‘Which half?’ Kisswhere had asked.
Lizard eyes fixed on her. ‘What’s that, sweet roundworm?’
‘Which half of the one you cut in two goes in the ground, and which half goes to the regulars? The legs half, well, that solves the marching bit. But—’
‘You’re one of those, are ya?’
‘What? One who can count? Three make it, nine don’t. Nine can’t get split in half. Of course,’ she added with her own broad smile, ‘maybe marines don’t need to know how to count, and maybe master sergeants are the thickest of the lot. Which is what I’m starting to think, anyway.’
She’d never got close to completing the thousand push-ups. Arsehole. Men who smile like that need a sense of humour, but I’m not one to believe in miracles .
She scratched some more with her stick. Should’ve broken him, right here between my legs. Aye, save the last laugh for Kisswhere. She wins every game . ‘Every one of them, aye, isn’t it obvious?’
Spax made a point of keeping his shell-armour loose, the plates clacking freely, and with all the fetishes tied everywhere he was well pleased with the concatenation of sounds when he walked. Had he been a thin runt, the effect would not have worked, but he was big enough and loud enough to be his own squad, a martial apparition that could not help but make a dramatic entrance no matter how sumptuous the destination.
In this case, the queen’s command tent was as close to a palace as he was likely to find in these Wastelands, and shouldering in between the curtains of silk and the slap of his heavy gauntlets on the map table gave him no small amount of satisfaction. ‘Highness, I am here.’
Queen Abrastal lounged in her ornate chair, legs stretched out, watching him from under lowered lids. Her red hair was unbound and hanging loose, freshly washed and combed out, and the Barghast’s loins stirred as he observed her in turn.
‘Wipe off that damned grin,’ Abrastal said in a growl.
His brows lifted. ‘Something wrong, Firehair?’
‘Only everything I know you’re thinking right now, Spax.’
‘Highness, if you’d been born in an alley behind a bar, you’d still be a queen in my eyes. Deride me for my admiration all you like, it changes nothing in my heart.’
She snorted. ‘You stink of rum.’
‘I was pursuing a mystery, Highness.’
‘Oh?’