Free Chasing the Phoenix by Michael Swanwick

sir. Still looking for recruits?”
    â€œIndeed, I am. The Hidden King has said I may have as many as twenty soldiers, though I confess that finding those with the special talents I require is proving more difficult than I expected.”
    â€œYou’ve got quite a set of miscreants to choose from today, sir. That rascal up there, for example”—the officer gestured at a wretch who had just received the last of what had clearly been a large number of strokes from a hard rubber club; untied, he slumped loosely to the platform floor and was carried away—“got into an argument with a whore and gouged out one of her eyes. Which, in addition to the obvious injury done her, reduces the amount she can charge for her services in the future. If it weren’t for us being at war and his worthless carcass thus required to be available for a meaningful and heroic death, he’d have been cashiered and left to the mercy of her peers.”
    â€œYes, well, intemperance is not one of the virtues I’m looking for.” Surplus scanned the apprehensive line of miscreants awaiting punishment. To a man—save one—they bore expressions of dejection, despair, or hangdog resignation. The exception was an ogre of a man with shoulders so broad they made his head look tiny. With narrowed eyes, he was looking everywhere but at the punishment stock, like a merchant seeking an opportunity for profit or a prisoner inspecting the prison walls for an undiscovered weakness. Clearly, he was still searching for even the slightest chance of escaping his imminent punishment. “The fellow with the sly expression—what did he do?”
    â€œThat’s an interesting case, sir. He brought in one of the enemy’s fabled mountain horses.”
    â€œThat sounds more worthy of commendation than punishment.”
    â€œAh, but the army has advertised a generous award for anyone who brings us a mountain horse. So when he turned the horse in, he tried to claim money for it.”
    â€œI’m still at a loss.”
    â€œWell, you see, sir, for a civilian that would have been fine. But he being a soldier, once he captured the horse it became the property of the army. So when he didn’t simply hand it over, he was stealing what properly belonged to the Hidden King. In consequence of which, he was convicted of theft and attempting to sell stolen property.”
    â€œThat sounds like just the sort of enterprising individual I need.” Surplus strolled up to the man in question. “You know fisticuffs, I presume?”
    Those shrewd eyes studied Surplus carefully. Then the man nodded.
    â€œStep out of line.” Those soldiers who had gathered out of boredom to watch their peers being punished formed a loose circle about the two. Some of them quietly began to place bets. “The rules are simple. If you knock me down three times, you walk free. If I knock you down three times, I have the option of either transferring you to my command or returning you to your just punishment, depending on how impressed I am by your performance. Trickery and unfair blows are encouraged. You may signify your understanding and agreement to these terms by attacking me.”
    Up close, the man was enormous. He was a good head taller than Surplus and considerably broader. He nodded his head shaggily, as if mulling over what had been said. Then, without warning, he crashed down on his knees before Surplus. “There is no need to defeat me, sir. I have seen your fighting prowess in action and know that the experience would be for me an unhappy one.”
    Murmurs of disappointment arose from the bystanders. Surplus turned to the officer on duty and said, “When did this man see me fight?”
    â€œNever, sir, for he has been in the stockade these past five days.”
    â€œWhy do you lie to me, soldier?” Surplus asked the miscreant.
    The man stood and, a touch embarrassedly, slapped the dirt from his