There were several seconds of silence, long enough for Macurdy to wonder which answer he really preferred. Then Wolf said, "I've already seen him in action. He's smart, he's not afraid of anything-and he's lucky!"

Tarlok spoke next. "Orthal turned out to be a loudmouth bully, and Bono and I figured if things didn't get better, someone would cut his throat some night soon and we'd try a different captain. Maybe Macurdy's the man."

A number of voices shouted agreement, but it wasn't general. Jesker had followed Macurdy over; he spoke next. "Slaney'd been saying we needed to do something about Orthal, that as long as Orthal ran things, nothing would happen. Fighting with fists, he was the most dangerous man around, but for thinking? Then Slaney got crosswise with Macurdy over west, and Macurdy made a fool out of him; tricked him out of his boots. I know; I was there. Then here, when Slaney had the advantage of him, sword against knife, Macurdy split his breastbone. Now we hear what he did in Gormin Town last night. If we're not smart enough to make him commander after all that, I'm going home, and to hell with the rest of you! The gods sent him to us as our last chance. If we turn them down, we're finished. We'll deserve whatever happens to us."

Macurdy stood briefly stunned at the speech, and at the voices shouting his name now. Grinning men pushed up to him to shake his hand, and when things had calmed a bit, he raised his own voice. "Tarlok! Jesker! Jeremid! Melody! Tossi! Wolf, you too! I need to talk to you over by the cook tent! We need to get things started here!"

It took awhile. There were sixty-three rebels now, with Tarlok's new recruits, Slaney's band, and the six rebels Macurdy had rescued. None had been soldiers, and in Tekalos there was no militia training. All were good bowmen-many very good-and that was about the limit of their military competence. Most had also brought spears, such as hillsmen take when hunting bear or cat or razorbacks, and could stab a man with them if it came to it. But clashing spears with trained soldiers, they'd be in deep trouble. A few had swords, passed down through the family from tribal days, but almost none were trained with them, beyond the games boys played with sticks.

If competence was a problem, so was supply. With sixty-three mouths to feed, and located back in the wild as they were, foraging would be a problem. The nearest clusters of farms had been heavily drawn on already, and the camp had been there for only about a month, but getting food from farther away presented problems of transport.

Macurdy wondered again if this was a good idea, being here, doing this. To create an army out of a few thousand scattered hillsmen looked virtually impossible. And how was it going to help him rescue Varia anyway?

On the other hand, he reminded himself, he'd been operating on impulse, on intuition, ever since his run-in with Zassfel in the House of Heroes, and he'd succeeded beyond all reason. He'd been operating on "notions," like Will had, but bigger notions, and his had worked out.

Anyway here I am. And this makes more sense, or maybe it does, than just walking into the Sisterhood and telling them I've come to take Varia home.

With Tarlok's and Jesker's advice, he selected two platoon leaders, a sergeant at arms to enforce discipline, and a commissary chief. In the future, foragers would write chits for what they took, payable when Gurtho was thrown down. He named Jeremid his chief of operations, to see that men got trained, and to schedule foraging and other work assignments. Melody would lead the actual training. Tarlok would still be the recruiter, along with Verder, who could tell firsthand stories about Macurdy, but they'd take only two men with them, instead of four or five. One of the older men, a smith himself, would travel around the district visiting smithies, to get production started on spearheads and arrowheads in quantities. Tossi and his cousins would find a suitable smithy and begin to train local smiths in the making of swords.

And Wolf would take Macurdy to visit the rebels in his district. They were a larger, considerably more effective band, and sooner or later coordination would be desirable.

When he'd worked these things out, Macurdy called a muster by shouting, reminding himself to see about getting bugles or trumpets or something. Squads were created, and assigned to platoons. Then, to inspire some enthusiasm for training, he had Jeremid and Melody give an exhibition of skilled spear fighting, first in slow motion, then at full speed, using training spears cut on the spot from saplings. It also prepared the men for taking instructions from Melody. When they were done, two of the dwarves gave an almost dizzying exhibition of swordsmanship, changing any perception of them as amusing halflings.

Macurdy had intended, when it was over, to send the squads out to cut practice spears for themselves. But before he could give the order, he saw three women watching from a little distance, and called them over. They were filthy, their clothes were torn, and their hair was matted with dirt and leaves.

"Who are you?" he asked.

It was the oldest who answered. The younger two were silent, eyes on the ground. "We're captives."

"Captives? Captured from who?"

"From our farms. From our families. A foraging party grabbed us when they came around to take food."

He realized why, but asked anyway. "What did they take you for?"

"They brought us here to hump us."

"Just the three of you? For all these men?"

The woman nodded grimly.

"And your family let them?" He knew the answer to that, too, but it loosened their tongues a little, or rather the older one's.

Their circumstances had differed, one from the other. The oldest was perhaps twenty-five, and married. Her husband had been away. The foraging party raped her on the spot, then tied her and took her with them. The younger two were sisters, fourteen and fifteen. Home alone with their mother, they'd been carried off and raped on the way to camp.

The rebels, standing around waiting for further orders, had listened to the whole exchange. Macurdy turned to them now, face dark with anger. "Those who were on those foraging parties," he ordered, "raise your hands."

Five hands reluctantly went up. "Orthal told us to," said one man.

Macurdy turned to the older woman again. "Is that all of them?"

"Yessir."

"All on one foraging trip?"

"Yessir."

"Which of the rest humped you?"

"Most all of them, I guess. Maybe a few didn't. They humped the young ones the most, I think because they cried. There was someone at them morning, noon, and night."

"Orthal said we could," one of the younger men called.

Macurdy's eyes found him. "What's your name?" he asked. His voice was a dangerous purr; the man paled at it.

"Parl, Captain."

"Parl, step out here." The young man hesitated. "NOW!"

He stepped, and Macurdy, standing close in front of him, barked a question in his face. "If Orthal told you you could hump your grandmother, would you do it?"

Silence. The commander seemed to swell. "GOD DAMN YOU! I ASKED YOU A QUESTION! WOULD YOU DO IT?"

Parl could barely get the words out. "No sir," he whispered.

"What would you demand of men who'd stolen and raped your daughter?"

"I-I'd want them punished."

"Punished shit! You'd want them killed!"

Parl almost fainted.

Macurdy looked around for Melody, and found her, her mouth a hard line. "Lieutenant Melody, talk with these women and come up with amends and punishments for the foraging party. And what the whole company can do for them before we take these women home again. I'll decide after supper."

Melody and the oldest victim came up with castration, to be followed by staking out over ant hills, naked in the sun. The girls couldn't bring themselves even to talk about it. Macurdy, though, wouldn't go along with such draconian and terminal punishments. The older victim relented before Melody.