"Yes, sir. But…" Sure enough, even the pugnacious Biddiscombe seemed unhappy "If they get between us and the river after we go south of it…" His voice trailed off again.

"If they get between us and our homes, you mean," Victor said.

Habakkuk Biddiscombe nodded gratefully. "Yes, sir. That is what I mean. If they do that, we're in a pile of trouble."

"Then we'd be wise not to let them, don't you agree?" Victor said.

"We would, yes." Biddiscombe nodded again. "But not everything in war happens the way you wish it would, if you know what I mean."

Victor would have been happier if he hadn't had a similar thought not long before. "All we can do is our best," he said. "I am confident every man here will do that. If you are not, I hope you will point out the likely shirkers to me so we can separate them from this force as soon as may be."

"Oh, no. General. I think everyone will fight hard," Biddiscombe said hastily. "I just don't know how much good it will do."

"I see." Victor fought to hide a smile. "Your concern is not for the common soldiers, but for the competence of their commanding general. That is a serious business. I worry about it myself

Habakkuk Biddiscombe opened his mouth. Then he closed it again without saying anything. And then, sketching a salute, he jerked his horse's head around and retreated in disorder. If beating the enemy proved as easy as routing Atlanteans, everything would go very well indeed.

After crossing the Blavet, "Victor thought about leaving a force behind to protect the bridge. In the end, he didn't. No force of reasonable size would be able to stall the redcoats long. He decided the men would be better used with his main body. There, they might keep the English from approaching the bridge to begin with.

He did send cavalrymen riding in all directions. The sooner he learned exactly where General Howe was, the better. If Major Biddiscombe-promoted after his winter heroics-seemed eager to get away, neither he nor Victor had to remark on that

An English Atlantean and his French-speaking wife-a soldier's widow from the last war?-came into the army's encampment to complain. "Why are you requisitioning from us?" the man asked. "What did we ever do to you?"

"Would you go to General Howe the same way?" Victor asked. "By thunder, I sure hope so," the prosperous farmer replied. "I suspect he'd clap you in irons if you tried, but never mind," Radcliff said. "We need supplies. An army does not subsist on air. I wish mine did; it would make the quartermaster's job easier. But until that day comes…" Victor spread his hands in apology.

"How do you expect people to rally to the red-crested eagle if you plunder the countryside?" the farmer demanded.

"Plunderers don't commonly pay," Victor said, as he had so often before.

The English Atlantean's wife proved she understood the language by letting out an unladylike snort. "And what is your paper good for?" she asked, before making an even more unladylike gesture to show what it was good for.

"After the war is won, it will be as good as silver and gold," Victor insisted-hopefully.

"And on the twelfth of Never, they'll put a crown on my head and feed me pudding all day long," the farmer said.

"Well, sir, you have got another choice," Victor said.

"Oh? What's that?" The man perked up.

"We could kill you both and burn the farmhouse over your heads," Victor said with no expression in his voice or on his face.

If he'd made it sound more like a threat, he might have frightened the farmer less. The man eyed him to judge whether he was joking. "We'll take your paper," he said quickly. Whatever he saw must have convinced him Victor meant every quiet word. That was wise on his part, for Victor did.

"Should have killed him anyway," Blaise said when Victor told the story back at camp. "Now he will take the Atlantean Assembly's paper and then say bad things to his neighbors even so."

That struck Victor as all too probable. All the same, he said, "Our names would be blacker if we started killing everyone we didn't trust."

After blacker came out of his mouth, he wished it hadn't So many phrases in English weren't made to be used around free Negroes. To his relief, Blaise didn't call him on it, instead saying, "Maybe better to lose reputation than to let some of those people hurt us."

"Maybe," Victor said. Some loyalists would end up getting hurt-he was sure of that. Some had already. He went on, "General Howe doesn't hang people just for being on our side, either. I don't care to give him the excuse to start."

"You white people." Blaise shook his head. "You and your rules for war."

"It's not quite so bad with them as without them," Victor said. "Half the time, I still think you are crazy, every one of you," Blaise said.

"Why not all the time?"

"Victor inquired.

"Because I remember you can make ships to sail from Africa to Atlantis. You can make guns. You can make whiskey and rum. You can make books." Blaise named the things that impressed him most. "My people, they cannot do any of these. So if you are crazy, you are crazy in a clever way."

"Crazy like a fox, we'd say," Victor replied.

"Foxes. Little red jackals," Blaise said, and Victor supposed they were. The Negro went on, "I hear tell these foxes don't live naturally in Atlantis. I hear tell people bring them. Is this so?"

Radcliff nodded. "It is. No four-legged beasts with fur but for bats lived in Atlantis before people brought them here."

"Some of your beasts-horses and cows and sheep and pigs- I see why you brought them. But why foxes? They kill chickens and ducks whenever they can."

"In England, hunting them is a sport," Victor answered. "People wanted to do the same here."

"I take it back. You white people are crazy," Blaise said. "You bring in beasts that cause so much trouble-to hunt them for sport?"

"Well, I didn't do it myself," Victor said. "And I don't suppose the lizards and snakes and oil thrushes here thank whoever did."

"I believe there were no four-legged furry beasts here before people brought them. They would have eaten up all the oil thrushes like foxes." Blaise snapped his fingers. "We have no stupid birds like them in Africa."

As far as Victor knew, there were no such stupid birds in England or Europe, either-or in Terranova, come to that. "There were-what were they called?-dodos, I think the name was, on little islands between Africa and India."

"Were?" Blaise echoed.

"Were. People ate them and ate them, and now none are left," Victor said with a shrug. "I suppose the oil thrushes and honkers will go that way, too, before too many more years pass."

"All gone. How strange," Blaise said.

Before he could say anything more, a cavalryman rode into camp shouting, "General Radcliff! General Radcliff, sir!"

Victor ducked out of his tent. "I'm here. What's wrong?" The hubbub made him sure something was.

"We found the redcoats. General," the rider answered. He pointed southeast. "They're headin' this way."