Read Online At the Queen's Command by Michael A. Stackpole - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael A. Stackpole
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1641.”
Langford looked up. “It has been translated?”
“No, sir; I am fluent in Ryngian and Kessian. My grandfather had little tolerance for ignorance.” Owen held a hand out. “If you approve, sir, I will go to the Quartermaster and draw these things.”
Langford dipped a quill and hastily scrawled his name at the bottom. “I applaud your industriousness, sir.”
“Thank you, sir.” Owen accepted the paper, stood and saluted. “May God save the Queen, sir.”
Langford, without rising from his desk, returned the salute. “And may He be kind on your person and soul.”
Lieutenant Palmerston, the Quartermaster, a grizzled veteran with one eye, a handful of teeth, and a couple fingers shy of a fist on the left, studied Owen’s list. Then he laughed aloud. “Brimstone, firestones, and shot for two-hundred fifty rounds for your musket; a hundred for a pistol? Biscuit and dried beef for three months? Clothing, blankets, trade goods, gold? Oh, sir, begging your pardon, but you cannot be serious.”
“I most certainly am, sir.” Owen’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you think I won’t need these things?”
The Lieutenant caught himself and aborted a laugh. “Well, sir, it is just that the Colonel already requisitioned supplies for your expedition. Rufus Branch drew it up. I’ve checked it all proper like. There’s more than enough to cover your needs, sir.”
Owen stroked a hand over his jaw. The Lieutenant presided over a warehouse that seemed quite well-stocked. In fact, the only thing it seemed to be lacking was men working in it.
“Might I have a look at the requisition?”
Palmerston opened a drawer to his desk and brought out a three-page document. “All signed proper like.”
He was correct. Colonel Langford had signed the last page and initialed all the others. And if Owen was not mistaken, the document had actually been written by Langford. Owen studied it and fought to keep his growing anger hidden.
“Might I ask, Lieutenant, about this item here, about the beef for the trip. The charge for services, here.”
“Oh, that’s just standard, sir.” The man scratched up under his eyepatch with a scarred finger. “You see, the cattle will be taken from our herd to Mr. Cask’s slaughter house, killed, and butchered. They will smoke it and salt it, you see, sir, so there is your service.”
“But, Lieutenant, that will take time and the beef won’t be ready to go.”
“No, sir, so we will issue beef here from our stores, and then that will replace it.” The Lieutenant nodded reassuringly. “Just the way it is done here, sir.”
Owen shook his head. “But the butcher, he’ll take his customary forequarter, yes? And, forgive me, but don’t we have butchers in the Regiment? Shouldn’t they be doing that work?”
“And they would, sir, but they have other things to be doing.”
“I see.” Owen pointed to something else on the requisition. “Here they ask for brimstone and shot to make up five thousand rounds.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But they also ask for five hundred firestones. That much powder and shot only requires fifty firestones.”
“Well, sir, in the wilderness…”
Owen grabbed the Quartermaster’s jacket and yanked Palmerston across the desk. “I’ve fought on the Continent, sir, in pitched battles from which your unit ran . I’ve put a hundred-fifty, even two hundred shots through a firestone before it needed replacing. Those extra firestones, I would imagine, go for a pretty pence out here. You profit from that illegal trade, don’t you?”
“Now see here, sir…”
“No, Lieutenant, you listen to me. I came to do a job. Others may have been convinced to stay here in town while the Casks and the Branches did their work for them, but that is not me. War will be coming to Mystria. My job is to prepare for that war. If you’re not helping me do that, you’re giving aid and comfort to the enemy. That’s treason, sir, and I will prefer charges. Is this
Langford looked up. “It has been translated?”
“No, sir; I am fluent in Ryngian and Kessian. My grandfather had little tolerance for ignorance.” Owen held a hand out. “If you approve, sir, I will go to the Quartermaster and draw these things.”
Langford dipped a quill and hastily scrawled his name at the bottom. “I applaud your industriousness, sir.”
“Thank you, sir.” Owen accepted the paper, stood and saluted. “May God save the Queen, sir.”
Langford, without rising from his desk, returned the salute. “And may He be kind on your person and soul.”
Lieutenant Palmerston, the Quartermaster, a grizzled veteran with one eye, a handful of teeth, and a couple fingers shy of a fist on the left, studied Owen’s list. Then he laughed aloud. “Brimstone, firestones, and shot for two-hundred fifty rounds for your musket; a hundred for a pistol? Biscuit and dried beef for three months? Clothing, blankets, trade goods, gold? Oh, sir, begging your pardon, but you cannot be serious.”
“I most certainly am, sir.” Owen’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you think I won’t need these things?”
The Lieutenant caught himself and aborted a laugh. “Well, sir, it is just that the Colonel already requisitioned supplies for your expedition. Rufus Branch drew it up. I’ve checked it all proper like. There’s more than enough to cover your needs, sir.”
Owen stroked a hand over his jaw. The Lieutenant presided over a warehouse that seemed quite well-stocked. In fact, the only thing it seemed to be lacking was men working in it.
“Might I have a look at the requisition?”
Palmerston opened a drawer to his desk and brought out a three-page document. “All signed proper like.”
He was correct. Colonel Langford had signed the last page and initialed all the others. And if Owen was not mistaken, the document had actually been written by Langford. Owen studied it and fought to keep his growing anger hidden.
“Might I ask, Lieutenant, about this item here, about the beef for the trip. The charge for services, here.”
“Oh, that’s just standard, sir.” The man scratched up under his eyepatch with a scarred finger. “You see, the cattle will be taken from our herd to Mr. Cask’s slaughter house, killed, and butchered. They will smoke it and salt it, you see, sir, so there is your service.”
“But, Lieutenant, that will take time and the beef won’t be ready to go.”
“No, sir, so we will issue beef here from our stores, and then that will replace it.” The Lieutenant nodded reassuringly. “Just the way it is done here, sir.”
Owen shook his head. “But the butcher, he’ll take his customary forequarter, yes? And, forgive me, but don’t we have butchers in the Regiment? Shouldn’t they be doing that work?”
“And they would, sir, but they have other things to be doing.”
“I see.” Owen pointed to something else on the requisition. “Here they ask for brimstone and shot to make up five thousand rounds.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But they also ask for five hundred firestones. That much powder and shot only requires fifty firestones.”
“Well, sir, in the wilderness…”
Owen grabbed the Quartermaster’s jacket and yanked Palmerston across the desk. “I’ve fought on the Continent, sir, in pitched battles from which your unit ran . I’ve put a hundred-fifty, even two hundred shots through a firestone before it needed replacing. Those extra firestones, I would imagine, go for a pretty pence out here. You profit from that illegal trade, don’t you?”
“Now see here, sir…”
“No, Lieutenant, you listen to me. I came to do a job. Others may have been convinced to stay here in town while the Casks and the Branches did their work for them, but that is not me. War will be coming to Mystria. My job is to prepare for that war. If you’re not helping me do that, you’re giving aid and comfort to the enemy. That’s treason, sir, and I will prefer charges. Is this
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