"Now," Captain Tolbert said, "let's finish the drill so you can all get to digging when the dinner bell is rung."

No one groaned. They had learned better than to complain.

Sweat ran down Beata's neck as they marched two abreast along the narrow road. It was a path, really-just two ruts from the supply wagons. Captain Tolbert led them, Beata was at the head of the five soldiers in the left rut, and Marie Fauvel marched to her right, at the head of the five soldiers behind her.

Beata felt pride marching in front of her squad of soldiers. She had worked hard the two weeks of training, and had been named sergeant, just as Lieutenant Yarrow said she might. Beata had the stripes of the rank sewn on each shoulder. Marie, an Ander, was named corporal-second-in-command of the squad. The other eight had earned the rank of soldier.

Beata guessed the only real earning to it was that if you got kicked out before you finished the training, then you didn't get to be a soldier. None of them that started got kicked out, though.

The uniform was uncomfortable in the afternoon heat, although she was getting used to it. They all wore green trousers. Over that they wore long padded and quilted tan tunics cinched at the waist with a light belt. Over the tunic they wore chain mail.

Because the mail was heavy, the women had to wear only vested chain mail, without sleeves. The men had to wear mail with arms of mail, too, and it was longer. They also had to wear hoods of mail that covered their head and necks. When they were marching, they swathed it down around their necks. When they had to wear it, they wore a leather helmet over top. They all had leather helmets.

Beata was thankful the women didn't have to wear all the rest of it, though. Being the sergeant, she had to sometimes pick up the men's mail to inspect it. She couldn't imagine marching all day with that much weight. What she had was enough. The fun of marching with a heavy sword had worn off; now it was a chore.

They each had a long cloak, but with it being as warm as it was, the cloaks were only buttoned to their right shoulders, letting them hang to the side. Over the mail they wore their sword belts. Additionally, they each carried a pack and, of course, their two spears each and a knife worn opposite their sword on the same belt.

Beata thought they looked a smart squad. The pikemen she had seen back at the Twenty-third Regiment had been the best-looking soldiers. They were a sight. The men were handsome in the pikemen outfits. She had pleasant dreams about those men. The women somehow looked dull, by comparison, even though they had the same outfits.

Beata saw something dark ahead, standing up above the field of grass. As they got closer, she thought it looked to be ancient stone. Off behind it, closer to them, were three squat stone buildings. The roofs were shingled, maybe with slate.

Beata felt a twinge of dread at seeing the huge, silent, awful thing.

It was the Dominie Dirtch.

The Dominie Dirtch were the one thing of the Hakens the Anders kept to use. Beata recalled the lessons she learned about how the Hakens murdered countless Anders with these weapons. They were terrible things. It looked as old as it was, its edges softened over time by the weather, the wind, and the hands that tended it.

At least now that the Anders governed them, they were only instruments of peace.

Captain Tolbert halted them among the buildings. Beata could see soldiers up on the stone base of the enormous, bell-shaped, stone Dominie Dirtch. There were soldiers in the buildings, too. The squad there had been at station for months, and was being relieved by Beata's squad.

Captain Tolbert turned to them. "These are the barracks. One for the women and one for the men. See it stays that way, Sergeant Beata. The other buildings are used for kitchen and dining, meetings, repairs, and everything else." He pointed to the farther building. 'That over there is storage."

He ordered them to follow as he marched on. They marched behind him in their two neat rows as he went past the Dominie Dirtch. It towered over them, a dark menace. The three women and one man up on the base around the bell-shaped part watched them pass.

Out in front of the Dominie Dirtch a ways, he stopped and told them to be at ease and to spread out. They formed a loose line, shoulder to shoulder.

"This is the frontier. The border of Anderith." The captain pointed out at the seemingly endless grassland. "That, out there, is the wilds. Beyond this place are the lands of other peoples. We keep those others from coming and taking our land from us."

Beata felt her chest swelling with pride. She was the one protecting the Anderith border. She was doing good.

"Over the next two days, I and the squad here will teach you what you need to know about guarding the border and about the Dominie Dirtch."

He walked down the line and halted in front of Beata, looking her in the eye. He smiled with pride.

"Then, you will be under the capable charge of Sergeant Beata. You will follow her orders without fail, and if she is unavailable, the orders of Corporal Marie Fauvel." He gestured behind them. "I will take a report from the squad I lead back to the Twenty-third Regiment, and I will treat very harshly any soldier who failed to at all times follow the orders of their sergeant."

He glared at the entire line. "Keep that in mind. Keep in mind, too, that the sergeant has a responsibility to live up to her rank. If she fails in that, I expect you to report it when I come back for you when it's your turn to be relieved.

"Supply wagons will be coming once every two weeks. Keep your supplies orderly and mind how long they must last.

"Your primary duty is to tend the Dominie Dirtch. In that, you are the defense of our beloved land of Anderith. From up on the watch station of the Dominie Dirtch, you will be able to see the next Dominie Dirtch to each side. They extend along the entire border to guard the frontier. The squads on duty are not changed at the same time, so experienced soldiers are always to each side.

"Sergeant Beata, it will be your responsibility, once your squad is trained and we depart, to see to it your soldiers are on duty at your Dominie Dirtch, and then to go meet with the squads to each side to coordinate with them all matters of defense."

Beata saluted with a hand to her brow. "Yes, Captain."

He smiled. "I'm proud of you all. You all are good Anderith soldiers, and I know you will do your duty."

Behind her towered the terrible Haken weapon of murder. Now, she was to be in charge of it in order to do good.

Beata felt a lump in her throat. For the first time in her life, she knew she was doing good. She was living her dream, and it was good.

The burly soldier gave her the side of his boot on her rump. She had tried to hurry out of his way as soon as he kicked, but she wasn't fast enough. She pressed her lips tight against the sting of it.

If only the power of the gift worked, she would have done him a turn. She considered using her cane, but, keeping in mind her business, thought better of dispensing justice just then, no matter how sorely it was needed.

Rattling her three copper coins in her tin cup, Annalina Aldurren, former Prelate of the Sisters of the Light, the most powerful women in the Old World for over three-quarters of a millennium, moved on to beg from the soldiers gathered round the next fire.

— Like most soldiers, the next bunch she came upon as she moved through the camp showed interest when she first approached, thinking she might be a whore, but their ardor for female companionship quickly faded when she came into the ring of firelight and gave them a big gap-toothed grin- or the illusion of one, anyway, with the aid of some greasy soot on a few selected teeth.