A Queen Among Crows_Book One of Empire's End

by M. S. Linsenmayer

  "James" Julie looked at us "You heard them, can they hear us? And Eryma, if they are birds like yours, can you control them?"

  I looked at James, he shrugged. "We don't think they can hear us, we may be whispering by human standards but most of my birds think humans are deaf to begin with. These creatures may be pure sight predators, closer to eagles than ravens. There are African eagles about half that size I know of, and they just soar for days looking for lunch. I can't control them, either, they are too different."

  "Damn. Nothing is ever easy. Well, at least it's not boring." Julie grinned. "Wait, you have been to Africa?"

  "No, the eagles come to the colonies in summer. They like stray pets, apparently. There are stories of them eating small children as well, but I doubt it. Even they aren't big enough to pick up a person."

  "Could one of these pick up a person?" Popov raised his eyebrows.

  "Let's not find out." I started to crawl back to the stairwell. Time for dinner. Canned franks and beans, beans and franks, or whatever the Russians feed their political prisoners? Choices, choices. Well at least I won't starve. But I may wish I had.

  #

  "So Ma Cor Beau" Julie plopped down beside me on the concrete floor. "What is for dinner?"

  I looked at the can I was spooning something out of, as best I could, in the flickering lamp light. Still in German. Scooped out a bite, chewed thoughtfully. Well, whatever it was, it had pickled sausage and was defiantly German. "I honestly have no idea. It's my second can, though, and I am not dead yet. Also, the birds seem to like their cans."

  "Do not your birds eat random dead animals they find on the street?" Julie pushed closer to me, hinting. I put my arm around her, that seemed to do the trick.

  "Do not be silly dear, that is disgusting." Lois lifted her head from her own can "I cook it first. Some preparation, a few spices, a light sauté, maybe a garnish or two..."

  "Mmm, squirrel" I said, while Julie winced. All French are food snobs, it seems, even the ones a hundred years older than me. "Classic colonial cuisine. How are our food stocks, we may be here for a while, and as cold as it is we will all- you and me especially- need lots of calories to keep our body temperatures up."

  "Food is fine, if you don't mind the utter lack of quality. This prison was meant to house hundreds, and keep them working for months between shipments. The basement is intact, and has stacks and stacks of can pallets. There are no ingredients or descriptions on anything, just simple names; I suspect that it is dog food we are actually eating. Delicious. I shall miss my melted cheeses and fine wines." Julie cracked open a can with a bit more enthusiasm than was strictly warranted.

  "Here" I handed her one that had been on top of my camp stove. "If you warm them first, they taste better. Or at least, no entirely as bad. Also, there is a small bottle of hot sauce beside my travel pack, there."

  "Yes, I was afraid to touch it when I searched your luggage back in Prussia. Some terrible chemical weapon?" Julie wiggled over to get the bottle.

  "No, it is hot sauce. I learned on the Texas campaign you can eat ANYTHING as long as there is hot sauce. Well almost anything, there is no sauce in the world hot enough to make Aztec traditional cuisine taste good. It's the way the food stares back at you."

  Julie aimed an eyebrow at me, I just laughed. Slid down a bit, put my head on her shoulder. Tomorrow we had to find the missing piece the cavalry had found, if it was still here, or start tracing where it had gone. But tonight, tonight I could just let myself be warm.

  "So, sex later?" Julie whispered in my ear.

  It was my turn to glare, and hers to laugh. "What you for wish some privacy? I am sure the men have seen it before." Julie said.

  "I am not. Have you seen the acne on some of these privates? I think that one with Adamov is trying to grow a mustache. Either that or a caterpillar crawled up his nose and died. Please don't make me pretend to go asleep on your lap, again."

  "Ha!" Julie raised an arm in victory "you were pretending. We are at least going to share bags for warmth, correct?"

  "Oh yes, some of the men over there" I waved at the corner "Are doing that already."

  "Warmth?" Julie snorted "Eryma, it's the navy. Some British Admiral made a crack about Rum, Sodomy, and the lash once, and I note we are all out of Rum."

  I sat up and started obviously looking around for something.

  "Problems?" Julie reached for her sword.

  "Just wondering where you hid your lash, lover."

  "I" Julie smacked me on the back of the head "Am cavalry."

  "So." I laid back down and rubbed my head "Horsewhips?"

  "Would you two" Lois hopped over and stood above us both "Please stop flirting and get some sleep? We have a lot of work in the morning."

  "Wisdom of the gods" Julie said. I snored in reply.

  #

  Distantly, as if in dream, I heard soft voices... Lois...and the Corpsman. I struggled to get up, but Julie had her arm around me tight, soft snores in my ear.

  "I have apologized to you Madame Bird, but I shall not take it easy on you. We Russians take this very seriously. King to F1." The corpsman was smoking a small cigar.

  "Oh, I do, I do. Bishop to E6, if you please." Lois was almost laughing.

  "You have given up your queen, Madame Bird. Ironic, is it not? One cannot win battles that way."

  "My Bishop takes yours, at C4. Check."

  "I am still well ahead in material..."

  "Knight to e2. Check. It's not about pieces, dear, it's about position. It's about making your opponent do what you want them too, and be where and when you want them to be. Your move."

  Then I slipped off for good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Treachery and Treason

  Interlude:

  Miles from where I laid back, pretending to still be asleep, dozens of local birds picked through fresh fallen snow; looking not for the bodies of the fallen British agents, which were delicious, or what was left of the queen of rats, which was pickled, but rather for something else that had not fallen from my earlier fight but rather had been gently hidden there...

  Yes, yes, there it is, hanging from a tree. In that bag.

  Bring it to me, my loves, bring it to me.

  Breakfast was eggs, toast, cocktail shrimp, pancakes, baked beans with fresh garlic, a glass of champagne, and while I was at it, two tall glorious angels to lead me to the secrets of the gods. Sadly, all this was in my dreams; upon waking, what I got was my choice of red canned whatever, blue canned whatever, green canned whatever and something one of the seamen assured me was leftovers of last night green and red cans mashed together. Deciding that since the red canned whatever had not killed me last night, I should stick with that, and carefully measured out a few drops of hot sauce to make it palatable.

  Julie picked the green can this morning, and after looking at it, I made her make a solemn vow that she would that she would brush her teeth before kissing me. There are some sights too squamous and rugose to be seen by mortal women, the contents of the green can be being among them, it seemed. I swear the preserved scrambled eggs in it had non-Euclidean angles. James seemed to enjoy his just fine, and Lois did not complain, perhaps the evolution of beaks was an achievement to be envied? Julie saw me watching, and smiled shyly. I will miss her lips, I think.

  "Mr. Popov, Mr. Adamov." I called across the half dead fire to the breakfasting troops "You may have some practical experience here. If you were troops, with a precious cargo, in a situation like this- under attack by forces unknown- where would you hide it?"

  Mr. Adamov scratched the dirt out of his beard. "Well, it all depends on what I knew about the enemy, if anything, and if the officers were alive. If it was just this giant thing pursuing them, and the officers were all dead, the men would probably just try and bury it. But if this thing is some sort of machine, with crew, then they could get out and search, so that wouldn't work. And if the officers were alive, they would be all screaming about completing
their mission at this point- try and save some glory out of utter disaster- maybe leave some of the men here as a rear guard to buy time while the rest tried to make a break with the cargo."

  "I appreciate." Mr. Popov stopped to slurp some of his blue canned meat- both the can and the meat were bright blue- before continuing "Your enthusiasm and trust in the Officers of the Imperial Armed Forces, Adamov, but I admit it's as good an idea as any."

  "They were Cavalry sir, not Navy." Adamov tried to keep a straight face.

  "Right then" I intruded before Julie could start growling "Where would you all have buried it?"

  This set off a hurried conversation with each soldier throwing in his own ideas; some were good albeit useless- like in the mine, which was still buried and smoking-and others frankly inane; private for life suggested he would have put it in the food room, ignoring the fact we had just searched the place. It took Adamov three minutes to explain to him why that wasn't a good idea.

  "Time is short right, they are under attack? They can't bury it, they have to use an existing hole." One of the men in the back called out.

  "That is why I said the mine." His friend answered back angrily.

  "The mine, it would take us years to dig clear, if it is there." Julie stood up, clearly getting tired of this.

  "Yes, Dame, and it would be hard to get into anyway." The first soldier stood up at attention "Which is why they would just toss it into the shit hole."

  "Excuse me?" That got a raised eyebrow from me, and not from the language, either.

  "He means the privy. You know." Adamov said "He might be right. Place like this, for the workers, they don't bother with plumbing. They just dig a deep trench, close to the wall, and put a couple of stalls over it. When it's full or stinks too badly they move the outhouse, cover over the trench, and dig another one. Nice deep hole, easy to find, and where no one sane would look."

  "Would they have time to dismantle these out-house stalls?" I asked.

  "They are meant to move," Adamov said "A few strong men can just pick up the whole thing and slide it over."

  "Dame, officer, and men, I think we have a plan. Mr. Popov, if this works, make sure to note the man who thought of it in your log. Everyone get ready, we have a lovely day ahead of us." I forced myself to eat what was left in my can. For some reason I had lost my appetite.

  "Ma Reine" Julie stroked my arm "I had planned to romance you with wine and roses..."

  "Yes, remember that." I leaned in to her touch "Because now we shall go swimming in shit."

  #

  Imagine an outhouse. If you are from anywhere in the Colonies, you have probably seen more than a few. Hell, you may have been born in one. It shall be wooden, have holes, a simple door with rope hinges, an unvarnished slat for sitting on, with a big hole in it, and a copy of the local newspaper besides it, for reading and wiping. If you live closer to a big city, it may be the Sears catalog, instead. I shall admit to having preferred the editorial section by political choice.

  Such a thing would not have worked for a prison of several hundred men. This building was sheet metal, prefabricated, about eight feet long, with a half dozen doors, and several rusty handholds on either side. A quick jog around confirmed it had been dragged along the ground sometime in the last month or so. But was it before the battle or weeks before? Some legendary Apache tracker might be able to figure that out, not me.

  "So, we grab a side and push?" I rubbed my hands. Damn it was cold out here.

  "Only if you wish to go swimming" Adamov pointed to the handlebars. "Two teams, each grabs a set, lifts, then pulls it into the camp; after it is clear of the hole, then we slide it down the line and into its next spot. I would warn you all to beware the smell..."

  "Except nothing could possibly compete with the delicate aroma of Maphnk Tar-tare coming from the other side of the camp. I will take two men and grab the left side, Ma Reine you get some men and grab the right, Adamov you guide us. And let no man ever say that as an officer I was unwilling to get my hands into the shit." Julie walked over to the bars waving her arms to warm them up.

  "None would dare, Dame" Popov tapped me on the shoulder and marched to the right-hand side bars, snow crunching under his heels "Not after Stapoksville."

  "What is Stapoksville?" I got up behind him. The bars were slippery, I hated to ask with what.

  "You don't know?" Popov whispered.

  "Obviously." I growled.

  "And you were kissing her?" the two men behind us began to chuckle.

  I considered kicking him into the privy trench, but there would be time for petty revenge later. Footing was going to be terrible, with the snow and mud, and the outhouse was probably frozen into place. This was going to be fun, fun, fun, songs and dancing all the way. Perhaps I should whistle a jaunty tune.

  "Everyone ready?" Adamov called from the front of the thing. I could hear him, but not see him from the side. We mostly yelled yes. "Then on three heave." Adamov continued "One, two, and Heave!"

  I pushed up, with both my arms and my legs, the outhouse gave a mighty squeal, but it did not move at all. We struggled for a few minutes, I could feel my own feet going down into the muck as the bars began to twist and bend. I braced myself a bit, panted, then heaved again; this time the outhouse jiggled a bit but still did not raise any, although I sank more. I would make a sarcastic comment about visiting China, but I had no idea what was on the opposite side of the world from Siberia. Perhaps I would go home?

  "Stop, stop" Adamov yelled "We are breaking it. There is a line of ice all around the bottom; let me get a shovel and break it free, then try and lift it again."

  More crunches of steps followed by cracks and grunts as he started to try and clear the ice. Well I think I will just stand here crouched over with my feet buried in muck while he did that. Doo da, doo da. Tr la la la. There were several thunks from above my head. I looked up as best I could, from on top of the outhouse, James, his daughters, and several of the locals looked down, beaks wide open in bird laughter.

  "James, what do you think you are doing?" I was not amused.

  "Supervising" James was greatly amused. "Since Adamov is busy breaking the ice. Someone has to keep an eye on the manual labor force."

  "Lois!" I yelled "Do something!"

  "Sorry boss" One of the daughters chimed in "But momma is downstairs reading all those logs and books."

  I was about to start screaming when Julie beat me to it with a sweetly yodeled "Oh James Dear." From the opposite side of the not so mobile home. He snapped his head in a half circle back at her, and I know I heard a muttered "uh oh" from one of the other birds.

  "Yes, oh Knight of the night" James always responded to threats with humor. If he had a defining trait, that was it.

  "Did they tell you about Stapoksville?" If Julie's voice was any sweeter it would have drawn flies.

  "Let me take a wild guess... A town somewhere near nowhere in eastern Europe?" James hopped along the roof with extra loud thumps and bangs.

  "Close enough" Julie had to be almost laughing by now "The Austrian rebellion had us cut off and pinned down; they were trying to starve us into surrender. Constant shelling, no food or supplies for weeks, we had eaten the horses, the rats, and were starting on boot soup."

  "Oh wow, so what happened Miss Julie?" The daughters loved a good story.

  "I got hungry. Then I got angry. Then I was not hungry anymore." That coldness in that comment made even Adamov's hammering stop for a moment.

  "What does that mean Papa?" One of the other daughters asked.

  "It means..." James hesitated "It is time for us to go back on patrol now. Yes, indeed, that is the life of the Raven brigade, hup, hup hup time for patrol."

  I could feel all the men on my side looking at me, but I just kept on staring at the ground. Not going to say anything, no, not me, no sir. The ground was fascinating, yes it was.

  "Adamov." Popov said.

  "Just about have it sir, a few more swipes, then let
me get clear." Adamov hammered again for two or three minutes, then grunted and started crunching his way back to the front " On three again, I think, One, Two, Heave!"

  We heaved. The metal strained, pulling up against the middle, with a ripping shriek it buckled in, then sprang back up and out as the last of the ice broke free. I staggered for a minute, almost falling against the release, but then the outhouse righted itself and we dragged it about ten feet forward. The noise was terrible. The smell was worse.

  The outhouse slammed down, and I was glad we would not have to put it somewhere else. I stepped back, popping my spine as I went. And to think I had turned down a desk job...

  One of the privates screamed.

  I ran over to him, along with Popov, Julie, and half the men. He pointed, just stuttering; frozen to the bottom of the outhouse was the partial remains of a human arm and torso, hands clutched to the metal in an eternal death grip.

  "A prisoner" Adamov said "He probably tried to hide in the hole during the battle, got trapped there, and froze. Poor bastard. His body is what nailed the building into place. We had to break it to move the damn thing."

  Some of the men took off their hats, others just stood silent for a moment. One may have even whispered a short prayer. That's what we all were, in the end, I thought. Above us, clear skies of dreams and wind; below us, frozen waste. All of us, just a stake in someone else's outhouse.

  "Julie?" I smiled at her, she smiled back. I pointed at the remains. "Desert?"

  #

  The trench was at least six feet deep, longer and wider than a grave, hand dug, and partly filled with the most aesthetic collection of frozen human waste, body parts, maggots, and indigestible leftovers I had ever seen outside of a boot camp dining hall. There were too many limbs sticking up from the mess just to be people who had tried to hide from the battle; had they murdered the prisoners and thrown them in here to keep their secret? Or was this just some sick way of punishing those who disobeyed the guards? Would anyone ever know?