by Glen Cook
“I guess we’ll all just do what we can.”
Mogaba said, “I have several ideas for disarming problems arising from religious friction. At least temporarily.”
“Speaking of which. I need to carve on that priest’s kid. One-Eye, I’ll need you to back me up. Go ahead, Mogaba.”
His notion was straightforward. We would raise our own army without regard to religion and use it to meet the Shadowmasters’ main thrust. We would encourage the cults to raise their own forces and use them to meet threats that appeared at the secondary fords. But we would not surrender our claim to supreme command.
I laughed. “I have a feeling you’re looking for a repeat of the debacle of last summer when—”
“Nothing should disarm them more thoroughly than failures and displays of incompetence. I thought we ought to give them their chances.”
“Sounds good to me. Work up a couple of questions for recruits so we can get the drift of their religious commitment and tolerance when we sign them up. You want to tell me how to find this guy Jahamaraj Jah?”
31
Taglios: a Boot-Camp City
It had been years since I hazarded internal surgery. Before I started I was shaky and filled with doubts, but habit took hold in the crunch. My hand was steady. One-Eye restrained his natural exuberance and used his talents judiciously to control bleeding and deaden pain.
As I washed my hands I said, “I can’t believe it went that well. I haven’t done one of those since I was a kid, practically.”
“She going to pull through?” One-Eye asked.
“Should. Unless there’re complications. I want you to check back every day to make sure she’s doing all right.”
“Hey, Croaker. I got me an idea. Why don’t you buy me a broom?”
“What?”
“When I wasn’t busy doing anything else I could be sweeping up.”
“I’ll get myself one, too.” I spoke to the child’s parents briefly, through Frogface, clueing them in on what had to be done. Their gratitude was stifling. I doubted it would last. People are that way. But as we were about to leave I told the father, “I’ll collect on this.”
“Anything.”
“It won’t be trivial. When the time comes.”
He understood. He looked grim as he nodded.
We were about to step into the street when One-Eye said, “Hold up.” He pointed.
I looked down at three dead bats arranged in a neat equilateral triangle. “Maybe the boys aren’t imagining things.” The bat cadavers were not neat.
A crow cawed somewhere nearby.
I muttered, “I’ll take my help where I can get it.” Louder, “Could you make a bat spy on people?”
One-Eye thought about it. “I couldn’t. But it might be possible. Though they aren’t long on brains.”
“That’s all I needed to know.” Except for who was running the bats. The Shadowmasters, I presumed.
The twenty-hour days started. When I was not preoccupied with anything else I tried to learn the language. After you have learned enough they come easy. Or easier, anyway.
We went at it trying to keep things simple. All the evidence indicated that the Shadowmasters would use the Ghoja ford for their main crossing. I abdicated the defense of the others to the cult leaders and concentrated on what I thought I’d need to stop that main force in its tracks. If it got across the river and started rolling north, I feared we would have a repeat of Swan’s campaign. Any victory at all would be at a price too dear.
I started by forming the cadres of two legions based on the model used by the Jewel Cities in early times, when their armies were citizens with little field experience. The command structure was the simplest possible. The organization was pure infantry. Mogaba was overall commander of the foot and boss of the first legion. His lieutenant Ochiba got the second legion. Each got to keep ten Nar for NCOs and each of those ten picked a hundred candidates from among the Taglian volunteers. That gave each legion a thousand-man base which would be expanded about as fast as the Nar could teach them to march in a straight line. Mogaba got Wheezer, Lion, and Heart for staff work. I did not know what else to do with those three. They were willing but had little practical value.
Sindawe and the remaining Nar were to form a third, training and reserve legion that I expected to employ only in desperation.
Otto, Hagop, the Guards, and the roi I charged with putting together a cavalry force.
Sparkle, Candles, Cletus, and the rest from Opal and Beryl got stuck with the fun stuff, quartermastering and engineering. Hagop’s nephew ended up with him. He was another one who was useless.
The ideas were mostly Mogaba’s recommendations, which he had worked out while I was scouting southward. I did not agree with all of them, but it seemed a sin to waste the work he had done. And we had to move in some direction. Now.
He had it all figured. Sindawe’s legion would both produce new people for the leading two units and would develop as a force itself more slowly. He did not believe we could manage a force larger than three legions till we developed a lot of local talent.
Lady, Goblin, One-Eye, and I were left to handle everything else. The important, exciting stuff, like dealing with the Prahbrindrah and his sister. Like setting up an intelligence operation, finding out if there were any local wizards we could use. Charting strategy. Coming up with gimmicks. Good old Mogaba was willing to leave me the staff work and strategy.
Actually, about the way it should be. The man embarrassed me with his competence.
“Goblin, I guess you should take counterintelligence,” I said.
“Har!” One-Eye said. “That fits him perfectly.”
“Borrow Frogface whenever you need him.” The imp moaned. He got no pleasure out of having to work.
Goblin put on a smug look. “I don’t need that thing, Croaker.”
I did not like that. The runt was up to something. Ever since we came back from the country he had had that smugness about him. It meant trouble. He and One-Eye could get so involved in their feud they forgot the rest of the world.
Time would tell what was up.
“Whatever you say,” I told Goblin. “As long as you get the job done. Dangerous agents of the Shadowmasters I want you to take out. Small-timers set up so we can feed them false information. We’ve also got to keep one eye on the big priests. They’re bound to give us grief as soon as they figure out how. Human nature.”
Lady I put in charge of showmanship and planning. I had decided where I wanted to meet the enemy already, before I had anything to meet him with. I told her to work out the details. She was a better tactician than I. She had managed the armies of an empire with astonishing success.
I was learning that part of a captain’s job is to delegate. Maybe genius lies in choosing the right person for the right task.
We had maybe five weeks. And the time was counting down. And down. And down.
I did not think we had a prayer.
* * *
Nobody got much sleep. Everybody got testy. But that is the way it is in our business. You learn to adjust to it, to understand. Mogaba kept telling me it was going great on his end, but I never got time to review his outfits. Hagop and Otto were less pleased with their progress. Their recruits were of classes that saw discipline as something imposed only upon their inferiors. Otto and Hagop had to resort to asskicking to get their people in line. They came up with a couple of interesting ideas, like adding elephants to the cavalry. The Prahbrindrah’s census of animals had turned up a few hundred work elephants.
I spent my time rushing around in confusion, more often a politician than a commander. I avoided recourse to dictate when I could, preferring persuasion, but two of the High Priests gave me no choice most of the time. If I said black they said white just to let me know they considered themselves Taglios’s real bosses.
If I’d had time I’d have gotten vexed with them. I didn’t, so I didn’t play their games. I got them and their chief b
oys together, with the Prahbrindrah and his sister chaperoning, and told them I didn’t care for their attitude, that I would not tolerate it, and the schedule from here on in was do it Croaker’s way or die. If they didn’t like that, they were welcome to take their best crack at me. Then I would roast them over a slow fire in one of the public squares.
I did not make myself popular.
I was bluffing, sort of. I would do what had to be done, but did not expect to have to do it. My apparently violent nature should cow them while I got on with the job. I would worry about them after I’d turned the Shadowmasters.
Thinking positive all the time. That’s me.
I’d have starved if I’d gotten a pound of bread for every minute I really believed we had a chance.
Several people made sure news of the face-off got out. I heard rumors that some temples closed their doors for lack of business. Others had to turn away angry crowds.
Great.
But how long would it last? These peoples’ passion for supernatural nonsense was far older and more ingrained than their passion for militarism.
“What the hell happened?” I asked Swan, first chance I got. I was getting the language, but not fast enough to grasp religious subtleties.
“I think Blade happened.” He seemed bemused.
“Say what?”
“Ever since we’ve been here Blade’s been spreading seditious nonsense about priests should stick to taking care of souls and karma and keep their noses out of politics. Been selling that down to our place. And when he heard about your confab with the High Priests he got himself out in the streets to spread what he called ‘the true story.’ These people are all for their gods, you better remember that, but they ain’t so hot on some of their priests. Especially the kind that grab them by the purse and squeeze.”
I laughed. Then I said, “You tell him to back off. I’ve got troubles enough without a religious revolution.”
“Right. I don’t think you got to worry about that.”
I had to worry about everything. Taglian society was under extreme stress, though it took an outsider to see it. Too many changes too fast in a traditionalist, restrictive society. No way for conventional mechanisms to adjust. Saving Taglios would be like riding the whirlwind. I would have to stay light on my feet to keep the frustration and fear directed against the Shadowmasters.
One-Eye wakened me in the middle of one of my four-hour snoozes. “Jahamaraj Jah is here. Says he’s got to see you right now.”
“His kid take a turn for the worse?”
“She’s fine. He thinks he’s going to pay you off.”
“Bring him in.”
The priest slipped in looking furtive. He bowed and scraped like a street dweller. He plied me with every title the Taglian people had been able to imagine, including Healer. Appendectomy was a piece of surgery unknown in those parts. He looked around as though expecting ears growing out of the walls. Maybe that was an occupational hazard. He did not like the sight of Frogface at all.
That suggested some people knew what the imp was. I should keep that in mind.
“Is it safe to talk?” he asked. I followed that without translation.
“Yes.”
“I must not stay long. They will be watching me, knowing I owe you a great debt, Healer.”
Then get on with it, I thought. “Yes?”
“The High Priest of the Shadar, my superior, Ghojarindi Ghoj, whose patron is Hada, one of whose avatars is Death. You distressed him the other night. He has told the Children of Hada that Hada thirsts for your ka.”
Frogface translated, and added commentary. “Hada is the Shadar goddess of Death, Destruction, and Corruption, Cap. The Children of Hada are a subcult who dedicate themselves by way of murder and torture. Doctrine says that should be random and senseless. The way it works out, though, is that those who die have got onto the boss priest’s shitlist.”
“I see.” I smiled slightly. “And who is your patron, Jahamaraj Jah?”
He smiled back. “Khadi.”
“All Sweetness and Light, I take it.”
“Hell no, chief. She’s Hada’s twin sister. Just as damned nasty. Got her fingers into plague, famine, disease, fun stuff like that. One of the big things the Shadar and Gunni cults squabble about is whether Hada and Khadi are separate deities or just one with two faces.”
“I love it. I bet people get killed over it. And priests look at me weird when I say I can’t take them seriously. One-Eye. You figure I’m guessing right when I think our buddy here is helping himself by trying to weasel out of a debt?”
One-Eye chuckled. “I figure he plans to be the next Shadar boss.”
I had Frogface go straight at him. He did not blush. He admitted he was the most likely successor to Ghojarindi Ghoj.
“In that case I don’t figure he’s done anything but make the vig. Tell him thanks but I figure he still owes me. Tell him that if he all of a sudden finds himself boss priest of the Shadar I’d be real proud if he’d make his people mind and not get too ambitious himself for a year or two.”
Frogface told him. His grin went away. His lips tightened into a wrinkly little nut. But he bobbed his head.
“Get him on the road, One-Eye. Wouldn’t want him getting in trouble with his boss.”
I went and wakened Goblin. “We got priest problems. Character named Ghojarindi Ghoj is siccing assassins on me. Take Murgen, go over to Swan’s dive, dig out his resident priest hater, have him finger the guy. He needs promoting to a higher plane. It don’t have to be spectacular, just unpleasant. Like having him shit himself to death.”
Grumbling, Goblin went to find Murgen.
One-Eye and Frogface got to watch for would-be assassins.
They were professionals but they were not up to getting past Frogface. There were six of them. I had some of the Nar, who favored that sort of thing, take them to a public square and impale them.
Ghojarindi Ghoj went west a day later. He perished of a sudden, dramatic surfeit of boils. The lesson was not lost on anyone.
The lesson was, of course, don’t get caught.
Nobody seemed upset or displeased. The attitude was, Ghoj had placed his bets and taken his chances. But the Radisha did give me some thoughtful looks while we fussed over whether I needed another thousand swords and especially if I needed the hundred tons of charcoal I had requisitioned.
Actually, we were to the games-playing stage already. I asked for a hundred tons knowing I wanted ten, figuring to groan and gripe and give in and get more of the arms.
The recruits were providing their own kit. The arms I most wanted financed by the state were pieces that could not be well explained to a civilian. I was having trouble enough convincing Mogaba that wheeled light artillery might be of value.
I was not sure it would myself. That depended on what the enemy did. If they behaved as they had before, artillery would be wasted. But the model was the Jewel Cities legion. Those guys dragged light engines along to knock holes in enemy formations.
Oh, fuss. Some things you just settle by saying I’m the boss and you’ll do it my way.
Mogaba did not mind.
Seventeen days to go, estimated. Lady visited me. I asked her, “Will you be ready?”
“I’m almost ready now.”
“One positive report amongst the hundreds. You brighten my life.”
She gave me a funny look. “I’ve seen Shifter. He’s been across the river.” One-Eye and Goblin, in their capacities as spymasters, had had little luck, mostly because the Main was just plain uncrossable. They had no lack of volunteers.
As for cleaning up the Shadowmasters’ agents in Taglios, that had not taken them ten days. A bunch of little brown guys had bitten the dust. A few native Taglians remained. We were feeding them plenty of truth, and just enough bull to tempt their masters into making their major crossing effort where I wanted it.
“Ah. And did he learn anything we want to hear?”
She grinned. “He d
id. You get your wish. They’ll bring their main force over at the Ghoja ford. And they won’t be with their armies. They don’t trust each other enough to leave home base unguarded.”
“Beautiful. Suddenly, I feel like we’ve got a chance. Maybe only one in ten, but a chance.”
“And now for the bad news.”
“I guess it had to be. What is it?”
“They’re sending an extra five thousand men. Ten thousand in the Ghoja force. A thousand each at Theri and Vehdna-Bota. The rest come across at Numa. They tell me Numa is crossable two days earlier than the Ghoja ford is.”
“That’s bad. They could have three thousand guys behind us when it hits.”
“They will unless they’re morons.”
I closed my eyes and looked at the map. Numa was where I had told Jahamaraj Jah his Shadar people could make their mark. He had raised twenty-five hundred cultists only by straining. Most Shadars wanted to wait and get into our ecumenical force. Three thousand veterans would roll right over him.
“Cavalry?” I asked. “Have Jah meet them at the water’s edge and do what he can, and fall back, and have our cavalry hit them from the flank as they’re about to break out?”
“I was considering sneaking Mogaba’s legion down, smash them, then rout march to Ghoja. But you’re right. Cavalry would be more efficient. Do you trust Otto and Hagop to handle it?”
I did not. They were having their problems taking charge. Without the bloodyminded roi to kick ass where that was needed, their force would have been a travelling circus. “You want it? You done a field command?”
She looked at me hard. “Where have you been?”
Right. I’d been there often enough.
“You want it?”
“If you want me to take it.”
“Singe me to a crisp in the fire of your enthusiasm. All right. But we won’t tell anybody till it’s time. And Jahamaraj Jah not at all. He’ll try harder if he don’t know help is coming.”
“All right.”
“Any other news from our seldom-seen friend?”
“No.”
“Who is that woman he’s dragging around?”
