Chapter 37

Knox stepped out of the mortuary tent and into the early evening to find Zulema peering up at the notice board that stood out in front. It held lists of descriptions of the remains that had been cataloged so far. There were separate lists for men, women, and children. He had caught her at this several times already. "Caught" seemed to be the right word for it; she always took off as soon as anyone noticed. But she kept coming back.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" Knox asked. One of these days she might answer him. "Is there someone you're looking for?"

Zulema stepped away from the notice board, looking slightly shifty-eyed, and she shook her head. "No, thank you," she mumbled and shuffled away.

Approaching the tent was Dejan, who waved cheerfully at the old woman. "Good evening, Auntie Zulee. Didn't find your name on the list yet, did you?"

Zulema barely gave him a glance and muttered to herself as she continued on her way. Dejan stepped up to the notice board and ran his eyes over the list, lifting the top page when he was done to peruse the next.

"Sorry, Dejan," Knox said, moving next to him. "We really didn't find much in the area you told us about. People may have lived there, but they didn't necessarily die there. There were a couple of female skeletons, aged roughly thirty-five to forty—"

Dejan nodded. "The falshaii. The 'professional' ladies," he explained with a wink as Knox gave him a questioning look.

"If you say so. But we haven't found anyone matching the description you gave. Six feet, four or five inches tall, right?"

"About that. Just a bit taller than me."

"And he was only about forty?" Knox scratched his chin thoughtfully. "And you're how old?"

"I'm thirty." Dejan shrugged. "What can I say? He and my mom were both orphans and they were both young and unsupervised. He was only about seventeen or so when he sired me."

"Where did you last see him?"

"Huh…" Dejan frowned slightly. "Now that I think about it, he might not have made it back to the camps. It was about the edge of South Kanda. Things were a little crazy that day."

Knox studied Dejan's profile for a moment. "I've gotta say, you're taking this awfully well."

A subdued smile grew on Dejan's face as he peered at the list. "I just take it a day at a time, Dr. Knox. Oh!" His interest was suddenly caught by one of the entries. "Here's a fellow with a bit of a hunchback! Five foot seven," he read. "Sixty-five to seventy."

Knox looked to where Dejan was pointing. "Oh, yeah. He was picked up on the outskirts of the camps. Somebody you know? Knew?"

"That has to be Old Vashto." Dejan sighed. "I'm probably the closest thing left to family he's got, except for maybe a few bedbugs. I guess I should see about carrying his coffin."

"We'll keep looking," Knox said. "I'll let you know if we find anything."

"I can't ask for better than that. Thanks, Doc!"

Knox continued on his way back to his tent. Emily's tent was pitched just a few feet away from his, and she had set up a small "dining" area between them. She was sitting there now with a cup of tea and a magazine, and Knox bent down to kiss her on top of her head.

"Hello, dear," she said, smiling up at him. "How was work?"

"Same old thing," Knox replied, sitting across from her. "Is Anthony still over helping Marcoh?"

"Yes, I believe so."

Knox gave a little grin. "You're sure he isn't out chasing girls with Havoc?"

Emily gave him a playfully reproving look. "No, I couldn't say for sure." They shared a quiet laugh, and Emily set down her cup. "Let's go for a walk. The air is getting cooler and it's so nice out."

Knox was about to groan that he just got home and he was too tired, but then he caught sight of Emily's hopeful face. He stood up. "Let's do that."

Arm in arm, they strolled leisurely through the headquarters compound as the sun began to set. Work had ended for the day all around the settlement and many were out with the same intention as the Knoxes.

A burst of music came from the radio tent along with some brief cheering and laughing. The flaps along the front of the tent were tied out of the way, opening it up to the compound. Inside the tent, Havoc and Breda stood behind Karley as he gave the knobs on the transceiver a little more fine tuning. He had unplugged the headphones, so the signal was amplified by the speakers on the console. He turned the volume up a little more.

"How's that?"

"That's perfect!" Havoc pronounced. "It's officially Saturday night!"

A dance band of accordions, saxophones, and a couple of tubas had struck up a tune.

You can take my szynka, take my fine kielbasi! You can take my pierogi, but give me back my kiszka!

"That takes me back," Havoc said with a wistful, nostalgic smile. "Remember when we'd go into town after the joint exercises? Drinking and dancing all night long!"

"And then we'd have to be up by o-six-hundred the next morning," Karley added, shaking his head. "The general has little to no sympathy for a hangover."

"That part I don't miss." Havoc turned to Breda, spreading his arms. "Breda! I need a new vice to take my mind off cigarettes!" He noisily drew in a deep breath and blew it out. "Hear that? Clear as a bell! How about a polka?"

Breda returned a look of mild disgust and leaned away. "Don't touch me."

Havoc took a quick look around outside the tent. He suddenly gave a sharp whistle. "Hey, Molly!" he called to a young woman in uniform who was crossing the compound. "Come on over here and cut a rug with me!"

Molly obliging stepped forward. "Gee, I didn't pack my fluffy petticoat."

"That's okay," Havoc told her, grabbing her hand. "Neither did I!"

As the singer on the radio further bemoaned the purloining of his sausage, Havoc and Molly danced in a wide circle in front of the tent. Havoc looked over his shoulder as they passed the Knoxes.

"What?" he called out to them. "You two just gonna stand there?"

Emily tightened her hold on Knox's arm. "Oh, dear!" she breathed.

"Uh…" Knox cautiously watched the couple whirl by. "I don't know—"

It apparently wasn't up to him. Emily hauled him forward, grabbed his left hand, put her other hand on his shoulder and gave him a firmly expectant look. He had to smile and surrender.

"Okay, honey," he said as he set his hand on Emily's waist. "Just don't leave me in your dust."

Vesya paused at the edge of the small crowd that had gathered near the radio tent. She had been on her way home after finishing up at her brother's workshop, but she was attracted by the sound of music and laughter. She laughed softly along with the others as Havoc and his partner flashed by, adding variations to their steps. At one point he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her in the air while executing a turn, then setting her back on her feet without missing a beat.

The music was loud, boisterous and infectious, and Vesya raised herself very slightly on the balls of her feet to surreptitiously copy the dancers' steps in place. Right-left-right, left-right-left, right-left-right…

"You look like you've done this before."

Vesya gave a little guilty jump and looked up to see Major Miles standing beside her. He had shed his uniform jacket and his dark glasses in favor of a close-fitting tee shirt and a slightly amused look in his scarlet eyes.

"Oh…no, I haven't," Vesya replied, stilling her feet. She hoped the heat in her cheeks wasn't as obvious to him as it felt to her. "I've seen it before, though. We would try to hit all the country fairs that we could while we were traveling around Amestris."

"Traveling? You make it sound like exile was fun."

Vesya gave a little shrug. "We made the best of it. We especially loved fairs! Most of the time they would let us perform, if not for money, at least for food. And there'd always be a dance band like the one on the radio. Sometimes Dejan and Naisha would dance together." She nodded at Havoc and smiled at the recollection.

"But you didn't?"

"Oh, no!"

Miles considered her with a smile playing on his lips. "You say that as though it should be obvious."

Vesya looked away, feeling somewhat flustered and unsure if it felt pleasant or not. "I just…never did."

"That's a shame," Miles went on. "You're much to pretty to be a wallflower."

Vesya looked up at him, genuinely puzzled. "A what?"

"That's someone who isn't dancing," Miles told her, taking her hand, "but should be."

Before she had a chance to protest, he had her by the waist, her hand firmly in his. "Now it's my turn to show you a few steps," he said. "So hold on tight."

At first Vesya froze. All her upbringing told her that there was something not quite right about this. But something else was rather capably persuading her otherwise. A smile grew on her face and she hopped easily onto her left foot as he led off with his right. The band on the radio segued from one tune to another.

On Tuesday you sure got me rarin' For those kisses you'd be sharin' I showed up but you're not darin'! Girl, you let me down!

The radio tent, the compound, other faces flew by in a blur. It was the most wonderfully frightening thing she had ever done. It wasn't just the brisk tempo of the music and the steps. It was the barely credible fact that Miles had his arm around her. They were so close. The muscles in his arm felt even bigger and firmer than they looked under his uniform jacket. His eyes were even warmer close up. She briefly wondered what Naisha would think if she saw her, then she thought it was just as well that she wasn't there. She would be squealing like a pig, a thought that made Vesya giggle breathlessly.

The last tune came to a decisive ending and the dancers came to a halt. Miles gave Vesya one last spin, turning her back to face him.

"You have done this before!" he remarked.

Vesya shook her head, a delighted smile still on her face. "No, really, I haven't!"

"Then you're a fast learner."

Vesya gave a little giggle. "I suppose I am."

Breda tossed his canteen to Havoc, who looked a little out of breath. "Clear as a bell, huh?"

Havoc took several gulps of water. "I'm working on it!"

"How about you, dear?" Emily asked her husband. "Holding up all right?"

Knox nodded. They had kept at a much more sedate pace than the others, so he was not as breathless as he could have been. "Just about. I might have to sit the next one out, though."

"Of course." Emily patted him on the arm, then reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, dear!" she said, smiling up at him. "That brought back a lot of very pleasant memories."

"Yeah, it did." Knox smiled back at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "It really did."

A cheerful voice over the radio announced, "That was Danny Marx and His Polka Sharks, and you're spending another Saturday night in East City with me, your host, Johnny Cross, that's Cross by name, not by nature! So don't touch that dial unless you're gonna turn it up! Next we've got a little number by an East City favorite, Janos Bartha and his combo…"

A violin started off with a sinuous, meandering solo announcing the beginning of a csardas. It was joined after a few measures by a cimbalom as it rippled up the scale ending with a metallic trill.

"Oh, man! You know who's good at this?" Havoc declared over the music. "The colonel—I mean, the brigadier!"

"Him and the lieutenant," Breda corrected him. "It takes two, you know."

"The major's a pretty smooth operator, too," Karley added, nodding in Miles' direction.

Havoc grinned as he looked over his shoulder. Miles was taking Vesya through the initial steps. "Yeah, I can see that."

Vesya held onto Miles' upper arm with one hand and his shoulder with the other. He held her firmly with his hands against her back below her shoulder blades. They stood close and slightly offset to each other, and they moved in a slow, tight circle. Step, step, pause, step, step pause, step, step, pause, then a slight sway from side to side. Miles began to add a few variations and Vesya followed along, a little hesitantly at first, until she was able to start anticipating what the next step might be. Then the music began to speed up with a sharper rhythm and their steps became quicker, still moving around each other in a tight circle. It was a little dizzying, and Vesya clung to him tightly.

Miles stepped away from her slightly, taking one of her hands and turning her several times, moving from her right side to her left side, then turning away from her, drawing her behind him, passing her hand from his right to his left, and ending up facing her again. As the music grew gradually faster, Vesya picked up on the basic pattern and began to add her own variations that complemented Miles' movements. She would briefly let go of him and spin around behind him as he turned in the opposite direction to face her again and swing her back into his arms.

A sizeable crowd had begun to gather to watch the dancers. The Amestrians clapped and whistled in time to the music. Some of the Ishvalans followed the couple's movements with curiosity. Others, generally older, eyed the two with a somewhat uneasy disapproval.

Vesya twirled faster, sometimes on her own and sometimes with Miles' help. He would turn her one direction, her skirt flaring out, then he would spin her the other way, making her skirt wrap itself high around her thighs as she changed direction. This brought more appreciative whistles from the soldiers.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!" Pushing through the crowd and barreling forward at an alarming speed, Zulema waved her stick as though she could somehow erase the disturbing scene before her and managing at least to bring the dancing to a sudden stop. "This is disgraceful!" she squawked. She jabbed at the air in Miles' direction. "Attar! How could you! Have you grown so far away from your people? Take your hands off that girl! Where is her brother, eh? What will he have to say about this, eh?"

"Auntie Zulee—" Miles began firmly.

"Oh, don't you Auntie Zulee me, you young scoundrel! And you, missy!" Zulema turned her fiery glare on Vesya. "Taking after that sister of yours, are you! Turning into quite the hussy, aren't you!"

Vesya drew in a quick, indignant gasp and began to pull away from Miles, but he kept his arm around her and glared back at the old woman.

"Aunt Zulema, you need to stop this now!" he warned her darkly, his anger mounting.

"Hush, boy!" Zulema snapped back at him. "Hush! Don't you give me any of your back sass! And you, too!" She turned and tossed a hand at the crowd behind her as a few voices had called out cool off, old lady! and go crash some other party! "You're no better, standing around watching them! It's disgusting!" She turned back fiercely to Miles and Vesya. "Ishvala have mercy on both of you for your shamelessness! Never!" She stabbed the ground furiously with the end of her stick. "Never have I seen the like! Never in all my days!"

Even the most thoroughly disciplined, self-possessed, cool-under-fire officer had his breaking point, and Miles managed at that moment to find his.

"Then take a good look!" he told Zulema.

He pulled Vesya tightly and pressed his mouth against her in a hard kiss. This was met with a chorus of approving howls and cheers from the Amestrians and shocked gasps and cries from most of the Ishvalans. Several of the younger ones stifled laughter and were glared at by their elders. Zulema simply gaped.

Vesya went rigid for a moment, then slid a hand around the back of Miles' neck and gripped his shoulder tightly with the other. What had started out as an impulsive act of defiance turned into something quite different, and even the Amestrians seemed a little surprised as how long it was lasting.

Zulema finally managed to shake herself from her momentary paralysis and she launched herself forward. Hearing a low whoosh cutting through the air, Miles grabbed Vesya and jumped back before Zulema could connect with her stick. She started screeching wildly and rapidly in Ishvalan, shaking her stick and her fist and very nearly spitting with outrage. The two watched her warily as though she was a small rabid terrier. Finally, Zulema grabbed Vesya's wrist in a surprisingly strong grip and dragged her away, all the while keeping up her vitriolic shrieking, either at Miles, Vesya, or the company around her. Even as she and Vesya left the compound and headed away, the old woman's voice could still be heard.

Miles watched them leave, a darkly brooding and slightly embarrassed look on his face. The music on the radio came to a stop with three sharp scrapes of the violin, and the announcer came back on.

"I hope you guys got your gals good and dizzy with that one! Now we have a few words from tonight's sponsor. Are you bothered by household pests? Can you hear them nibbling away inside your cupboards? Are they driving you crazy?"

"Turn that damn thing off!" Miles growled.

"Yes, sir!" Karley quickly flipped the power switch on the transceiver, plunging the compound into an awkward silence.

The crowd began to disperse, talking with subdued voices amongst themselves, either with amusement or incredulity. They all seemed to avoid eye contact with Miles, who wore an expression like a thunderstorm that hadn't quite passed.

Knox leaned close to Emily's ear. "What just happened?" he whispered.

"Shh! I'll tell you later."

"You know," Havoc began suddenly in a slightly forced voice, "I once took a girlfriend of mine to the zoo, and there were these monkeys or baboons or something, and I tossed them a couple of peanuts, you know, and they just snapped them up, and then I said to my girl, watch this, and I pretended to throw a peanut into the cage, but I didn't really. Wow! Did those monkeys get mad! They were jumping up and down and throwing themselves at the bars of the cage! And the screeching!" He chuckled and shook his head and looked around at the others, who did not seem to be quite as amused by his story as he was and possibly felt that he should either bring it to a swift conclusion or just shut the hell up. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Well, that old lady had them beat, that's all I can say."

Miles gave him a cold, uncompromising look. "Thank God for that, Mr. Havoc."