Sheepfarmers Daughter Read Free Page B

anything else.
    "Try these boots," said the woman. Paks put on a pair of the heavy brown socks and eased her feet into the boots. They were short. The woman offered a larger pair. These fit well enough. "Here's a belt for you, and a sheath. You'll be issued the dagger later." The belt, like everything else, was plain brown; the buckle was iron. Paksenarrion took her old clothes back to the quartermaster, feeling silly with the tunic rippling around her bare thighs.
    "Ooh, look at the pretty white legs she has." She was sure that mocking whisper was Korryn or Jens, and hated herself for blushing as she handed the clothes to be sacked away. But Stammel heard the whisper too.
    "Korryn," he said. "Who told you to talk in ranks?"
    Paks, returning to her place, dared not look at Korryn's face as he replied: "No one, Sergeant."
    "Perhaps you need reminding that you are to do what you're told and
    nothing else?"
    "No, sir." Korryn did not sound as confident as usual. "But, sir, such a pretty sight — "
    "If a pair of legs can make you forget your duty, Korryn, you'll have to be better taught. I don't care if the Marshal-General of Gird's Hall in Fin Panir walks through the lines stark naked and tweaks your beard — you pay attention to me, and not to her. Is that clear?"
    "Yes, sir." Korryn sounded sullen. "But — "
    "No buts!" growled Stammel.
    In less than an hour, Stammel's group of recruits was outfitted in the recruit uniform. They moved into one of the big barracks rooms, with Bosk and Devlin, another corporal, assigning bunks.
    "File leaders will rotate from week to week for the first month or so," said Devlin. He was taller and thinner than Bosk, and looked as if he would smile more easily. Right now he was not smiling at all. "File leaders bunk here, by the door," he went on. "File seconds here, then thirds, fourths, and so on. You'll change your bunk as you change your place in the files. Now: each bunk has the same bedding, and this is how you'll make it up." The corporals demonstrated, then pulled the bedding apart. "Your turn; get busy." As the recruits struggled with the bedding, they walked from place to place, explaining and criticizing. The long, straw-stuffed pallet had to be patted into an even rectangle, muslin sheet stretched tightly over it, and the brown wool blanket folded in one certain way at the foot. Paksenarrion finally achieved an acceptable bunk, and stood beside it waiting for the others to finish. Her legs still felt chilly and exposed, and she was hungry. Most of the others looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
    At last they were all done. Corporal Devlin went to fetch Stammel, and Bosk moved around the room, positioning recruits beside each bunk, ready for inspection.
    Stammel came to the door.
    "Ready?"
    "Ready for inspection, sir," answered Bosk.
    Stammel began with the file leaders, checking the bunks first. Then he looked at his recruits, twitching a sleeve into place, here, asking about the fit of the boots, there. When he had made his way all around the room, he returned to the doorway.
    "You'll present like this for inspection every morning before breakfast," he said. "And at any other time it's ordered. You'll receive your file positions here, when that's changed, so that you'll go directly to your file position in formation in the yard. Immediately after an inspection, you'll parade in the yard, and you'll march everywhere in formation — to eat, to drill, to work. You'll have a quarterglass after morning call to visit the jacks, dress and make your bunks; I'll expect every one of you to be in place when I come in." He beckoned to Bosk and Devlin, and left the room. Most of the group stood still, but a few left their places and started for the door. Bosk returned, and the rash ones halted.
    "And who told you that you were dismissed?"
    They stared at their feet.
    "Those of you out of position, stay there. The rest of you are dismissed."
    Paksenarrion gave silent thanks that she had not