pleased. To Katryn’s left Sal breathed out sharply in something which sounded like a contemptuous sigh, but the noise was too soft for Bergstrom to hear, even had she not already moved on to the final few assignments.

          Once the parade had been dismissed Ellis turned to her subordinates. "Okay, Militia, you seem the right person for a wild goose chase. Hassan, you’ll come with me as well, and!" She looked at the other women. "Agosta. You’ll be good at keeping a straight face when Wisniewski starts describing the fifty gigantic cats which have slaughtered half her flock."

          Katryn was confused, she was not normally the first choice for a serious mission, but obviously Ellis was not expecting any trace of the mountain-cats to be found. Katryn glanced at the other faces. They all looked either bored or scornful, even Jan seemed unbothered. Katryn assumed rancher Wisniewski had a reputation for false alarms.

          **********

          It was mid morning when the four rangers arrived at the Three Firs homestead. The sun blazed down from a clear blue sky on the ramshackle collection of buildings. A shepherd, working in the barn, volunteered to escort Ellis and Tina in search of the ranch owner. No conversation had taken place during the ride out, Ellis hadn’t made any attempt to conceal her bad mood, and the rest had wisely kept silent. However, once the sergeant strode out of earshot, Bo muttered, "I wonder how many thousand sheep Wisniewski has lost this time?" The heavy irony in her voice was plain.

          "Can I take it that Wisniewski often complains about mountain-cats?"

          "Oh, mountain-cats, bandits, dishonest neighbours. Next thing it will be invisible pixies pinching her sheep."

          "She’s got an overactive imagination?"

          "She’s got an underactive wallet." Bo hesitated. She was the member of the patrol who made the most effort to distance herself from Katryn, however Bo was also very fond of the sound of her own voice. After a few seconds she continued. "Wisniewski won’t hire enough hands for the size of her flock, so she’s always losing sheep. She uses the rangers like auxiliary shepherds. Bergstrom should have sent the message back that we were too busy, except she knew she could irritate Ellis by sending her here."

          Ellis and Tina reappeared from around the end of the barn, in the company of a woman Katryn assumed to be the ranch owner. Wisniewski was gesturing to the south east, her hand flapping and pointing while she told her story. It looked as if she was cut off short when Ellis turned away and marched back to the horses. Tina tagged along behind.

          Ellis provided no information as she lead the way, heading approximately in the direction indicated by Wisniewski. In half an hour they reached the top of a deep gully and turned east, following a sheep-track which ran along the rim. After a few more minutes it entered a loose thicket of thorn-covered shrubs and Ellis signalled for them to stop. "Apparently the savage beasts are all down there." She jeered, indicating the gully with her thumb.

          Katryn twisted her neck to peer over the edge. The sides were steep, sheer in places and covered in loose gravel. There were only a few, low bushes on the slopes, but more plants grew at the bottom. A small river cascaded over broken rocks twenty metres below the path where they stood.

          Sergeant Ellis swung her leg over the head of her horse and jumped down from her saddle. "Let’s check it out quickly, so we can get back to Roadsend and do something more useful , like combing our hair. Agosta and Hassan, come with me. Militia, stay here with the horses and look after them. That means make sure they don’t run away." She added the last part in tones which implied she was talking to an idiot.

          Katryn grabbed the reins of the horses and stood watching as the other three carefully scrambled down the steep incline. Bo tripped at one point and slid several metres until she fetched up against a shelf of rock protruding half-way down the side of the gully. Tina was the first to reach the bottom. She crossed the stream, jumping onto a flat-topped boulder mid-way and then using another stepping-stone before pulling herself onto the far bank.

          "You’ve got five minutes to play beside the river, then we can all go home and say we searched the area. If you spot any sign of the missing sheep don’t bother making notes , we aren’t going to report back to Wisniewski. She can find her own sheep." Ellis shouted out and turned downstream, ducking under the branches of a spindly tree. Bo picked up a handful of pebbles and began tossing them into the water as she followed after. Tina headed upstream. A rock-slide reached down to the waters edge and blocked her path. Tina clambered over and moved on, disappearing behind a clump of bushes.

          Katryn stood alone in the glaring sunlight. The air smelt of dust and baked leaves. The horses shuffled their hooves and took a few mouthfuls of dry grass, but were too well trained to stray far. Minding them was an excuse, clearly Ellis thought her incapable even of looking for non-existent cats. A soft wind stirred the bushes, carrying a fresh scent to Katryn. She wrinkled her nose and looked around, trying to identify which plant was the source; it certainly wouldn’t win any prizes for its fragrance. There was a hint of overripe apples in the odour, but the general effect was of decay , like rancid cider. Even as the thought occurred to Katryn a second gust blew, confirming her impression.

          Katryn leapt to the gully’s edge and opened her mouth, about to shout a warning, but then stopped. If she was wrong Ellis would not merely make a joke of it; the story would provide ammunition for months of baiting; proof of weak nerves and gullibility. Katryn took an indecisive step backwards, and then spun around and dived towards her mount. Her hands tore the bow from her horse’s saddle-pack and strung it with quick, practised movements. She grabbed four arrows from the quiver, stuck them in her belt, and returned to the vantage point at the head of the slope.

          The figures of Ellis and Bo were visible atop a rock ledge overhanging a deep pool. Ellis had her hands on her hips as she examined the scene. Bo was looking down at the water. Katryn’s mouth was dry. Tina had emerged from the undergrowth some way upstream and stood on the bank, seeming to be looking for a way to cross back. There was no sign of life in the gully, except for the three women. And then Katryn saw patch of shade on the opposite bank mould itself into a sleek, muscled form before flowing into another dark shadow under a bush.

          "Agosta, watch out! Behind you! cats!" Katryn shouted at the top of her voice.

          Tina looked up at the cry, shading her eyes from the sun, but, instead of moving, she then twisted to look downstream, the palms of both hands held up in an exaggerated shrug, as if seeking guidance from Ellis on how to respond. It wasn’t frozen inaction due to fear, Katryn realised, Tina simply didn’t believe her.

          The cat was moving closer to Tina though the brushwood. And, now Katryn’s eyes were attuned to the shape, she could pick out two more, crouched on the slope above. She went to nock an arrow, but the cat stalking Tina was now under cover. It wouldn’t be visible from above until it was upon its victim. Katryn needed to get lower for the shot. She launched herself down the gully wall, her feet skidding wildly, arms thrown wide for balance. Her uncontrolled decent ended when she crashed into the same rocky projection that Bo had hit earlier. The impact jarred every bone in her body, but Katryn did not have time to notice. Somehow she had managed to keep hold of the bow. She clawed her way back up the slope until she was above the obstruction, braced one knee against the ground, one foot on the top of the rocks, nocked an arrow, drew and took aim.

          Tina might have been unmoved by the Katryn’s shouted warning, but the sight of an arrow pointed in her direction produced an immediate response. Tina ducked and threw herself sideways. In the bushes just behind the spot where she had been standing was the cat, crouched and ready to leap. The distance was at most thirty metres, but Katryn did not have the chance to test her range, or the wind.

          "Nagata! What the fuck do you think you’re!"

          Katryn was scarcely aware of the sound of Ellis’s voice. The cat’s body surged upwards. She loosed the arrow, and watched it arc through the air and hit the cat in mid-leap. The animal yowled and crumpled writhing to the ground. Its cry screeched over the rushing of the stream, cutting off Ellis’s words. Tina scrambled to her feet, staring at the dying beast, then she leapt off the bank without bothering to identify stepping-stones and waded, knee deep through the water. Another cat broke from cover. It reached the bank and hunkered down, gathering itself to pounce on the fleeing ranger, until Katryn’s second arrow hit it square in the chest. Ellis and Bo were racing up the riverside. They reached Tina just as she got to the bank and helped pull her out of the water; then the three of them, swords drawn, began a slow retreat towards Katryn on the rock-shelf.

          On the gully wall opposite Katryn could now see the shapes of six further mountain-cats, and there might be more. Suddenly she heard a noise to her right, on her side of the water. Katryn twisted around and saw a cat, bounding down the slope towards her. Katryn did not have the time to draw or aim properly. Instinctively she loosed the arrow from half-set, her bow horizontal. It was only by the grace of the Goddess that it hit its target and the cat’s charge became a tumbling roll down the incline.

          Katryn pulled the last arrow from her belt and nocked it on the string. She raised her head. The situation was grim; they were outnumbered by the beasts, and in a poor defensive position on the exposed and unstable gravel slope. Fortunately the cats did not reckon in that way. They had seen three of their pack-members struck down and that was enough to scatter them. On the other side of the gully the animals were going, fading away into the dappled shade of the bushes.

          The other rangers had also seen the cats depart and sheathed their swords, freeing their hands to help in the tricky climb. Katryn kept in position with the last arrow on the string until they reached the point where she was.

          Ellis’s face was twisted in a snarl. "I ordered you to stay with the horses."

          Katryn couldn’t believe her ears. Her anger flared. "Was I supposed to stay there and watch Tina get killed?"

          "You’re supposed to obey orders, you’re not supposed to desert your post, and you’re supposed to say ma’am when you speak to me."

          "Fuck you, I!"

          The back of Ellis’s hand cracked hard across Katryn’s face. "What did you say?"

          "I said!" Katryn’s voice died, jolted back to common-sense by the violence of Ellis’s tone as much as the blow. Regardless of the justice of the initial charge of disobeying orders, Ellis had snared her in insubordination. The sergeant’s triumphant expression showed that she knew it as well. Katryn swallowed her words. "Nothing, ma’am."

          "Oh! nothing? Well, for that nothing you can lose all your free-time for the week. It’s a shame Takeda’s girls have grabbed all the sentry duty. But you can start tonight by polishing the saddles and harness for the whole patrol, and we’ll take it from there." Ellis snapped out savagely, then she jerked her thumb, pointing up the slope. "Come on, we don’t want to hang around until the cats regain their courage." She set off on the rest of the climb.

          Katryn did not move. She waited until the sergeant was out of earshot and said. "I’ll kill her. I swear it, I’ll kill her."

          Tina also had not moved. Her eyes travelled to the spot where the bodies of the two cats lay and then back to Katryn. "You had me worried at first, but that was a neat shot."

          "Thanks." Katryn said listlessly.

          "I think I’m the one who should say thank-you." Katryn looked up. Tina’s expression held genuine appreciation and commiseration. She held out a hand to help Katryn out of her half-kneeling position. "We better not keep Ellis waiting."

          "True , I wouldn’t want her to get really mad at me."

          Bo had been dithering to one side. She joined them as they started to climb the hillside. Tina continued talking. "You’ve rattled Ellis, that’s why she was such a bitch just now. She’s got you pegged as useless, and then you go and preserve her injury record. You can’t expect her to be grateful! but I am." Tina paused as they negotiated a steeper part. "You know why she hates you?"

          "Jan told me. It was letting her know I’d turned down promotion to lieutenant."

          "You turned down!?" Bo joined in. It was obviously news to her.

          "Only in the militia." Katryn said.

          They reached the top of the gully, the horses were a few metres away. Ellis was already mounted and waiting impatiently. Tina dropped her voice. "My advice is to get out of B patrol. Ask to be moved next time there’s a place in one of the other patrols. Val Bergstrom should be sympathetic if you make your request via her , it was how she got away from Ellis."

          **********

          They headed back to Roadsend as quickly as possible, but by the time they reached the barracks it was mid-afternoon and too late to return to the gully with a larger force of rangers. The two sergeants and Jan Sivarajah were summoned to meet with Bergstrom to make plans for the next day. The other rangers were set to various preparatory tasks. Katryn was detailed to work with Bo in the stores, under the supervision of Gill Adebeyo, the Roadsend quartermaster.

          A long scar puckered the side of Adebeyo’s face, making it hard to be certain of her age, although Katryn judged her to be under forty. The quartermaster also walked with a pronounced limp, her left leg scrapped across the ground as she approached the entrance to the storeroom. Her shoulder badge bore the single star of a lieutenant, but, as a member of divisional staff, the identification ‘Eastern’ rather than a squadron number was embroidered underneath. Quartermasters were responsible for buying supplies, hiring civilian workers and supervising the maintenance of the buildings. Unlike the nomadic life of most rangers, they were permanently assigned to one town, so they could establish good working relationships with the local businesses. The post was invariably filled by a ranger who had retired from active service or, as Katryn guessed was the case with Adebeyo, been invalided out.

          Adebeyo took a key from the pouch at her belt and unlocked the main door. She lead the way to the back of the stores and used the same iron key to repeat the action at the rear entrance. Katryn looked out. The doorway opened some way above water level and a vicious row of spikes protruded from the wall below to deter anyone from climbing up. There an expansive view of the river with a barge moored to the loading wharf. Between the doorway and the wooden jetty was a gap of nearly two metres, however just inside the door were four long planks, designed to form a removable bridge.

          The quartermaster pointed to the barge. "Everything on it is for us. Pile it all there!" She indicated an empty spot in the store-room. "!and I’ll be back shortly to check it against the invoice." Her voice was authoritative, but vague, as if she was thinking about other, more important, things.

          Katryn and Bo positioned the planks and began to unload the barge. There was no crew on-board to help but, since there was not a vast amount of goods to be carted off, it did not take long to empty the hold. Adebeyo had not returned by the time they’d finished and dismantled the bridge. Katryn found a comfy seat on top of a pile of sacks containing oats for the horses. Bo shuffled around, seeming uncharacteristically self-conscious, and then sat down beside her.

          "You were amazing with the cats, I didn’t know you were such a good shot." Bo launched into speech.

          Katryn pulled a bitter, humourless smile. "The assessment from the tests at Fort Krowe is in my records. I doubt Sergeant Ellis has bothered to read it and, even if she has, it’s not surprising she hasn’t spread the news around."

          "Ellis can be a complete bitch."

          "That’s one of the politer words for her." Katryn was slightly confused. Bo had never made any attempt at friendliness before, but now there was no mistaking her eagerness to talk.

          Bo gave a conspiratorial grin and said, "Even the less polite words don’t really do her justice. There’s always one member of the patrol she picks on. It always used to be me! except when it was Sal or Nikki. Pat sleeps with her to stay in favour, Jan’s too useful, and I think Ellis is a bit scared of Tina’s temper , of course she’d never admit it. But with me!" Abruptly Bo’s voice struggled, as the easy good-humour failed. "!I’d go months on end without doing a thing right, lose half my free-time. And I know, when you’re in that position, it seems as if the whole patrol is laughing at you, but it’s just..." She swallowed. "It’s how Ellis works, keeping you isolated, and there isn’t much anyone else can do."

          Bo looked so unhappy Katryn had to say, "I understand." although she wasn’t sure if she did.

          A weak version of Bo’s grin returned. "Ellis has cancelled your free-time, and it isn’t fair, given how it was. If you want to appeal to Bergstrom I’ll back you up, and Tina will as well , you saved her life."

          Katryn toyed with the idea for a second and then shook her head. "If she was accusing me of disobeying orders I might stand a chance of appealing, but I swore at her. I think I’ve got off lightly."

          "Ellis deliberately provoked you. She’s virtually admitted she was in the wrong by not taking things further. She’s grounded you for a week, because that’s the most punishment she can dish out without referring it to Bergstrom or Dolokov. She knows she’d never make a charge of insubordination stick."

          "It’s not worth causing trouble over. Hopefully I won’t be serving under Ellis’s for too much longer. I can hang on for a few more months , but thanks for the offer." It occurred to Katryn that, by being so vindictive, Ellis had done her a favour. At last she might be able to make some friends in the squadron.

          "Everyone hates Ellis you know, except Adebeyo." Bo interrupted Katryn’s thoughts.

          "I guess not serving in the same squadron as Ellis would help."

          "She used to." Bo paused. "Has anyone told you about the trouble with the Mad Butcher?"

          "Yes, Jan did."

          "Adebeyo was badly hurt in the battle. She couldn’t return to active service, so she joined divisional staff. She was promoted to quartermaster here a few years back. But, even though she’s got the scar and the limp, she reckons that she owes her life to Ellis."

          "And she must remember Ellis from when she was a private. Maybe Ellis was okay before she got promotion." Despite Katryn’s words, her tone was sceptical.

          "You’re more charitable than me. Some people even think Adebeyo !" Bo’s voice died.

          "Pardon?"

          Bo shrugged "Just rumour, but I’ve heard some say that Adebeyo sucks up to Ellis because she’s being blackmailed."

          "Over what?" Katryn asked.

          "Well, she’s a quartermaster. People are always saying they skim the accounts. There’s no evidence I know of, but maybe Ellis has..."

          The sound of shuffling footsteps made Bo break off guiltily. They both jumped to their feet as the quartermaster hobbled in through the main door.

          "Someone mis-filed the invoice." It was a criticism, not an excuse. Adebeyo unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read. "Seventeen sacks of oats. Two barrels of weak beer. Five rounds of cheese!" She carried on down the list, counting off the items.

          Bo and Katryn stood a little to one side, waiting until they would be dismissed. While Adebeyo’s back was turned Bo whispered, "Did she say seventeen sacks of oats? I’m sure we carried in more."

          Katryn met her gaze and then moved forward to a spot where she could surreptitiously count the sacks in the pile. Bo joined her just as Adebeyo finished running through the invoice, but said nothing until they were dismissed from the stores and heading towards the mess-hall for dinner. Adebeyo stayed behind to lock up.

          "You counted the sacks?" Bo asked.

          "There was seventeen." Katryn’s lips twisted in a wry grimace.

          "Oh! well," Bo pulled her widest grin. "Sorry." There was an unexpected depth of emotion in her voice.

          "That’s okay." Katryn said, although she wasn’t sure whether the apology was for sowing false doubts or for a lack of friendliness in the past.

          Chapter fourteen - In the store-room

          Pat was the only one in sight, sitting on the side of her bed, when the two of them reached the bunk house. She held several sheets of paper outspread in front of her, presumably a lengthy letter, yet instead of reading her eyes were fixed on the floor. Her expression held a frown which made her look confused rather than annoyed, however it changed to a quizzical smile at the sound of feet.

          Bo gave a quick wave of greeting but, for once, said little. She undid the buckle on her knife belt, pulled open the door of her locker and thrust it inside. "I’ve. just remembered." Bo mumbled, backtracking towards the door. "I’ll catch up with you in the mess." She turned and darted away.

          Katryn removed her own knife more carefully and hung it on the peg inside her locker. After the long ride and work in the stores she felt in need of a good wash, however there was not time before dinner, and she would be busy afterwards.

          "I hear you’ve impressed Tina with some fancy shooting." Sal’s voice called out.

          Katryn stuck her head around the door of her locker, for the first time noticing the other ranger lying on her bed. Sal’s bunk was the one beneath Katryn’s, diagonally opposite Pat’s. "I, er. yes. We had some trouble with mountain-cats. I was the only one with my bow to hand."

          "And you know how to use it."

          Katryn shrugged, but there was no point in false modesty.

          "That must have put Ellis in a nice mood." Sal said casually.

          Katryn grinned and wandered over to stand by the bunk. "Oh, it did. I’ve lost all my free-time for the week."

          "Of course she couldn’t admit you done well without admitting she’d made a mistake. Our sergeant isn’t very good at humility."

          "I know, I wasn’t expecting congratulations."

          "So how good are you with a bow?"

          "I scored 528 on the field test at Fort Krowe."

          Sal’s lips shaped into a soundless whistle.

          "You’ve kept that quiet." Pat joined in.

          Katryn looked back over her shoulder. Pat had put aside the letter and was standing by Katryn’s open locker, peering in at the contents as if she was expecting to see something remarkable there. Katryn felt a ripple of irritation at the blatant snooping, but there was no real privacy in the rangers, the lockers did not even have locks, and Pat was incapable of understanding her behaviour might cause offence. Katryn let it go. "It’s not the sort of thing that crops up in conversation. And Ellis insists we always practice on our own at the butts."

          Sal grinned broadly. "That’s because she couldn’t hit a barn from the inside and doesn’t want to be shown up. I’m afraid she isn’t going to love you at all."

          "And who’d have thought Wisniewski would be right?" Pat interjected.

          Katryn gave a half shrug. "I think that was my advantage. If it had been the twentieth time I’d been dragged out to Three Firs ranch I might have not paid any attention to the smell."

          "Smell?"

          "Something Jan warned me about - the sign of a pack of cats. It was what alerted me and made me string my bow."

          "So Jan was indirectly responsible for you getting one up on Ellis." Sal said. "That will please her when she finds out."

          "Jan?" Katryn was surprised. "I thought she got on okay with Ellis."

          Sal gave a bark of laughter. "She probably hates her more than any of the rest of us."

          "She hides it well."

          "She hides a lot of things does our Jan."

          It was an unexpected insight, but before there was time to question further the bell for dinner rang out over the barracks. Sal swung her legs off her bed and stood up. Katryn pushed the door to her locker shut and then followed the other two out and across the parade ground.

          **********

          The brushes, rags, polish, and other items lay in a neat semi-circle around the spot where Katryn was kneeling. Her eyes ran over them for a last time, checking that nothing was missing, then she picked up a cloth and pulled the first saddle towards her. Her search for dried mud was just starting when she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and voices. She looked up to see the members of B patrol entering the stable with Tina in the lead. Jan Sivarajah was also present but not, fortunately, Sergeant Ellis.

          "How’s it going?" Tina asked.

          "Just started."

          "I could give you a hand."

          Katryn was taken by surprise at the offer. "I. er. thanks. But Ellis has threatened to call by later, and she wouldn’t be pleased if she found you helping me."

          Tina shrugged. "Tough - she’s never pleased about anything anyway."

          "Well." Katryn looked at the pile of saddles and harness, then shook her head. "No, it’s okay. My free-time is cancelled so I can’t leave the barracks. I might as well have something to do to pass the time. But thank-you."

          "If you’re sure." Tina conceded.

          The other members of B patrol filed through the open doorway. Nikki and Pat moved further in and went to check their horses in the stalls, while the rest gathered around the spot where Katryn knelt. Their faces held a range of expressions from supportive grins to awkward sympathy, but none held any hostility - at least, not directed at her. They all clearly felt she had been badly treated by Ellis, and were prepared to make at least a token show of solidarity with her, however they were not at ease; alliances within the patrol were shifting and no-one was too sure where things were heading.

          "You’re going into town?" Katryn asked - not a serious question, just words to demonstrate friendly interest, something that had been lacking in the past.

          "Thought we’d check out a tavern or two." Sal answered.

          "Just one tavern, and not for long." Jan said firmly. "We don’t want to be tackling cats with hangovers tomorrow."

          "I didn’t know the cats drunk alcohol." Bo joked. Sal barged her with one shoulder.

          The foolery softened the tension. Tina grinned and flexed her shoulders as if adjusting the weight of a rucksack. Jan picked up a rope that had been dropped just inside the door and began to coil it. Pat left her horse and came to stand in the doorway, resting her back against the frame and staring vacantly at the roof of the smithy.

          "Did we decide where we’re going?" Nikki called over.

          "Someone said the White Swan." Tina replied.

          "Why there?"

          "Not so far to stagger home." Bo joined in again. "Always assuming I can get something to drink." She added thoughtfully.

          "Is that in doubt?" Sal asked.

          "Could be. I’ve just realised I’ve left my money in my locker. My purse was on my knife-belt, I forgot to keep hold of it when I took the belt off." Bo explained.

          "Clown! Go and get it." Tina shoved her towards the door.

          "Right, I’ll meet you by the gates in a couple of minutes." Bo jogged away.

          Nikki wandered over. "I don’t like having to leave my trail-knife behind. I wonder if I could hide it inside my jacket. Will they really search us on the way out?"

          "That’s what Bergstrom said. And a knife isn’t easy to hide." Sal spoke up.

          "I could slip it down my neck so it lay against my spine."

          "That’s an old trick - you can guarantee the sentries will pat your back to check."

          "And why are you so keen to take your knife?" Tina asked dryly. "You’ve already carved your initials on every bog-wall in town."

          Nikki grinned awkwardly "It’s just... supposing someone has a grudge against rangers. The sentries search us on the way out to make sure we’re not armed, but no-one is searching the townsfolk when they leave home. It puts us at a disadvantage."

          "Another good reason for the White Swan, it’s got two exits." Tina said.

          "All taverns do - if you talk nicely to the bar staff." Pat’s voice came from the doorway.

          "And we won’t ask how you know." Jan grinned and held up the neatly coiled rope. "This belongs in the stores. I’ll just go and see if the door’s open - Adebeyo might be working late." She trotted off and returned a few second later. "No. I’ve left it by the door. The next person in should see it."

          There was further shuffling around. The rangers exchanged expectant looks. No-one seemed sure of what to say, but eventually Sal spoke. "So. are we ready to go?" She smiled apologetically at Katryn, to show there was nothing personal in her desire to leave the stable. There were a few grunts and nods of agreement, and then the rangers headed out. As each one left she smiled or waved goodbye.

          Alone once more, Katryn sat staring at the open doorway. It was the friendliest exchange she’d had with her patrol comrades since the night she’d joined the 12th. She thought of the dozens of times she had watched them set out for an evening of drinking. For the first time she wished she was going as well.

          **********

          Katryn was half-way through the eight saddles when she next heard the sound of footsteps. She glanced up as Sergeant Ellis appeared at the entrance to the stable. Katryn started to scramble to her feet. "As you were." Ellis snarled.

          "Yes, ma’am." Katryn dropped back to her knees. Her lips tightened in a line. It was unclear whether the order also meant to continue working. Of course she would be wrong either way; slacking if she gave Ellis her attention and ignoring her superior if she concentrated on the saddles. After a second’s pause she picked up the polishing rags - since she couldn’t win she might as well look at Ellis as little as possible.

          "Are you enjoying yourself?"

          "No, ma’am." Certainly not since you arrived. Katryn added to herself.

          "Put that cloth down and pay attention me when I’m talking to you."

          Despite the aggression in Ellis’s voice Katryn had to fight to keep the smile off her face. The petty vindictiveness was quite predictable. "Yes, ma’am."

          Ellis lent against the door-jamb and studied her. For a long while the only sound in the stables came from the horses, but then Ellis’s lips pulled back in a parody of a smile and she took a key out of her top pocket. "I’ve borrowed the key to the stores from the quartermaster. I thought I’d have a little look around in there."

          That will be nice for you, ma’am. Katryn bit back the words. From Ellis’s tone she was clearly supposed to deduce something, although Katryn didn't have a clue as to what.

          "Do you think you’ve done well for yourself today?"

          I’ve saved Tina’s life and I’ve started to make friends with the rest of the patrol. Aloud Katryn said, "Obviously not ma’am."

          "Obviously?" Ellis’s tone made it a question.

          "If I’d done well you wouldn’t have cancelled my free-time, ma’am."

          A flush of anger darkened Ellis’s face, but there was nothing in the words she could object to, and Katryn was careful to keep any sarcasm from her voice. Ellis glared and said, "It takes more than a few lucky shots to make a marksman."

          "I know, ma’am."

          "And it takes more than a grey and green uniform to make a ranger."

          "Yes, ma’am."

          "You’ll never be a proper ranger. You should have stayed in the militia."

          Katryn clenched her jaw. At last there was something she and Ellis were agreed on. The sergeant left her position by the door and crouched down so her face was scant centimetres away from Katryn’s. "Why did you leave the militia?"

          "Personal reasons."

          "And you wouldn’t like to share those reasons with me?"

          "No ma’am."

          Ellis nodded, as if the answer was significant. "You weren’t running away?"

          "From what?" Katryn’s anger started to kick in.

          "You tell me." Ellis moved back slightly. "You turned down promotion. You must have been frightened about something catching up with you." There was gloating in Ellis’s eyes. She stood up. "Carry on with your work. I’ll talk to you again later - after I’ve checked the stores."

          "Yes, ma’am."

          Katryn watched Ellis’s back disappear down the passageway between the store-room and the rear of the mess-hall. Anger gave way to confusion and apprehension. The sergeant had been hinting at something - but what?

          **********

          The daylight faded into a gentle dusk. Katryn considered fetching a lantern to finish her work, but there was little left to do, just one final set of reins, so instead she opened the other half of the doorway and sat in the entrance with her back to the light. Ellis had not returned and Katryn was not complaining. She felt quite happy. The work had been gently therapeutic, allowing her time to think, but not as tedious as sentry duty.

          Allison had occupied a fair chunk of her thoughts. Now her heart was starting to heal Katryn knew she’d been over-hasty. She should have listened to Captain Kalispera. Katryn winced as she remembered their last, uncomfortable conversation. There’d been no attempt from Kalispera to hide her resentment. Joining the rangers had been a mistake. It was not the life Katryn wanted, but perhaps it would be possible to fit in and make a place for herself in the patrol - once Ellis had gone.

          Finally Katryn put down the polishing cloths and held up the harness to catch the last of the light. The leather was clean and supple. It wouldn’t satisfy Ellis but there was nothing Katryn could do about that. Ellis would be able to pick fault with the work of the blessed Himoti herself.

          The sound of footsteps made Katryn flinch, but she immediately realised there was more than one set of feet making the noise. This was soon confirmed by the sound of voices. B patrol was returning from the tavern. She looked over her shoulder to see the strung out group walking towards her. Tina and Sal were the first to reach the stable.

          "How’s it going?" Sal called out while she was still a few metres away.

          "Just finished."

          "Good timing, we can help you tidy up."

          Katryn smiled and got to her feet. She felt numb from sitting so long on the ground. Her hands were sticky from the wax polish and she restrained the impulse to scratch her nose.

          Tina bent down to pick up one of the saddles, saying, "I hope you got mine nice and shiny." Her tone was deadpan, but Katryn could tell she was teasing.

          Jan, Bo and Pat strolled in next. They also lent a hand with the job of placing the saddles and harness in the tack-boxes. There was little left to do by the time Nikki arrived, last and breathing heavily as if she’d had to run to catch up. Mainly out of habit they checked the state of the horses, and then swung the stable doors shut and began to wander back to the bunk-house.

          Katryn was passing the mess-hall when a voice from the rear called out, "Hey, isn’t that the door to the stores open?"

          Katryn and the others back-tracked slightly and peered up the alleyway. It was hard to be certain in the poor light, but it did look as if the doorway was ajar.

          "Perhaps Adebayo had to get something in an emergency?" Bo suggested, uncertainly.

          "Such as?" Pat asked.

          Jan took the lead. She squeezed passed the knot of women and walked the few metres to the doorway. Pushing it open she stuck her head in and called, "Is everything okay? Do you." Her voice cut off so sharply that it brought the rest running. They crammed through the entrance. It was even darker in the store-room than outside, but not so dark as to hide the sight of Ellis, lying on the floor at the other side of the room, a dark patch of blood staining the flagstones under her and the hilt of a knife protruding from her back. Everyone froze.

          "Go and get Lieutenant Bergstrom." Jan snapped the order at Nikki. The sound of her voice lifted the paralysis. Bo stumbled forward and crouched to check for a pulse in Ellis’s throat. After a few seconds she stood up and shook her head. Tina moved to the rear of the stores and rattled the door violently. "Locked." She called back.

          Katryn stared in horror at the body. Now her eyes were adjusting to the light she could tell the handle of the knife was unmistakably that of a ranger’s trail-knife. A cold, dead weight was forming in her stomach. In her ears she could hear her own words from the morning, I’ll kill her. I swear it, I’ll kill her. She did not need to turn her head to know the others were already casting sideways looks in her direction.

          There was a bustle at the entrance as Nikki returned, bringing with her not only Bergstrom, but the quartermaster as well. "By the Goddess." Adebeyo’s muttered oath was the only sound.

          Bergstrom stepped forward. "Have you sent for a healer?"

          "No ma’am. There’s no pulse. Hassan checked." Jan replied.

          "It might be an idea to see if they can learn anything. Panyani - go and summon one from town. And somebody get a lantern." Bergstrom crouched beside the motionless figure, waiting until yellow lamp-light blossomed. "Have you seen anyone hanging around the stores this evening?" She threw the question over her shoulder.

          "No ma’am." Jan hesitated for the briefest moment. "We’ve been in the White Swan. Private Nagata is the only one who’s been in the barracks."

          "And you, Nagata. Have you seen anything?"

          Katryn took a deep breath. "No ma’am. I’ve been working in the stables. Sergeant Ellis came to see me about half an hour ago. She said she was going to the stores. I didn’t see or hear anyone else until the rest of the patrol returned."

          "It’s a ranger’s trail-knife in her back." Bergstrom acknowledged the obvious. "And there’s no sign of a fight or a break-in. I’m afraid that leaves us with limited suspects. Quartermaster, if you stay here, Corporal Sivarajah and I will see if we can find out whose knife is missing."

          Once they had gone the atmosphere in the store-room was ominous. Nothing was said, most simply stared at the body on the floor. Katryn could not bring herself to meet the eyes of the others. She did not want to know which of them had murdered Ellis. She certainly could not find it in her to blame the culprit, she only wished it had been done while she herself was somewhere else. It occurred to her that she was probably the last person, apart from the murderer, to see Ellis alive.

          That the murder weapon was left behind was an absurd blunder on the killer’s part, for which Katryn was very grateful. Without its evidence things would have looked awkward for herself. Her own knife had been left hanging in her locker. It had to still be there, but her nerves felt frayed as the wait for the lieutenant’s return dragged on.

          At last there was the sound of footsteps. Bergstrom strode through the door. Jan slipped in behind her. The lieutenant’s eyes flitted quickly over everyone there, and finally came to rest on Katryn. "Private Nagata. Can you explain why your knife is missing?"

          Katryn opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I’m dreaming, she told herself. It’s a nightmare and I’ll wake up in a second. Every eye in the store-room fixed in her. "No. no ma’am. I left it in my locker when I went to the stables. I don’t know where it’s gone."

          "Oh, I think we know where it’s gone." Bergstrom’s gaze shifted purposefully to Ellis’s back. "And, unless you can tell me different, it would appear nobody apart from you had the chance to put it there."

          "No, ma’am. I didn’t do it." Katryn barely kept the panic from her voice.

          "Really?" Bergstrom’s tone was grim. "Well this is definitely something for the captain to deal with. Hopefully she’ll be back soon. You can save your story for her. Sivarajah, Agosta - escort Private Nagata to the lock-up."

          Chapter fifteen - The evidence

          The lock-up was small, barely three metres square, divided into two unequal sections by a heavy iron grill with a padlocked gate. In the larger section were a pair of narrow bunks and a piss-pot. In the smaller part was a barred window and the door out. There was not enough floor space between the beds for two women to pace up and down simultaneously. By mid-morning jokes about timetables were wearing thin and the temperature was rising.

          "Wait until afternoon, then it really warms up in here." Zoe said cheerily.

          Katryn sat cross-legged on her bunk, resting her back against the wall. She tried to smile, but her mood was despondent. The other woman seemed not to notice. Having spent two days alone in the lock-up Zoe was overjoyed to have company and rambled on without any need of encouragement. The stream of chatter was also wearing thin with Katryn.

          "I hope I get out soon."

          Katryn nodded. Such an banal sentiment did not need a reply.

          Zoe stopped talking long enough to study Katryn’s expression. "You know, I don’t blame you for stabbing Ellis?" She paused. "That’s if you did."

          Again Katryn did not speak, she had given up protesting her innocence.

          After a few seconds of silence Zoe went on. "I’m so glad I didn’t end up in Ellis’s patrol when I joined the squadron. Takeda’s a proper sergeant... she sticks up for her patrol. I mean, she was mad at me the other night, but she was still ready to listen to my side. And when I told her... you know that bitch was coming for me with a broken bottle in her hand? I used my knife in self defence - something her friends forgot to mention when they called the militia. Takeda came to see me yesterday. She’s spent hours tracking down independent witnesses, and has got all their sworn statements. There’s no way Ellis would have put herself out like that for a member of her patrol."

          "Certainly not for me." Katryn agreed.

          "Takeda has passed all the evidence on to Bergstrom. The lieutenant won’t stick her neck out and risk upsetting the mayor by releasing me, but once Dolokov gets back I’ll be in the clear."

          Katryn tilted her head up. A large flying beetle bounced its way in circles across the ceiling, hitting the stone surface with audible cracks.

          "I know I owe a lot to Takeda." Zoe carried on talking, but her tone dropped, holding a sober intensity. "Without her there’s no way I’d have escaped a flogging."

          Katryn’s jaw tensed. Who was there to help her escape a hanging?

          A surge of noise erupted outside in the parade ground; shouting and movement. "If that’s more for in here they’ll have to sleep on the floor." Zoe’s buoyant effervescence returned.

          Katryn tried to ignore Zoe’s voice, instead concentrating on the sounds outside. There were a lot of horses, and then the unmistakable tones of Captain Dolokov, calling the order to disperse. The rest of the squadron had returned. Zoe leapt to her feet in excitement. "Wha-hay! Freedom here I come!"

          Katryn’s shoulders drooped. Her own future did not look so good, but at least the waiting part would soon be over. In a sudden surge of fellow-feeling her eyes returned to the pointless, painful flight of the beetle.

          **********

          Zoe had been right about the heat in the afternoon. Sweat trickled down Katryn’s neck and stuck her uniform to her body. She was alone in the lock-up. Zoe had been escorted away hours before and had not returned. Presumably Takeda’s evidence had won her freedom. Katryn tried to find humour in the ironic thought that now she had the room to pace it was too hot for any unnecessary activity.

          The sound of several sets of footsteps stopped outside the door and then the key turned in the lock. Katryn sat up straighter as Corporal Kiani of D patrol stepped into the cell. With a second key the corporal removed the padlock from the grill and beckoned Katryn out.

          "Turn around."

          Katryn obeyed and felt her hands tied securely behind her back. Outside the lock-up, in the early-evening sunlight, another three rangers were waiting, their faces impassive. They lined up as escort, two ahead and two behind, for the short walk to the captain’s office. Several knots of rangers were gathered around the dusty edge of the parade ground. Without looking, Katryn knew all heads were turned in her direction, watching her march, step by step, to her judgement.

          The captain’s office lead off the main administration room. The escort stopped at the door, allowing Katryn to enter alone. It was not a large room, the desk took up a third of the floor space. On one wall hung a detailed map; opposite it a window overlooked the parade ground. Three women were awaiting Katryn’s arrival. Dolokov and Bergstrom were there, as expected. The other stood in a corner, dressed in the black uniform of the militia, a lieutenant’s badge on her shoulder. This woman looked to be past forty, with an intelligent expression and brisk, no-nonsense manner. Katryn remembered seeing her about town.

          Dolokov stood behind the desk, treating Katryn to a long, sour glare. Eventually she spoke. "On the basis of the information received I've decided to turn this case over to the militia. Lieutenant Sanchez will be in command of the interview."

          Katryn’s initial surprise faded quickly. Rangers had to trust each other with their lives. To murder a fellow ranger was the worst crime imaginable, yet many would think Ellis had deserved it. No matter what the verdict and sentence, some members of the squadron would be deeply unhappy. Dolokov had done her calculations and decided to let the militia be the focus of any resentment. A safe decision, particularly if she felt there was no doubt about the outcome of the investigation.

          Lieutenant Sanchez took a few steps forward until she stood in directly front of Katryn, claiming her attention. "Before we go any further, would you like to confess?"

          "No ma’am, I didn’t kill Sergeant Ellis." Katryn replied quickly.

          "Then who do you think did?"

          Katryn hesitated, it was not quite the question she had expected. "I don’t know, ma’am." But there are enough candidates, she added mentally.

          "You disliked Sergeant Ellis."

          "No ma’am, I hated her." There was no point denying it. Sanchez looked a little taken aback at the honesty. Katryn spoke again. "But I wasn’t the only one." Out of the corner of her eye Katryn saw Bergstrom shift uncomfortably.

          "You’re the only one we’re interested in at the moment." Sanchez recovered her momentum. "Do you deny threatening to kill Sergeant Ellis on the morning she died?"

          "I didn’t mean it seriously."

          "You were joking?"

          "It was more as a figure of speech."

          "You were angry at her?"

          Again Katryn hesitated, but it was useless to lie. "Yes ma’am, very."

          Sanchez drew a slow breath. "So you had motive and opportunity, and it was your knife found in her back. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to confess?"

          "Somebody else must have taken my knife from my locker."

          "But nobody else could have taken it into the store-room."

          "It wouldn't?"

          Sanchez cut her off. "You see, we are fortunate in that two of your fellow rangers were on sentry duty outside the lock-up. From that position they could see everyone who crossed the parade ground. The rear door of the stores was locked and the key was found in Sergeant Ellis’s pocket. It would be impossible to break in without leaving a sign. Therefore we can be sure the killer came and went via the main door, leaving it open behind her when she left. The two sentries saw Sergeant Ellis walk across the parade ground towards the stables and stores. Nobody else went in that direction until your comrades from B patrol returned in a group, shortly before the body was discovered."

          Silence hung in the room. Katryn shook her head in confusion. "There has to be?" Her voice died.

          Sanchez continued softly. "Furthermore we can place where everyone else was. Most of the squadron being with Captain Dolokov on the way back to Roadsend. Of the rest, the two sentries outside the lock-up and the two at the main gates can vouch for each other. And I think we can also dismiss the ranger in the lock-up from the list of suspects. The six rangers from your patrol were in a tavern and swear nobody disappeared for part of the evening. Furthermore none of them was carrying a knife, they'd been searched on leaving the barracks. Lieutenant Bergstrom and Quartermaster Adebeyo were together in the officer’s quarters - in this very room I believe." Sanchez paused and glanced at Bergstrom for a nod of confirmation. "Sergeant Takeda spent part of the evening here with them, discussing some information she'd gathered, and than returned to her room. The sentries confirm seeing her cross the parade ground in the direction of D patrol’s bunk-house, and also that she did not return; with or without your knife. The two members of Adebeyo’s staff were on the other side of town, being entertained by a visiting trader. The sentries on the main gates attest that no-one else entered or left the barracks all evening." Sanchez stared into Katryn’s eyes. "I repeat, are you sure you wouldn’t like to confess?"

          "No ma’am, I didn’t kill her." Katryn could hear the edge of despair in her own voice.

          "Then can you explain how someone entered B patrol’s bunk-house, took your knife, crossed the parade ground, killed Sergeant Ellis and then left the stores without being seen? Or can you say how someone was in two places at the same time?"

          "No ma’am, I can’t."

          Sanchez’s tone was remorseless. "There’s only one way Sergeant Ellis could have been killed. You had left your belt in your locker, but taken your knife with you to the stores, maybe in all innocence, thinking you might need it for your work. After everyone else had gone Sergeant Ellis came to talk to you in the stables. She said something to make you get angry again, and this time you had your knife to hand and no witnesses. You followed her into the stores and murdered her."

          "No ma’am." Katryn fought to keep her breathing steady.

          "I think you did."

          "Would I then have left my knife behind and gone back to polishing the saddles?"

          "I’ve known murderers do stranger things."

          Katryn hung her head, trying desperately to gather her thoughts, to see the hole in the case being brought against her. "I didn’t kill her." she reaffirmed, but now there was no hiding her panic.

          Sanchez moved away to the desk, and returned with a trail-knife in her hands. She held it up in front of Katryn. "Can you deny that this is your knife?"

          Katryn stared at it - the murder weapon. And then, suddenly, her eyes registered what they were seeing. "Yes ma’am, I can."

          "Pardon?"

          "It’s not my knife." Confidence had returned to Katryn’s voice.

          "What do you mean?" Sanchez sounded slightly rattled.

          What I say. Despite her sudden feeling of euphoria Katryn managed to restrain the retort. She swallowed before picking the words to explain. "I’ve only been a ranger for six months. All my kit was issued new at Fort Krowe. This is the wrong knife. It’s much older than mine. You can see the wear on the handle, and the blade is bowed from sharpening - it would take years to reach that state." She met Sanchez’s eyes. "This is not my knife."

          There was not a sound in the room for the space of several heartbeats. Eventually the unexpected turn brought Dolokov in. "So you took someone else’s knife with you to the stables."

          Sanchez interrupted "Maybe we should first find out whose knife this is?"

          "How?" Dolokov snapped back.

          Sanchez pursed her lips. "Well, from what Private Nagata says, there should be a veteran ranger with a knife in pristine condition."

          "I’ll check." Dolokov moved towards the door.

          Sanchez beat her to it. "I’ll check - but you can come as well, if you want."

          Their place in the room was taken by two of the escort waiting outside. Nobody spoke. Bergstrom stood, staring through the window at the parade ground. Katryn tried to get her pulse under control while her mind raced over what she had been told. Somewhere, something was wrong, but she couldn’t pull a coherent explanation together. Fortunately it was clear that Sanchez was as sharp as she looked, and not about to rubber-stamp the expected conclusion.

          A fair slice of Katryn's thoughts were directed towards Dolokov. She wondered if the captain was beginning to regret giving the case over to the militia. Katryn’s brow furrowed. It seemed as if Dolokov was wanting her to be guilty, but it probably wasn’t malicious. The captain would see her as one of the more expendable members of the squadron, certainly in comparison to other enemies of Ellis. Most of all, a clear-cut case was what Dolokov would want. The squadron would lose a ranger, but there would be no suspicion attached to anyone else. No-one would be left looking over her shoulder at her comrades.

          There was an agonising wait before Dolokov and Sanchez came back into the room. Once the two junior rangers had left Sanchez again held out a knife. This time the finger-guard was unscratched, the cutting edge straight and the wooden handle was not polished dark and smooth from years of use. "Is this one yours?"

          Katryn nodded. "That looks much more like it, ma’am."

          Sanchez compared it with the first knife. "I’ll concede that the two cannot be confused."

          "Where was it found?" Bergstrom voiced the question Katryn had been dying to ask.

          Sanchez pulled a wry smile. "It would seem that Sergeant Ellis was stabbed with her own knife. Private Nagata’s one was found hanging in its place in her room."

          There was a lengthy silence, but at last Dolokov faced Katryn and snapped out impatiently, "It makes no difference, you're still the only person with opportunity. You admitted you hated Sergeant Ellis. You hated her enough to want to stab her with her own knife as the final insult. So you switched your knife with hers before going to the stables."

          "No, ma’am. And if I'd planned the murder in advance I wouldn’t be so stupid as to do it when there were no other suspects."

          "You admit there are no other suspects." Dolokov pounced on her words, but Sanchez stepped in before Katryn could reply.

          "Private Nagata couldn’t have switched knives before going to the stables."

          "Why not?" Dolokov said tersely.

          "I’ve already checked with the sentries to make sure nobody had carried a knife off site. As part of their evidence they told me about an incident with Sergeant Ellis. After B patrol had gone to the tavern Ellis wanted to speak with one of them. She was challenged at the gates as she was still wearing her knife. The sentries told her to remove it? apparently it got a bit heated."

          I can imagine, Katryn thought.

          Sanchez continued. "She wasn’t permitted to leave the barracks until she'd put her knife back in her room. I have confirmation she made a brief appearance at the White Swan and then returned to the barracks. I think, if the knives had already been switched, Ellis would have spotted the difference just as quickly as Private Nagata did just now."

          "She must have taken the knife after Ellis put it in her room."

          Sanchez shook her head. "We have the evidence of the sentries that she didn’t cross the parade ground after B patrol had left the barracks."

          "Obviously the sentries weren’t as alert as they claimed... probably in chatting with the prisoner." Dolokov said doggedly.

          Sanchez was equally implacable. "I’ll agree they must’ve missed seeing someone; but I don’t see how we can positively identify Nagata as the person they didn’t see."

          "She had the best opportunity. She’s still our top suspect." Dolokov persisted.

          "I don’t think so."

          "Why not?"

          "Because I can’t see why she'd implicate herself by swapping her knife" Sanchez spoke calmly. "My guess is that Sergeant Ellis took her own knife into the stores. Somebody got in, took the knife and stabbed her. This woman had heard about the threat Private Nagata had made earlier in the day and decided to frame her. So the murderer took Ellis’s belt, slipped across the parade ground without being seen, and put Nagata’s knife in the sheath before hanging it in the sergeant’s room."

          "That sounds pretty implausible." Dolokov said.

          "Maybe, but I think it's the best option."

          "How?" Dolokov’s voice faded as the difficulties in finding a sensible sequence of events finally overcame her determination to blame Katryn.

          Sanchez put both knives down on the desk and crossed her arms assertively. "I want to go back to my office and read though the statements already collected, and I'll need to interview everyone again, starting first thing tomorrow. For the meantime I'd say we have no more of a case against Private Nagata than anyone else, and I can see no justification in keeping her imprisoned, although how you run the barracks is your concern."

          Dolokov mustered her composure quickly. There were a few last comments, but nothing of any significance, and Sanchez left. After she had gone the ranger captain continued to study Katryn for a while longer, but then personally untied the binding on her wrists.

          "You are released for the evening, but consider yourself confined to barracks. And don’t repeat anything of what has been said here."

          "Yes ma’am."

          Dolokov opened the door. The four rangers who had escorted Katryn from the lock-up were waiting in the outer office. They scrambled to attention.

          "On the advice of the militia lieutenant I’m releasing Private Nagata without charge. You are all dismissed." Dolokov’s voice was so utterly neutral as to sound forced, and her expression was one of displeasure.

          Katryn followed the others out of the building. At the foot of the steps they formed a small huddle which Katryn was obliged to squeeze past. The sound of muttering followed her as she set off across the parade ground. Dolokov had released her but, by the manner in which it had been done and with the absence of any information, there were few who would think it meant she was innocent.

          **********

          Katryn lay on her upper bunk, staring blindly at the ceiling. She was alone in the room. The others had headed off after dinner. They hadn’t said where and Katryn hadn’t been invited. No-one had spoken to her directly since she had left Dolokov’s office, although she had overheard plenty of hissed comments. The words, ‘militia sticking together,’ formed part of most, while the ‘facts’ being passed around bore no resemblance to the truth. It was unfair, and there was nothing Katryn could do about it. Dolokov’s order to say nothing meant she couldn’t even challenge the rumours.

          The ceiling blurred as tears stung in Katryn’s eyes. She had just started to think she might be able to be happy in the rangers; that it would be possible to form friendships while her skill with a bow earned her respect. Then Ellis had to get herself murdered. Katryn could almost believe the sergeant had done it out of spite - or even committed suicide. It would fit with all the facts. Ellis could easily have swapped knives before walking over to the stables. All Katryn had to do was work out how Ellis managed to stab herself in the back.

          The door to the bunk-house opened and the rest of the patrol filed in. They spoke among themselves, but no-one even looked in Katryn’s direction. It was time to sleep. Hopefully on the next day Sanchez would return and the real murderer would be found. It would help a bit, but Katryn knew doubts would always attach to her name. She was a new girl and not popular, despite the affair with Tina and the mountain cats. Some would want her to be the guilty one, and when another, better liked, member of the squadron was arrested would still continue to blame her. Worst of all would be if the murderer was never caught.

          Katryn rolled over and climbed down from her bunk. She needed to visit the latrines before sleeping. As she walked through the bunk-house the conversation quietened, but no-one acknowledged her. She might have been invisible. The volume of voices rose again after the door had swung shut.

          There was no lantern in the latrine block but brilliant bands of moonbeams fell through the windows. Katryn left the stall and went to the water trough. She still had not taken the wash she wanted. Now it was too late and there would be no hot water. Katryn pulled on the hand-pump and bent to stick her head under the spout. The cold gushing broke over the nape of her neck and flowed around her face. It felt good after the heat of the day. Her mind settled, more positive. After six months of Ellis surely she could put up with a little hostility? All she had to do was keep going for a few more days and things would start to resolve themselves.

          There were footsteps on the tiles behind her as others entered the block. Katryn did not bother to look around to see who. Unexpectedly one person stopped beside her. Katryn was about to stand when a blow crashed down across her shoulders. Katryn pitched forward, striking her nose on the side of the trough. One knee hit the floor, but before she could fall hands grabbed her arms, yanking her up and around. A fist thumped into her stomach twice and then backhanded her across the face.

          She was surrounded. An arm from behind went around her throat, cutting off the air in her windpipe as another succession of punches thudded into her. She tried to protect herself from the onslaught, but both her arms were held in locks so savage they were almost twisted from their sockets. Another strike landed hard. From the flaring increase in pain she was certain at least one of her ribs had cracked and she could do nothing to shield the injury from the following blows. Each punch turned her body to mash. Each jolt erupted as fire in her tortured shoulders.

          The attack became less concentrated on her torso as more of those surrounding joined in. For the first time since the initial assault a fist smashed into her face. A foot connected hard with her knee. From the sickening crack, as much as the pain, Katryn knew it was broken or dislocated. She wanted to curl up and hide. She wanted it all to stop - she didn’t care how, death would do. She was fighting for air, drowning in a red haze of agony.

          At last the fury of the pounding subsided. The arm around her throat slackened. As her head sagged forward she saw the front of her uniform was splattered with blood, maybe from a nosebleed, maybe from a more serious injury - everywhere hurt too much to be able to tell. Her body insisted on trying to breathe despite the torture in her ribs. The lock on her arms was released and Katryn dropped to her knees. White hot agony exploded in the broken joint. With what air she had sucked into her lungs Katryn screamed. She pitched forward. The hard tiles of the floor slammed into her, and then softened and flowed around her like a cocoon. The darkness became complete.

          **********

          Katryn awoke with the face of a healer hanging over her. Memories switched and impacted. There had been a jilted lover, an argument, footsteps behind her on the cobbles. For a moment Katryn thought she was back in Woodside, with Allison and home just a short walk away. Then she saw the figure of Captain Dolokov in the background.

          "How do you feel?" The healer asked.

          "Numb." In fact Katryn could not feel anything. She glanced down to check that she was all there. Her uniform had been removed and her body was largely wrapped in bandages. A large bowl stood nearby, the water in it glinted pink in the lamp-light.

          The healer nodded. "I’m afraid you won’t be so comfy when the numbness wears off, but I’ll do what I can so you get a good night’s sleep. You’re in a bit of a state, but don’t worry, there’s nothing that won’t mend, given a month or so." The healer turned to Dolokov. "You can ask her a few questions now, I’ll be back in a minute."

          Dolokov stood aside to let the healer past. Katryn looked around. She was in the lock-up again. "I’ve taken you into protective custody." Dolokov answered the unvoiced question. She moved forwards into the spot the healer had vacated. "Did you recognise the women who attacked you?" Dolokov’s tone was combative, daring her to answer.

          Of course, Katryn thought, she doesn’t really want to know, doesn’t want to inflame things in the squadron. Katryn's eyes closed. She could sympathise. She also didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to admit she knew the faces of the women she'd lived and worked with for half a year - and you never informed on comrades, even when they beat you senseless. "It was dark in the latrine. I was attacked so suddenly." Katryn avoided the question.

          Dolokov nodded sharply, looking relieved. She spoke quickly, as if fearing to give Katryn the chance to change her mind. "With hindsight I see it was a mistake to remove the sentries from the gate. There's been trouble with local women recently. A gang must have slipped into the barracks looking for revenge on the first ranger they found."

          Katryn fixed her eyes on the ceiling and said nothing.

          Dolokov moved away. "The same thing might have happened with Sergeant Ellis. Lieutenant Sanchez will continue with her investigation, but I fear the culprit won't be found." She looked back to where Katryn lay, her gaze hard and cynical. "Your start in the 12th Squadron has not gone well... it's not entirely your fault. I think it might be wise if I arrange for you to transfer to another squadron... give you a chance to make a fresh start in the rangers."

          The door of the lock-up opened and the healer entered. "Have you finished?" She asked Dolokov. "The patient needs to sleep."

          "Yes, I think I’m finished." Dolokov gave a tight smile and left.

          No, it’s me who’s finished. Katryn thought. Dolokov was hoping the murderer would never be found, or maybe she had convinced herself that Katryn really was the one. Certainly once Katryn had been removed from the squadron no-one in the 12th would ever doubt her guilt.

          And as for her life in a new squadron? It might go alright at first, but stories would spread around the division, passed from squadron to squadron. Soon rumours of the ranger who'd murdered her sergeant would catch up with her. Ironically the 12th was probably the safest place to be. Katryn knew she was still alive because nobody liked Ellis enough to kill for her. But with people who had never met Ellis the there wouldn't even be misplaced sympathy for the provocation. Instead there would tales of the coward’s blow, the knife in the back. No squadron would want her, and there would be other latrine blocks, other beatings, and one day there would be a beating she wouldn’t wake up from.

          The healer placed a hand on Katryn’s head, gently exerting the skill to send her to sleep. As Katryn drifted away she half wished that she wouldn't wake up this time.

          END OF PART TWO

          PART THREE : THE KILLER OF MELANTHE ELLIS

          Chapter sixteen - Trial by gossip

          Katryn finished speaking and sat in silence, cursing herself for past cowardice. Several times while in Landfall she had been tempted to tell Chip everything, but had held back. Like a pathetic dreamer, she had allowed herself to hope that with enough time her new comrades might get to know her, and trust her, and maybe give her the benefit of the doubt when the inevitable rumours reached them. Now the whole story had been dragged from her, which was the worst possible way for it to come out and, even as she was speaking, Katryn could hear how weak and implausible it sounded. There was not a scrap of evidence to support her version of the tale.

          Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, her stomach felt sick. For the last part of her account she’d been unable to meet Chip’s eyes, frightened of what she’d see there - at best it would be scepticism. Her gaze could climb no higher than Chip’s ankles. Tears felt dangerously close. A string of useless sentences starting ‘if only’ jangled in her head. If only she had been posted to the 23rd to start with. If only she had been somewhere else when Ellis was murdered. If only Chip would believe her. The last wish cut deepest of all. Katryn knew how much she liked Chip as a comrade, and respected her as an officer, and how much she wanted her as a friend. The most painful part would be losing Chip’s good opinion. Katryn steeled herself for the response.

          "Callous bitch!" The words exploded from Chip’s mouth. Katryn felt herself flinch. There was a second of silence then Chip went on furiously. "Did Dolokov want you to get murdered as well? Did she think that was going to help the squadron’s morale? She didn’t just drop you in the shit, she tied lead weights around your neck first. How can anyone who calls herself a captain..." Chip was too impassioned to continue.

          Katryn’s head jerked up of its own accord, her mind dazed by the sudden comprehension she was not the target of the outburst. For once Chip’s face did not hold any trace of a smile, nothing but disgust and anger. Their eyes met and held.

          Chip was the one who broke contact, rubbing a hand over her face. "What was Dolokov playing at?"

          Katryn struggled to find her voice. "It’s just guessing but... I think she was.... riding the odds."

          "Easy to play long odds when it’s someone else’s life at stake."

          "Well... she knew it wasn’t likely I’d be killed. There wasn’t anyone who cared about Ellis as a person, it was just the principle of one ranger murdering another that outraged some women."

          "But didn’t she make any statement about the switched knives? She acted as if she wanted to give the impression she thought you were guilty."

          "I think she’d convinced herself that I was."

          Chip sank back. "That’s no better. She thought you murdered one of her sergeants and she was happy to let you get away with it?"

          Katryn’s mouth twisted in a lopsided frown. "I shouldn’t speak for her, but Dolokov tends not to worry about the rules as long as things sort out the way she wants. She worked out there wasn’t the evidence to get a conviction at a court martial, so she settled for the unofficial justice of handing me over to the rest of the squadron. I got a beating, and then passed on to the next squadron." Katryn bit her lip. "And there’ll be some rangers in the 23rd who’ll want to do the same... I can’t prove I didn’t murder Ellis."

          "If we were all treated as guilty of everything we couldn’t prove we hadn’t done there’d be no-one left outside the lock-up to turn the key." Chip tilted her head and looked out through the small window of her room. Full dark had long since fallen; it was too late to take any action that night. "In the morning I’ll go and talk to Captain LeCoup, and you’d better come with me."

          "Er... yes." Katryn was less than enthusiastic.

          "She needs to know all of this." Chip pointed out.

          "Oh... yes. It’s just that she reminds me a bit of Ellis." Katryn shrugged. "Square, short-tempered, shouts, and doesn’t like me."

          Chip gave a bark of laughter. "That’s our captain. But she isn’t anything like Ellis."

          "I know, but..."

          Chip cut her off. "For starters, she’s fair. There’s no way she’ll stand back and have a member of her squadron convicted in a trial by gossip. She’s got a temper like a snow-lion with an arse-ache, but she doesn’t play games. You can rely on her."

          Katryn nodded, but before she could speak there was the sound of the door opening in the adjoining room, and voices. The rest of the patrol had returned from the tavern. Chip brushed her palms over her cropped hair. "I guess it’s time to sleep."

          "Yes ma’am."

          Katryn stood and headed to the door. As she reached for the handle Chip said, "Don’t worry. The murder isn’t general knowledge, and I can guarantee it won’t get out until after LeCoup has decided what to do. My guess is she’ll send to Sanchez and Kalispera for reports. Then she can squash the rumours from the 12th with real facts."

          "But you don’t need the reports. You believe me already?" Katryn could not help herself asking.

          "I know you didn’t kill Sergeant Ellis." Chip’s voice was steady and utterly sincere.

          Their eyes met again and Katryn felt a shock-wave ripple through her, a kick in her stomach that shot down her thighs and tingled at the back of her knees. "Thank you, ma’am." she mumbled and fled.

          The other six members of the patrol were in the process of getting ready for bed. They threw a few joking taunts in her direction, but no more than the friendly banter of the barracks. Soon the lamps were out and Katryn was lying in her bunk, staring up into the darkness. Her thoughts were bouncing around far too chaotically for sleep.

          Astonishment was her overriding emotion. The most she had dared hope for was to be listened to critically. Being transferred stood as evidence against her. It was only reasonable that people would assume her version of events was full of evasion, if not out-and-out lies. Even if Chip was the only person to offer unqualified trust, it was one supporter more than she had ever expected to find - although, of course, Chip was not an unbiased observer.

          It was something Katryn had been aware of for a while. She’d had enough experience to know the signs. Ever since she’d hit puberty there had been a unending stream of women drawn by her good looks. She’d found it invariably tedious, often embarrassing, and occasionally distasteful. There had been no interest in her as a person, no real wish to understand her. The hopeful admirers had hung on her every word without paying attention to any of them. They had then gone away and invented a fantasy personality for her, to go with their other fantasies. She might as well have been a pretty faced puppet.

          But it was grossly unfair to put Chip in with that group. It was possible to have an entertaining conversation with her, and know Chip was hearing what was said - no more and no less. There had been no crude innuendoes, no pestering, no sense of being a game-prize. And she knew, if ever anything was said, Chip would take a ‘no’ as an answer without childishly sulking or making a scene; without harming their friendship - if the answer was to be no.

          As the thought drifted through her head Katryn again felt her insides kick; a sensation similar to the jolt that had hit her in Chip’s room, but more focused. And this time there was no doubting the cause, or meaning, of her racing pulse and somersaulting stomach.

          She liked Chip a lot. She’d known that ever since she’d got over the initial panic of meeting another new sergeant. Now Katryn realised she’d built walls in her mind, defences against the rejection she’d been sure would come. But the barricades hadn’t been needed, Chip had not turned against her. The walls had crashed down, and Katryn found herself flooded by an emotion she hadn’t known was there. Her whole body shook to the rhythm of her heartbeat, while a very familiar ache started to grow.

          It was so easy to close her eyes and recall Chip’s face, complete with a smile like summer sunshine. Katryn felt herself falling even deeper as she toyed with the image. In her mind she added the other details; the way Chip moved, her eyes, her voice, the shape of Chip’s hands... and then the thought of what those hands would feel like touching her own body. The breath caught in Katryn’s throat as she considered leaving her bunk and slipping into Chip’s room. She was sure Chip would very happy to see her... or would she?

          Another memory surfaced, one from the evening following Clarinda Wright’s death. On the way back from the tavern, she had tried to kiss Chip. With hindsight she had known her own mind better when drunk than she had sober. The memory had been hanging about on the edge of her thoughts, ignored in confusion. The defensive barriers in her mind would not let her deal with it. Now she could, and what confronted her was the knowledge that Chip, gently but with unequivocal firmness, had rejected the advance.

          Katryn’s eyes flew open. Had she been misreading Chip’s friendliness, projecting her own repressed emotions onto their target? You can’t expect the whole world to fancy you, she mocked herself angrily. Or perhaps there was another explanation. Chip had been a ranger long enough to know all the rules, including the unwritten ones. Katryn thought of the ill-concealed scorn as Pat had slunk out of Ellis’s room. Furthermore, they were officer and subordinate. Absolutely the very last thing Katryn wanted was to be transferred to yet another squadron - not when it seemed that things might work out alright in the 23rd. If Chip was to be her champion it would harm both their reputations if it was perceived to be the result of bedroom bargaining.

          Whatever the reason, Chip’s position was clear. The bitter irony struck her. She remembered thinking that Chip would be adult enough to take ‘no’ as an answer. Katryn’s face twisted in a pained grimace. It was her own maturity that was to be tested.

          **********

          It was a miserable wet afternoon in early December. Chip and Kim sat in one of the taverns in the town below Fort Krowe. Belts of sleet splattered against the green glass of the windows. Heavy clouds reduced the light outside to premature dusk and the thatched roof creaked in gusts of cold wind. However the two sergeants were quiet content. They had comfortable chairs by the log fire and were washing down the end of a large meal with tankards of the best beer the town could offer.

          The months leading up to mid-winter’s day were traditionally the slack time for rangers. With the worsening weather there were few traders on the road, and therefore few highway robberies. The mountain cats would be excavating their dens for hibernation and, although prides of snow-lions would be following the cold weather south, there was still plenty of their natural prey about, and the fenbucks and spadehorns would always top a snow-lion’s menu. It was rare for a pride to venture onto the domesticated Homelands before February.

          November and December were when leave was granted, half the squadron at a time. By the regulations a ranger was allocated to the division closest to her home town, so the month would be sufficient to visit relatives It also meant she would be close at hand for emergency recall. It said much of the rangers’ lifestyle that many did not bother, and spent the time with their comrades, propping up a bar. Women gave up their families to join the rangers - those whose families had not first given up on them. The bonds of life and death that bound a squadron were far stronger than blood.

          Kim sighed and pushed her empty plate away. For a while she watched the amber firelight reflected in the side of her tankard. "I wonder where we’ll be dumped next?"

          "Somewhere cold surrounded by lots of things with big teeth." Chip answered.

          "You’re just guessing." Kim said, mock-seriously. She then scrutinised at her friend more earnestly, there had been a faint undertone to Chip’s voice. "Or are you?"

          "Pardon?" Chip’s best attempt to look innocent didn’t fool Kim at all.

          "Come on, don’t do the wide-eyed bit, it doesn’t suit you. What do you know?"

          "I don’t strictly know anything, but I have this feeling about the east."

          Kim lent forwards and dropped her voice. "East?"

          Chip flexed her fingers like a card-sharp. "Maybe."

          "East." Kim repeated. "And from that look on your face, it’s not just gossip. Have you been pulling strings?"

          "What’s the point of doing favours if you don’t call them in from time to time?" Chip said, grinning. "Winter struck early this year. The border divisions will all have put in requests for extra hands. If they decide to send one of our squadrons out to Eastern, I’ve merely suggested to an acquaintance on staff to consider offering the 23rd."

          "But why ea..." Kim stopped and became far more serious. "Katryn?"

          Chip’s shrug said yes.

          "You’re not planning some sort of confrontation with the 12th, are you?"

          "Of course not... well, not until I’ve worked out which one of them killed the sergeant."

          "How?"

          "I’m not sure yet. I’m going to need to visit Roadsend, talk to people there. But, hopefully, if we do get lent to Eastern we’ll be running up and down the border, and I’ll get the chance to visit the place."

          "And you’re sure that’s wise? You don’t want to be reminded of phrases about leaving well alone?"

          Chip was about to reply, but at that moment four figures, all heavily muffled with scarves and ranger’s cloaks flitted passed the window, moving too quickly for identification,. A second later the tavern door was briefly shoved open, allowing a cold draft to swirl down the room. Kim was sitting with her back to the door, however she didn’t need to turn her head to know that one of the new arrivals was Katryn - the look in Chip’s eyes was unmistakable.

          "It must be nice to be on sergeant’s pay and be able to afford to eat away from the mess." Lee Horte’s tone was conversationally deadpan as she walked past the table, but the corners of her lips twitched up. The others merely smiled a greeting and settled around the bar. Kim was not surprised when Chip caught Katryn’s eye and beckoned her over.

          Once Katryn was seated with her drink Chip said, "I was talking to Captain LeCoup this morning..."

          Kim interrupted on Katryn’s behalf. "Oh no! You’re not going to discuss work now?"

          "Well... only semiofficially." Chip turned back to Katryn. "I said we should get you certified as a marksman. And LeCoup agreed. Your archery is easily up to it. That way you’ll only need to do one year as a private before you’re eligible for promotion to leading ranger, which will be in...?" She broke off with a query on her face.

          "Start of February." Katryn provided the information, though she did not look too confident. She frowned and said. "It seems a bit like cheating."

          "Hardly."

          "Won’t people who did two years as private mind?"

          "No-one complained when Carma took certification as a healer." Chip said, referring to the ranger in D patrol who possessed enough of the healer-sense to function as an effective medic - a real asset to the squadron. "As a leading ranger you wouldn’t be so conspicuous."

          "Seeing how as I’m so old and haggard?" Katryn suggested lightly.

          Chip pursed her lips. "Alternately you could hang a sign around your neck telling people you’re younger than you look, but you’ve had a hard life."

          The two of them continued talking, soon drifting to other subjects. Kim shifted back in her seat and watched them thoughtfully, playing little part in the conversation. However she soon found it necessary rest her chin on her hand, with her fingers over her lips to hide her grin. She wondered if the message in their animated faces and body language was as blatantly obvious to everyone else in the tavern as it was to herself. Chip’s response she had come to expect, however for the first time Kim realised that Katryn was also giving out signals - which Chip was utterly failing to pick up on. The next few months promised to be quiet amusing.

          **********

          By mid-winter’s day the entire squadron was back together. Captain LeCoup summoned a general briefing in the mess - the only room big enough to hold everyone. Once all thirty-four women had taken their places the captain began. "We’ve been given our orders. The 23rd has been seconded to Eastern division for three months. It’s a bit unusual but, as you know, winter came on early this year, and by February they expect to be up to their necks in snow-lions."

          LeCoup’s eyes scanned over her audience before continuing. "By my reckoning it’s eleven years since we last did a winter stint with Eastern, and there aren’t too many of you familiar with the set-up there. So a quick summary..." She folded her arms in a declamatory pose. "There are seven squadrons in the division, and seven main barracks. This doesn’t include the divisional HQ at Eastford where there’s just a staff admin building. Their summer deployment goes from May to October, with one squadron based in each barrack-town. In winter the southern half of the region is quietish, while the northern section is a bit livelier. So the four southern barracks go on half-muster, which for those of you who can’t do the maths means they have two squadrons free. One they send north to provide backup for dealing with the snow-lions, the other squadron is held in Eastford and is used as reserves. This year, since they’re expecting trouble with snow-lions, they want to put both spare squadrons in the north. They want us to do the general reserve bit based in Eastford. Does everybody follow that?"

          If anyone didn’t they weren’t admitting it and the briefing went on, covering some administrative matters in more detail. Eventually LeCoup wound up, "They want us in Eastford for the 15th of January. We ride out tomorrow, so you’ve got one night to say goodbye to anyone in Fort Krowe who’ll miss you. Okay, meeting over." As women started to shuffle towards the door, LeCoup raised her voice again. "And Sergeant Coppelli, I’d like a word with you in my office."

          As she squeezed out the door Chip caught Kim’s eye and exchanged a worried grimace, there was something ominous in LeCoup’s tone, but there was no chance to speak. Chip headed straight to the captain’s office with a nasty cold knot forming in her guts. LeCoup arrived a few seconds later and ushered her in.

          Chip came smartly to attention in the middle of the room, it seemed a sensible thing to do. LeCoup slowly paced the length of the floor then fixed a long critical stare on her. At last she spoke. "Were you surprised to learn just now that we were seconded to Eastern Division?"

          Chip hesitated, but lying was very unwise. "No, ma’am."

          "Why not?"

          "I, er... I had discussed the possibility with a member of divisional staff, ma’am."

          "Discussed the possibility? That’s a frigging euphemism. What you mean is you talked her into fixing it for you." LeCoup’s voice had acquired a snarl. She walked closer until she was glaring directly into Chip’s eyes. "Okay Sergeant - why?"

          Chip managed to keep control of her voice. "I was hoping for a chance to visit Roadsend, ma’am. I wanted to see if I could learn more about the murder of Private Nagata’s ex-sergeant."

          "That’s not your job."

          "No ma’am, but I wanted to clear her name."

          "I’ve already dealt with that. The reports I received showed her record in the militia was exemplary, and there’s no evidence to support claims she was the one who murdered her ex-sergeant."

          "Yes ma’am, the reports you got were very helpful."

          "Helpful!"

          Chip judged she little to lose by continuing. "As long as the murder is unsolved there are always going to be doubts... in Private Nagata’s mind if nowhere else. Until she knows she has been proved innocent she’s always going to be wondering just how much her comrades trust her."

          "So you decided to bugger around with the squadron’s posting?" LeCoup increased the intensity of her verbal offensive. Chip swallowed, hoping it was a rhetorical question. To her relief, after a long pause, LeCoup continued. "The deployment of squadrons is a matter of life or death not a fucking game of tiddlywinks. The 23rd is my squadron, and I am responsible for it. I will not have a shit-arsed sergeant tossing it around the Homelands for her amusement." The volume of LeCoup’s voice rose several levels. "If you want to make arrangements for the squadron you don’t go behind my back. Either you go via me or you keep your fucking hands out of it. You don’t take it on yourself to play games, or Himoti’s statue in the chapel will be wearing your tits for ear-rings. Understood?"

          "Yes, ma’am."

          "Don’t you ever dare do anything like this again."

          "No, ma’am."

          LeCoup stomped away. "Dismissed."

          Chip didn’t start breathing normally until she was outside the building. She sucked in a deep lungful of air and began walking back to her room. Kim intercepted her on the way.

          "Trouble?" Kim asked.

          Chip scrunched her nose. "A bit. LeCoup had found out I was the one who rigged the posting."

          "How?"

          "She didn’t say." Chip shrugged. "How does she find out half the things she does?"

          "Was she angry?"

          "She threatened to remove some of my body parts."

          Kim laughed. "With fatal results?"

          "No, but I’m still rather fond of them." Chip thought for a moment. "And it’s not as if the statue has pierced ears."

          **********

          Dusk was less than an hour away as the squadron rode over the brow of the last hill and saw the town ahead. Snow lay thick on the surrounding countryside, the river cut a black line through it. Lanterns were beginning to be lit and their light glinted off the rows of icicles dangling from the lintels of windows. Eastford spanned the two sides of the Little Liffey river. The ford of its name had long since been replaced by a stone arched bridge. Apart from the divisional HQ there was also a temple in Eastford. It was the tallest building by far, its dome raised a dark mass against the sky.

          Captain LeCoup lead the way along the main road into town and soon called a halt outside a flat fronted building on the edge of the market square. The green and grey banner of the rangers hung above the only door. LeCoup slipped from her saddle and went inside with Lieutenant Ritche. The other rangers milled around in the deserted square.

          "Where’s the barracks?" One voice asked loudly.

          Ash overheard. "Didn’t you hear what the captain said in the briefing? There isn’t a permanent squadron based in Eastford, just a few divisional staff, so they don’t have purpose built barracks here."

          "We’re not going to be camping out all winter?" It was more protest than question.

          Ash merely smiled at the speaker and urged her horse away. The ranger went in a fruitless search for another veteran from the squadron’s last posting to Eastford.

          Before long Captain LeCoup reappeared in the doorway. "Okay." Her shout got everyone’s attention. "As you may have heard. The bad news is that they don’t have barracks here in Eastford. They don’t have troops stationed here all year round to make it worthwhile. The good news is that Eastford is on a major trade route so in this season there are lots of inns with lots of vacant rooms. We’re to be billeted in them. I’ve got the allocations here." She waved some papers in the air and beckoned the four sergeants over.

          **********

          By nightfall C patrol was happily installed in the Three Barrels. The inn staff cleared away the remains of a meal that outdid anything ever served in a mess-hall. The rangers were in high spirits. Some settled down by the fire with a drink while others were preparing to go in search of the other patrols to see how they had fared.

          Chip was building her resolve to brave the cold and go in search of Kim when her friend beat her to it and appeared at the doorway of the tap-room, knocking snow from her boots. "Very cosy." She gave her assessment, smiling broadly.

          The two sergeants picked a couple of comfy looking chairs in a warm corner. In response to a wave, one of the inn staff indicated that drinks would be with them shortly.

          "It isn’t bad, is it?" Chip said, her gesture taking in the whole inn.

          "No it’s not." Kim agreed laughing. "The squadrons in Eastern must fight pitched battles over who gets this winter posting."

          "What’s your inn like?"

          Kim looked around, sizing it up. "A bit bigger, not so homelike. We’ve all got a room to ourself." Her grin got wider. "With a town full of interesting women who haven’t seen a serving ranger for months, and a bed in crawling distance of the bar, I overheard one of my patrol wonder if she’d been killed in action and gone straight to ranger heaven."

          "I just hope we get to spend some time here. It would be awfully sad to be sent off tomorrow to the arse-end of nowhere, chasing some farmer’s hallucinations."

          "I thought you wanted a trip out to Roadsend." Kim said, feigning surprise.

          "Oh, I do," Chip sighed and sunk further into her chair as two tankards arrived. "But there’s no rush. I won’t mind if I have to wait here a few days first."

          Chapter seventeen - The scene of the murder

          Apart from the snow, the barracks at Roadsend looked exactly the same as the last time Katryn had been there. The eight women of C patrol dismounted at the gates and walked the short distance to the central parade ground. Katryn had to force her legs to move smoothly, matching her pace to that of the others. Her eyes took in the scene, trying not to flinch as they skimmed over the latrine block. The 12th were no longer there. They had moved at the end of October to their winter posting, the Clemswood barracks - information Chip had made a point of finding out. Currently half of the 8th were stationed in Roadsend, under the command of their lieutenant.

          Katryn watched Chip bounce up the steps to the main office and stick her head around the door. Immediately Chip ducked back out and the lieutenant appeared, smiling a welcome. In the cold weather the horses were the first priority. With only half a squadron on site, there were two stable blocks free. There were also two bunk-houses. Katryn bit her lip as she tended her horse. She knew all four buildings were identical - in some cases right down to the graffiti scratched inside the lockers, but she found herself praying the patrol would not be allocated to the same dormitory she had slept in before.

          Fortunately, the B patrol bunk-house was taken and they were put in the next one along. Even so it was disorientating. Katryn kept expecting Ellis to appear around each corner. Figures seen out of the corner of her eye looked like Jan or Tina. She found herself waiting to hear Sal’s voice from the bunk below hers. Katryn took a grip on her imagination. She knew where it was headed. Next I’m going to want someone to hold my hand when I go to the latrine. At that thought Katryn set her jaw. It was something she was going to have to face, and the sooner the better.

          The others were waiting for Chip to return from a talk with the lieutenant. Katryn strode out of the bunk-house and along the edge of the parade ground. Despite her resolve it was impossible not to hesitate. There was an irrational urge to back away, but somewhere Katryn found the courage to push the door open and step inside. She stood by the water troughs and looked around. Of course there were no bloodstains left on the tiles. Slowly her racing pulse began to ease, only to jump when the door was again pushed open.

          Chip slipped in, an anxious look on her face. "I saw you come in and I thought..." She broke off, clearly realising the potential for getting it wrong. Katryn tried to act untroubled, but failed, and she knew it, prompting Chip to continue. "It was in here you were attacked?" she asked softly.

          "Yes."

          Chip continued to study her. "Are you okay?"

          Katryn forced a smile and nodded. Chip reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder. Instantly every other thought in Katryn’s head was scattered. The effect of the touch jolted through her, shooting down her spine and rippling over her scalp. She turned her face away while fighting to control her expression.

          "Are you sure you’re okay?" The level of concern in Chip’s voice had gone up a notch.

          Perhaps if I act totally pathetic she’ll give me a hug. The thought was ridiculously tempting, but on a scale of maturity it scored in negative numbers. Katryn forced herself to stand up straighter and move away slightly to break the physical contact between them. "Yes ma’am, I’m fine... really I am." It wasn’t a complete lie - her shoulder was throbbing, but the bad memories were utterly routed.

          Chip stood awkwardly as if unsure what to do with her arm. "I’ve er..." she began, and then gathered strength. "I’ve been talking to the lieutenant. We’ve got half an hour before dinner so I’m going to give a quick briefing. Are you alright to come along?"

          "Yes, of course."

          The two of them re-entered the bunk-house. The iron stove had just been lit and the members of C patrol were gathered around. Chip and Katryn took a place in the huddled group, holding their hands out to the warmth.

          "Okay girls. In the circumstances I’m going to make this a very informal briefing. Feel free to interrupt." Chip grinned at the circle of faces and went on. "I’ve got a few more details on the reasons for our little jaunt here. The first report was right, it is mountain cats - supposedly. The lieutenant was quite honest and admitted she didn’t put much faith in the tales, but she doesn’t want to risk ignoring them. She’d like to take two patrols out to get the hunt over with quickly, but she doesn’t want to leave the barracks empty. In a month’s time, when things get busy, she won’t have the option. But she guessed rightly, that there’d be a spare patrol available at the moment. I also got the feeling she wanted the chance to show us the local scenery, so if there’s a crisis later there’ll be some of us in the 23rd who are familiar with it."

          "How many of these reputed cats are there?" Lee asked.

          "If the report is from a farmer named Wisniewski it will be hundreds." Katryn interjected.

          Chip shook her head. "Only three or four. The sightings are off to the south-west. Unfortunately it’s a bit too far to do the round trip in a day so we’ll be throwing ourselves on the mercy of local farmers for lodgings. And in these parts the farms will be..."

          "Sheep." Katryn provided the information. "Lots of sheep. There’ll be no shortage of mutton stew and blankets."

          "Could be worse."

          The briefing continued. Chip gave what further information she had, supplemented by Katryn’s knowledge of the surrounding countryside. Once the facts were finished the debate became more spirited, with jokes and laughter, and ending with anecdotes about mountain cats. Katryn gave the appearance of joining in, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Since joining the rangers she had served under two sergeants. It hardly seemed possible, yet being back at Roadsend had made the differences between then even more pronounced. There could not be the slightest doubt of whose patrol she would rather be in, but they did present opposite problems. One sergeant she had hated, and the other she liked far, far too much.

          **********

          From the doorway of the lock-up there was a clear view across the parade ground. The admin building and A patrol bunk-house obscured opposing corners, but no-one could cross from the stores to the bunk-houses without being seen. Katryn considered the sight for a few seconds and then gave her attention to Chip, who was experimenting with standing guard by the door.

          "I guess they might have missed someone if they’d had their eyes closed." Chip’s tone was ironic.

          "Dolokov thought they might be inside talking to the prisoner."

          Chip’s eyebrows rose. "She was seriously suggesting discipline in the 12th is that bad?"

          "I think she was just desperate to show I was the murderer."

          "And she wasn’t going to let the truth stand in her way." Chip grinned supportively. "Come on, next stop is the stables."

          Katryn trailed a half step behind as they crossed the parade ground. She knew why Chip wanted a full tour of the scene of the murder. There were even a few rumours in the squadron that Chip was in some way responsible for the 23rd being loaned to Eastern Division in the first place. Katryn had mixed feelings. To say that being proved innocent would be a relief was an absurd understatement. But what hope was there that the proof would be found? Katryn wondered if the only thing they would get were more doubts, and she did not know how she could take that.

          At the stables Chip stood in the doorway, craning her neck one way and another, evaluating the angles.

          "I was mainly sitting with my back to the doors." Katryn volunteered the information.

          Chip wrinkled her nose in thought. "Wouldn’t matter which way you sat, you’ve only got a very oblique view of the door to the stores. You couldn’t even tell if it was open or closed." Her eyes lifted to the sky. "What was the light like?"

          Katryn stood by her shoulder. "It was full daylight when I started, and a bit darker than now when the body was discovered. It was a couple of hours later than this, but it was near mid-summer."

          Chip nodded and lead the way up the passageway behind the mess-hall. At the door to the stores she pulled a key from her pocket. A shudder ran through Katryn as she entered, but once again any bloodstains had long since been removed.

          "Are there any significant changes?" Chip asked.

          Katryn paced a slow circuit of the room. The piles of crates had been shifted around, and the general level of stock was noticeably lower, but nothing she could see as relevant. Chip followed, stopping once to examine the ventilation gaps at the bottom of the wall facing the mess. The openings were, at most, fifteen centimetres high. Iron bars fixed into the concrete were starting to rust, but not enough to compromise their effectiveness.

          Katryn stood uncertainly in the centre of the room, looking around. The scene felt unreal. "I didn’t expect to be back here so soon."

          "Yes... well, um... it’s how things worked out."

          Katryn glanced across. The evasiveness in Chip’s voice was unmistakable. There was something the sergeant wasn’t saying, and she had deliberately turned her back to keep her face hidden. Katryn watched her clamber over a stack of crates. Then she felt herself staring, drinking in the details Chip’s body. Maybe the dreamlike air was due to the company. Chip managed to seem twice as real as anyone Katryn had ever known. Was it surprising if the surroundings appeared insubstantial by comparison? Sometimes she could swear Chip’s smile literally made the room brighter.

          Chip moved on to the loading bay at the rear of the store-room. After first examining the door, she took the key from her pocket and unlocked it. The wharf was empty. The river looked bleak in the sullen light. Directly below, at a drop of at least two metres, was a narrow ribbon of ground between the water and the wall,. Immediately beneath the lip of the door a row of iron spikes were hammered into the wall. Each skewer had two barbs, one pointing out and the other hooked down. Chip took two of the boards that made up the bridge, laid them across the gap to the wharf, and walked out.

          While Katryn waited in the doorway Chip took a few minutes, surveying the entire riverbank. Then she came back, shut and locked the door. They left the stores and continued around the site. Chip spent some time examining the end of the alley beside the kitchen, where it met the outer wall, but still she said nothing. They stopped once more before leaving the barracks, when Chip went into the officers’ block to return the store-room key,

          The others from C patrol had gone into town to find a tavern. Katryn was expecting to go in search of them, however Chip had not quite finished. At the side of the barracks there was a gap between the walls and the backs of a row of shops. From what Katryn could see it was not so much a path as somewhere people dumped rubbish. This did not deter Chip from making her way along it. The ground sloped away steeply at the end to bring them out on the banks of the river. Chip stood with the water lapping a few centimetres from her toes.

          The light was failing rapidly. The far bank was disappearing into the gloom. Chip turned left and walked a few steps until she stood under the rear door of the stores. Katryn looked at the spikes, projecting like a claw over Chip’s head - a powerful disincentive to climbing up. Chip took a few more steps further along the bank. Ice fringed the edge of the river. There was no sound except the slop of cold water. The thin band of snow was marked by the footprints of birds and one lone dog, but nothing larger.

          Chip turned back and rejoined Katryn at the end of the alleyway. The building ahead jutted out a good metre into the river. Its walls rose directly from the water. There were deep crevices where the mortar between the stones had been partly washed away. Chip patted her hand against the stones. A trickle of cement dust drifted down onto the snow.

          "Would this be the back of the White Swan Inn?" Chip threw the question over her shoulder.

          "Er... yes. I think so." Katryn replied.

          Chip took a few steps back, craned her neck to peer around the corner, and then walked back to the wall. Her fingers explored the gaps between the stones. There was no shortage of hand and toeholds. Within seconds she had scrambled out over the water and disappeared round the corner.

          "It’s alright Katryn, come on here." Chip’s voice called out.

          Katryn removed her gloves and followed. Around the other side she saw a wooden quay running the entire length of the tavern’s rear wall. Chip was standing there, waiting. Katryn negotiated the last few handholds and clambered on to join her.

          Further along the quay was a flight of steps up. A doorway in the wall near where they stood was the only other exit. Chip pushed experimentally and it swung back, revealing a large courtyard, open to the sky, with mildew covered cobbles. A row of barrels lined the far wall. In one corner was a small building housing the latrines. A short flight of steps lead down to the cellar while another flight went up to a door which, from the noise coming through, could only be the tap-room.

          "The rear exit." Chip said thoughtfully.

          "This is definitely the back of the White Swan." Katryn confirmed. "I’ve been here a few times, though I’ve never come in this way before. I can see they’d use the door for delivering barrels, but I don’t know how often it’s left open."

          "We could ask, but I’d guess it’s open whenever the tavern is. The landlady wants to get drinkers into her tap-room. You don’t do that by locking your doors, and barge crews make good customers."

          The two rangers walked up the steps and into the inn. They were enveloped by heat and noise. Even before their eyes had adjusted to the light a loud whoop caught their attention. The rest of C patrol were already there - not so surprising, since the White Swan was the first tavern encountered on the way into town. Chip and Katryn striped off their cloaks and wandered over, smiling, to take their place at the table with their comrades.

          There was no opportunity to speak to Chip privately, or any hint of what she was thinking. As the evening progressed Katryn’s eyes strayed anxiously in her direction. Now they had returned to Roadsend, and had the chance to look again at the site, it seemed even more impossible to understand how Ellis had been murdered. Katryn prayed Chip was not reconsidering ideas about her innocence. She needed Chip to believe in her. She wanted Chip physically. Her body ached at the thought of lying with Chip’s arms wrapped tight around her. But she could live without it - she couldn’t live without Chip’s trust.

          **********

          The two patrols rode out the next day and returned to Roadsend four days later. Their hunt had found only one geriatric cat, too sick to hibernate, which had done them the favour of dying a few hours before they caught up with it. It was after midday when the rangers arrived back at the barracks. Chip announced C patrol would stay at Roadsend for that night and set off for Eastford on the next morning - a reasonable decision from the point of view of the horses, even without other motives.

          The current opportunity was one she didn’t want to waste. It appeared that LeCoup had got over her anger. C patrol had been send to Roadsend at the first excuse. Chip was sure it was a duel message - not that LeCoup approved of meddling with the squadron’s deployment, but, like her, LeCoup wanted the murderer caught. It was also a demonstration of how much easier it was to get things done if you had LeCoup on your side.

          The members of the two squadrons had got on well together. If the rangers from the 8th had heard stories on the divisional grapevine they didn’t connect the murdered sergeant with Katryn, and no-one had taken steps to enlighten them. After lunch the returning rangers were given some free-time, which was taken as a good excuse to arrange an inter-squadron game of football in the parade ground. Chip was tempted to join in, except that she had more important things to do.

          She left the bunk-house, heading for the gates. At the edge of the parade ground she paused, watching the two teams. Chip couldn’t help it, the sight of Katryn, darting past opponents with the ball, was hard to tear herself away from. By force of will she shunted her gaze on to the opposite corner of the square. At the door to the kitchen stood a round, middle-aged woman in civilian clothes. If she wasn’t a cook then she was going out of her way to look like one. This woman’s eyes were also following Katryn, but, Chip suspected, for very different reasons to her own. It occurred to Chip that the cook might be someone worth talking to, if there was time, but she wasn’t at the top of the list.

          Chip headed into town. The streets were busy and she had no trouble getting directions to the militia station. Once there she found that Lieutenant Sanchez was not only on duty, but available to see her right away. Chip took a seat in the cramped office and considered the woman in the other side of the desk, wondering how best to play it.

          "How may I help you, Sergeant?" Sanchez kicked off the conversation.

          "Er.. yes, ma’am. I understand there was a murder at the barracks here a few months ago." At Chip’s words the lieutenant’s eyes narrowed though she made no attempt to interrupt. "It happens that one of the suspects was transferred to my patrol. Obviously I’m not too happy at the thought of a subordinate who makes a habit of sticking knives into officers she doesn’t like. Equally, I don’t want false accusations thrown at a blameless member of my patrol."

          "Private Nagata?" Chip nodded in answer. Sanchez continued. "I sent a report to your captain, did that not answer your questions?"

          "Officially, yes. But I was wondering what you might be able to tell me - off the record. It would be nice to have some idea of who the murderer was, even if it couldn’t be proved."

          Sanchez sat back in her chair. "Personally, I’m certain it wasn’t Nagata. Unless I’m missing something obvious the murderer has a lot of brains and imagination. You can bet she is someone who arranged things so that no suspicion landed on herself. Her only mistake was not allowing for the age of the knife. If it wasn’t for that slip your Private Nagata would’ve been dangling from a noose months ago and no-one would now be any the wiser."

          "Do you have any idea who the murderer might be?"

          "None at all. You’re welcome to go through the statements I collected. See if you can spot anything I missed. I hate having unsolved murders on my patch, but I’ve more or less given up with this one."

          Chip subjected Sanchez to a shrewd look. "You don’t strike me as the sort of woman to give up easily."

          A flush of annoyance darkened the lieutenant’s face. "It’s a question of jurisdiction. The official story is that a gang of thieves obtained a duplicate key to the stores. They got in via the rear door but were disturbed by Sergeant Ellis. They wrested the trail knife off her and killed her before fleeing. Also that Sergeant Ellis had swapped knives with Private Nagata before leaving the bunk-house, for reasons she is now unable to reveal."

          "But you don’t believe that?" It was half question, half statement.

          "No. Sergeant Ellis was killed by a ranger. However, Captain Dolokov of the 12th was not..." Sanchez paused, scowling. "...helpful. She did everything she could to block my investigation inside the barracks, while trying to pressure me into wasting time chasing after this non-existent local gang."

          "Why are you so sure it was a ranger?"

          Sanchez hesitated and then held out her hand. "Can I see your trail-knife?" Chip drew it from her belt and handed it over. She watched as the lieutenant studied the knife pensively, rolling the handle between her fingers. The blade was twenty centimetres long, weighted at the end for both hacking and thrusting, sharpened to a razor edge. It was nearly a minute before Sanchez spoke again. "It’s a nasty piece of weaponry, dangerous in anyone’s hands. But to be really effective it needs a trained user. I’d have stabbed Sergeant Ellis holding it like this." She indicated with the blade. "But the person who killed Ellis held the knife like this." She rotated her wrist so the blade lay horizontal. "Now I’ve seen how it’s done I can work out why - the blade slipped between the ribs, straight to the heart with less risk of deflection and the minimum of blood spilt. And it was a single thrust, no retries or prodding about." She shook her head. "I don’t have the training to do that, and there aren’t any local thieves who do either. Plus there was no sign of a fight in the stores. The murderer was someone Ellis knew."

          "And you really have no ideas who?"

          Sanchez shook her head. "Normally I’d try to identify motive and opportunity. But opportunity is a non-starter; everyone has an alibi. And as for motive..." She sighed. "If you prod around, virtually everyone had a reason to want Sergeant Ellis dead. I know Val Bergstrom quite well... the lieutenant of the 12th. She’s a local girl - did her time in the militia with me here in Roadsend. Whenever the 12th is posted here we get together for a drink and a chat. From what she’s told me my main surprise is that Ellis didn’t get murdered years ago. It could’ve been virtually anyone in the entire squadron. Work out how they did it and I’ll tell you their motive. The only thing I..." her voice cut off abruptly.

          "The only thing...?" Chip prompted.

          Sanchez leaned forward and dropped her voice. "Okay. This is completely off the record - right?"

          "Sure."

          "It was just... Dolokov was so keen to stop me probing into the murder that I sometimes wondered if she knew who it was, and didn’t want to lose that person over Ellis. Maybe it was just frustration leading me into paranoia, but my only advice is to start by working out who are the most valuable members of the squadron." Sanchez pushed back from the table and stood up. "And now... do you want to look at the statements?"

          "Oh... yes please."

          "They’re over here." Sanchez lead the way.

          **********

          Chip returned to the barracks some time later. The football game was over and a gentle snow had started to fall. There had been no surprises in the statements. The six women in the tavern all swore independently that none of the others had disappeared for part of the evening. The sentries outside the lock-up swore repeatedly that they had not lapsed in their attention. And both Bergstrom and Adebeyo swore they had been in each others company all evening. The only one who was on her own at any time was Sergeant Takeda, and she had the evidence of the sentries that she had made only one crossing of the parade ground.

          Chip considered going into the bunk-house to warm up, but then she remembered the cook. There was still an hour before dinner, hopefully the cook would have things sufficiently under control to chat for a while. In Chip’s experience military chefs came in two flavours, mother hens who would cluck away non-stop and sour despots whose only conversation was to swear worse than any ranger. To her relief it was apparent within seconds of entering the kitchen that the Roadsend cook was firmly in the former group. All of the rangers, from the divisional commander down, were her ‘girls’. Engaging the flour covered woman in conversation was not hard, but steering the flow of words in the desired direction took a lot more effort. Eventually Chip got there, via the oblique route of Katryn.

          "I thought it was her I saw playing football... poor lamb." The cook slapped a boulder of dough on the table, punctuating her speech. "She should have got an award for topping Ellis. I can’t imagine why they did what they did. I don’t know anyone who wasn’t glad to see the back of the woman... not that I want to talk ill of the dead, you understand."

          "You didn’t get on with..." Chip did not get the chance to finish.

          "I couldn’t stand her. I like to think I treasure all my girls, but there was always this sinking feeling when I heard the 12th were coming. And it was just Ellis. You get some people like that; she couldn’t cope unless she had everyone under her thumb. A real bully. She used to come in here, trying it on with me, shouting. So I told her - I’m a civvy, I don’t have to say ma’am and I only report to the quartermaster."

          The cook snorted and thumped both fists into the dough before continuing. "It was the girls in her patrol I felt sorry for. The cheeky one, Bo, she was always coming in here, cadging bits to eat and telling me about the goings on. I've heard some say Bo isn’t up to much as a ranger, but I reckon she’s sharp enough, just that there was no point in her trying. Everything she did was wrong by Ellis. And there was Pat. You’re not telling me she was happy sleeping with Ellis, but she didn’t get the choice. That’s not right, and there’s no need for it." The cook smiled at Chip. "I know what you girls are like, but there’s no shortage of women in town who’re desperate to have a ranger warm their bed. Ellis didn’t have the prettiest face, but she had a sergeant’s badge and that always helps."

          "I know, it’s what I rely on. I’d be lonely without it. " Chip said, matching the teasing tone.

          The cook barged her with a hip. "Oh, go on. I’m sure you don’t need it. You’ve got a lovely smile."

          Thanks. Chip thought, stifling a sigh.

          The cook went on. "And I can tell you no-one ever said that of Ellis. She had to be totally in control. That’s why she couldn’t chat up someone who was free to say no. That’s why she treated her girls the way she did. Take that other one... the one who drinks... what’s her name." The cook smudged flour across her forehead. "...whatever. Ellis used to pick on her. Okay - the girl’s got a problem with drink, she needs help, not abuse. But Ellis liked it. It meant the poor lamb was totally in her power. She’s coming up to the end of her fourteen years. Bo told me Ellis kept threatening to block her re-enlistment because of the drink... but it was just a game. Ellis could be nasty like that. She’d even pick fights with the other sergeants. Her and Val Bergstrom hated each other, I’m surprised they never came to blows. And on the day she died I heard her having a go at Sergeant Takeda. The pair of them were standing outside the mess snarling at each other, just like my sister’s dog. That’s a vicious brute as well; only the other day it went for..."

          Chip cut in to try and steer the conversation back. "Somebody must have got on all right with Ellis."

          "Name one." the cook retorted.

          Chip pursed her lips. "The corporal? Surely the patrol couldn’t function if she didn’t get on with the sergeant?"

          The cook’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. "Hardly. Jan keeps a tight lid on herself, but after the thing with her gene-mother I’m surprised she wasn’t the one to gut Ellis."

          "Her gene-mother?"

          "Bo told me all about it. They were stationed down at Monday Market when they got the news Jan’s gene-mother was dying. Jan put in for compassionate leave and Ellis said no - no reason, they weren’t stretched at the time. Jan appealed to the captain, but Ellis stuck her heels in. It had to go to a full review. In the end Jan got her leave after two days of faffing around and got to her gene-mother a few hours after she died - just too late to say good-bye. But that was Ellis through and through. She didn’t need an excuse - she had the power to say when people could come and go, and she was going to use it."

          The cook finished pounding the dough and began to shape lumps on a baking tray. Chip considered the woman’s back thoughtfully. It was hard to know how much faith to put in third hand gossip, but it was certainly interesting. "You don’t think it might have been Jan who did it?" Chip tried to make her tone as mild as possible.

          "Jan’s too quiet. Not that that’s always a safe marker; sometimes they’re the most dangerous when they’re pushed too far. Like the big girl in the patrol, Tina Agosta. She acts all quiet - I use to think she was a bit dim, and then she blows." The cook glanced back over her shoulder. "You know, I think Ellis was frightened of Tina. But that’s a bully all over. They never pick on someone they think can give it back. But she picked on the wrong person in the end." She returned to the dough.

          "So you’re sure it’s the woman in my patrol who did it?"

          "Oh yes - not that I’ve had much to do with her. It was the first time she’d been in Roadsend - her and the other young one."

          "That’s a bit worrying." Chip did not attempt to argue Katryn’s case. It was far more instructive letting the cook have a free hand.

          "You shouldn’t hold it against her, anyone can snap, and Bo was telling me Ellis was really awful to her. It would have pushed the Blessed Himoti into fighting back. Though that didn’t stop Bo joining in..." The cook broke off and turned around, looking uncomfortable. "I suppose you heard that she got a beating from the others?" Chip nodded and the cook went on. "No-one is supposed to know anything about it, but..." She shrugged. "I heard that Jan and Tina would have no part in it, and the alkie... Sal, she only went as far as being a look-out for the rest. Some of the girls from the other patrols joined in. But it says something if half a patrol won’t avenge their own sergeant." The cook picked up the baking tray and waddled with it towards the oven. Chip obligingly opened the door. The cook smiled at her. "Now don’t you worry about that new girl of yours. She’s already taken more than she should’ve." The cook swung the door shut. "She deserves a second chance."

          **********

          On the way back to the bunk-house Chip stopped in the centre of the deserted patrol ground. Dusk was not far away. The churned snow held a grey sheen in the last of the light. She turned in a full circle, finishing looking towards the latrine block. Her eyes became unfocused as she played with the fantasy of being able to turn back time - of being able to go to Katryn’s aid. In the hope she’ll hurl herself into your arms in gratitude? Chip jeered at herself. Do you think she’d squeal with delight at the sight of her heroic rescuer? She shook her head. Katryn wasn’t the squealing type. Chip knew she wouldn’t find her anything like as attractive if she was.

          There were layers to Katryn. On the surface she was reserved and calm. Beneath it there was steel. She had to be strong to gone through the previous year without cracking. And under all that was someone who had been hurt far too much, in too many ways. Chip closed her eyes. She wanted to help heal the pain, but what hope was there that Katryn would ever look to her for comfort?

          Chip rubbed her hands over her face in despair. It was part of the skill of imprinters to select the best combination of genes to ensure a healthy baby with no predisposition to disease. When you considered the amount the Tangs had paid for the Golden Chapel you’d have thought the imprinter could have put in a bit of effort and done something more creative with her bone structure.

          "You’ve got a lovely smile." Chip groaned as she remembered the cook’s words, and the dozens of times she’d heard it before. It was the nearest thing to a flattering description she ever got, and Chip was quite coldly certain it would take more than grinning like an idiot to merit Katryn’s attention.

          Chip hunched her shoulders and continued walking across the parade ground. She kicked at a lump of ice. It was probably just as well. If Katryn ever admitted the same feelings towards her Chip thought she’d pass out from the shock. And what would that do for my reputation as a mean, tough ranger sergeant?

          Chapter eighteen ...The list of suspects

          A noisy game of dice was in progress when Chip returned to the bunk-house. Katryn was looking down on the players, sitting on her bed with her legs dangling over the side. The football had provided a temporary distraction, but now her sense of anxiety was growing. She had to know what Chip had learnt, and in what direction this had sent her thoughts.

          Chip shared a few wisecracks with the dice players, stripped off her heavy cloak and wandered into the sergeant’s room. Katryn did not wait. If she stopped to think she would lose her nerve. She slipped down from her bed and followed.

          "Can I talk to you, ma’am?" Katryn blurted out.

          "Sure ...you’ve got nearly half an hour before dinner. Is this about Ellis?" Chip hung her cloak on a peg and kicked the door shut. Through it the sound of the dice players was muted but still audible, rising and falling. There was a sudden burst of ironic cheering, someone had been very lucky ...or silly. Chip pointed Katryn towards the cushioned chest.

          Katryn sat rigidly. Do you still think I’m innocent of murdering her? was far too abrupt. It was the thing she desperately wanted to know, but she didn’t think she could cope with the blunt answer of ‘no’. Instead she asked, "What do you make of things, now you’ve seen Roadsend?"

          Chip settled on the edge of her bed. "It’s not easy." Her forehead wrinkled in thought. "I mean, the obvious candidate for murderer is Sergeant Takeda, but you can’t rule anyone out."

          "Takeda!" Katryn voice rose. "But she was,"

          "You look surprised." Chip said grinning. "Supposing I tell you how I see things?" Katryn nodded, it was exactly what she wanted. Chip continued. "There was no sign of a fight, and you didn’t hear Ellis shouting. From this I deduce that Ellis wasn’t startled by whoever she encountered in the stores; which might in turn imply that they’d planned to meet there. ‘Why’, has to be a guess, but everyone knew Ellis disliked you. Maybe someone told Ellis they suspected you of stealing, but didn’t want to make it public without evidence. She arranged a secret meeting and asked Ellis to get the key and bring her knife."

          "Something like that would explain her words to me in the stable." Katryn said cautiously. "But the sentries, I don’t see how Takeda," her voice trailed away in confusion.

          "Think of the parts of the parade ground the sentries couldn’t see. Takada could have left the officer’s block and gone straight to the stores without being noticed. She could have stabbed Ellis, removed her knife belt and left again. The sentries saw Takeda walk across the ground, but they didn’t have the angle to tell which building she went into. Takeda could have gone to your locker, taken your knife, put it in Ellis’s belt then hung it up before going on to her own bunk-house. Of course, Takeda wouldn’t have known which locker was yours, but she could have riffled through the letters in them. It would only have taken a few minutes, and she had plenty of time."

          "You don’t think it was simply chance whose knife she took?" Katryn spoke with a frown on her face.

          "No. I think it was a deliberate attempt to frame you by someone who knew you’d be near by, and had heard about your threat to Ellis that morning."

          "I didn’t mean it seriously." Katryn mumbled, embarrassed.

          "I know." Chip said quickly, and went on. "But it does put a question mark against Takeda ...would she have heard about it? She doesn’t seem the type to gossip. The women from your old patrol are more likely candidates."

          "None of them left the White Swan."

          Chip held up her finger. "None of them made a big thing of waving good-bye and heading out the front door for half an hour, but if they spent an evening drinking you can bet they all paid at least one visit to the latrine. We’ve seen it’s easy to scramble round from the back of the tavern to the riverside path, and we’re assuming the murderer had arranged to meet Ellis. Therefore Ellis could have opened the rear door and put out the bridge, and would be there to lend a hand up. Within seconds of slipping out of the tap-room the murderer could have been in the stores."

          "How would they get the knife off Ellis?"

          "Easy, ask her ...I’ll demonstrate." Chip bounced to her feet. "You be Ellis, I’ll be the killer."

          Katryn also stood, although she looked uncomfortable.

          "And this is a row of crates." Chip pointed to her bed. "Right. We’ve just closed the rear door. I rush over to these crates and you follow." Her intonation shifted to an act of forced eagerness. "Thanks for meeting me here, ma’am. But before I say anything more I want to be sure of my facts. I think this is the crate." She patted the bed and glanced back to Katryn. "Can I borrow your knife, ma’am?" She held out her hand. After a second of hesitation Katryn realised she was expected to play her part in the charade. She pulled the knife from her belt and passed it over. Chip took it and mimed prising up the lid of a box. She peered down. "Yes. It’s like I thought. If you want to see." Chip stepped away. Katryn moved forward automatically, then realised Chip was now directly behind her. Katryn felt the knife handle tapped gently on her back. "And now you’re dead." Chip spoke the final words softly.

          Katryn turned around, Chip smiled and handed back her knife. The two of them resumed their seats. "But, if it wasn’t Takeda, how did the murderer get my knife into Ellis’s belt?" Katryn asked.

          "There’s a stock of grapple-and-lines in the stores ...I know, I checked. The murderer borrowed one, locked the rear door, returned the key to Ellis’s pocket, and slipped out. She went to the wall by the kitchen and used the grapple to climb over. A trot along the river bank, round the corner and over the wall again into the space between A and B blocks. A quick visit to your bunk-house then back the way she came. She left the grapple hidden under the rubbish in the alleyway before climbing around to the White Swan. The whole thing would have taken her five minutes, ten at most. Probably no-one even noticed she’d been gone. If they did she could say there’d been a queue or she’d been chatting in the courtyard. When the militia asked if anyone had left the tavern for part of the night, the rest weren’t going to say ‘so-and-so took a little bit longer than you’d expect when she went for a piss’."

          "Wouldn’t the missing grapple be noticed?"

          "I’d guess the murderer collected it early the next day and snuck it back, maybe even posted it through a ventilation grill." Chip looked thoughtful. "Of course, for completeness there are two more suspects to consider. Bergstrom and Adebeyo were together all evening, but, like those in the tavern, one could have slipped off for a few minutes. I think we can dismiss Adebeyo. With her leg her days of abseilling over walls are finished, but Bergstrom could have used the riverside path to return the knife belt." Chip paused. "And I’m afraid the last suspect has to be you ...if I can just work out a reason why you’d switch your knife with Ellis." The grin removed any serious intent from her last sentence.

          Katryn sank back so her shoulders rested against the wall. She felt light-headed. Her first reaction was to not even care whether what was proposed was feasible. It was enough that Chip still believed in her. It then struck her that Chip was right. The facts did not add up to an impossible picture. Someone had murdered Ellis and tried to frame her ...and came frighteningly close to succeeding. For the first time it fully hit Katryn that someone she knew had conspired to kill her. She wasn’t the primary target. She was sure it was merely incidental to the murderer’s plan that she’d have been hanged, but she wouldn’t have been any less dead. A cold feeling of anger gripped her. She raised her head, Chip was looking at her.

          "You’re going to find the murderer?" Katryn said, more a statement than a question.

          "I’m going to find her." Chip confirmed. She open her mouth as if to say more but the dinner bell rung out, greeted by shouts from the room outside. "Come on, let’s go and eat."

          **********

          By the time the patrol got back to Eastford the weather was deteriorating, while the action was starting to heat up, metaphorically speaking. Ash was already off, chasing reports of missing people. Kim’s patrol was dispatched to the south the day after Chip’s return. C patrol had less than a week to savour the delights of the Three Barrels before they were sent on a mission to Liffey’s Crossing, escorting an important convoy. In early February a series of bad storms hit. All the rangers spent the middle half of the month taking emergency aid to isolated homesteads, rescuing stranded travellers and, on one occasion, digging out corpses after an avalanche had overwhelmed several hill farms. By the end of February the snow-lions were getting hungry enough to try for domesticated animals.

          Captain LeCoup lead C and D patrols out to deal with a large pride. On the fourth day they met up with half of the 12th squadron who had been similarly dispatched from the Clemswood barracks. The tiny hamlet where their paths crossed was not big enough to shelter everyone so the rangers from the 23rd squadron went further up the valley, to the next lonely cluster of dwellings. That night Captain LeCoup and her two sergeants returned for a joint briefing. The women from the 12th were lead by Lieutenant Bergstrom. One of the others was introduced as Sergeant Sivarajah. Chip studied her. From Katryn’s account it was hardly surprising the experienced corporal had been promoted into the position left vacant by Ellis’s death.

          The meeting was routine. The gully the lions were using as a den had already been identified and a rough map drawn. After a short debate a co-ordinated plan was agreed on, with roles assigned for a dawn sortie the next day. In less than half an hour the officers from the 23rd were ready to leave, however Chip wanted a private word with Jan Sivarajah first. The chances were the women from the two squadrons would not even get close enough to recognise each other but, if they did, Chip did not want anyone attempting to lay into Katryn.

          Chip slipped around the edge of the room to get to the newly promoted sergeant. "Jan Sivarajah? Can I have a quick word with you?" With her head Chip indicated an empty corner.

          "Do I know you?" Jan asked in confusion, once they were out of hearing by the others.

          "No. But you know one of the women in my patrol. Private Nagata."

          Jan’s expression flickered from surprise, to concern, to something looking a lot like guilt. "Oh, so that’s where she, um, yes, yes I do. She was,"

          Chip cut her off. "I know the whole story, including how she left the 12th. What I wanted to say was, after we’ve finished with the lions tomorrow, if she should be noticed I don’t want any of your girls thinking they can carry on where they left off."

          "No." Jan said immediately. "No they won’t ...you have my word on it. I ," She broke off, biting her lip, then looked up at Chip. "Please, tell her I’m sorry about what happened. I should have stopped it, but I was," She held her hands up in a pained gesture. "... just tell her I’m sorry."

          "I’ll pass it on."

          "Katryn didn’t deserve all the blame. I know you must find it hard having her in your patrol, but don’t hold it against her. Ellis pushed her so hard anyone would’ve snapped. But I know she can be a good ranger."

          "Katryn didn’t kill Ellis."

          Jan stared uncertainly at Chip. "Are you sure you’ve got the whole story?"

          "Yes ...possibly more than you."

          "It couldn’t have been anyone else. And it was her knife." Jan said obstinately.

          "No it wasn’t." Chip glanced across the room. LeCoup was standing by the door, looking in their direction. The captain didn’t yet have the appearance of impatience, but it was not wise to keep her waiting. "I can’t hang around and talk, but it wasn’t her knife. Katryn’s was new issue from Fort Krowe. Ellis was stabbed with her own knife. The amount of wear gave it away. Someone made a switch and the only reason I can think of was to frame Katryn."

          "Why didn’t Dolokov tell us that?"

          "You know your captain better than me."

          Chip started to back away but Jan caught her arm. "You’re sure about the knife?"

          "I’ve seen the report, signed by Lieutenant Sanchez, and Captain Dolokov."

          Jan looked as if she was biting back her words but then released Chip’s arm "Okay, there isn’t time at the moment, maybe we can talk some more tomorrow. And I promise there won’t be any trouble."

          **********

          The skirmish with the lions went largely to plan and was over before the sun had cleared the horizon. The rangers assembled afterwards in small clusters, stamping their feet in the cold while shouting good-natured jibes to each other. Chip made a quick headcount of her patrol, ensuring everyone was present and unhurt, and particularly that Katryn was safe, then went to report to Captain LeCoup.

          It was not the weather to stand around in the open, however two women from the 12th had received minor injuries which required attention. As the most gifted healer present, Carma Achillea from D patrol was sent to tend to them. Chip took advantage of the delay to go in search of Katryn’s ex-corporal. It was apparent the same idea had occurred to Jan. The sergeants met in the open space between the two groups of rangers.

          "Sergeant Coppelli." Jan hailed her.

          "Hi again." Chip gave the more informal greeting, pulling her cloak tightly around her. A sharp wind was gusting over the hillside, and the clouds held the promise of more snow. The two of them moved on to a spot sheltered by a tangle of bushes.

          "I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what you said last night." Jan opened the discussion.

          "It gives a lot to think about." Chip agreed.

          Jan’s lips compressed in a thin line as she glared down at the snow. At last she said, "No matter what way I added it up, it didn’t work out well for the 12th."

          "True. You’ve got a murderer in your midst."

          "Yep." Jan sighed. "That was pretty much the final conclusion I reached."

          "Did you have any names topping your list of suspects?"

          "Do you honestly expect me to answer that?"

          "Not really." Chip replied evenly. "Though it would be helpful if you did. I’ve learnt enough to know half the squadron had reason to want Ellis dead and I think I can show that nine women had the opportunity to do it, yourself and Katryn among them. Except Katryn wouldn’t have switched knives."

          "You think I might," Jan began.

          "You had a hefty grudge over your gene-mother."

          "So you’ve been doing your research." Jan’s voice was tight.

          "It’s good practice for a ranger who wants to stay alive."

          Jan looked up to meet Chip’s eyes. For the space of a dozen heartbeats they held the contact and then Jan gave a wry grimace, but her face showed approval. "Very good practice." She drew a deep breath. "And you’re right. I hated Ellis. I think part of the reason I didn’t stop the others roughing up Katryn was because I felt so guilty at being pleased about her death. My gene-mother was the only one of my family I cared about. She knew I loved her, but I never got to explain why I..." Jan’s voice died, then she said softly. "You always think you’ve got more time than you have." She shook her head as if to dislodge the memories. "Yes. I was happy to see Ellis dead, but I didn’t kill her. And it wouldn’t have been with a knife if I had. I’m the squadron’s top tracker. I pick the trails, say where it’s safe to go. Do you know how easily I could have rigged an accident? Since mum died there have been several perfect opportunities." Jan’s eyes bored into the horizon. "I’ll admit I thought about it. I was tempted, but I didn’t."

          Chip studied the other woman thoughtfully. "From what I know I can give reasons why any of my nine suspects might have wanted to kill Ellis, but it’s only an exercise in stringing together facts. You know them, what they’re like as people, how they react. If you don’t want to tell me who you think did kill Ellis, perhaps you could tell who you think didn’t?"

          Jan hesitated briefly, and then spoke. "Nine suspects? Well since I’m on your list I guess you’ve worked out a way someone who was in the White Swan could have managed it. So," She pursed her lips. "Tina, she’d never knife someone in the back. She’s got a temper. If Ellis had been battered to death Tina would be the one I’d look at, but she’d never stoop to back-stabbing. Bo hasn’t got the brains, the ability or the guts to be a murderer. Pat doesn’t care about anything enough to kill for,"

          "Not even being obliged to sleep with someone against her will?"

          Jan gave a humourless laugh. "Your research is slipping. I’m sure Pat didn’t find Ellis attractive, but she used to lead her on. Ellis might have thought she was the one in control, but it was Pat who made the running, and got all the benefits."

          "And the other two?"

          "Sal and Nikky? I can’t see either had a motive."

          "I’d heard Ellis had threatened to block Sal’s re-enlistment because of her drinking."

          "There was no way Dolokov would listen to Ellis’s recommendation and Sal knew it." Jan rubbed an hand over her face. "So that’s six of your nine. You said Katryn was one, but I’ll assume, by now, you’ve got a good idea of what she’s like. So who else is on your list of suspects?"

          "Lieutenant Bergstrom?"

          "Oh yes, her." Jan squinted towards the rising sun. "I’d say that if she didn’t resort to murder when she was Ellis’s subordinate I can’t see why she’d do it when she was in a position to make Ellis’s life awkward by way of revenge. And I guess your last suspect is Adebeyo." Chip was about to correct her, but stopped, interested to hear what Jan might offer. "The only person with a good word for Ellis. I suppose it would be nicely ironic for Ellis to be murdered by the nearest thing she had to a friend, but with so many people who hated her guts," Jan did not finish the sentence.

          "And Sergeant Takeda?"

          "That’s ten." Jan looked sideways at Chip. "Oh, whatever. Takeda is too conscientious. If she was going to murder someone she’d have scheduled it on the duty roster and filed a report afterwards."

          "I’ve heard she has a bit of a temper."

          "Takeda? Never." Jan shook her head. "It says a lot about Ellis’s goading that she ever got any reaction. And even if Takeda’s temper did flare up enough to commit murder, she wouldn’t have framed someone else."

          There was a call from LeCoup. Carma had returned and further down the hill the rangers from the 12th were heading for their horses.

          "Looks like its time to go." Chip said. "Thanks for your help, maybe we’ll meet up again."

          "That’s okay. I think I owe Katryn something. I’m pleased she’s settled down in a squadron, I had been worried about what might happen to her. She deserves a decent sergeant."

          "I try my best and, like you, I owe her. Within a month of joining the 23rd she’d saved my life. As you said last night, she’d got the makings of a very good ranger."

          **********

          The tap-room at the Three Barrels was full of rangers. Over half of the squadron had descended on the cosy tavern to swap stories. Kim’s patrol had returned to Eastford at the same time as C and D and there was a fair bit of news to exchange. Because they were rangers this exchange was done at high volume, accompanied by large amounts of beer. The atmosphere was lively. Several women were singing a ballad of questionable taste.

          In one of the quieter corners Chip sat at a table, going over what she had learnt with Kim, while Katryn added the occasional remark. Chip knew they had to find a way to whittle down the list of suspects ...working out how was the problem.

          "The trouble is motive. There are just too many people who wanted Ellis dead." Chip concluded.

          "True." Kim agreed. "Becoming a sergeant doesn’t do much for your popularity, but she does seem to be in a class of her own."

          "I hope so." Katryn added her own heartfelt tones. "I don’t want to run into someone like her again."

          Chip frowned. "Except I don’t think hatred was the driving motive. You lash out at someone you hate in a fit of anger. This murder was coldly planned in advance."

          "Okay. So give me some nice rational reasons to kill her." Kim suggested.

          Chip slipped down slightly in her chair as she mulled it over. "We know she was the sort of person who liked to have a hold over others, which is only half a step from blackmail. I’m sure, in her own eyes, Ellis thought she was on the side of the righteous. So it wouldn’t be for money, but maybe to try and get what she believed she had a right to ...promotion. She knew Adebeyo and Bergstrom from way back. They were both senior officers to her. She might have threatened to use some information she had on them."

          "Such as?"

          "If Adebeyo has never skimmed anything from the stores she’s unique among quartermasters."

          "That’s a bit sweeping. "Kim protested.

          "I don’t mean anything major. Just it’s very easy for them to start thinking of the stores as their own personal property. It may only a flagon of beer, but they can still be court-martialled for it. And with Bergstrom there’s the story about her going to pieces during the fight with the Mad Butcher. Suppose there were a few more details Ellis kept to herself, so she still had a hold over her? Ellis was desperate for promotion. Perhaps she tried putting pressure on."

          "But neither of them could have done anything. It would be down to Dolokov to recommend Ellis for a lieutenancy."

          "Oh, yes. But Ellis wasn’t a particularly reasonable woman. And it would mean her victim was in an impossible position."

          Kim shook her head. "It’s feasible, but it’s a lot of conjecture. And I’m not sure about all this abseilling. It’s a shame we don’t have much of a motive for the one with the best opportunity."

          "Sergeant Takeda?" Chip fixed her eyes on the ceiling while running through everything she knew. There wasn’t much to work with. "Well... we know she takes her responsibilities to her patrol seriously. She had someone’s life to avenge, and we don’t know what she and Ellis were arguing about earlier that day."

          "Might just have been Ellis thinking it funny one of Takeda’s patrol was in the lock-up." Katryn said. "I agree with Jan’s assessment. Takeda hated Ellis, but she’s not the sort of person to act on emotion."

          Chip tilted her head towards Katryn. "Do you go along with Jan Sivarajah’s opinion of the rest of your ex-comrades?"

          Katryn’s nose scrunched in thought. "More or less. I don’t think Sal took Ellis completely seriously. Certainly not when she was drunk, and Ellis was killed after Sal had been in a tavern for a while, which meant," Katryn finished the sentence with a wave of the hand. "In the same way, I don’t think Bo took anything seriously."

          "Drunks are unpredictable, and I’ve never known one who wasn’t in debt. Ellis strikes me as the sort to lend money just to tighten her grip." Chip said. "And by all accounts Bo was the one who Ellis used to pick on most before you arrived."

          "So why kill Ellis when she was no longer the main target for abuse?" Katryn countered.

          "What about the one who was sleeping with Ellis?"

          "Pat?" Katryn shrugged. "Despite months in the same patrol I’d say I hardly know her; Jan reckoned it’s because there’s nothing to know."

          "Ellis was chancing her luck there. It’s always a bit dicey when a sergeant sleeps with one of her patrol. If there was any evidence of coercion Ellis would have been in deep shit. LeCoup would be down on us like a ton of bricks at first hint of it in the 23rd." Chip fought to keep her tone level, and almost succeeded, although the sight of Kim across the table, smirking at her, didn’t help. Fortunately Katryn’s attention was fixed on something on the other side of the room. Chip risked a disapproving frown at her friend, but this only served to amuse Kim more. Chip managed to regain full control of her voice. "Maybe Pat objected more than she let on."

          Kim shook her head. "In that case she could have made an official complaint, which would have been just as effective in stopping it, and far less risky. What do you think, Katryn?"

          Katryn’s eyes had been riveted on the far wall. She recalled herself. "Er... maybe. Um, Tina. For her I’d go completely with Jan’s assessment, Tina would use her fists, not her knife."

          "Except we’re not talking about an attack in anger."

          "Perhaps." Katryn relaxed visibly. "There’s more going on in Tina’s head than you’d guess from looking at her. Only the Goddess knows what lies at the bottom."

          "So who does that leave?" Kim asked the question.

          "Nikky and Jan herself." Katryn tilted her head to one side. "I like Jan, although I know that’s no proof she isn’t guilty. And I can’t think of any reason Nikky would have to murder Ellis ...plus she isn’t the sort to plan things out."

          "Supposedly it’s always the ones you don’t suspect." Kim threw in. "Except in my experience the first name to come to mind is the right one, nine times out of ten."

          "And what’s your experience of this sort of murder hunt?" Chip asked wryly.

          Kim raised her eyebrows, miming innocence. "Who said I was referring to murder?" She pointed to a group of three local women who had just entered the room and were looking at the rangers. "Now do you see the attractive one on the end? If that woman’s partner came around here tomorrow, complaining her other half had gone out for a drink with friends and not come home, whose is the first name you’d think of?" Kim got to her feet, smiling. ",and what are the chances you’d be right?"

          Chip matched her friend’s grin. "Kim, really! You’re the sort of woman who gives rangers a bad reputation."

          "I know, but someone has to do it." Kim glanced at the three women and then back. "If you like I could try and get her friends to come over."

          Katryn looked away. Chip hesitated for an instant ...not because she was tempted, but she had caught the probing edge in Kim’s voice. "Thanks for the offer, but don’t bother."

          Kim shook her head in mock sorrow. "What a way for rangers to act! You can’t keep this up for long, or you’ll have the whole squadron knotted with frustration on your behalf."

          "I’m sure nobody is keeping a tally."

          "Just as well ...there’s nothing to count." Kim was completely unmoved by the angry glare Chip was directing at her. She tapped Chip’s shoulder. ", catch you tomorrow." Kim smiled once more and then sauntered in the general direction of the attractive local.

          Chip cleared her throat. "Um... ignore her... She was just being daft."

          "I’m not so sure. Isn’t it one of the rules that all rangers should go at sex like a three-year-old in a cake shop ...one bite out of everything?"

          "No." Chip’s reply came out more sharply than she intended. "Kim’s just..." She paused, gathering herself. "Kim has her own demons to fight. Her family were all killed by bandits when she wasn’t much more than a kid. She was the one who found the bodies. I think Kim, she plays around so much, it’s a defence thing. A way of keeping people at arm’s length. She won’t let herself get close, then she can’t get hurt."

          "She cares about you."

          "Yes, well... as a friend." Chip looked across the room. Already Kim had the local’s undivided attention. "I think by now she knows you can’t cut yourself off from everyone. And she’s grown. She doesn’t need the emotion armour, but she carries on out of habit."

          "But the rest of the rangers all act pretty much the same."

          "I don’t."

          "What about the trader in Landfall?"

          Chip swallowed, unable to think of anything to say. "I... er... she was...."

          "You don’t need to explain. It’s not you who’s out of line, it’s me." Katryn said bitterly, then buried her face in her hands. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have joined the rangers. I never was any good at one night stands."

          "It’s not compulsory."

          "Isn’t it?"

          "No. It’s your skill with a bow that counts, not your performance in," Chip swallowed the end of the sentence. She realised she had got into a conversation with Katryn that she desperately didn’t want to have.

          Katryn let her hands drop and looked towards the bar. "Or perhaps I should give it a go... act like a proper ranger... see if it helps. You never know, I might get to like it. What do you think of my chances with her?"

          Chip followed the direction of Katryn’s eyes and realised they were fixed on one of the women standing near the bar. Chip felt her own eyes narrow, surprised at the strength of her response. The woman looked like a perfectly nice, ordinary person. It was completely unjustified to want her to drop through a hole in the floor.

          At the sound of movement Chip turned back, bracing herself for the sight of Katryn getting to her feet, however the opposite had happened and Katryn was sunk down further in her chair, her eyes now glued to the floor.

          "Katryn, don’t worry. Kim was just joking. Nobody in the squadron will give a toss about what you do. You don’t have to prove yourself like that."

          "Oh, it’s not what Kim said. It’s just me, thinking... wondering if it would provide a distraction, since I can’t have the woman I want."

          The last of Katryn’s words were spoken so softly that Chip wasn’t sure if she’d heard them correctly. She made an intuitive leap that hopefully wouldn’t land her in anything too nasty if she got it wrong. "Your partner from Woodside... Allison wasn’t it? You’re still in love with her?"

          Katryn looked puzzled for a moment then shook her head. "No. I think I’ve completely recovered from her."

          "Oh, so..." Chip’s voice died. She had the sense that she was missing half the conversation.

          "Is HQ really so down on affairs between rangers?"

          "Only if it gets serious." Chip gestured towards the room. "It’s a safe bet several of the women here will..." Half way through the sentence the implications of Katryn’s question caught up with Chip’s brain. She stumbled through the last few words. "er... wake up in each... other’s beds... tomorrow."

          Chip averted her face while her mind scrambled through memories of the last few days, trying to work out who Katryn might be referring to. Had anyone been receiving extra attention from Katryn, or spending more time with her? Or was Katryn speaking hypothetically ...reverting to a previous topic as a way to avoid what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.

          "But it all gets a bit trickier between a sergeant and a lower rank?"

          Katryn’s words were devoid of emphasis, but they hit Chip like a sledgehammer. She scoured the people standing at the bar, trying to recall exactly where they’d been positioned a few minutes earlier. She had thought Katryn was staring at the local woman ...but where had Kim been standing?

          It figures ...the two best looking women in the squadron. The thought shot through Chip’s head, followed by, I can cope with it... easy... all I have to do is first saw my own head off with blunt knife and it won’t bother me in the slightest.

          "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said." Katryn’s voice recalled Chip from her stunned silence. On the other side of the room the singers broke into another, even bawdier song. Katryn gestured in their direction. "Why don’t we go and join in?"

          "Er... yeah... sure." Chip felt dazed. She turned her head and found herself staring deep into Katryn’s eyes.

          Katryn blushed and dropped her gaze. "Look... I know the rules... I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Please, forget I spoke. I won’t mention it again." She gave a weak smile, then rose from her chair.

          "That’s okay." Chip stood and followed across the room, frowning. Her confusion mushroomed ...just exactly what had Katryn been saying? Chip’s eyes dropped to the empty tankard in her hands. Might the better question be, just how much had she herself drunk?

          Chapter nineteen - An old story

          March was easily Chip’s least favourite month. The weather was utterly unpredictable and unstable. A thaw could set in, only to be overwhelmed by blizzards the next day. The one thing you could guarantee was mud. It was also the month when the snow-lions were at their most dangerous, from a human point of view - once the spadehorns started dropping their calves the lions would be far more deadly to the young herbivores than they ever were to domestic stock and women. By April the snow would be in retreat, taking the lions with it, but in March there were snow-lions and mud.

          Chip was mumbling curses at the weather as she crossed the main square in Eastford. The collar of her cloak was turned up and the brim of her hat was pulled down to keep the stinging sleet off her face. Her eyes were fixed on the flagstones, watching for icy patches. She collided with a figure in black who was similarly scurrying, head down, across the storm-blown square.

          Chip started to apologise before she recognised the other woman. "Lieutenant Sanchez."

          "Sergeant Coppelli." The militiawoman responded.

          "What brings you to Eastford?"

          "Only regional business." Sanchez made as if to move on. Neither wanted to hang about in the open and chat. Then she stopped and asked, "Have you thought of anything about Ellis’s murder?"

          "A few bits and pieces." Chip started to back away as the sleet increased in intensity. "I’m at the Three Barrels. If you’ve got time come and find me and we’ll discuss it."

          "I’ll do that." Sanchez shouted before she turned and hurried off.

          **********

          It was just after dinner when the militia lieutenant made good her promise. Chip was lounging by the open fire when she saw Sanchez come in, shaking the water off her cape. In mid-afternoon the sleet had changed to rain, but it would probably be back to snow by morning. Chip called out and waved Sanchez over. The barmaid had a drink ready for the militiawoman even before she had sat down at the table.

          "Very nice." Sanchez said smiling. "I can see Central are going to have to beg to get you to go back."

          "It’s going to be like turfing an old dog out of her kennel." Chip agreed.

          They both took a taste of their drinks, and then Sanchez became more businesslike. "You said you had some information about the murder of Ellis."

          "Remember you said, if I could tell you how it was done, then you could tell me the motive?"

          "Yes - and I was totally serious."

          "I think I can provide methods for quite a few people."

          "Go on then." Sanchez said, her eagerness showing through her smile.

          Chip went through her ideas. Even before she had got to the end she could tell Sanchez had problems with what she was saying, however the lieutenant let her finish, then she leant forward and said, "I hate to tell you this but?"

          "There’s something I don’t know." Chip finished the line for her. "Okay, tell me."

          "The riverside path. Rain in our area is pretty constant throughout the year, but in winter it gets locked up as snow and the level of the river drops. You saw the river at its lowest. In summer, when the murder happened, the river was a good metre higher." Sanchez pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You could still get to the end of the alleyway, and maybe a third of the way along, but the middle part is the lowest. It’s still wadeable, but the murderer would have been spotted if she’d gone back to the tavern with soaked to the waist. On top of that there’s broken glass cemented onto the top of the wall. It’s not visible from the ground, but anyone who tried climbing over would get cut to ribbons."

          Chip sunk down in her chair. "So it’s Takeda then." she said softly.

          "That was what I was getting to. Obvious really? I should have thought of it myself."

          Chip frowned. "The trouble is she doesn’t seem to have either the personality or the reason to murder Ellis."

          Sanchez placed a forefinger on either side of her drink. Her face was pensive as she twisted the tankard around. "Okay then, for my side of the bargain. The motive?" The frown of her forehead deepened and then she looked up at Chip. "It’s part of an old story. Have you heard about the outlaw called the Mad Butcher, and what happened to the 12th, fourteen years back?"

          "There was a massacre."

          "Right. And did you know that Takeda’s older sister was one of the rangers who died?"

          "No."

          "The family comes from Eastford. Takeda’s mothers have a blacksmith’s forge on the other side of the river. By ranger policy both her and her sister would have been assigned to Eastern Division, so it isn’t that much of a coincidence they both went to the same squadron and, of course, her older sister was dead by the time Takeda joined." Sanchez stared into the nearby fire, musing. "I’ve known both sisters, not terribly well, but enough to talk to. They’re completely different personalities. Takeda is serious and intense and painfully conscientious. She’ll end up in divisional staff, pushing paper around. Her sister was more of a typical ranger?"

          "Loud, reckless and brazen?" Chip suggested.

          "Your words, not mine." Sanchez smiled. "She was also, in my opinion, the less bright of the two by quite a wide margin. However Takeda worshiped her older sister. I’m sure that’s why she followed her into the rangers." She paused. "I guess you’re wondering where this is going?"

          Chip shrugged by way of an answer.

          "If you’ve been told about the massacre, you must have heard someone tipped the Butcher off about the rangers’ plans. Officially we never found out who. However I was one of the people in the militia given the job of trying to find the source of the leak. We didn’t prove it absolutely, too many people we needed to talk to were dead, but Takeda’s sister was right at the top of the list of candidates - not as a deliberate betrayal, most likely unguarded pillow-talk. She wasn’t noted for discretion, and the night before the raid she was in one of the Roadsend taverns, utterly plastered and bragging that the 12th was going to put an end to the Mad Butcher. She was last seen that night in the arms of a local woman who we never identified for certain, but her description matched someone who was later found to be a member the Butcher’s gang. Unfortunately we couldn’t ask the bandit since she wasn’t taken alive." Sanchez sighed. "And that’s where it was left. A decision was made higher up that no purpose would be served by naming the guilty party. It wouldn’t bring the dead back, and Takeda’s sister had paid for her mistake. By all accounts she played a hero’s part in the fighting, holding off three bandits single handed, giving the few surviving rangers the chance to escape. For the sake of her family, HQ wanted her to be remembered like that."

          "Did Ellis know this?" Chip asked.

          "Yes, though she didn’t admit it. Believe it or not, she and Takeda’s sister were friends. Ellis was a much nicer person before she became a sergeant. She was in the tavern that night and saw the woman in question. We asked her to identify the bandit’s body. I was there. Ellis hardly bothered to look. Just a quick glance then she turned around and said it wasn’t the same woman."

          "She was protecting her friend’s memory?"

          "That was the feeling I got."

          Chip considered the information in relation to the murder. "So? what I think you’re implying is that there was a lot of friction between Takeda and Ellis. Ellis was being unpleasant about the ranger in the lock-up, and there was the affair of the woman killed by lions. We know they argued about something on the day Ellis was killed. You think, as part of the argument, Ellis threatened to disclose what she knew about Takeda’s sister?"

          Sanchez nodded. "Takeda can be cold. One of the few things she is violently passionate about is her heroic dead sister. She’s thumped people in the past for jokes she saw as bad taste."

          "You think she’d kill to preserve her sister’s reputation?"

          "Oh yes."

          "So we’ve got motive and opportunity." Chip said slowly. "All we need now is proof."

          Sanchez drained the end of her drink and stood up to go. "True? and that’s always the tricky one."

          **********

          The Old Ford Inn was the most luxurious lodging house in Eastford. Its solid timber frontage opened directly onto the main square opposite the temple. It was where senior officers were billeted, Captain LeCoup among them. The captain had a small suite to herself, including a audience room where she held briefings. Chip looked around at the cushioned chairs, the wine decanter, the remains of the extensive dinner that had been served in the room. All things considered it was very unfair that LeCoup hadn’t given her an award, rather than an ear-bashing, for wrangling the posting to Eastford.

          Chip hitched herself up onto a window sill. With the strong sunlight falling on the back of her neck she could close her eyes and imagine it was summer. Ash O’Neil came to stand beside her, looking out across the square at the crisp blue sky behind the row of roof-tops. All trace of snow had gone. In mid-March the weather had improved dramatically. In the space of a day it had gone from winter to spring and stayed there. With the beginning of April the string of emergencies had dwindled to nothing, and for the first time since January all four patrols were back in Eastford.

          "Now do believe me that we’ve seen the last of winter?" Ash asked, teasing.

          "I believed you when you said it two weeks back. I just didn’t know how you could be so sure." Chip replied without opening her eyes.

          "The fenbucks. They were moving to their summer grazing." Ash’s voice was edging into self-parody. "Of course the question is, how did they know it was more than a short thaw?"

          "Presumably no-one has ever told them, ‘early winter, late spring’. Which, I must admit, was what I’d been expecting. I’d thought we were going to be chasing around like blue-arsed flies right up until the day we returned to Fort Krowe."

          "And I had you marked down as an optimist."

          The door of the room opened and Captain LeCoup came in with Lieutenant Ritche at her shoulder. All four sergeants moved to adopt more formal positions, however LeCoup immediately indicated they could stay as they were.

          "It’s just a recap session. I’ve got to produce a full report and I want you to jog my memory - general impressions, things like that. You can be honest; I’ll censor out anything that should stay off-the-record."

          Chip could not restrain a grin at the thought of LeCoup as a guardian of propriety. She stared down at the floor, judging it safest not to try to catch anyone else’s eye.

          LeCoup went on. "Eastern Division are having their annual officers’ briefing. It starts tomorrow. Either the captain or lieutenant will be here from each squadron. They’ll be sorting out postings for the next year, and filling each other in on items of note. They want the 23rd to have an input - anything anyone’s noticed that might be of use. So? what do we tell them?"

          The debate started slowly but soon warmed up. After two and half months there was a fair bit of information to pass on to the Eastern squadrons; unfinished business, worrying signs there had not been the time to pursue further, gossip from farmers which was worth re-checking. It was nearly an hour before everyone was finished. LeCoup wound up the meeting. "Okay, I’ll try and knock all this into shape. One last thing before you go; by this evening, I want everyone to send me a full list of anything lost, damaged or used up. I’m sure Central will want to try putting in a bill for it."

          As Chip slipped down from the window ledge LeCoup caught her eye. "Sergeant Coppelli. Can you hang on a minute. I want a word." Chip felt her stomach clench in reflex, however the captain did not look angry, and once they were alone LeCoup adopted a casual stance. "How have you been doing on your hunt for the murderer?"

          "Mixed luck." Chip replied, relaxing. "I was talking to Lieutenant Sanchez from the Roadsend militia a short while back. We’re pretty sure we know who did it, but proving it is a lot harder."

          "And it’s not Private Nagata?"

          "No ma’am."

          "Anything I can do to help?"

          Chip hesitated. It was too good an offer to turn down. "Another visit to Roadsend might help. I’m not sure what I’ll find, but it’s the best place to look."

          "Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Dismissed."

          "Thank you ma’am."

          Chip headed across town, feeling both pleased and anxious. LeCoup’s intervention was encouraging, but it served to remind her that she was running out of time. In two weeks the period of secondment to Eastern would end. If she couldn’t get the evidence to prove Takeda’s guilt by then she would have to give up.

          Back at the Three Barrels she picked Katryn to help with taking the inventory of lost stock. It gave a chance to talk over everything again. What they needed was a witness to the argument between Ellis and Takeda or, failing that, proof Ellis knew Takeda’s sister was the one responsible for the disaster. No new ideas had occurred to either of them by the time they’d finished the inventory.

          Katryn trotted across the square towards the Old Ford Inn, carrying the list of items. The sun had dropped behind the rooftops and already torches framed the entrance to the inn. The wind was picking up and an icy bite had returned to the air. Racing to get out of the cold, Katryn leapt up the steps and collided in the doorway with another woman in ranger’s uniform.

          The single star of a lieutenant’s badge was the first thing to register. "Sorry, ma’am." Katryn blurted out, snapping to attention even before she had recognised Bergstrom’s face. The two of them stared at each other. Katryn dropped her eyes. "I’m sorry ma’am, I wasn’t looking where I was going."

          Bergstrom looked flustered but quickly collected herself. "Be more careful in future." Her voice was as sharp as her gaze.

          "Yes, ma’am." Katryn said. She looked at Bergstrom’s back as it retreated. The lieutenant had seemed startled rather than surprised; Katryn guessed Jan had let people know she was in the 23rd. She wondered how much else had been said.

          **********

          Chip and Katryn returned to the inn later that night. Probably Bergstrom knew nothing of use to them. However she was one of the few survivors of the massacre, and Chip wanted to take the opportunity to try and see what information could be had. It was not going to be easy. Not only did Chip have no authority to question a senior officer, but she also did not want to mention Takeda or her sister by name.

          The room allocated to Bergstrom was on the upper floor of a wing overlooking the courtyard. Katryn went with Chip as far as the lobby at the top of the stairs, but decided not to join in the interview with her former lieutenant. Chip walked the last few metres alone and knocked on the door.

          Immediately a voice bid her enter. Bergstrom sat at a table littered with dispatches. "What is it?" Her tone was peeved. She was obviously not pleased by what she was reading.

          Chip snapped smartly to attention. "Excuse me ma’am. Would it be convenient for you to talk to me?"

          "I can spare ten minutes." Bergstrom said, putting down the sheet she had been holding.

          "Thank you, ma’am." Chip paused briefly, adopting a more relaxed stance. "I think you are aware that Private Nagata is now in the 23rd?" Bergstrom nodded. "She is a member of my patrol. I heard about the incidents in the 12th and why she left. Naturally I was concerned, and I have been trying to see if I can get to the bottom of it."

          "Lieutenant Sanchez in Roadsend would be a better person to talk to than me. If you can’t get to meet her I’m sure she would send you a report."

          "Yes ma’am, actually I’ve spoken to her already. As an offshoot to our conversation I’ve become interested in the events concerning the massacre of the 12th by the outlaw known as the Mad Butcher."

          The effect on Bergstrom was instantaneous. Her eyes narrowed and she sat up straighter, however her voice remained neutral. "In what way?"

          Chip picked her words cautiously, she did not want to be the one to mention Takeda’s name. "Apparently someone slipped a warning to the gang. I wonder if you had any idea who it was?"

          "Why? What makes you think I have anything more to say? I told everything I knew at the time." The defensive edge to Bergstrom’s voice was unmistakable.

          "It’s just that you were there. You knew the other survivors and those who died. Even if you don’t have anything more to say on your own account, I wondered whether you thought Sergeant Ellis might have known the identity of the informer?" Chip tried to keep the situation calm. Too late she had remembered Bergstrom had been the target of ridicule from Ellis on the subject of the battle.

          "Sergeant Ellis? Exactly what are you getting at?"

          "I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t want to be too blunt; but I think I know who leak the information. I wondered if there was anything you could add?"

          Bergstrom leapt to her feet. "No. I don’t know what you’re implying and I don’t see the relevance of this to Sergeant Ellis’s death. If you have looked into things at all you will know I never talked to the woman more than I could help, certainly not about..."

          It was time to retreat. "Then I’m sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am."

          Bergstrom continued to glare as Chip backed out of the room. Just as she reached for the door handle the lieutenant spoke again, her voice clipped. "Sergeant. If you start spreading gossip and accusations I will ensure it is treated as a severe disciplinary matter. Do you understand?"

          "Yes ma’am." Chip escaped. With the door shut she let out a deep breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

          "How did it go?" Katryn asked.

          Chip groaned by way of answer.

          "What happened?"

          "She threatened me with disciplinary action."

          "Over what?"

          "Come on. Lets get away from here." Chip indicated with her thumb. Once they were on the stairs she continued, speaking quietly. "Bergstrom is very, very touchy about the affair. I guess years of Ellis accusing her of cowardice have left a permanent scar. Maybe she thought I was going to dredge the whole thing up again. She might even have thought I was implying she killed Ellis because of the jeering. She certainly took it personally. We didn’t get anywhere near to discussing Takeda." At the bottom of the stairs was a door to the outside. Chip pushed it open and stepped into the courtyard. She stopped to gather her thoughts. Her eyes fixed on the glittering display of stars in the cold night sky. "I’m sure it was her sister who tipped off the Butcher, but we need real proof that will stand up in a court martial."

          Katryn waited beside her. "And what are our chances of getting that?"

          Chip pursed her lips. "I need to go to Roadsend. Fortunately Captain LeCoup has promised to send me there before we finish our time with Eastern. Maybe I can talk to Quartermaster Adebeyo and look through the militia records. We’re so close to making our case we can’t stop now." Chip’s eyes carried across the sky. Directly over her head was the window of Bergstrom’s room, slightly ajar despite the cold. She sighed. Talking to the lieutenant had been a total waste of time. "Let’s get back to the Three Barrels and warm up."

          **********

          Katryn laid her cards on the table and scooped the small pile of coins. The others at the table expressed good-natured resignation. One of the rangers swept up the cards and moulded them into a neat pack which she rapped on the table. "Are you going to give us a chance to get it back?"

          "I thought I’d quit while I was ahead and use my winnings to buy everyone a drink." Katryn replied.

          Corporal Lee Horte immediately stretched out her hand to stop the woman who was shuffling the cards. "Don’t distract Katryn when she’s having a good idea."

          There was general laughter. Katryn twisted around in her chair and signalled to the bar-staff. While waiting for someone to come to take the order she listened to the banter of her comrades. She felt happy and relaxed. She was even starting to believe joining the rangers had not been such a horrendous mistake - except at that moment the one aching regret in her life surged to the forefront of her thoughts. Chip had sauntered into the tap-room. Katryn felt her stomach flip over.

          The sergeant wandered over to their table. "Lee, Katryn can I have a quick word with you?" The two of them followed Chip to one side of the room and waited for her to speak. "I’ve just been talking with Captain LeCoup. Eastern Division officers’ meeting finishes today. LeCoup has volunteered C patrol for courier duties. We need two rangers to go to Roadsend and give the lieutenant the report so she knows where she has to go to meet up with her captain and the rest of the squadron - that will be Katryn and me. We also need two rangers to go to Monday Market and pass similar information on to the half of the 19th squadron that’s been stationed there. Finally we need couriers for the 12th at Clemswood."

          "They aren’t one of the split squadrons. Why won’t Bergstrom be taking the message back?" Katryn asked.

          "Apparently she’s been called away to pay her last respects to a relative who’s at death’s door. She went last night as soon as she’d finished giving the report from the 12th." Chip turned to Lee. "I’d like you to be one of the women who goes to Clemswood. You know how we’ve been trying to find out who murdered Katryn’s old sergeant?" Lee nodded, she was aware of most of the facts. "Katryn obviously can’t go, and I really want to talk to Sanchez, but it would be useful to have someone try and pick up gossip from the ordinary rangers."

          "There’s someone called Bo Hassan who’s a great source of stories." Katryn suggested.

          Chip nodded her agreement. "Time the journey so you get to spend an evening there and chat to people. Pick someone from the patrol to go with you - someone nosy but discreet."

          "Find someone nosy but discreet?" Lee repeated slowly, looking pained. "You know, one of the great things about having you as a sergeant is I get such challenging assignments."

          Chapter twenty - The old mill

          "Are you Sergeant Coppelli?" There was little more then a nose visible in the gap below the hood. The girl was lost in layers of what looked like rags although there were possibly a few complete garments among them.

          "Yes."

          "The lady said you'd give me twenty cents if I gave you this." The urchin held up a scrap of paper.

          "The... who?"

          "She didn't say who she was."

          Chip bent down to get a better view of the girl's face. The fidgety eyes told her all she needed to make a guess. "Twenty cents? On top of what she already paid you?" Chip's tone dripped scepticism.

          The urchin shuffled her feet and then gave a broad grin. "Well... no harm me asking, was there?"

          Chip held out her hand for the letter, her curiosity seething to know who had paid a street urchin to act as go-between. Who even knew she was in Roadsend? "Okay, but there's ten cents in it if you describe the woman and tell me when and where you met her."

          "Just an ordinary farmer. I think I've seen her around once or twice on market days. Don't know where she's from. She came up to me five minutes ago when I was standing over there." The girl held out a grubby finger. "Said you were in the militia building and I was to give this to you when you came out."

          "She described me?"

          "She said you were a sergeant in the 23rd. I could tell it was you from the three bars on your badge."

          Chip dug a coin out of her purse and flipped it over. The young girl caught it deftly and scampered away. Chip opened the folded sheet and read:

          Sergeant Coppelli

          I know what you are after and have information that I think will help you. I can meet you at sunset tonight at the old mill, three kilometres out of town on the Clemswood road. Private Nagata will know where it is.

          There was no signature at the bottom. Chip didn't expect one. She looked down the street in the direction the girl had gone, but there was no point going after her. Even if she found the child again Chip was sure there was nothing more to be gained. Whoever had written the note wanted to keep her identify hidden, else why bother with the go-between, or the obscure rendezvous? That the unknown woman felt the need to go to such lengths was nearly as much of a mystery as the message itself.

          Who in Roadsend apart from Sanchez knew what she was trying to do? And the lieutenant was not around. Chip had been on her way back from a wasted visit to the militia station when the urchin hailed her. Sanchez was out of town and would not be available until the next morning. Yet not only had the writer of the note claimed to know their objective, she also knew both Chip and Katryn were in Roadsend - knowledge all the more surprising since they had reached the town less then two hours ago and Chip's current excursion was the first time either had set foot outside the barracks.

          The back of Chip's neck tingled as her thoughts moved further on. The writer had also known she was in the militia station, which could only have been found out by following her. Chip scoured the street. The person might well be watching her now. In fact she almost certainly was - how else could she be sure the urchin carried out her errand? There was no way to single the writer out from the crowds. It was a deeply unsettling idea. Chip turned on her heel and marched back to the barracks.

          **********

          Chip and Katryn arrived at the old mill an hour early and hid in woods overlooking the river, hoping to see the unknown note-writer arrive. However she was either there before them or not coming. As the sun dropped below the horizon it was time for Chip and Katryn to make their minds up about whether to go ahead with the rendezvous.

          "I'm not happy about this." It was the third time Katryn had expressed the view.

          "Neither am I." Chip's eyes bored into the deserted building, as if hoping to see through the ancient timber walls. The conversation had been travelling in the same circle ever since she got back to the barracks. The set-up was too convoluted to be a joke. The best guess was that the woman was a survivor of the Butcher's gang. The trouble with this conclusion being it was hard to see why she would want to either help catch Ellis's murderer or inform against Takeda's sister. "I wish I knew where she got her information about us and I wish I knew why she has to play these games. However, most of all I want to know what she has to tell us, and the only way we'll find out is by talking to her."

          "As long as it isn't a trap."

          Chip frowned. She shared Katryn's doubts. The offer of information was too good to turn down. It was also too good to be trusted. Chip drew her sword and pushed her cloak back from her shoulders to leave her arms free. "One way or another it's going to give us answers. We have to go in, but very carefully, and we watch each other's back."

          Katryn nodded and pulled an arrow from her quiver. The two of them slipped out of the trees. The overgrown path took them down towards the river. There was no sound as they approached except for the gushing of water along the mill-race and the piercing cries of birds returning to their roosts. A short flight of steps lead up to the doorway. At the top they stopped. The door itself had fallen in - or been kicked down.

          While Katryn kept her attention on the surrounding hillside Chip slipped around the threshold, straining her eyes against the gloom inside. The structure appeared generally sound. The ceiling was still intact, as were the floorboards. The millstones were gone, leaving only the huge wooden gears. The stairs to the upper level looked a touch unsafe, but they had probably been in much the same condition when the mill was in use. Chip guessed it had been abandoned for less than a dozen years. Three inner doorways lead to adjoining rooms. There was no sign of the woman they had come to meet.

          Chip was just starting to think the note had been a practical joke (although Sanchez did not seem the type and it was difficult to see who else might have played it) when she saw a faint light coming from one of the back rooms. "I think our friend is here." she whispered to Katryn.

          Chip moved away from the door, still keeping her back to the wall. Katryn followed, the arrow nocked on her bowstring. As Chip's eyes adjusted to the dim light the glow from the inner room seemed a little brighter, yet it was obvious the candle or lantern was being shielded in some way. They edged around the walls. Finally Chip stepped though the inner doorway. Again she found herself in an empty room, however now she could see that the light was emanating from an open trapdoor in the floor.

          Katryn stood guard while Chip knelt by the hatch and peered in. The opening was a good metre square, large enough for flour sacks carried across shoulders to pass through easily. Stairs lead down to a cellar, two-thirds underground. A window was high on one wall, squeezed in just below the ceiling. The glass had all gone but thick iron bars remained; vines and branches poked through. Rotting straw and empty sacks littered part of the floor. The candle was in a holder on the wall. The only furniture was a battered table pushed against the far wall and a stool. Sitting on the stool was a hunched figure, bundled in layers of rags like the street urchin. The woman showed no sign of moving, possibly she was old and hard of hearing, possibly she was asleep. Chip began to descend the staircase, placing each foot to land as silently as she could manage.

          At the bottom of the stairs Chip paused and glanced up. Katryn was standing to one side of the opening, her eyes trained on the outer room. Chip turned her attention to the woman at the bench.

          "Hey!" Katryn's sudden cry broke the silence.

          Chip's head shot up. Katryn was staring to raise her bow, but before it was half drawn Chip heard the familiar twang of a bowstring. Katyrn flung herself sidewards, landing sprawled across the trap opening.

          Chip leapt for the stairs. There was the thud of a projectile striking wood. In a calm, logical corner of her mind Chip registered that the arrow was therefore not lodged in Katryn. Chip's foot hit the first stair at the same moment that the sound of running footsteps reverberated through the mill. Katryn was struggling to avoid falling down the stairs. She had one leg pulled in through the hatch, hunting for footing. Her elbows were fighting for purchase on the edge of the hatchway.

          Chip's second foot hit the stair. Katryn was twisting, starting to rise when above her appeared another figure, dressed in a ranger's uniform, drawn sword in hand.

          "Katryn look out" Chip shouted.

          Katryn abandoned her battle with the hatchway. She tumbled back through the opening, dropping away from the downward swinging arc of the sword. Halfway down the stairs she collided with Chip. Katryn ended up sprawled on the earthen floor. Chip fared a little better, but even before she had regained her balance there was the crash of the trapdoor slamming shut and the unmistakable sound of a bolt being driven home. Then there was silence.

          Katryn scrambled to her feet. They both stared up at the closed hatchway and then at the seated figure - unbelievably she had not stirred. Chip crossed the floor and reached out to shake the woman's shoulder. At her touch the figure slumped sideways. Chip's initial horrified thought that the woman was dead lasted no more than a second, until the rags dropped away to reveal a sack stuffed with straw.

          "What game are they at?" Katryn asked, bewildered.

          "I don't know, but we're playing it by my rules once we get out." Chip's voice was grim. She returned to the stairs, climbing high enough so she could push experimentally against the hinged flap. It showed no sign of moving, but the wood was old and cracked. "I think we can get through but it will mean using my sword like an axe."

          "Use mine. I've got less use for it."

          Chip nodded while she continued to examine the timber, deciding on the best point of attack.

          "Chip, move!" Katryn screamed.

          Chip flung herself off the stairs and hit the ground rolling. An arrow thudded into the wooden frame at the spot where she'd been crouched. Chip's momentum took her back up to her knees. Her eyes darted around the cellar. There was nowhere to hide. The open-treads of the stairs offered no protection. There was just one option.

          Katryn was a step ahead of her. By the time Chip reached the table Katryn had grabbed the edge and thrown it on its side. The two of them jerked it round so it faced the window, its legs touching the opposing wall. Chip spared a look for the candle - darkness would make them less of a target, but there was no time, already she could hear the soft creak of the bow being drawn again. Chip dived over the top of the table. Katryn was beside her an instant later as a second arrow struck the wall above their heads and rebounded back onto the floor. Small flakes of stone rained down on them.

          The space was cramped. It took a bit of squirming before they were both half-lying side by side, keeping as low as possible, shoulders against the wall and knees drawn up against the underside of the table. For a long time everything was very quiet. Then there was the sound of footsteps on the floorboards directly overhead. Chip cautiously peered around the edge of the table. She caught the glint of candle light on an arrow poking through the window, and pulled her head back. There was more than one attacker. The footsteps stopped by the trapdoor and a voice rang out.

          "Sergeant Coppelli?" There was a pause. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, but you've given me no choice."

          Chip and Katryn stared at each other in amazement, both at the words and at recognising Lieutenant Bergstrom's voice.

          "Are you hoping for me to say I accept your apology?" Chip shouted back at last.

          "No, of course not." Bergstrom had missed the irony. "I just wanted to ask how you worked out it was my sister who tipped off the gang." When Chip said nothing Bergstrom continued. "I've spent years in fear, thinking it would come out. I was just starting to relax when you came around, threatening me. I was right, wasn't I? You were hoping to rattle me into admitting something? And I heard what you said in the courtyard afterwards. How did you know?"

          Chip covered her face with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. What she had missed - or blundered into? Her hands dropped. Bluff might be the best way of getting answers. "We got lucky with some old reports. The only thing we weren't sure of was the extent of your sister's involvement with the Butcher."

          "Oh yes. Fran, my shit-head little sister." Bergstrom said bitterly. "Please, you've got to believe me, if I'd known she was going to pass the warning on I'd never have told her. I'd have let her die with the other scum - like she deserved."

          "Hey." The anger in the shout from the window allowed Chip to make a fair guess at the identity of the archer.

          Bergstrom ignored the complaint and went on. "I guess it was obvious mum would prefer Fran, seeing how she's her birth-daughter... especially since my birth-mother walked out, but..." She broke off, sudden pain tearing her voice. "I'd have done anything to please mum, but it was always Fran, Fran, Fran - like the sun shone out of her arse... spoilt brat. When I was in the militia I knew Fran was mixing with the wrong people - like it was a game. I tried to shield her for mum's sake, though it stuck in my gullet. I joined the rangers partly to get away. But first posting and I was back in Roadsend again. Then we had the briefing about the raid on the Butcher's hideout. If Fran had been killed it would have broken mum's heart. But I swear, I never thought the silly bitch would pass the warning on."

          "Oh, come on. They were my friends." Bergstrom's sister at the window was goaded into speaking up. "And, like you, I never thought they'd try ambushing the squadron. I thought they'd just run and hide. Once I knew what the Butcher was planning I was out of there. She thought if she gave the rangers a bloody nose they'd leave her alone. I knew Fort Krowe would hunt her to the ends of the earth. That's why I went straight into town and made myself very conspicuous the whole time the ambush was happening."

          "And left me and the rest of the squadron to walk into it."

          It was an old and very bitter argument. Chip pinched the bridge of her nose in despair. But at least she could almost tie up the whole story. She raised her voice. "So what about Ellis?"

          "Ellis!" Bergstrom spat put the name. "What do you want to know? She saw me panic when the fighting started and I realised it was my fault. I was blabbering away. Ellis was always holding it over me, and she was getting worse after Fitz's death and Dolokov told her she wouldn't be allowed to re-enlist. I guess she felt she had nothing to lose." There was the sound of footsteps from above. Bergstrom was moving again. "I wasn't sorry at her death, but I'll be sorry about yours. I never ever meant for any decent rangers to die."

          The footsteps receded. Chip followed their progress until they left the mill, but she didn't dare assume the archer at the window had also gone. From Bergstrom's final words it was clear the renegade lieutenant was determined to kill them both. Chips gaze moved on to the candle, considering her chances of extinguishing it. But, even with the candle out, there would be little gain. If they started hacking at the trapdoor Bergstrom's sister wouldn't need light to know where to send the arrow. Katryn's bow lay on the ground near the foot of the stairs. Again, getting it was not worth the risk involved. There was not room behind the table for Katryn to draw the bow without making a target of herself.

          Chip's examination of the room ended with Katryn. For the first time she noticed the blood soaking the shoulder of Katryn's jacket. "You're hurt!"

          Katryn glanced down, as if previously unaware of it. "Just a flesh wound. The arrow nicked my arm."

          "Let me see."

          "It's not a priority."

          "We might as well do something while we wait for Bergstrom to set fire to the mill."

          "You think that's what she's going to do?"

          "It's what I'd do in her place."

          Katryn looked up at the locked trapdoor. "We aren't in a very good position, are we?"

          Chip gave a humourless laugh. "Not really. But we might get lucky, and our chances will be better with your arm bandaged."

          Katryn nodded and slipped her shoulder out of her jacket. The arrow had sliced a deep gash. Blood was still flowing, but it was not a serious injury. Chip took the field-dressing from the pouch on her belt to bind the gapping wound.

          Katryn leaned her head back against the wall. "I suppose you don't have any of the healer-gift?" She spoke with her eyes closed.

          "The barest residual trace. We were all tested. Prudence is the best in my family, and she can't do much more than cure a headache. How about you?"

          "The same. My sister had a bit more than me. I wouldn't have trusted her with a headache though."

          Chip finished tying the knot and helped Katryn back into her jacket. She looked up. Katryn's face was in profile in the candlelight. Chip opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. Then she set her jaw - in the circumstances there was no point holding back. Hopefully Katryn would take it as a compliment, rather than an unwelcome additional trial. "Your sister... you know... if your ex-partner left you for her, your sister must be really something."

          "She's something all right."

          "I mean... what I meant is... I like you a lot... and I... just wanted you to know that." Chip's voice failed her, but she had probably said enough She braced herself for a rebuff.

          "I know." Katryn slowly rolled her head around to meet Chip's eyes. Astonishingly she was smiling sadly. "You're not so bad yourself."

          Very deliberately Katryn reached out to interlace her fingers with Chip's. She raised their joined hands to her lips and kissed each of Chip's knuckles in turn.

          "Oh, shit." Chip gasped.

          Katryn looked up, a slightly quizzical expression on her face.

          Chip managed a sickly grin. "I'm sorry... it's what Kim is always telling me... my line in sweet-talking need polishing."

          Katryn's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. She pressed the back of Chip's hand to her cheek. Chip watched her in amazement, trying to think of something else to say. "Er... my timing could stand some improvement as well. This is one of those rare occasions where lifelong commitment might not count for as much as a one night stand."

          "You think we have no chance?"

          "We're rangers and we're still breathing. Of course we stand a chance."

          Katryn moved their joined hands to her lap. She stared at the intertwined fingers pensively. "Bergstrom's taking her time with the fire."

          "Maybe she has other plans."

          "Such as?"

          "I don't know, we need to think. See if we can out-manoeuvre her. It's our only hope." Chip lifted her eyes to the floorboards above them. Her heart was pounding. The feel of Katryn's hand made rational thought almost impossible.

          "Well, if not, it's been nice knowing you. Thanks for believing me."

          The depth in Katryn's voice pulled Chip's gaze back down. Their eyes met and locked. Then Katryn leaned forward and kissed Chip, slowly and very softly. It wasn't the situation for passion, however the tenderness in Katryn's kiss flooded through Chip. Their mouths moulded together, wordlessly expressing both promises and regrets. At last Katryn shifted back to her original position. All the time she kept their hands clasped.

          Chip stared at Katryn, her mind reeling. Of all the responses she had anticipated this had been this very last on the list. She didn't know whether to cry with despair or joy. The chances of either of them seeing sunrise the next day did not look good, but Katryn had admitted feeling some affection for her. And at least, if she was going to die, it would be nice to go out holding Katryn's hand.

          **********

          It was well past midnight. The candle had long since burnt down, but the full orb of Hardie was now low enough in the sky to shine square through the barred window of the cellar. The bands of brilliant moonlight lay across the earthen floor. There was no sound except for two sets of soft even breathing, echoing off the stone walls. Then came the faint scratching of the bolt being eased back and the sigh of seeping air as the trapdoor was carefully lifted.

          Bergstrom peered down into the cellar. From the hatchway there was a clear view of the two huddled figures behind the table, wrapped in grey cloaks, with wide-brimmed rangers' hats pulled down over their eyes. The moonlight was bright enough to catch a hint of the green in the jackets underneath. Neither figure moved, nor did the gentle breathing falter. Bergstrom beckoned her sister Francesca over. It was a small sop to her conscience that she would not be the one to end the lives of her blameless fellow rangers. Francesca looked at her targets and nocked an arrow. She drew back, bracing her hand under her chin and touching lips and nose to the string. There was a moment to take aim, not that it required much effort at such close range, then she loosed the shot. The arrow struck fully into the breast of the figure furthest away. It keeled over from the impact. The other shape in grey shifted slightly but showed no sign of waking. A few seconds later Francesca's second arrow thudded into the remaining figure. A shudder ran though it, then it slumped down slightly further into the shadow behind the table. The breathing stopped.

          Bergstrom realised her hands were moist and shaking, but it was over. She brushed her palms dry on her thighs and stepped onto the stairs, her eyes fixed on the motionless shapes below. Francesca followed her down. The pair of them crossed the cellar to the upturned table and looked down. It took a few heartbeats for them to identify the figures as two sacks of straw wrapped in grey cloaks. Before either could react there was the sound of movement behind them.

          "You know, us falling for the stuffed bag trick was bad enough, but you can't even claim you'd had no warning." Chip's voice rang out.

          Bergstrom and her sister spun around to see Katryn and Chip standing in the shadows under the stairs. Chip held her knife and sword. Katryn had an arrow nocked and her bow three-quarters drawn. Chip carried on. "But I'm glad you put in an appearance. It's a bit cold, standing here without our cloaks and jackets."

          "But... I heard... they were breathing." Francesca blurted out.

          "We heard echoes, and told ourselves they were coming from where we expected." Bergstrom said harshly, cutting off her sister's mumbling.

          Chip inclined her head to agree with Bergstrom's statement. "So... are you going to surrender nicely?"

          It was a reasonable suggestion. Francesca did not even have an arrow to hand and Bergstrom's sword was still sheathed. Katryn could drop one of them before they had a chance to move, leaving the other to fight two against one. Francesca looked stunned, but she reached the inevitable conclusion and tossed her useless bow aside, however Bergstrom backed away to the furthest corner of the cellar.

          "You know I can't do that. And there's no point. I'm not going to be dragged through a court martial, just to provide entertainment when I'm strung up by the neck. I..." Her composure started to unravel. "I never meant any of this to happen. I wanted to be a good ranger. I've really tried over the years to make amends. I'd have a perfect record if it wasn't for her..." Bergstrom's hand jerked in her sister's direction. "Mum's little darling. I wreaked it all for her and she never once said thank-you. And mum... she didn't..." Bergstrom's voice choked away. In a fluid movement she whipped her sword out from the scabbard. "Tell everyone I'm sorry."

          The others in the cellar realised a second too late what Bergstrom intended. Before any could move Bergstrom had flipped the sword around and pressed the point to her chest. One hand grasped the hilt. With the other she clutched the tip and pressed it against her heart. She pitched forward, dropping like a felled tree. Insanely, the thought to shoot through Chip's head was, She's going to cut her fingers. Then Bergstrom crashed into the ground, the force of the impact driving the point of the sword clear through her body. The bloody blade erupted from her back. Her body twitched once convulsively, and was still.

          "VAL!" Francesca screamed her name, then the echoes died away and there was silence in the cellar.

          Chapter twenty-one - Crossroads

          "Did you get an answer as to why Lieutenant Bergstrom didn’t set fire to the mill?" The ranger asking the question had the three stars of a divisional commander on her shoulder badge.

          Sanchez nodded. "Yes ma’am. It came out when I was questioning her sister. It was part of Lieutenant Bergstrom’s plan to prevent herself becoming a suspect." The militiawoman’s eyes flicked briefly in Katryn’s direction. "Private Nagata’s name had been linked to the murder of her previous sergeant, and Lieutenant Bergstrom knew she was a skilled archer. She also knew Sergeant Coppelli was conducting an unofficial investigation into the murder. For Lieutenant Bergstrom’s plan it was necessary to shoot Sergeant Coppelli, and for Private Nagata to disappear without trace. Bergstrom calculated that if Sergeant Coppelli was found dead from arrow wounds, and Private Nagata vanished, it would be assumed Sergeant Coppelli had obtained proof of her guilt, and that she murdered her accuser before fleeing. The investigation would take the form of a search for Private Nagata - which would doubtless fail as we’d be looking for a fugitive rather than a corpse."

          The divisional commander nodded her head and turned to confer quietly with the officer sitting beside her. In the short lull in questioning Chip let her eyes run around the room. They were in a meeting hall in the divisional headquarters at Eastford. Apart from herself, Katryn and Sanchez, there were also present Captain LeCoup, Lieutenant Ritche and as many members of divisional staff as could wrangle their way into the room. Rumours had been rattling around town ever since the three of them had arrived from Roadend the previous evening. Now was the first of the official inquiry sessions.

          Another of the officers sitting at the front leant forward. "You said earlier that you thought Lieutenant Bergstrom was the one to kill Sergeant Ellis."

          "Yes ma’am." Sanchez replied.

          The major frowned, "I read your original report. As I remember the details it’s hard to see how she could have done so."

          "Sergeant Coppelli has some ideas about that. Perhaps she might be the best one to explain."

          All eyes in the room fixed on Chip. "Sergeant?" The major invited her to speak.

          "Er... yes." Chip quickly marshalled her thoughts. "What I think happened was Lieutenant Bergstrom arranged to meet Sergeant Ellis in the stores. Before we left Roadsend I was able to talk to Quartermaster Adebeyo and she confirmed Lieutenant Bergstrom did leave the room briefly to collect a book from the office. The quartermaster hadn’t mentioned it before because she thought Lieutenant Bergstrom hadn’t been gone long enough to kill Sergeant Ellis. However it would have taken mere seconds to commit the murder. Afterwards Lieutenant Bergstrom hid Sergeant Ellis’s empty knife belt inside her jacket, and rejoined the quartermaster. As the officer in charge of the barracks she knew she’d be called as soon as the body was discovered, giving her the chance to initiate the search to discover whose knife was missing. It needs to be confirmed with Sergeant Sivarajah, but I’m sure you’ll find Bergstrom sent her to look in the D patrol bunk-house while she herself was left alone to put Private Nagata’s knife in the empty belt and hang it in Sergeant Ellis’s room."

          "Yes, of course." the major said in enlightenment. "Did the sister confirm any of this?"

          Sanchez was the one to answer. "No. Apparently the two have hardly spoken for years. All she knew about were the plans for the murder attempt on Sergeant Coppelli and Private Nagata. She was the one who arranged for the message to lure them to the mill."

          The officers at the table conferred again quietly and a staff sergeant was sent to find some old dispatches. The discussion moved on to queries about Val Bergstrom’s precise last words in what was, to Chip’s mind, a rather forlorn attempt to link her to every other unsolved crime of the previous two decades. Night had fallen before everyone had run out of questions.

          The divisional commander concluded the meeting, speaking slowly and sombrely. "I trust this will finally draw a line under the unfortunate events in the 12th. There have been shadows hanging over the squadron for too long. And I think it is owed to Captain Dolokov to have the story first hand, rather than be sent a written dispatch, or worse still, hear it from gossip. Lieutenant Sanchez; would you be able to go with Sergeant Coppelli to Clemswood and give the report in person?" The divisional commander’s voice was just questioning enough to make it sound like a request rather than an order. Although she outranked the lieutenant, the militiawoman fell into a different chain of command.

          "Yes, ma’am." Sanchez agreed.

          "Good. If possible leave tomorrow before the rumours get out... Yes Captain?"

          LeCoup had made a polite bid for attention. "Merely that I think, for completeness, Private Nagata should go as well."

          "Very well." the divisional commander agreed before moving on to other closing remarks.

          As they left the room Chip caught Katryn’s eye, noting the conflicting emotions. Katryn would have to face her ex-comrades, the women who had beaten her for a crime she hadn’t committed - but she would be facing them with proof of her innocence. Many people, probably most, would look forward to it with smug satisfaction. Chip was familiar enough with Katryn to know that wasn’t the way her mind worked. However it would allow Katryn to draw her own, personal line under the events in the 12th. Chip was sure it was the reason LeCoup had asked for Katryn’s inclusion. Chip sometimes suspected that, under her caustic exterior, LeCoup nursed a protective maternal affection for her troops.

          **********

          It was a two day journey to reach the Clemswood barracks. Sanchez, Chip and Katryn planned the overnight stop at a crossroads inn. However, when they reached it just before sunset, they discovered they were not the only ones with the same plan. Three caravans of traders had also arrived that evening. The stables were full and the hubbub from the tap-room threatened to lift the rafters. The harassed inn-keeper regretfully told them there was not even a shared bed to be found in the common room.

          Chip was considering the prospect of sleeping on the floor of the tap-room (and not for the first time in her life) when a local farmer overheard and offered them lodgings for the night. The woman even refused payment. Apparently rangers had removed a pride of snow-lions from her farm that winter and she was eager to repay the debt at the first opportunity - anyone in the green and grey uniform would do.

          In fact the farmer was overeager to please. Her first intention was to turf her entire family out of their beds to give each of her three guests a room to herself. Chip felt it was too much too ask from the geriatric grandmothers and four children - one of them barely old enough to walk. After further debate a straw-stuffed pallet was made up for Sanchez by the hearth. In the cold weather it was an arrangement she had very happy with and, despite her higher rank, it was clearly felt to be quite adequate for a mere member of the militia. However the farmer and her partner could not be dissuaded from giving up their own bed for the two rangers.

          They took a meal at the long table with the farmer’s family and field-hands. The food was hot, plentiful and, for the tail-end of winter, reasonably varied. Afterwards Chip entertained the family with ridiculously exaggerated stories of her exploits. The children listened in open mouthed awe, while the adults enjoyed the joke. Firelight from the hearth glowed over the comfortable farmhouse kitchen, catching its solid wooden furniture and eclectic assortment of farm implements and family heirlooms. A flagon of cider made the rounds. However the evening was not allowed to drag on. The needs of the farm came first, and everyone headed off to their beds at an early hour. The farmer escorted Chip and Katryn up the twisting staircase at the back of the kitchen. The room in the eaves of the house was cosy, with its scrubbed floorboards and bed piled high with blankets and quilt. Their host hung the lantern from a hook on the ceiling and bid them both good-night.

          Once they were alone Chip stood awkwardly in the centre of the room and looked around. There was only the one bed and nowhere else to sleep. It was too cold for the floor to be in the least bit appealing. She looked back to Katryn. Since escaping from the cellar they’d had no chance to talk in private. A couple of times it had seemed that Katryn was deliberately avoiding her. The two nights spent in Eastford had been sandwiched between meetings. On both nights Chip had returned to the Three Barrels late and alone. On both nights she had stopped outside the door to Katryn’s room, but had lacked the courage to knock. Now there was no avoiding the issue.

          Across the room Katryn was sitting on the side of the bed, untying her bootlaces. Chip’s heart was pounding as she remembered holding Katryn’s hand in the cellar and Katryn kissing her fingers - but how much had been meant by it? It could hardly be counted as normal circumstances. Had Katryn merely been distracting herself from what had seemed unavoidable death? Following their return from the mill Katryn had neither said nor done anything to imply she wanted to be reminded of the incident.

          Katryn was keeping her head down, concentrating on her boots. Chip wished she would stop and look up. She wanted to see Katryn’s face, to judge the expression there for a hint of what Katryn was feeling. Was she was feeling anything at all except for tiredness? Or were the bootlaces a deliberate ploy? A way of avoiding eye contact? A signal for Chip to keep her distance?

          Chip cleared her throat. "Um... if you want I’ll sleep on the floor."

          "Why?" Still Katryn did not look up.

          "Because... in the cellar... I said I liked you a lot, and I meant it. And if I’m sharing a bed with you I’m going to find it very hard to get to sleep."

          Katryn froze. Chip waited in agony for the curt rejection or embarrassed evasion. Long seconds passed, then Katryn slipped off her boots and stood up. Her face held a bemused smile. She walked over until she was directly in front of Chip, then reached out and took hold of both sides of Chip’s open jacket. "What on earth makes you think I’m going to want you to sleep?"

          Chip found she was staring deep into Katryn’s eyes. The effect was paralysing, heart-stopping, soul-rending. Chip could feel her legs shaking. Her stomach was bouncing around like a spring lamb. Her arms, her face, her voice would not obey her. She knew she was frozen in the image of a clumsy, brainless oaf - gawking like an adolescent on her first date, yet amazingly Katryn seemed not to notice. Letting go of the jacket she slipped her arms around Chip’s back.

          Chip’s own arms moved with the grace of a string puppet to clasp Katryn. She had the strange impression that the woman she was holding was trembling as much as herself. She twisted her neck back to look at Katryn’s face, and saw the eyelids were closed, and the lips half-open. Chip shut her eyes and met Katryn’s mouth with her own.

          The effect of the kiss ripped through Chip. In an instant her body turned from wood to rubber. Then a crashing wave of pure happiness washed away the panic. Katryn’s tongue softly caressed hers, exploring in the gentlest of invasions, an invitation to reciprocate. Katryn’s arms held her tightly, pressing their bodies together. The sensation engulfed Chip, redefining reality. The world was no longer the way she’d come to expect, but Chip knew she could live with it.

          Eventually Chip pulled away. Katryn stood unmoving, breathing in gasps with her eyes closed, as if she were the one at risk of losing all self control. Chip lowered her head, nuzzling at the smooth skin of Katryn’s throat, but the shaking in her legs returned. She had to lie down while she could still move. Chip stared at the bed. It almost certainly wasn’t quite what the farmer had envisioned in loaning it, but there was no way Chip could stop herself making love to Katryn that night.

          She looked back. Katryn’s breath was faintly visible in the cold air. Chip manage to summon her voice enough to say, "I’d like to take my time and undress you very, very slowly. But this isn’t the weather for it."

          "True." It looked as if it also took Katryn a lot of effort to say the one word.

          Chip let her arms fall and stepped away. Her hands moved to the fastenings on her own clothes, fumbling awkwardly as she loosened them, but her eyes never left Katryn until they were both naked and under the heavy blankets.

          Chip pressed her body against Katryn’s, entwining their legs. She ran her hand up Katryn’s side, feeling the curve of her hip, the furrows of her ribs, the texture of her skin. She cupped a breast, while rubbing circles around the nipple with her thumb.

          Katryn gasped. Her arms tightened around Chip’s shoulders as she rolled onto her back, urging Chip to lie atop of her. Chip did so and the first soft moan of passion escaped Katryn’s lips. Katryn arched her neck, exposing the full length of her throat. Chip burrowed in. With the sensitive skin of her inner lip she explored the jaw-line, tasting salt. Katryn’s hands were running over her back, sweeping down from her shoulders to her hips, pulling their bodies into ever harder contact. Chip’s mouth moved to Katryn’s face, nuzzling her nose, tracing the shape of her eyes and finally joining again with her lips.

          This kiss was longer, deeper, and more searching than the first. At last Chip pulled back and looked down at Katryn. Unexpectedly she was swamped with a deep sense of peace, almost of awe. The last knot of nerves melted away. Never had anything felt so right.

          Chip had been worried that she would fall on Katryn like a starving dog on a bone - but it wasn’t going to be like that. It wasn’t going to be a series of increasingly frantic manoeuvres, a impatient race with an ever-narrowing focus on the target to be found between Katryn’s legs. Chip wanted to slowly explore every square centimetre of Katryn’s body. No one part was the goal. No part was anything less than utterly precious.

          Chip didn’t know how many times she’d had sex, or with how many women - the count had been lost within two years of joining the rangers, but for the first time in her life she was truly going to make love.

          **********

          Katryn was woken the next morning by a knock at the door. She peered over the top of the covers. The room was in darkness. In response to Chip’s call the farmer’s second youngest daughter came in, carrying a jug of hot water in one hand and a candle in the other. The girl lit the lantern and placed the water by the bowl on the dresser. "Breakfast is downstairs whenever you’re ready." The youngster sounded a little in awe of the two rangers. She ducked her head and scampered out.

          Katryn lay in the warmth of the bed, allowing no more than her nose to poke into the cold outside the blankets. Chip’s body was stretched beside her, solid and comforting. Katryn turned her face into Chip’s neck. The unmistakable scent triggered an onslaught of memories - the weight of Chip’s body on top of her; the fullness of Chip’s fingers inside her; holding Chip and watching her face as she climaxed. As the images ran through her mind Katryn felt her breathing again grow ragged.

          The previous night had probably not been wise. Katryn remembered untying her bootlaces, wondering how Chip would want to play things, wondering whether they could go back to the ridged self-discipline imposed by ranger regulations. And then Chip had spoken, offering to sleep on the floor and giving the choice to her - as if Katryn could have responded any other way to the desolate earnestness in Chip’s voice. Now there was just the future left to deal with.

          Katryn closed her eyes and snuggled a little closer to Chip in the warm nest under the covers. She wanted to treasure the next few seconds before the rest of the world took over her life again. She wanted to memorise each detail to hold in her dreams for the nights ahead.

          Chip raised herself on one elbow and traced her fingers lightly over the skin on Katryn’s shoulder. The touch rippled through Katryn’s body, reawakening desire. Katryn opened her eyes. Chip was staring down at her. There was intensity in the gaze, but also nervousness.

          Chip wet her lips. "Um... thanks for last night. I... er... really enjoyed it... and maybe sometime again we could..." Chip’s voice died as the nervousness won out.

          Katryn shook her head. Was Chip trying to suggest they could treat what had happened as merely a night’s sport? Was she hoping they could pretend to the world it wasn’t serious enough to merit attention? "Are you trying to say we can act like this wasn’t important?"

          "Well... I can see it’s important to you as you haven’t been... sleeping with anyone... not since joined the rangers. And I’m pleased you chose me to..." Chip’s eyes fixed unhappily on the pillow by Katryn’s neck.

          Katryn frowned, trying to work out exactly what Chip was trying to say. "Do you think that you’re not important to me?"

          "We’re friends."

          "We’re more than that."

          "Yes, I suppose... at the moment, but I’m not expecting you to want to get serious about it."

          "So what do you think last night meant to me?"

          "I guess you’ve finally hit the rebound from Allison... and that’s good... you can move on. I’m not expecting that you’re going to want to stick with me, I mean... I think I love you but I don’t expect... I know you’re not going to want... and there’s lots of other women... and..."

          Katryn reached out, laying her hand on the side of Chip’s face, stopping her broken sentences. "Chip, I love you with all my heart, and with all my soul, and I know, for the rest of my life, I don’t want anyone else but you."

          To Katryn’s astonishment Chip burst into tears.

          **********

          Lieutenant Sanchez did most of the talking. Dolokov listened in silence, but even the dour captain could not prevent her expression revealing her shock. Once everything had been said she paced across to the window and stood staring out, though by now night had fallen and there was nothing to see except her own reflection in the glass. Eventually she turned back to the three women in the room.

          "Bergstrom was a good lieutenant, or at least she..." Dolokov cut off her words and drew a sharp breath. "I suppose we should call Sergeant Sivarajah in here and confirm your guesswork. It’s too late to hold a briefing now, but I would like to make a full announcement at the dawn parade tomorrow."

          Chip was the one standing closest to the door. She stuck her head out. As she expected both members of the quartermaster’s staff had found reasons to be in the outer office - not that they could have heard anything through the heavy door. "Captain Dolokov would like to speak with Sergeant Sivarajah. Do you know where she might be?"

          The two women exchanged glances before one hurried off. Chip closed the door and waited with the rest for Jan’s arrival. It didn’t take long. Once again Sanchez went through the explanation of Ellis’s death. At the end Jan frowned. "No ma’am. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t like that. We both went to B patrol bunk-house together. I was the one who discovered that Private Nagata’s trail-knife was missing."

          "Could Ellis have made the swap while you weren’t looking?" Chip asked.

          "Street conjurers earn their living from people who don’t realise they’re being distracted." Dolokov added her comments.

          Jan hesitated. "Not from the way I remember it, although your memory can play tricks on you." Despite her words Jan did not look convinced.

          "But if Bergstrom confessed then she must have done it somehow." Dolokov said decisively. She turned formally to Sanchez. "Thank you for coming to tell me this. I’ll let you go now. I’m afraid we don’t have any spare accommodation at the barracks, but you will be able to get rooms at the Golden Goose. Could you arrange to be back here half an hour before the dawn parade tomorrow, in case any other questions occur to me tonight?"

          "Of course, ma’am." Sanchez lead the others out of the room. The curious looks from the quartermaster’s staff followed them out into the parade ground.

          "You’re heading straight to the Golden Goose?" Jan asked.

          "There’s nowhere else we need to go." Chip confirmed.

          "Do you mind if I tag along? I want to try and get things straight in my mind."

          "Sure. I think I’m feeling a bit the same."

          **********

          The four women sat around the table at the rear of the inn’s tap-room. Virtually identical frowns creased their foreheads as Jan again went over her account. "I entered the bunk-house first and held the door for Bergstrom. She told me to check the lockers, since I knew which was whose. She stood behind me as I went down the row. When we got to Katryn’s her knife-belt was hanging up but the sheath was empty. I was the one who took it out. I... I really don’t see how Bergstrom could have touched it first. Are you sure she admitted murdering Ellis?"

          Chip and Katryn exchanged a pained grimace.

          "Well... I don’t know if she did in so many words..." Katryn began.

          Chip shook her head. "She must have. There is no-one else. Adebeyo’s testimony puts Takeda in the clear. She claims she stood at the window and watched Takeda walk across the parade ground when she left after showing the statements to Bergstrom. Takeda couldn’t have slipped off to the stores first."

          "Unless Adebeyo is lying to protect Takeda." Sanchez suggested.

          "I doubt it." Jan said. "I think Adebeyo really did like Ellis, and I can’t see what reason would unite her and Takeda."

          "You’re certain nobody left the White Swan during the course of the evening?"

          Jan stared at the ceiling as she called on her memory. "It was crowded that night, people were moving around. Someone might easily have slipped out for maybe ten minutes or so."

          "It’s returning the belt to the bunk-house that’s the problem." Chip said. "Whoever it was couldn’t have walked around the front of the barracks without being seen by the sentries at the gate, and the back was flooded... I know, a boat!" she exclaimed in excitement, and then her shoulders sagged. "No. She still would have to climb over the glass on the wall. It had to be someone who was inside the barracks." Chip slumped despondently in her chair.

          "Bergstrom, Takeda or Adebeyo." Sanchez summed it up. "I think you have to go with Bergstrom. She certainly had the best motive."

          Jan disagreed. "Adebeyo is the one Ellis trusted. I’d be surprised if she voluntarily handed her trail-knife over to either of the other two - certainly not Bergstrom. They hated each other."

          "Not surprising with Bergstrom‘s role in the massacre."

          Jan shook her head. "And that’s another thing. Are you also sure Bergstrom said Ellis knew she was the one who tipped off the Butcher? Because a lot of Ellis’s friends died in the fight, and I can’t believe Ellis wouldn’t have turned her in."

          Chip turned to Katryn, but this time Katryn’s eyes were fixed on the distance and she had paid no attention to Jan’s words. "Katryn? Have you thought of something?"

          "I don’t know. It’s..." Katryn’s frown deepened. "It’s just occurred to me the murderer was taking a chance on Ellis having her trail-knife with her. Since we weren’t allowed to wear them outside the barracks most of us had taken to leaving them in our lockers when we didn’t need them. And strangling her as a back-up plan wouldn’t have been anything like as effective in framing me."

          "She probably made a point of asking Ellis to take it with her." Chip replied.

          "But why?" Katryn said. "I mean, yes, if it was one of the patrol who were in the White Swan - they had to leave their knives behind when they went out. But what reason would Bergstrom, Takeda or Adebeyo give for not taken their own knife along?"

          "Was Ellis wearing her knife when she spoke to you in the stables?" Jan asked.

          Katryn shook her head. "I can’t remember."

          "Then perhaps Ellis wasn’t the one to take her knife into the stores. Maybe the murderer took it earlier in the evening and put it there ready to use as the final insult - killing Ellis with her own knife."

          Sanchez shook her head. "No. There was the confrontation with the sentries on the gate when Ellis tried to take it off-site. And that happened after everyone’s position is accounted for."

          Chip jolted as if she had been slapped around the face.

          "What is it?" Katryn asked.

          "I’ve just..." Chip broke off and held out her hand to fend of the questioning looks. "Give me a few seconds." Her face scrunched in thought. The others watched impatiently, but at last Chip’s frown disappeared. Her hand dropped. "I’ve worked it out." Chip’s voice was almost too soft to hear. "We’ve been looking at the wrong trail-knife."

          Chapter twenty-two - The future

          All of the 12th were assembled on the parade ground. The sky was clear but it was too early for the sun to have any warmth. Dolovok stood on the raised platform at the front of the officers’ block. Chip and Sanchez were at the foot of the steps to one side, while Katryn was a little way off, next to the quartermaster’s staff. Dolokov was speaking, telling the squadron about Bergstrom’s death. The rangers did not stir in their lines, but more than one woman’s eyes strayed repeatedly in Chip or Katryn’s direction.

          As she waited for Chip’s turn to come Katryn tried to evaluate her own feelings. Chip’s explanation the previous night had neatly fitted all the facts. Too neatly. Katryn was not sure she totally trusted the conclusion, but it would soon be put to the test. She looked at the members of her old patrol, standing to attention behind Jan; and at one face in particular - the woman Chip was certain had murdered Ellis. The woman who had deliberately framed her for the murder, not caring what would happen. Katryn’s jaw clenched. She half-hoped Chip was right, so all the doubts would be ended - she half-hoped Chip was wrong, so she wouldn’t have to watch the consequences destroy someone she knew, no matter how well deserved the punishment. Looking at the face of the woman Katryn was a little surprised to realise she had no lust for revenge.

          Dolokov finished her part of the announcement. "The matter of Sergeant Ellis’s death is not yet fully resolved. However Sergeant Coppelli from the 23rd has something she wishes to say about it." Captain Dolokov nodded to Chip, her face showing some reservation. Like Katryn, the captain had felt the explanation too contrived, but she had been willing to let Chip have her chance - after a little pressure from Sanchez.

          Chip mounted the steps and turned to face the squadron. "I don’t know how many of you are aware I have been looking into Sergeant Ellis’s death. Since Private Nagata joined my patrol it has obviously been of some concern to me. I managed to produce various theories. Most of them have been shown to be unworkable, and one of them lead us to the confrontation with Lieutenant Bergstrom. However I now think I have finally got to the bottom of it, and want to tell you how I think the events went surrounding the murder."

          There was a faint rustle among the rangers, the simultaneous drawing of breath. Chip waited for silence and then continued. "The murder was planned in advance, the first steps were made during the afternoon, when the murderer was working in the stores. She had already decided when, where, and how she was going to murder Sergeant Ellis, and she had worked out, not just how get around the fact no-one was being allowed to take her knife out of the barracks, but how to make it work in her favour. She made sure no-one was watching, then hid her own trail-knife in the stores. It didn’t need to be a well concealed spot, on top of a stack of crates would have done. As soon as she was finished in the stores she went straight to the bunk-house and put her empty belt in her locker. Presumably if someone had noticed her knife was missing she could have pretended it had been left behind by accident - at that point she was not irrevocably committed to the crime. However the empty sheath was not spotted, and the murderer went on to arrange a secret meeting in the stores with Sergeant Ellis; probably saying she suspected Private Nagata of stealing; since framing her was part of the plan."

          Chip’s eyes flicked briefly in Katryn’s direction - quite a few others copied the action.

          "That night the murderer left with the rest of B patrol to visit a tavern in town. She had already talked people into going to the White Swan, which had quick access to the rear door of the stores. The patrol stopped off on the way to talk to Private Nagata in the stable. The murderer made an excuse to return alone to the bunk-house, where she took Private Nagata’s knife and put it in the empty belt in her own locker. She then went to the tavern with the others. Sergeant Ellis also put in a brief visit to the White Swan, probably to co-ordinate the meeting in the stores. Once enough time had passed to allow Sergeant Ellis to get back, the murderer slipped out through the rear exit of the tavern. Sergeant Ellis had set out the bridge and helped her climb in. All that was needed was to divert Sergeant Ellis’s attention for a few seconds, pick up the knife from where it was hidden, and stab her in the back. The murderer then took the key and left via the rear door. Locking the door from the outside did not require too much agility. There is a convenient row of thick iron bars to stand on, and they are designed to stop people climbing in, not out. The murderer jumped down, and went to rejoin her comrades in the tavern. The last step in the plan was the part which relied most on luck. The murderer wanted to be present when the body was discovered, and someone might have stumbled upon it by accident before the patrol returned from the tavern. However luck was with her, and she got the opportunity she wanted. The lighting in the stores was not good, so no-one noticed that when she bent over the body to check for a pulse she slipped the key back into Ellis’s pocket."

          By now all of B patrol had worked out the name of the ranger Chip suspected. Nikki even turned her head slightly to peer in Bo’s direction. Pat was standing next to her and was glancing sideways with a genuine expression of dumbstruck amazement. Bo herself kept her eyes fixed rigidly ahead but she was looking as if she was going to be sick. Katryn studied her dispassionately, and then turned her gaze away. Bo was guilty. Her face said it as clearly as words. Whether the last part of Chip’s plan would work and provide the evidence was scarcely necessary.

          Chip went on speaking. "The murderer’s plan worked perfectly. Everything fell into place for her. Everyone went where she wanted them to, and saw what she wanted them to. Nobody spotted the things she didn’t want noticed. But there was one problem - she’d assumed all trail-knives are identical. I guess it hit her first thing the next day, when she had the chance to get a good look at the one she’d taken, and she realised the very same thing Private Nagata did when the murder weapon was shown to her. There was no way the two knives could be confused. Private Nagata had been a ranger for less than six months; her knife was almost brand new. The murderer had served for years and her knife was visibly worn. She was in a awkward spot. It was possible no-one would look closely enough to spot the switch, but the murderer dare not count on it. The chances were that, pretty soon, the search would be on for a veteran ranger with an unexpectedly new knife. At this point the murder knew she had to switch knives again, but she was stuck for options. She didn’t want the new owner to notice, just in case the search never came, nor did she want to throw suspicion on any of the rangers in her patrol. She didn’t want the investigators to start wondering how someone who’d been in the White Swan might have committed the murder. There was only one person whose knife she could take. So the murderer slipped into the sergeant’s room and swapped Sergeant Ellis’s knife with the one she’d taken from Private Nagata. This worked well enough in misleading the investigators into thinking Sergeant Ellis had been stabbed with her own knife. It meant that the plan to frame Private Nagata failed, but it also meant the murder went unsolved, which was nearly as good from the murderer’s point of view, especially when it was so easy to convince most of the squadron that Private Nagata really was the guilty one."

          Katryn looked over the ranks of rangers, noting the ashamed expressions dotted around, and matching them to her memories. But they were all watching Chip in fascination - all except for Bo who was staring up at the roof of the officer’s block with dead, hopeless eyes. Had she already taken the final logical step and realised what was coming next?

          "Where the search for the switched knife went wrong was that it looked for a ranger with a knife which was too new. What they should have been looking for was a ranger with a knife which was too old." Chip pulled her own knife from her belt and held it up. "I have been a ranger for eight years; and this is reflected in the degree of wear on my knife. The person I suspect of murder has been a ranger for a similar length of time and should have a knife in a similar state to mine. However Sergeant Ellis had been a ranger for eighteen years. The difference won’t be so marked compared to a new knife - there’s a limit to how polished a handle can get. But her knife should still be visibly more worn. Captain Dolokov..." Chip turned slightly to face her. "You have served for slightly longer than Sergeant Ellis, but your knife should be roughly comparable. What I propose is for Lieutenant Sanchez to take our two knives and compare them to those belonging to the rangers who were at the White Swan the night Sergeant Ellis was murdered."

          Dolokov nodded. It was pure theatre; the plan had been agreed that morning. Sanchez mounted the steps and took the two knives, then walked down towards B patrol. Jan had taken the lead and drawn her knife. She held it balanced across her palm for inspection. Sanchez made a show of looking at it for the purposes of completeness, before moving on to Tina and Sal who were also presenting their knives. At the end of the front row was a ranger, new to B patrol, who had taken the post of corporal. In response to the questioning look Sanchez shook her head to confirm she was not a suspect and need not show her knife. Sanchez walked around her and moved on to the second row; first Nikki, and then Pat. Bo had not moved. Sanchez stopped in front of her. For long, drawn-out seconds they stood like statues. Finally Sanchez reached out and took the trail-knife from Bo’s belt.

          Bo’s eyes closed and her head dropped, shaking in disbelief or disavowal. Sanchez examined the knife for a few more seconds, pursed her lips and returned to Dolokov on the top of the steps. The captain also studied the three knives and then looked back to the assembled squadron. "Sergeant Sivarajah. Leading Ranger Hassan is under arrest for the murder of Sergeant Melanthe Ellis of the 12th squadron. Remove her sword and any other weapons and see that she is secured in the lock-up immediately."

          Bo was lead away, wide-eyed and stumbling like a lost child. A confusing snarl of emotions beset Katryn as she watched her go.

          **********

          The lock-up was small and virtually identical to the one in Roadsend. Bo sat alone on the end of one of the bunks, huddled against the wall with her arms wrapped around her knees. She peered up as Katryn stepped through the outer door of the cell. Her expression was twisted in anguish but held more of self-pity, Katryn judged, than remorse or shame. Recognising her visitor, Bo pulled herself up and let go of her knees, but she still presented a picture of pathetic despair.

          "Katryn? Is there any news?" Bo asked.

          "Dolokov is going to hold the court marshal tomorrow morning." Katryn made sure there was no trace of smugness in her voice - it wasn’t hard; she didn’t feel any.

          "I know that."

          "Then you know as much as me."

          "Then why..." Bo’s shoulders slumped and she swallowed. "Do you hate me?" Her voice was a dead whisper.

          Katryn stopped to consider the question. It wasn’t an easy one. She felt she had the right to hate Bo; especially when she called on the memories she’d tried hard to forget; in the latrine block and the grim satisfaction on Bo’s face while smashing fists into her ribs and stomach. But Katryn also remembered sitting in the lock-up at Roadsend, and the fight to keep panic and despair at bay - a fight Bo had already lost, judging by the look on her face. It gave her an unsettling empathy.

          At Katryn’s silence Bo leaned her head back against the wall and looked at her with a sideways stare. "You’ve come to gloat. Will you enjoy watching me hang tomorrow afternoon?"

          "No." That was an easier question to answer, but only as she spoke did she realise that with it they both acknowledged the inevitable. If Bo had struck out in a fit of anger she might have got away with a lesser punishment, given Ellis’s record and the provocation, but not with the calculated planning, and certainly not with framing someone else to die in her place for the crime.

          "So why are you here?"

          "I wanted to know why you did it. I know you hated Ellis. So did I. But why kill her when I was the one she was picking on, and why frame me for it?"

          "I was sorry about you, but..."

          But not that sorry, Katryn mentally finished the sentence for Bo. "So why didn’t you kill her before?"

          Bo’s head dropped. "I had nine years of being her victim. You know what that’s like. I got all the shit that was going. Every move I made was wrong; at best I got laughed at. After two years I stopped trying - and it made no difference." She glanced up at Katryn. "I should have told you there was no point trying to get your kit clean. Whether you took five minutes or two hours you had the same chance of sentry duty. You might as well of not bothered. The rest thought I was a joke; so I made myself the patrol clown; but it hurt. When I’d joined the rangers I’d been so pleased with myself. I remember putting on the uniform for the first time, and grinning all day, and..." Bo face contorted, she could not finish the sentence. "And I ended up under Ellis. It was hell - until you joined the patrol, and suddenly I wasn’t bottom of the pile anymore. It was only when I was out of it I could see how bad things had been. I had a few months when I kept most of my free-time, when I didn’t wake up each morning feeling sick at the thought of the day ahead. A few months when I felt I had a chance... when I felt I could prove I deserved my place in the rangers. And then there was that skirmish with the cats. That was the best shooting I’d ever seen, and not just me. I was standing with Ellis. Do you know how much it shook her to realise she had a sharpshooter in her patrol? She hadn’t known, so you could bet Dolokov didn’t know either. I was just starting to think that through when Tina let drop you were offered a lieutenancy in the militia." Bo’s eyes met Katryn’s. "I was never as bad as Ellis made out, but I’m not in your league. There was no way Dolokov as going to leave you to be kicked about by Ellis once she realised what you had to offer the squadron. Tina suggested you apply to change patrols. I saw it as a safe bet you’d be moved as soon as Dolokov got back and read the report of the incident. And once you were gone I’d be the scapegoat again. But you said about killing Ellis and it gave me the idea. I couldn’t go back to being the butt of the patrol, not after seeing now much better life ought to be." Tears started to trickle down Bo’s face. "I couldn’t go back to years of wading through shit. Can’t you see that, now that you’re free of Ellis as well?"

          Maybe, but I wouldn’t have let someone else hang for it. Katryn swallowed the words, and the other things she could have said. Bo obviously didn’t know that Ellis wasn’t going to be allowed to re-enlist, and there was no point telling her now.

          "Nikki says you were the one who talked everyone else into giving me a beating." Katryn spoke the accusation without bitterness. Nikki, wearing her new leading ranger’s badge, had been the first to volunteer an apology, without hiding behind excuses. It had eased the resentment more than Katryn had expected.

          "Sorry, but I thought if everyone had a stake in thinking you guilty they wouldn’t be so keen on looking for other suspects, and it wasn’t..." Bo broke off, looking uncomfortable. She twitched her shoulder in a nervous shrug. "I am sorry, and you’re okay now, aren’t you?"

          The insincerity of Bo’s tone brought the first real flash of anger to Katryn. She clenched her jaw shut, unable to answer the question, and made as if to go. Before she reached the door Bo had scrambled off the bunk and grabbed hold of the bars.

          "Katryn." Bo’s voice was desperate.

          Katryn turned back. "What?"

          "I know I don’t have the right to ask you this but..." Bo gulped air. "When you leave here you’re going straight back to Eastford?"

          "Yes."

          "On the way you’ll go through this small village, Amberwell. Do you know it?"

          "I think so."

          "It’s where my family come from. I’m not bothered about my parents - they never gave a toss about me, but two of my grandmothers... they run the general stores, they... they were always so proud of me in my ranger’s uniform. I don’t want them to learn..." Bo was fighting to voice the words. "...about all this from a letter. Please, call in and see them on the way. Tell them the news. Be kind to them... it will break their hearts anyway. Say something nice about me. Lie if you must... please?"

          Katryn nodded once sharply then turned and left the jail.

          **********

          A soft drizzle was falling on Fort Krowe. The nearby mountains were lost in low cloud, however the air was not cold, and it carried the scent of spring. Chip and Kim stood in a doorway and looked out. Rangers in green and grey scurried between the buildings, their speed inversely relating to their rank. Horses grazed on the fields above. A squad of new recruits were slogging through the mud, carrying weighted backpacks, while a drill-sergeant hurled abuse.

          "Home sweet home." Chip remarked.

          "I wonder how long we’ll be here?"

          "Only a few days. We’re being posted to Northcamp for the summer."

          "Northcamp?" Kim said in surprise. "How do you know? You haven’t been calling in favours again, have you?"

          Chip laughed. "No. I wouldn’t dare. I want to keep my anatomy as it is."

          "So how do you know?"

          "I was chatting to a member of staff."

          Kim shook her head in amusement. "We’ve been back less than a day, and already you’re up to date with the gossip."

          "Oh, I wouldn’t say I was up to date - give me a couple more hours." Chip’s smile faded as she expression became more serious. "But on the subject of gossip, are you hearing anything?"

          "About..?" Kim prompted.

          "Me and Katryn."

          "Oh, that... yes, there’s a bit of speculation - but there’s been that for months."

          "Months!" Chip exclaimed. "But we’ve only..."

          Grinning, Kim interrupted. "The pair of you have been desperately ogling each other since mid-winter - of course people noticed."

          "You knew Katryn was interested in me?"

          "Yes."

          "And you didn’t tell me?"

          "I thought you’d have more fun working it out for yourself. Neither of you were being particularly subtle - it was just that you were too nervous to look at Katryn long enough to notice."

          Chip groaned and stared desolately at the pattern of rain falling on a puddle. "So we may not have very long."

          Kim lent her shoulder against the frame of the door and examined her friend. "You think you’ll be separated?"

          Chip shrugged by way of an answer.

          "It has to be serious before they do that." Kim said.

          "It’s serious."

          "Really?"

          Chip looked up at her friend. "I’m utterly crazy about her, and it’s getting worse, not better. Suddenly I’m re-scheduling my whole life. Even if we do get separated, I find myself thinking that I’ve only got three more years left of my enlistment term, Katryn has just under four to serve, and then we’d both be out with our de-mob payments."

          "You’re thinking of leaving the rangers?"

          "Yes."

          "Children?"

          "Oh, children, grand-children. A little cottage. Flowers around the door - you name it."

          "And what is Katryn thinking?"

          Chip shook her head. "She refuses to think about the future. When I said about leaving the rangers she said four years was a long time and anything might happen before then."

          "She might go off you?" Kim said, half-teasing.

          "No. She’s promised that’s the one thing that won’t happen." Chip’s grin returned. "Oh... this is getting ridiculous, I keep fluctuating between panic and euphoria."

          "As I’ve said before - what a state for a ranger to get into."

          Chip reached out to poke a finger into Kim’s shoulder. "Don’t be so smug. It will catch you one of these days, mark my words."

          Kim opened her mouth to reply but she was forestalled by a shout. "Sergeant Coppelli."

          Chip twisted her neck to look back out the doorway, a ranger was hurrying towards them. "What is it?"

          "Sergeant Coppelli, ma’am. Captain LeCoup want’s to see you in her office."

          "Right." Chip tapped Kim’s shoulder one more time and headed off through the rain.

          LeCoup was standing, staring out of the window when Chip arrived, an unusually pensive occupation for the captain. She glanced around at Chip’s entrance, then paced slowly across the office and picked something off her desk. When she spoke her voice held the hint of a searching undertone. "Nagata’s certification as a sharpshooter has been approved, and she’s got her promotion to leading ranger. They didn’t bother sending the confirmation on to Eastford, it’s been waiting for us back here. Tell her not to worry, she’ll get her pay backdated." Whether or not it had been the intention of divisional staff there was no doubt LeCoup would ensure the members of her squadron were never sold short.

          Now Chip could recognise the items in LeCoup’s hands as a new set of shoulder badges. She waited for the captain to hand them over but LeCoup continued to study the embroidered cloth patches as if there was something unusual about them. "Private Nagata and you seem to be getting on very well together." She did not look up, but there was no mistaking the implied question in her tone.

          Chip’s stomach turned to ice. "Yes, ma’am."

          "The safety and effectiveness of the squadron are very serious concerns of mine. I will not take risks with either."

          Chip could not bring herself to say anything.

          LeCoup’s gaze shifted to stare out through the window again. "I have been giving some thought to the squadron’s effectiveness. I think it might be a good idea if Leading Ranger Nagata was transferred to A patrol. You already have some women who are useful with a bow. O’Neil could do with a sharpshooter. I think the squadron would be better... balanced that way. What do you think?"

          Chip’s pulse leapt with the shock both at what LeCoup was saying, and at what she clearly meant. Chip fought to find words. "I... er... I think it might um... work well."

          LeCoup nodded solemnly. "Yes. That’s what I thought. I’ll leave you to explain it to Nagata. I’ll talk to O’Neil and see who would be best to swap from her patrol."

          "Yes, ma’am. Thank you."

          LeCoup met Chip’s eyes in a shrewd, appraising inspection. "The Ranger Command has very strict guidelines on maintaining squadron discipline. But as I read the rules there’s no requirement on me to probe into the private lives of my subordinates if I don’t think there’s a problem." The captain paused significantly. "I’m not likely to come across anything in the line of duty to make me think there’s a problem, am I?"

          "I would hope not ma’am."

          "I hope not as well." LeCoup’s lips twitched in a smile and tossed the badges across to Chip. "Dismissed."

          **********

          The horse flicked its ears and gave several of the short huffs Katryn had learnt to interpret as pleasure. Katryn also smiled and moved around to brush its other flank. She was working alone in the stables, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of someone standing in the doorway. Chip was leaning against the jamb, watching her. Katryn felt the smile on her face broaden.

          "How long have you been there?"

          "Just a few minutes."

          "You enjoy watching people work?"

          "Oh yes - it’s part of the job description for a sergeant." Chip said cheerfully. She strolled over, holding out the new badges. "I’ve just been talking to LeCoup. Congratulations, you’re now a leading ranger."

          Katryn put down the brush and took the offered embroidered shields. She looked back to Chip. There was something else. Chip trying to act nonchalant but the excitement was showing in her eyes. "What’s up?"

          "LeCoup made it clear she knows we’re lovers, and not merely bedfellows."

          Katryn’s face fell, but she took reassurance from Chip’s lack of concern. "She isn’t going to transfer me?"

          "Only as far as A patrol."

          "A patrol?" Katryn frowned as she thought it through.

          "LeCoup is juggling the personnel. It means you’re no longer my direct subordinate, which makes it easier for my patrol - you realise if you stayed in C I’d have to give you all the worst assignments so no-one could accuse me of favouritism." Chip’s voice was getting more exuberant. She was almost laughing as spoke. "And Ash is senior sergeant in the squadron. I trust her judgement more than I trust my own. If I see you standing sentry duty at the gates I’ll know you damn well deserve it."

          Katryn was still slightly unsure. "And that’s it? LeCoup isn’t going to split us any more than that?"

          "Not as long as we behave ourselves. She made it clear that she isn’t going to start asking questions about what we do off-duty as long as we don’t let it affect the way we perform in the squadron." Katryn closed her eyes and let her head fall back, as a smile swept across her face. Chip carried on talking. "It means we’ve got three or four years to work out what we want to do."

          "Things change."

          "You think you might go off me?"

          Katryn opened her eyes and looked back at Chip. "No, never that."

          Chip’s arms slipped around Katryn, pulling her into a kiss.

          Katryn resisted briefly. "Hey, didn’t you just say we were to behave ourselves while on duty?"

          Chip’s mouth twitched into a lopsided grin. "Just this once. Then we’ll start using our discretion a bit more."