Marcus’ lip quirked in a slight smile. “How did you come by the wound?”

“I volunteered before Midvale, sir. Had a horse fall on me during training.”

“Bad luck.”

“My fault, sir. I was racing her and misjudged a jump.”

“I see.” Marcus transferred his attention to Andy. “And you?”

“Volunteered with Mad Jane’s company, sir,” the girl said.

“Do you know how to load a musket?” Marcus said, his smile widening a little.

“Load, fire, and fix a bayonet, sir,” Andy said. The lamp on his desk gleamed in her spectacles. “And what to do with it afterward. I fought at Midvale. Would have joined Captain Ihernglass’ Girls’ Own if I hadn’t been in the hospital.”

Marcus’ smile faded slowly. “What happened?”

Andy held out her right hand, which was missing the two smallest fingers, and bore a ribbon of shiny scar tissue. “This went bad on me. Nearly lost the hand, the cutters tell me.”

Marcus felt his jaw tighten. He’d opposed letting Jane’s Leatherbacks into the battle, but Janus had overruled him. It was all very well to say that they needed every musket, but there was something deeply unnatural about a girl practically young enough for dolls bearing the scars of battle. It went against something deep in Marcus’ nature; women were to be shielded from danger, not deliberately exposed to it. In his opinion, the time for girls to pick up weapons was just after the last boy had been buried.

The Preacher thinks I can trust her, though. He shook his head. Lord knows I could use more hands, but . . .

There was another knock at the door, this one the frantic banging that announced Raesinia.

“Well,” Marcus said, “you’ll both be assisting me here. I want your word that you’ll say nothing of our business to anyone outside this house, not even fellow soldiers.”

“Yes, sir!” Feiss said. Andy nodded and saluted again.

“All right. Uhlan will show you where you’re sleeping.”

He waved them away, and went, hampered somewhat in Feiss’ case by his reluctance to relax his parade-ground posture.

“Who are those two?” Raesinia said once they’d gone.

“Reinforcements, apparently,” he muttered, then blinked. The person in the doorway wasn’t someone he recognized. It took a moment for his brain to kick in.

“How do I look?” Raesinia said, spreading her arms.

“Not like the Queen of Vordan, that’s for sure,” Marcus muttered.

“That’s sort of the point. They certainly didn’t recognize me.”