A/N: 1) Second to last chapter (zer grand finish will probably be posted on Wednesday). 2) That bit about Clogston (you'll know it when you see it) demanded its way in there. I deleted it twice, moved it once. It's still there, so, in conclusion, um.
Schrödinger's Vampire: Chapter 11
Strange, Polly thought later that day, that after all these weeks they were right where they had started. The infirmary lay ghost-like in the moonlight that came dripping through the high windows - at least until Polly lit a candle in consternation - and there was not a living soul in sight, except for her.
Oh no, she thought, this was different. Mal was warm and breathing this time. Maybe they'd be all right when she'd wake up.
The army was nothing without dreams.
At least this time Polly had been early in getting over the incredible awkwardness that was talking to an unresponsive person in a darkened room, probably because she'd had a lot of practise lately, and she'd already debriefed Mal on the subject of safety, namely, Mal's, and the guaranteedness thereoff, since the Uberwaldeans had presumably left and the lads were standing guard. She told her how they'd asked if the rumours were true about Mal, Polly'd shrugged, what rumours? and she should know what rumours because she'd been there, and that had been that because they'd trained the lads well, eh? And then, briefly, something about the local bird population.
Somewhere in a neighbouring room, a clock stroke once and stopped. Polly thought that maybe she could go to bed after all as soon as she finished the first chapter of Mal's book that she was reading to her in the dingy candlelight - she supposed fictional cross-dressing soldier girls were infinitely more interesting to Mal than birds, local or otherwise - when the door to the room opened almost silently and a thin sliver of light fell on a particularly rude word on her page.
Polly looked up. Outlined in the doorframe was Clogston, apparently finally released from the endless meeting that Polly and Mal had, for lack of a better term, left early.
"Evening," said Polly. Clogston didn't come closer, leaning against the frame. Polly felt watched.
"I thought it was only a corrosive," said Clogston eventually. "Not a poison."
Polly closed the book, with a silent apology to Mal. "It's both," she said. "Or nothing. Depends on who you are."
"Ah," said Clogston. "Fascinating. A really clever idea. Could have been one of mine."
"You don't believe what von Unterberg said, do you?" said Polly. "'cos I didn't think this one up." Then something occured to her, and her eyes narrowed. "It wasn't one of your clever ideas, was it?"
"Were it one of mine I'd have made sure the cup went to von Unterberg," said Clogston. "Why didn't I think of it? Really, Polly." Polly had never thought of Clogston as the poisoning type before, because really, why poison someone when you can set an army of thousands on them?
"How is the corporal?" Clogston added, and only then she left the doorframe and came a few steps closer.
"Better," said Polly, looking down on Mal, who appeared to be sleeping, even though it didn't look particularly restful. It was the kind of sleep that said the world could go screw itself as far as the sleeper was concerned, and then complained when the world didn't comply. It was a statement. Mal had made a similar one after Nedevya, too.
There'd been one nightmare so far, in which Polly had gone to have a smoke with the lads. She thought it was a good quota.
"Interesting," said Clogston.
"How did the meeting go?" asked Polly.
"With the Uberwaldeans gone, there's really not much of a point to it," said Clogston. "Of course we don't have a treaty."
Polly sighed. Just as expected. "Well, then," she said, "we'll pretty much have to try for one again, don't we?"
"Apparently Colonel Bergmann thinks such a thing would be undignified," said Clogston. "I told him my dignity would survive, but I haven't received the orders yet. In any case, I don't think it's possible with von Unterberg, he seems just a tad uncooperative. Worse, he's an uncooperative lieutenant. That's not much in diplomacy."
"They've got one gun," said Polly. "They've got better iron than we have, and sulphur that we don't have at all, and dwarves that we've abominated. It won't take long until they've armed up, and the only thing that'll change is that more people will die." She sighed. "Getting shot at is vastly more undignified than pushing for a treaty while we have the upper hand, tell Bergmann that."
"I know that," said Clogston. "But some of them have never seen a front, it still surprises me after twelve years. Also, your promotion is through; I've just finished the letter of recommendation. You can start military school next spring."
"Thanks," said Polly, watching an unmoving Mal sleep, somewhat uncomfortably aware that Clogston was doing the same thing very thoroughly. "I guess. May I ask you a personal question?"
"That would depend on the question, wouldn't it?" said Clogston. "Go for it."
"The promotion is secure?"
A glint of a smile in the candlelight. "It is."
Polly exhaled. "Why Mal?"
Clogston's expression lay perfectly motionless again. "I've explained that before," she said. "The corporal is -"
"I did say personal," said Polly. "C'mon. Mal isn't exactly discreet with this stuff."
The pause that followed told her that she probably didn't know half of it. It was a rather talkative pause.
"Because he's the only one in this army who can quote plays without amusingly placed balloons in them," said Clogston finally, "and, in a most interesting personal union, the only one who actually knows the long-lost ninety-ninth verse of the hedgehog song." She paused for a moment. "The one about the fruit fly?" she suggested.
The answer sounded neither entirely honest nor thorough, Polly thought, but then again the question had been private. At least Polly'd waited until after the promotion was fixed.
They'd seen the opera in the capital only months after it had been un-abominated, Polly and Mal, and Polly would never forget glancing over at her dashingly clad comrade in the dark, seeing her beatific smile at the incomprehensibility of the drama on stage, the one that was usually reserved for perfectly brewed cups of coffee.
"Also, Clogston interrupted her train of thought, "because he's a lying bastard."
It was such a rare thing to hear Clogston use a word that didn't seem at home at a coffee party between cream eclairs and would you be so kind as to pass me the sugar tongs, please, that Polly's lips formed a silent 'what' all on their own.
"Corporal Maladict," said Clogston, as if Mal was going to wake up by the sheer force of a direct address.
Mal stirred slightly. Polly was shocked. She was even more shocked to hear a small voice from among the sheets say, "Go 'way."
"My adjutant made the coffee," said Clogston. "No-one else could possibly have tampered with it. Explain yourself."
"What the hell, leave Mal alone," said Polly. "Sir."
"I have a headache," the sheets claimed.
"I have a brainache," said Polly. "Mal, to you, too, I say, what the hell. What is happening here?" Fretting at bedsides of close friends somewhat depended on their unconsciousness, Polly thought, and now Mal had gone and - been awake the entire time? She hoped not. Polly'd never hear the end of it now.
"Well played, corporal," said Clogston. "I admit I may have uttered a slight desire to be rid of von Unterberg as permanently as possible, but do explain, please, what exactly you were thinking."
"Come back later," said Mal. "I'm miserable, I'm poisoned, I've never had a hangover like this. You can't hold me accountable for the things I say now."
"Oh, I will," said Clogston. "And you can stop faking, little vampire."
There was a groan from the depths of the bed. "'m not," said Mal.
"You are," said Clogston. "This is, in fact, one of the major points of the conversation that I am trying to have with you, corporal."
"Well, then, Major, I'm not," said Mal. "Did all this look nicely convincing to anyone? Thought it did." Apparently, she'd decided she may just as well give up on trying to hide in the sheets and at least pretend she was fully awake now.
"All right," said Polly. "Guess I can send the lads to bed now. Guess you don't need protection from other people. As such."
"Uh," said Clogston, before Polly could even get up. "We're all of course very upset, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that."
Polly felt like one single big red question mark. That was getting angrier by the second.
"Von Unterberg did try to poison me this morning," said Mal, helpfully. "Remember that coffee at breakfast that I refused to drink?"
"Yeah," said Polly, rolling her eyes. "That really was a red flag."
"I saved it. Did you think I thought this up all by myself?" Mal asked. "'course not. I merely chose the time to better suit my needs."
"Oh, you mean he's not an angel of innocence, good thing we figured that one out, Mal," she said.
"What needs??" said Clogston. "The honourable discharge is still on offer, as you undoubteldy know, so. What on earth were you trying to achieve? You could have died!"
Polly thought it was a strange thing to see Clogston so concerned.
"Yeah, well, seems to be a commonly accepted side effect of clever plans involving my person," said Mal sourly. "You said the conference wasn't going anywhere," she added. "And then I met von Unterberg and thought, oh boy you weren't lying, what a complete tool, and then I thought, oh dear, does he seem a little familiar or what -"
"Why'd you call him Antonin?" interjected Polly. Maybe they could clear that bit right up with the rest, she thought.
"And then I realised that no-one was going to convince anyone of anything," said Mal, who apparently didn't like whereever Polly's train of thought was going and therefore boarded another one. "He knows fully well what went on, better than I do in fact, and I wasn't going to subject myself to endless hours of can you prove this and can you prove that, are you sure you didn't claw your own eyes out in the throes of deprivation, can you prove that you didn't drink all that coffee because you like coffee so much. So I spoke my piece and went on to employ the great Borogravian army tradition of fighting dirtier than the enemy, and did I ever win, and he knows. Epic, awesome, glorious, thank you. Would do it again anytime, Chris, now go 'way and let me sleep. I'm keeping Polly."
"Why did you call him Antonin?" said Clogston, appearing unimpressed by the monologue.
Mal yawned. Insubordination had never been so sleepy. "'cos that's his name," she said. "Bit like mine's Maladicta. Are you being deliberately obtuse or something."
Clogston shrugged. "Very well, then, corporal," she said. "I suppose we can do without a court martial for now. But do tell me next time you're planning a stunt like this."
"Nah," said Mal, "I couldn't have told you the truth, it had to be convincing, yes?"
There was a testy pause. Clearly, someone had to learn to be the bigger person, and it wasn't going to be Mal. "Thank you, that would be all," said Clogston, eventually, and, more to herself, "damn underlings, must they always learn."
Ah, thought Polly. A joke. The military was never all that funny, so she gave a dutiful smile. Must nurture the beginnings.
"Okay," said Mal. "I must admit that maybe I faked a little. But not all of it!"
"Good night," said Clogston. "If word of this gets out, I'm holding you two personally responsible." With that, she left, closing the door behind her silently. Polly hoped the lads hadn't tried to listen in too obviously.
"Stupid stubborn vampire," she said.
"But I won," said Mal. "I like winning. It was kind of important to me."
"You know what's kind of important to me?" said Polly.
"Me?" suggested Mal innocently.
"Ha," said Polly. "More the fact someone almost succeeded in poisoning my corporal, at breakfast, while I was there and didn't know about it. I demand to know about each and every poisoning involving your person, is that understood?"
Mal shrugged. "If you insist."
"Why didn't you tell me?," said Polly. "I'd have raised so much hell, so hard."
"Because," said Mal, "the proof is in the eating of the pudding or whatever it is you lowlanders say, i.e. the proof of holy water is not in the coffee cup but in the poisoning, so there wouldn't have been any proof anyway, but now there is. You'd just have fretted about my safety if I told you."
"Mal," said Polly. "I have been fretting over your safety for weeks now. Also, I'd have suggested application of poisoned coffee to von Unterberg's face. There? Proof." Clearly, great minds thought alike, and, by extension, Clogston must be a great mind.
"Proof that I'm the murderous bastard," said Mal. "I want him to face this responsibility. it's not a hard concept, really. Except one apparently has to go to great big lengths in order to fight dirtier than him, that bit was quite boggling." She added something that Polly didn't understand the first time.
"Sorry?" she said.
"I said, thank you for staying with me," said Mal.
Polly watched her for a little while longer, book on her knees, candle burning down, with a look on her face that she hoped was sternly disapproving, and thought.
"I guess tomorrow will be von Unterberg-free," she said, finally. So maybe disapproving had been an unrealistic goal.
"See?" said Mal. "I did you all a favour. I bet Christine'll be giving me a medal soon for being awesome and getting rid of him. He probably left his spies, anyway, so if you have some spare time you might want to look in the kitchen."
Yeah, right, thought Polly, find the cook who said a prayer over the coffee maker. That would be interesting. She yawned, speculated whether Igor would kill her if she lit up a cigarette in the infirmary.
"You can stay if you want," said Mal.
"Well, if you absolutely insist," said Polly.
"I said," said Mal, "you can stay if you want."
"Right," said Polly. "Why would I want to sleep in an armchair, I - oh, friendship, loyalty, support, I get it. I hate my office, anyway."
"Good thing I'm here to put you up," said Mal. "By the way, I can't believe you got Chris to say that. I always thought she liked my sense of humour! And my sense of fashion. And the vast depths of my intellect. And that I'm pretty and smell nice."
"Your modesty, more like," said Polly. "I get it. You, corporal, are a sleep faker and an eavesdropper. Was it just me or is Clogston hiding something?" In her experience, Clogston was always hiding something, but today it seemed to had gone further than normal. Also, Polly was a naturally nosy person.
Mal didn't blush much and wouldn't have in a situation like this, anyway. "All right, all right," she said.
Polly blinked. "All right what?" she said.
"So I can't believe I'm admitting this but I slept with her," said Mal. "Happy?" She didn't sound particularly annoyed, though.
Polly would have sat down at this, but found that she was sitting already. "Well, I hope it was good," she said, because it was the first thing on her mind and also, her usual reaction to Mal being overly adventurous.
Of course, she'd forgot what Mal's usual reaction to that question was. Too much information, that was what it was. "There were some good bits," said Mal. "There also were some bad bits so I guess this should average out to adequate, which is of course unacceptable. I'm afraid I got a little sulky after and she tried to say something helpful and I had to shush her; awkward." Suddenly and disconcertingly, she grinned. "Also, if you thought there were circumstances that stopped Chris from giving orders you were quite mistaken. But that was one of the good bits, so."
"Wait," said Polly slowly. "When was this? Did I miss something?"
"Wednesday," said Mal. "What? I can't be brooding all the time." It sounded vaguely bitter.
Polly did some not particularly complex calculations. Then she said, carefully, "I rather got the impression this morning that she had no idea that you -"
"I suggest you use your imagination, Pol," said Mal with an unabashed smile. Polly groaned. Her imagination didn't need prompting, having been extensively trained by Mal's elastic sense of the appropriate. "I never said anything definite," added Mal. "These were the terms and it turned out very interesting. You should try it some time!"
"Ah," said Polly. This rather summed it up for her. "I don't know about you, but I want to know if they manage to trick the cow herders with the funny hats," she said, in order to change the subject. "Want me to read on?"
There was an affirmative "Hm", and Polly read on. There were only a couple of pages to go in the first chapter, and the cross-dressing soldier girls managed to not only trick the cow herders, but also - swiftly and boldly - stole their hats.
"I wonder why the short one fights inna mask and a swirly cloak all the time," said Mal. "And with that silly rapier thingy."
"I expect they're gonna explain that one later," said Polly. "It seems a little impractical. Good thing she's, what does it say here, faster than any other human and even a few demigods, even faster than the light."
"'s not hard," said Mal. "Humans and light, that is; not sure about demigods."
"That's settled, then," said Polly. "She can just duck from under their broadswords and poke them afterwards. With her rapier."
"Awesome," said Mal. "Finally something that makes actual sense."
The clock stroke half past one. "Bedtime, Mal," Polly said, yawning stealthily. "There may be dragons tomorrow."
She'd be pretty sore after a night in this chair, she supposed. But she wasn't going to move now and anyway had promised Mal to stay. Something was still on her mind.
"So you're with her now," Polly said. after a while. Factually, she didn't think it held that much significance, but it seemed important to her at that point, and screw the reasons.
"I am with no-one," said Mal. "Usually works best, I find."
"Ah," said Polly, who decided she ultimately didn't understand the Clogston part of the equation but thought she could begin to understand the rest. She was, however, a little surprised to find that this wasn't even the number one priority on her mind. It took her at least another hour of not falling asleep in her chair to figure out that maybe some of the lack of answers was at least partly due to not getting the questions completely right.
"Mal," she said, when the moon had slipped so low it may hide completely behind the mountains any minute now. The light was already slowly retreating; it really was no challenge in terms of speed, she thought.
She'd guessed that the vampire was equally sleepless as she was. There was no answer, but she hadn't expected one.
"Mal, how do you know his name's Antonin?" she asked.
There was definite stirring in the bed next to her armchair, and after a moment, Mal even sat up for the first time that night. So apparently this wasn't another near-death experience, not even close; just a temporary drawback with a bit of added faking. Polly caught her expression in the faint and fading light, carefully sculpted confusion superimposed on something else as Mal dragged her hands through her hair.
"I don't know, do I?" she said. "He must have mentioned it." But for all the triviality of the answer, the question must have troubled her somewhat and she sank back onto the bed. Polly thought of what Mal had said, that von Unterberg knew everything and knew it better than she did. There was a horror in that thought that she hadn't considered before.
And she was pretty sure that the answer didn't contain a polite introduction using a name that von Unterberg was clearly uncomfortable with.
"Mal," she said softly, "you said you figured it out. You can tell me."
The silence that followed stretched for so long that Polly thought Mal had fallen asleep or at least stopped talking to her. And then the light was gone, the room a more natural vampire habitat.
"I'm not sure yet," said Mal.
Polly watched her for a little while longer, but it became obvious the conversation was over.