Conversations from the Scythe and Skull, collected by Alan Humphries, 27 April 1917

Adam Roberts: "The Ravenings are tapering off. They are much more careful about whom they attack. If they don't achieve an immediate advantage, they back off and regroup. If the second attack goes badly, or if we come after them first, they scatter and do not return."

Randall Harmon: "Sometimes they send an advance scout to see who's on defense. If they don't like their chances, they go bother someone else. If Slingby or Roberts is present, there's very rarely an attack. Or you, Grell, of course."

Nicholas Kendall: "Mountjoy and I ran off a group yesterday, here in London. One boss and five barely adult devils. Haven't seen adolescents in these attacks before. Incompetent, terrified. I killed the leader and let the kids go home to tell everybody that the raid was a really bad idea."

Chandra Gupta: "The battlefield demons are improving. Or possibly the less competent have died. The leaders are becoming cautious. When they do engage, they are well-organized and vicious. They are beginning to preplan their attacks."

Iris Quirke: "They aren't so hungry. We've killed so many. I wonder— could their population have dropped to a level they can easily feed? And to a level where they have to conserve their forces?"

Albert Forbes: "Not that it's any easier for us. The angels sent to guard us are proportionally fewer and less experienced. Here's a question, Alan. Are Reapers truly neutral between Heaven and Hell? Or do we just dislike both of them equally? Not that it matters, I suppose."

Diederik Ten Hagen: "The last demon I fought was fairly high-ranking but working alone. He should have led a group of subordinates. Could it be that they're all gone?"

Caroline Cortland: "French Admin has an arrangement with the demons. Paperwork… But how can they trust the demons to behave?"

Grell Sutcliff: "Well, dear, I can only surmise that the demons have been given orders. Something has obviously changed. It has to have come from sources which cannot be challenged. That means the very lowest circles."

Avram Jacobs: "Contracts, Miss Cortland. The Admins of both realms are bound by treaties, which are considered to be Contracts. By the way, Eric, I've done some research. Your demon on the battlefield is deliberately extending his current Contract beyond its agreed-upon expiration. Looks like he's avoiding whatever duty he'd be given once it's over; perhaps being put in charge of an attack group of bottom-of-the-barrel misfits. If he drags the Contract out to the war's end, he's more likely to be allowed to go his own way and seek another single victim."

Eric Slingby: "I'm pretty sure you're right. He despises his Contracted master but preserves him anyway. He's very much a loner."

Eric Slingby, speaking of Color-Sergeant Frank Bourne, London Garrison: "Poor fellow is distressed about the death rates among the newly-fledged, and a few talented youngsters who have Fallen under the weight of the war."

Director Spears laid down the report. "What am I to do with this, Humphries? You draw no conclusions."

"Not my place or my area of competence, sir. But these are observations from people actually working the battlefields. It shows that there is a definite change in the enemy's strategy, and in the strategy of our allies as well. Surely there is an expert in the higher echelons who needs this information to adjust our own strategies. I think it shows that the angels and demons are suffering the same losses we are, commensurate with human losses. Drawing conclusions is beyond me – too many unknowns. Still, if all realms are sustaining major losses, perhaps some treaty might be made to the benefit of all. Unless the rulers of the other two realms wish to continue the game until they have cleared the board. In that case we are all game pieces to be returned to the box."

"Heresy, Humphries!"

"Logic, Director. Simply stated, both Celestials and Infernals are fielding younger and fewer soldiers, often with incomplete training. The demonic population is no longer too large to feed. They are now not numerous enough to use their traditional strategies. We are seeing more individual attacks where we expect group strikes. The angels do know they should protect us, but they are doing an increasingly poor job of it, as the abduction of Jonas Burns shows. Their angelic escort was overburdened and unable to cope. The Branch which tried to buy Burns folded for lack of staff, as did the branch it folded into, and the branch above that. The fourth branch only held because Paris transferred six senior staffers there. The system is failing, Will. Not just for us but for all realms. I think that there will be negotiations, and perhaps a few treaties like the one that binds the Admins of Reaper and Infernal realms to cooperate on the record-keeping of the battlefields. Madame would know where to send this, I think."

"Our Garrison appears to be holding up quite well. Do you disagree?"

"London has a much better relationship with its Garrison than most. We are, or were, also very fortunate in its General. When Artois left for war, he deliberately left behind an excellent young Captain. Better, he left the Color-Sergeant to back him up and keep him from making too many mistakes. Eric says most Garrisons are now staffed by REMFs. I am afraid to ask him what the acronym stands for. Probably untalented individuals misusing their first taste of power."

"These conclusions are adequate. Add them to your report."

"They are arguments from ignorance. Insufficient data. Yes, I will add them. However, once I have done so, I would like to route this report to a man whose knowledge of demons is greater than mine, or anyone else's here; Avram Jacobs. With your permission and Eric's, of course. Let Avram add and amend before putting it into final form. He's done tracing our missing, is rather upset by his findings, and could use another assignment to distract him."

"Good. Do that. Tell Slingby that I say he approves. By the way, how hung over is he this morning?"

"Very little. Most of the bruising is gone. Fair warning; he's quite offensively cheerful. Thanks for letting me handle it."

"Thank you for warning me beforehand. Now, Humphries, I noticed in your medical file that Doctor Collins saw fit to medicate you two days ago. Why?"

"Difficulty sleeping. I've been helping out over at the Thorns hostel on nights when I can't fall asleep. I have already been scolded by my doctor and my partner, and will cease my midnight ramblings. Besides, Maintenance has stepped up and the work is mostly done. Please extend my thanks to Madame Administrator for getting the situation recognized and corrected."

"She enjoyed the opportunity of doing several colleagues in the eye. I am pleased to report that the hostel is fully funded at the Company level. It's now a Branch of Medical. They cannot fully staff it, so the Academy has defined it as a course of study available to those who will never Reap. All dropouts may claim employment as orderlies. Those who do not wish to join Medical will be able to apprentice themselves to the other Divisions working there. A general announcement of this facility has been made. Numbers of the cursed are coming in from all countries. It has been noted that this includes countries not at war, not just those specifically involved in the current unpleasantness."

"Is the Cassandra curse broken completely?"

"Yes. It was centered on you and dispelled by Doctor Collins. A failed experiment, I believe, far too easily countered."

"Were Seniors Johns and Richards still here when he broke it?"

"They were, and it cost me another pot of tea and all of Brock's macaroons. Brock has threatened to start storing them down in the Admin Stacks under lock and key. I suggested he stop keeping food items in the workplace. He asked where else Bradshaw was going to get them when visitors suddenly invade. He's willing to share in emergencies but is holding out for a regular weekly resupply, three additional adding machines and six interns to operate them. Negotiate with him, will you? Two machines and reparations for his biscuits. Tell Bradshaw I will approve his choice of a better quality tea for important visitors. A small tin, mind you. Important visitors only."

Alan did not smile, though the effort nearly broke his face. "Black or green?"

"One of Lapsang. One of Gunpowder. Out, Humphries. I want this report on my desk by 14:00."

Alan left Will's office and sought out Bradshaw. "He says please buy small tins of Lapsang Souchong and Gunpowder tea for visitors of note."

Bradshaw smiled. "I'll do better. I'll get Qimen Hongcha and Huangshan Maofeng. His personal preference is Assam boiled for three days in an old boot. Scrubbing that out of the teapot is an adventure in itself."

"Can you really change his habits, though?"

"Gradually. The key phrase here is 'for visitors.' I'll just infer that we can hardly serve visitors a tea which has lost its fragrance and flavor from sitting in a cabinet for a year. It is wasteful not to use it while it's at its best. We'd just have to throw it out otherwise. Using it up and replacing it regularly is the only way to assure its suitability for an unexpected guest. Besides, Senior Sutcliffe often joins him for a cup in his office. She'll certainly enjoy a better brew."

"About Brock's macaroons—"

"Not good enough for visitors; they've been sitting around in a box for up to a week. With your permission, we'll start a tab at the new pâtisserie next to Patel's Curry. The maître pâtissier is first-rate. He needs the business enough to be willing to make up an excellent tray on short notice. Brock will find the money. I'll talk to him."

"Brad, do you mind being Will's tea person? It's not really in your job description."

"Write it in, then. Wójcik doesn't want to do it because it leaves Spears' door unguarded. Your door is in the full sight of three perpetually manned desks. I like it. Beats reaping. Also beats filing. Breaks the monotony nicely. It allows me to rebrew the pot and offer a cup to Wójcik and the back office, who quite look forward to it. It gives everybody a short break and a nice chat. Who else here gets greeted as a hero just by showing up with a tray?"

"And sometimes there are leftover biscuits, too," commented Knox. "Everybody goes back to work refreshed. If Will complains I'll remind him that it improves productivity and the quality of the work. He knows that. He just has to get past his dislike of any change."

"Excellent, Ronnie. See what you can do to encourage Will to drink a better tea, and permit a daily order of baked goods to the office. Everyone benefits, of course, but the point really is trust. He'll be more likely to accept, or at least consider, other suggestions you make. Get him comfortable with that. Someday you'll need to offer him an important insight; we want him to be ready to hear it from you. You as in 'Knox The Knife,' not as 'Ronnie the adolescent skirt-chasing little brother.' Both personas are useful, but he only knows one. He hasn't seen you on the battlefield."

Ronnie straightened. For an instant, Alan caught a glimpse of the man he might have become had he not died so young. "I'll need to find something to campaign for that isn't related to my appetite, then. Any suggestions?"

Ronnie could still become that man. "Ask to join him on his sweep assignments," suggested Alan. "Show him Knox the Knife. You'll find something that needs to be improved. Start there."