Eyes narrowing, Strings swung to the last soldier, a rather plain young man wearing leathers but no weapon. ‘And yours?’

‘Bottle.’

‘Who was your drill sergeant?’ he demanded to the four recruits.

Koryk leaned back as he replied, ‘Braven Tooth—’

‘Braven Tooth! That bastard’s still alive?’

‘It was hard to tell at times,’ Smiles muttered.

‘Until his temper snapped,’ Koryk added. ‘Just ask Corporal Tarr there. Braven Tooth spent near two bells pounding on him with a mace. Couldn’t get past the shield.’

Strings glared at his new corporal. ‘Where’d you learn that skill?’

The man shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Don’t like getting hit.’

‘Well, do you ever counter-attack?’

Tarr frowned. ‘Sure. When they’re tired.’

Strings was silent for a long moment. Braven Tooth – he was dumbfounded. The bastard was grizzled back when ... when the whole naming thing began. It had been Braven who’d started it. Braven who’d named most of the Bridgeburners. Whiskeyjack. Trotts, Mallet, Hedge, Blend, Picker, Toes ... Fiddler himself had avoided a new name through his basic training; it had been Whiskeyjack who’d named him, on that first ride through Raraku. He shook his head, glanced sidelong at Tarr. ‘You should be a heavy infantryman, Corporal, with a talent like that. The marines are supposed to be fast, nimble – avoiding the toe-to-toe whenever possible or, if there’s no choice, making it quick.’

‘I’m good with a crossbow,’ Tarr said, shrugging.

‘And a fast loader,’ Koryk added. ‘It was that that made Braven decide to make him a marine.’

Smiles spoke. ‘So who named Braven Tooth, Sergeant?’

I did, after the bastard left one of his in my shoulder the night of the brawl. The brawl we all later denied happening. Gods, so many years ago, now ... ‘I have no idea,’ he said. He shifted his attention back to the man named Bottle. ‘Where’s your sword, soldier?’

‘I don’t use one.’

‘Well, what do you use?’

The man shrugged. ‘This and that.’

‘Well, Bottle, someday I’d like to hear how you got through basic training without picking up a weapon – no, not now. Not tomorrow either, not even next week. For now, tell me what I should be using you for.’

‘Scouting. Quiet work.’

‘As in sneaking up behind someone. What do you do then? Tap him on the shoulder? Never mind.’ This man smells like a mage to me, only he doesn’t want to advertise it. Fine, be that way, we’ll twist it out of you sooner or later.

‘I do the same kind of work,’ Smiles said. She settled a forefinger on the pommel of one of the two thin-bladed knives at her belt. ‘But I finish things with these.’

‘So there’s only two soldiers in this outfit who can actually fight toe-to-toe?’

‘You said one more’s coming,’ Koryk pointed out.

‘We can all handle crossbows,’ Smiles added. ‘Except for Bottle.’