Mary rolled her eye skyward. “If you knew the number of times people up here in the PPA have just taken it for granted I like girls because I wear pants and I’m not the flounces and furbelows type . . . since we got back and there’s this starry-eyed Companions of the Sword-Quest thing going around I’ve had to literally kick them out of my bed at least once . . .”

Ingolf started to laugh helplessly; it wasn’t the first time he’d done that on a battlefield with the stink of death in his nose, or Mary either. That was where and when you needed a laugh most. Worry aside, there was a lot to be said for having a wife who was in his line of work. They could share things that most couples couldn’t.

Mary pointed an accusing finger at him. “You didn’t help! You stood there and brayed like a laughing jackass, just like you’re doing now. And then she cried.”

“Welcome to the club of them as has been cried at by girls, honey. I’ve been a member of that one a long time, too, and it’s sort of a hoot to hear a woman complaining about it.”

She snorted, and turned back to Mark, who was crimson to the ears. Ingolf sympathized, abstractly. The kid was probably also longing to be able to adjust his jock-cup.

I remember what it was like to be a hard-on with legs at that age. Thinking about gargling vinegar would give me one, much less imagining that situation!

“It’s just so annoying!” she said. “And it’s true about ‘assume,’ Mark.”

Ingolf reached over to tousle his nephew’s hair. “I couldn’t tell everything about de Stafford there, but I could tell he is a fighting man to be careful of, and I’d still say he’s exactly that. The guy whose brains were decorating that war hammer would say just the same, only he’s doing it sitting on a rock in hell . . . or the Halls of Mandos . . . cursing him as the world’s most dangerous killer faggot. Don’t assume about that. Don’t assume about anything, Mark. It can get you killed.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

BOISE
PROVISIONAL CAPITAL, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
(FORMERLY BOISE, IDAHO)
AUGUST 12, CHANGE YEAR 25/2023 AD

“Are you sure, Colonel Nystrup?” Astrid asked conscientiously.

It wasn’t that she wouldn’t send people on a suicide mission, Ritva knew. It was just that she wouldn’t lie to them about it first. She wanted them to know what they were getting into without a shadow of a doubt.