"You okay, Malone?" asked Quill, moving to sit beside the batman.

"Fine. Not crazy about going to a Radiant city. Not crazy about leaving the rest of you, but okay. You really think they might adopt the Brigadier?"

"No, not really. I've never heard of them adopting someone against their will, and it would definitely be against his will. It would be several days before the parent bond forms and he'd spend every second of that time trying to get away. It's not just his duty to the King that would motivate him. He wouldn't want to leave you. He wants to see you become fully human. He wants to see you married and adopting animals of your own."

"Is that ever going to happen, though? It takes two people to raise a human. Unless he gets married... He's never going to get married! Can you imagine any woman getting him to settle down?"

"It doesn't always take two parents," said the wizard, though. "There are documented cases of a single human adopting and raising a child. It takes longer, a lot longer... I mean, look at you. I've known you less than a year, but your face is noticeably less hairy than it was when I first saw you."

"You think?"

"Definitely! And look at your hands. I remember you struggling to do up the buckles of your uniform. Now, you do them easily."

"I've had more practice, that's all."

"No, your fingers are longer and more nimble. Here, hold your hand out." Malone did so, and the wizard put his own hand against it, palm to palm. "Look, almost identical. The fingers almost the same length, your nails are fully human. You've got fingerprints!"

"Yeah, I have!" The batman studied the pads of his fingertips, rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Thanks, Quill."

"How's your sense of smell?"

"The same, I think. I haven't noticed any change."

"Let's see. Close your eyes." Malone did so, and Quill ran the tip of his finger around the still damp inner surface of his bowl, wetting it with stew. Then he closed both hands into fists and held them out to the batman. "Okay, open your eyes. Now, which hand smells of stew?"

Malone moved his face closer to the wizard's hands, sniffed with his wet, dogs nose. "I can't smell any difference," he said.

Quill opened his hands, showed him the smear of stew on the tip of his finger. "Even before we left Marboll, you'd have been able to smell it," he said. "I think I can see pink skin starting to grow over your nose. That's definitely happened since we left Helberion."

Malone grinned with delight. "Can you help it along?" he asked. "A small blessing?"

"Reputable wizards only use blessings in an emergency. Best to let it happen in its own good time. Don't worry, you'll get there."

The Batman's grin grew wider. "How long, do you think? How long before I can be declared?"

"Still years, I'm afraid..." The grin faded a little. "But anything worth having is worth waiting for."

The grin returned. "You're right. Thanks, Quill."

"Hey, Malone!" called across Harper. "Malone James! Sounds pretty good, eh?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," warned Spencer, though. "If anything happens to the Brigadier..."

"Nothing's going to happen to the Brigadier!" Malone suddenly looked alarmed and Harper glared at Spencer. "Nothing's going to happen to him," he told the batman.

"But if it does, I'll be stuck like this forever. What are the chances I'll find someone else to adopt me?"

"If it comes to that, I'll adopt you."

"You're a ranger, in service to the King. You can't leave until your term's up, and your rank doesn't entitle you to a batman. We can't just serve together, we could be deployed apart."

"As soon as my terms up, I'll retire and adopt you, but it won't come to that. Nothing's going to happening the Brigadier."

☆☆☆

Spooner listened to the conversation with his head lowered, so that no-one would see the sneer of contempt on his face. He imagined drawing his pistol and just shooting the others, one after the other. First the Brigadier, because his reflexes were the fastest. Then Quill, then Malone, because despite what the wizard had said the batman still had enough dog in him to make him dangerous. Those sharp teeth, those jaws, still so powerful!

He imagined the looks of stunned stupidity on their faces as he shot them between the eyes, one after the other. How many of them would he be able to kill before the rest of them were able to react? They'd kill him, but by Those Above, the satisfaction he'd feel before that happened would be fantastic! If he discovered he had some kind of fatal disease, or if he was bitten by a venomous snake, that's how he'd go. In a blaze of glory and deep, deep satisfaction. He scraped the last of the stew from the bottom of his bowl and ate it with a grimace of distaste. Why did the bloody dog have to put globs in everything?

It was getting dark now, and the men started laying out their sleeping blankets. "You're up, Spooner," said Blane. "Wake me up in an hour."

The ranger imagined himself sliding a knife across the Sergeant's throat. Imagined hot blood spurting out across his hands and face. "Sure thing, Sarge," he called out cheerfully. "One hour." He went to sit with his back against a tree while the others lay down, some of them still chatting. From across the clearing came the faint sound of the Brigadier polishing the brass fixtures of his uniform by the light of the camp fire and the silvery glow of the rising full moon.

☆☆☆

The next morning, Malone awoke to see Harper reviving the camp fire by putting new branches on the glowing embers. When it was fully alight he heated up some stream water in the cauldron and dropped in some oats to make porridge for breakfast.

"I do the breakfast!" the batman protested sleepily.

"Just thought I'd try it without the globs for once," the ranger replied. "Just so, when I die, I won't go back into the ground with the taste of the horrible, slimy things still in my mouth."

"They're not slimy. They have dry skins. And without them to bulk it out the oats won't last as long."

"We can buy more oats." He fished around in his backpack and produced a small packet of brown powder which he poured into the cauldron. "Got this in the last village. Crane says it's a local herb, dried and powdered. Supposed to make it taste like beefsteak."

Malone went over to the Brigadier and found him already awake, brushing dried mud from the hems of his trousers. "Needs a good wash and a press, and there are some tears that need sewing up," he muttered as he scrubbed with a coconut hair brush.

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it when we stop tonight."

The Brigadier looked up with a faint smile. "I wasn't suggesting you do it. We don't have the equipment here. I was just wishing we could stop by a place with some decent laundry facilities. It doesn't do for an officer of the Helberion army, even a retired officer, to be seen in such a tatty uniform."

"It is supposed to be my job, sir. I'm your batman, that's what I do. I see to your needs. I'll see what I can do tonight, Sir."

"Very well, Malone, but don't go to too much trouble. No-one expects miracles from you out here in the wilds."

"While we're on the subject, Sir, I'm supposed to polish your brass for you too."

"Some things a man does for himself, Malone. Like trimming my beard. Now go get me some breakfast. I'm hungry."

The porridge did indeed taste like beefsteak and the men devoured it with relish. "Got any more of that powder, Harp?" asked Spencer, staring at his empty bowl regretfully.

"No, sorry. I'm getting more at the next village, though. A lot more! And when I retire from the army I'm going to import the stuff. Crate it into Helberion by the wagonload. Reckon I could really clean up!"

"What's it called?"

They all looked at Crane, who looked suddenly worried. "I don't know," he admitted. "This woman just told me to try it. I only took it to be polite. I never thought to ask what it was called."

Everyone groaned and Spencer threw his bowl at him. "Ask at the next village," said Harper. "We've got to get more. Lots more! And more oats." He glared at Malone. "And no globs!"

Blane went over to stand next to the Brigadier, who was pulling his trousers back on. Despite his earlier words his uniform still looked almost new, as if he'd only picked it up from the supply store a few days before. "Are you still set on visiting a Radiant city?" the Sergeant asked.

"I am. I think I have to. I sense that there's something important here. Something we need to know."

"I had hoped that a new day might have led to a change of heart."

"I thought so as well, the first night after leaving Tollbine, and every night since, but every morning I awake with the same questions on my mind. Questions that need to be answered. You'll be okay without me, Bill. Just a long hike back home."

"It's not myself I'm worried for. Let someone else do it. When we get back home, the King can send a properly equipped expedition. Experts on the Hetin folk. Radiant experts."

"There are no Radiant experts. No-one knows more about them than we do. That's part of the problem. They rule the planet. We humans are like mice in a farmer's field. We need to know more about them."

"That may be so, but it doesn't have to be you who does it. Come back with us, Brigadier. We need you."

The Brigadier smiled. "Not for this, not just to carry a few mushrooms back home. Take good care of the men, Bill. I'll see you back in Marboll."

"I hope so. I really hope so."

Malone had been saddling up the horses, and he led two of them to where they were standing. "Ready to go, Sir," he said unhappily.

"Very good, Malone." The Brigadier adjusted his uniform and strapped on his pistol and sword. "Well, this is it, Bill. Now we go our separate ways."

Blane nodded. "Good luck, Sir."

"And to you, Sergeant." The Brigadier held out his hand and the Sergeant took it. "No detours, no side missions. If you come across a damsel in distress being chased by bandits, you just keep on going. The only damsel in distress you need to worry about is the one back in the palace."

Blane nodded. "No lingering in the Radiant city," he replied. "You find out whatever it is you need to know, then get out of there. When you return to Marboll, I want you to be walking, not floating."

The Brigadier smiled and climbed into the saddle. Beside him, Malone did the same. "Let's go, Malone."

The others watched as the two men rode their horses out of the camp. Malone looked back as they headed into the surrounding trees, as if wondering whether he'd ever see any of them again. The Brigadier, in contrast, kept his gaze straight ahead. A couple of minutes later they had passed out of sight.

The men stood in silence for a few moments, contemplating the fact that their force had been diminished even further. Thirteen people had set off from Marboll. Now there were only seven of them left. They glanced at each other, each one of them counting only six companions, and then they looked around at the deep, dark forest that surrounded them. All of a sudden they felt very far from home.

"All right, men," said Blane. "Let's go. We've got a princess to save."

His words snapped the others out of their gloom, and they set about readying themselves to leave.