“We’ve met briefly,” Marcus said. There had been a few hurried introductions before Midvale, and the occasional briefing afterward, before the Army of the East had departed for the front. He recalled flashing green eyes and a fierce expression. “She helped Captain Ihernglass put together his . . . female contingent.”

“Ihernglass, right. He . . . I mean . . .”

Andy hesitated. Marcus wasn’t certain why, until he recalled that Ihernglass had been in disguise as a woman while he was with the Leatherbacks. He felt a pang of sympathy. It can’t be easy finding out someone has been fooling you all along.

Andy cleared her throat. “Anyway. I grew up in the Docks, more or less on my own. When I was ten the Armsmen got me for stealing. Nobody to pay fees or speak on my behalf, but the magistrate said he liked the look of me, so he sent me to Mrs. Wilmore’s. You know anything about Mrs. Wilmore’s?”

Marcus shook his head, feeling out of his depth. He’d had a few youthful misadventures that had ended with a run-in with the Armsmen, but they’d never resulted in anything more serious than a clip round the ear followed by a stern talking-to from his father.

“The Royal Benevolent Home for Wayward Youth.” Andy pronounced the words with distaste. “We always called it Mrs. Wilmore’s Prison for Young Ladies. Girls got sent there if they got caught stealing or whoring, or sometimes if their parents went to prison. We were supposed to be raised into proper and productive members of society, until someone came along to marry us.”

Marcus wanted to say that this didn’t sound so bad, but a look at Andy’s expression told him this would be unwise. He nodded instead.

“Mrs. Wilmore,” Andy said, “would arrange a marriage for the girls who were old enough and properly educated. Farmers from the deep country, mostly, or the mining villages. A man needs a wife to run a farm, she was always telling us, and bear his children and raise them to be good little workers. A farmer could come to the Prison and buy himself a sweet young wife, like a new plow. The girls didn’t get a choice in the matter.”

“That can’t be right.” Marcus’ forehead creased. “The government would never allow such a thing.”

Andy smiled grimly. “Of course it would. Can’t have too many little vagabonds and prostitutes running around, and can’t ship the girls to Khandar.” She sighed. “Truth be told, most of the girls went to their marriages willingly enough. Sharing a man’s bed isn’t so bad if you get food and a roof out of the bargain. Only another kind of whoring, if you look at it that way.