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"The General said he wants all the backwoods barons and perfumed princes run out of Southern Command."
"Backwoods barons and perfumed princes?"
"By that he means," Grace said tiredly, as though he'd explained this innumerable times to thickheaded subordinates, "that there won't be any more comfortable niches in Southern Command. For too long there have been officers who built themselves little domains, skimming what can be skimmed, tasting what can be tasted, and nobody dares challenge them because they're irreplaceable. Nobody's irreplaceable, and The General's determined to prove it, or he expects to be replaced."
"Is that a direct quote, sir?"
Grace looked at him afresh through his glasses, held as though they were a magnifying glass. "As a matter of fact, it is."
"Have you found any barons or princes at Fort Seng?"
"You do live in style. I haven't seen so much silver barware in one place."
"We inherited it, it's not a collection. The last six months have been too busy to do much antiquing."
"But plenty of recruiting. Tell me, Major Valentine, how do you choose which volunteers to take? Your command could be easily infiltrated this way."
"Could be," Valentine said. "Hope the infiltrators don't mind grading road and slapping some paint up, because that's what most of the men spend their time doing."
"You really expect to build a brigade out of a bunch of Quislings?"
"Not right away, we don't. It takes time to adapt to Free Territory. Have you met Ediyak?"
"She's one of the brighter lights in your command. Good breeding. Springfield College ROTC?"
"You wouldn't have thought that two or three years ago. Fresh out of the Kurian Zone, scared to ever make a decision or sign her name to anything. She's been promoted twice in the last year."
Grace closed his book, tucked it into his camouflage fatigue coat.
"Poking sticks into a hornet's nest will keep one busy," Grace said.
"Or you might call it killing Kurians, but I'm equable. Six of one, half a dozen of the other . . ."
Grace's mouth tightened. "Did it occur to you that this may be a trap?"
"If it is, it's working perfectly," Valentine said. "There's no sign of a trap."
"Experience has shown the Kurians tempt us into rashness, throwing away our best and brightest on these wild ventures. They are like cats, luring the mice out of their holes where they can be swatted."
"Be sure to call Gamecock's Bears a bunch of mice, next time you see them," Valentine said. "But give me some warning, so I can watch."
"Now, Major," Brother Mark put in. "Rashness or boldness, by your definition, depends on the outcome."
"For two men who've left bodies from here to the Appalachians, you're both rather cocky," Grace said. "I'd expect a little more humility from people who'd killed off half a brigade."
"I notice you're still around, Grace," Valentine said. "Never made it on any of the lists for best and brightest?"
Grace purpled about the face. "That's a court-martial-"
"We run things a little different out here, Major. Anyone can talk about anything off their feet and out from beneath cover."
"I've never once seen you in a hat, on or off base," Grace said. "Seems very unmilitary."
"I've never seen you off base. Stealthy for a big guy."
"Sir," the communication tech reported. "Observation D reports two scout cars moving south on highway D. Georgia markings."
"D," Valentine said. That was the overgrown highway going back north, to their transport and the Gunslingers.
