The Books of the South

by Glen Cook

  67

  The archers halted in sight of the Taglian main camp. “We’re safe now,” Croaker told the prince. “Let’s make a proper entrance.”

  Cavalry had found them two days earlier, forty miles north. Horsemen had visited regularly since yesterday. The archers had kept their mouths shut admirably. Willow Swan had led one patrol. He had not recognized anyone.

  Croaker had had the captain borrow horses. The archers’ transport consisted only of mules enough to carry what the soldiers themselves could not. Two mounts had arrived an hour ago, saddled.

  The prince dressed up as a prince. Croaker donned what he called his work clothes, a warlord’s outfit given him back when he had been every Taglian’s hero. He had not taken it along when he had gone south the first time.

  He dug out the Company standard and reassembled it. “I’m ready. Prince?”

  “Whenever.” The march south had been hard on the Prahbrindrah Drah but he had endured the hardships without complaint. The soldiers were pleased.

  They mounted up and led the archers toward the camp. The first crows arrived during that passage. Croaker laughed at them. “‘Stone the crows!’ People in Beryl used to say that when the Company was there. I never did figure out what it meant but it sounds like a damned good way to do business.”

  The prince chuckled and agreed, then faced the greetings of soldiers from the camp who could not decide which of their visitors was more unlikely.

  Croaker spied familiar faces: Blade, Swan, Mather … Hell! That looked like Murgen. It was Murgen! But nowhere did he spy the face he wanted to see.

  Murgen approached in little spurts, each halving the distance between himself and his Captain. Croaker dismounted, said, “It’s me. I’m real.”

  “I saw you die.”

  “You saw me hit. I was still breathing when you took off.”

  “Oh. Yeah. But the shape you were in…”

  “It’s a long story. We’ll sit around and talk about it all night. Get drunk if there’s anything drinkable.” He glanced at Swan. Where Swan lighted, beer usually appeared. “Here. You left this behind when you went off to play Widowmaker.” He shoved the standard at Murgen.

  The younger man took it like he expected it to bite. But once he had hold of it he ran his hands up and down the shaft of the lance. “It really is! I thought it was lost for sure. Then it’s really you?”

  “Alive and in a mood to do some serious ass-kicking. But I’ve got something else on my mind right now. Where’s Lady?”

  Blade made a perfunctory acknowledgment of the prince’s presence, said, “Lady went north with Narayan and Ram. Eight, nine days ago. Said she had business that couldn’t wait.”

  Croaker cursed.

  Swan said, “Nine days ago. That really him? Not somebody fixed up to fool us?”

  Mather said, “It’s him. The Prahbrindrah Drah wouldn’t lend himself to any deceit.”

  “Ain’t that my luck. Ain’t that the story of my life? Just when my future is so bright I have to wear blinders.”

  Croaker noted a broad, stubby man behind Blade. He did not know the man but recognized personal power. This was someone important. And someone not thrilled to see the Liberator alive. He would bear watching.

  “Murgen. Stop making love to that thing. Fill me in on what’s been happening. I’ve been out of touch for weeks.” Or months, if filtered truths were considered. “Can somebody take this animal? So we can all go find some shade?”

  There was more confusion in the camp than might have been if Longshadow had materialized there. The return of a dead man always complicates things.

  Without appearing to take particular note Croaker noticed that the short, wide man stayed close, pretending insignificance beside Blade, Swan, and Mather. He never spoke.

  Murgen talked about his experiences since the disastrous battle. Blade told his tale. Swan tossed in a few dozen anecdotes of his own.

  “Shadowspinner himself, eh?” Croaker asked.

  Swan said, “That’s the old boy’s head on the pole over yonder.”

  “The field gets narrower.”

  Murgen said, “Let’s hear your story while it’s still news.”

  “You going to put it in the Annals? You been keeping them up?”

  Embarrassed, the younger man nodded. “Only I had to leave them in the city when I came out.”

  “I understand. I look forward to reading the Book of Murgen. If it’s any good you’ve got the job for life.”

  Swan said, “Lady was doing one of them things herself.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  He wilted some. “Well, what she really did was talk about writing one. When she got the time. I don’t think she ever really put anything down. She just said how she had to keep some things straight in her head so she could get them down right. The obligation of history, she called it.”

  “Let me think a minute,” Croaker said. He picked up a stone, threw it at a crow. The bird squawked and fluttered a few feet but did not take the hint. It was Catcher’s, all right. She was back in circulation, free. Or in alliance with her captors.

  After a while Croaker observed, “We have a lot of catching up to do. But I suspect the critical business is to end this problem with Mogaba. How many men does he have left in there?”

  “Maybe a thousand, fifteen hundred,” Murgen guessed.

  “One-Eye and Goblin stayed when he’s become their enemy?”

  “They can protect themselves,” Murgen said. “They don’t want to come out here. They think there’s something waiting to get them. They want to sit tight till Lady gets her powers back.”

  “Powers back? Is she? Nobody mentioned that.” But he had suspected it for a long time.

  “She is,” Blade said. “Not as fast as she’d like.”

  “Nothing happens as fast as she’d like. What are they afraid of, Murgen?”

  “Shifter’s apprentice. Remember her? She was there when we got rid of Shifter and Stormshadow. She took off on us. They say she’s locked into the forvalaka shape but still has her own mind. And she’s out to get them for killing Shifter. Especially One-Eye.” One-Eye had killed the wizard Shapeshifter because Shifter had killed his brother Tom-Tom long ago. “The wheel of vengeance turning.” Croaker sighed. “She’s maybe out to get everybody who was involved.”

  “That angle hasn’t come up before.”

  “I think they’re imagining it.”

  “You never know with those clowns.” Croaker leaned back, closed his eyes. “Tell me more about Mogaba.”

  Murgen had a lot to say.

  Croaker observed, “I always suspected there was more to him than he showed. But human sacrifices? That’s a little much.”

  “They didn’t just sacrifice them. They ate them.”

  “What?”

  “Well, their hearts and livers. Some of them. There was only four or five guys really into that with Mogaba.”

  Croaker glanced at the wide man. The fellow was indignant to the point of explosion. Croaker said, “I guess that explains why Gea-Xle was such a peaceful town. If the city guard eats criminals and rebels…” He chuckled. But cannibalism was not humorous. “You, sir. We haven’t been introduced. You seem to have strong feelings about Mogaba.”

  Murgen said, “That’s Sindhu. One of Lady’s special friends.”

  “Oh?” What did that mean?

  Sindhu said, “They have abandoned themselves to Shadow. The true Deceiver seldom spills blood. He opens the golden path without tempting the goddess’s thirst. Only the blood of an accursed enemy should be spilled. Only an accursed enemy should be tortured.”

  Croaker glanced around. “Anybody know what the hell he’s talking about?”

  Swan said, “Your girlfriend is running with some strange characters.” He chose a northern dialect. “Maybe Cordy can explain. He’s spent more time trying to figure it out.”

  Croaker nodded. “I suppose we ought to put an end to this. Murgen. You game to go
back again? Take a message to Mogaba?”

  “I don’t want to sound like a slacker, Captain, but not unless it’s an order. He wants to kill me. Crazy as he’s gotten, he might try it with you standing right there watching.”

  “I’ll get somebody else.”

  “I’ll do it,” Swan said.

  Mather jumped him. “It’s not your no nevermind, Willow.”

  “Yes, it is. I got to find out something about myself, Cordy. I wasn’t no help when we went after Shadowspinner. I froze up. I want to see if something’s wrong with me. Mogaba is the guy to show me. He’s about as spooky as a Shadowmaster.”

  “Damned poor thinking, Willow.”

  “I never did have any sense. I’ll go, Captain. When you want to do it?”

  Croaker glanced around. “Anything going on, Blade? Any reason we shouldn’t walk over and take a look, send Swan?”

  “No.”

  68

  Life is full of surprises. I don’t mind the little ones. They add spice. It’s the big ones that get me.

  I stumbled into a parade of big ones at my new fortress.

  The first thing they did was arrest all three of us and shove us into a cell. Nobody bothered to explain. Nobody said anything. They seemed surprised I did not go berserk.

  We sat in gloom and waited. I was afraid Smoke had won his point at last and had turned the Prahbrindrah Drah against me. Narayan said maybe I’d missed a few priests and this was all their fault.

  We did not talk much. We used only sign and cant when we did. No telling who was listening.

  Three hours after we went into the cell the door opened. The Radisha Drah strode in, backed by a squad of her guards. It got crowded in there. She glared at me. “Who are you?”

  “What kind of question is that? Lady. Captain of the Black Company. Who should I be?”

  “She even takes a deep breath, kill her.” The Radisha wheeled on Ram. “You. Stand up.”

  Faithful Ram might not have heard. He looked to me. I nodded. Then he stood. The Radisha grabbed a torch from a guard, held it close to Ram, circled him slowly. She sniffed and sniffed. After her third circuit she relaxed. “Sit. You’re who you’re supposed to be. But the woman. Who is she?”

  That seemed a little too tough for Ram. He had to think about it. He looked at me again. I nodded. He said, “She told you.”

  She looked at me. “Can you prove you’re Lady?”

  “Can you prove you’re the Radisha Drah?”

  “I have no need. No one is masquerading as me.”

  I got it. “That bitch! She never was short on nerve. Walked in here and took over, eh? What did she do?”

  The Radisha considered some more. “We have the right one this time. Guards. You may go.” They went. The Radisha said, “She didn’t do much. Mostly played up to my brother. She wasn’t here that long. Then somebody called the Howler knocked her out and carried her off. Thinking she was you, Croaker said.”

  “Ha! Serves the bitch … Who said?”

  “Croaker. Your Captain. She brought him with her, disguised as that one.” She indicated Ram.

  Some sort of impenetrable membrane lay between my ears and my heart. Very carefully, before it broke, I asked, “Did Howler take him, too? Where is he?”

  “He and my brother went to find you. Disguised. He said she would look for him as soon as she got free of the Howler and Longshadow.”

  My mind slid away from the unbelievable, dwelt on crows. Now I knew why there had been none spying till shortly before we reached the fortress. She had been in unfriendly hands. “He went to Dejagore?”

  “That’s my guess. My fool brother went with him.”

  “And I came here.” I laughed, maybe crazily. That membrane was giving. “I’d appreciate it if everyone would leave. I need some time alone.”

  The Radisha nodded. “I understand. You two come with me.”

  Narayan rose but Ram did not budge. I asked, “Will you wait outside, Ram? Just for a while?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He went out with the others. I’d bet he did not go five feet past the door.

  Before they left Narayan started telling the Radisha I needed a physician.

  * * *

  The anger and frustration faded. I calmed down, thought I understood.

  Croaker had been struck down by a random arrow. In the confusion his corpse had disappeared. Only now I knew he had not been a corpse at all. And I thought I knew whence that arrow had come. My everloving sister. Just to get even with me for having thwarted her attempt to displace me when I’d been empress in the north.

  I knew how her mind worked. I had evidence she was loose again. She would continue to keep us apart and punish me through him.

  She was whole again. She had the power to do whatever she willed. She had been second only to me when I was at my peak.

  I came as close to despair as I’ve ever come.

  The Radisha invited herself in without knocking. A tiny woman in a pink sari accompanied her. The Radisha said, “This is Doctor Dahrhanahdahr. Her family are all physicians. She’s my own physician. She’s the best. Even her male colleagues admit she’s marginally competent.”

  I told the woman what I had been suffering. She listened and nodded. When I was done, she told me, “You’ll have to disrobe. I think I know what it is but I’ll have to look.”

  The Radisha stepped to the cell door, used her own clothing to cover the viewport. “I’ll turn my back if your modesty demands it.”

  “What modesty?” I stripped.

  Actually, I was embarrassed. I did not want to be seen looking as bad as I did.

  The physician spent a few minutes examining me. “I thought so.”

  “What is it?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “If I did I would’ve done something about it. I don’t like being sick.” At least the dreams had let up since the initiation. I could sleep.

  “You’ll have to put up with it a while longer.” Her eyes sparkled. That was a hell of an attitude for a physician. “You’re pregnant.”

  69

  Croaker posted himself where he could be clearly seen from the city. Murgen stood beside him with the standard. Swan set off in a boat the cavalry had stolen off the banks of the river north of the hills.

  Murgen asked, “You think he’ll come?”

  “Maybe not himself. But somebody will. He’ll want to make sure, one way or the other.”

  Murgen indicated the Shadowlander soldiers along the shoreline. “You know what that’s about?”

  “I can guess. Mogaba and Lady both want to be Captain. She took care of Shadowspinner but thought it might be inconvenient if she told Mogaba. As long as he’s trapped in Dejagore he’s no problem.”

  “Right.”

  “Stupid. Nothing like this ever happened before, Murgen. Nowhere in the Annals can you find a squabble over the succession. Most Captains come in like me, kicking and screaming.”

  “Most don’t have a holy mission. Lady and Mogaba both do.”

  “Lady?”

  “She’s decided she’ll do anything to get even with the Shadowmasters for killing you.”

  “That’s real sane. But it sounds like her. Looks like Swan’s gotten some attention. Your eyes are better than mine.”

  “Somebody black is getting in the boat with him. Would Mogaba make up his mind that fast?”

  “He’s sending somebody.”

  Swan’s passenger was Mogaba’s lieutenant Sindawe, an officer good enough to have commanded a legion. Croaker saluted. “Sindawe.”

  The black man returned the salute tentatively. “Is it you indeed?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “But you’re dead.”

  “Nope. Just a story spread by our enemies. It’s a long tale. Maybe we don’t have time for it all. I hear things aren’t good over there.”

  * * *

  Sindawe guided Croaker out of sight of the city, settled on a rock. “I’m caught on the horns of
a dilemma.”

  Croaker settled facing him, winced. His ankle had taken a lot of abuse coming south. “How so?”

  “My honor is sworn to Mogaba as first lord of the Nar. I must obey. But he’s gone mad.”

  “So I gather. What happened? He was the ideal soldier even when he didn’t agree with the way I ran things.”

  “Ambition. He’s a driven man. He became first lord because he’s driven.” Among the Nar, chieftainship was determined by a sort of soldierly athletic contest. The all-round best man at physical skills became commander. “He joined your expedition thinking you weak, likely to perish quickly. He saw no obstacle to his replacing you, whereupon he would become one of the immortal stars of the chronicles. He’s still a good soldier. But he does everything for Mogaba’s sake, not that of the Company or its commission.”

  “Most organizations have mechanisms for handling such problems.”

  “The mechanism among the Nar is challenge. Combat or contest. Which is no good here. He’s still the quickest, fastest, strongest amongst us. He’s still the best tactician, begging your pardon.”

  “I never claimed to be a genius. I got to be Captain ’cause everybody voted against me. I didn’t want it but I didn’t not want it as badly as everybody else didn’t want it. But I won’t abdicate so Mogaba can rack himself up some glory.”

  “My conscience permits me to say no more. Even so, I feel like a traitor. He sent me because we’ve been like brothers since we were boys. I’m the only man left he trusts. I don’t want to hurt him. But he’s hurt us. He’s blackened our honor and our oaths as guardians.”

  Sindawe’s “guardians” was a Nar word for which there was no exact translation. It carried implications of an obligation to defend the weak and stand firm in the face of evil.

  “I hear he’s trying to stir up a religious crusade.”

  Sindawe seemed embarrassed. “Yes. From the beginning some have clung to the Dark Mother. I didn’t realize he was one of them—though I should have guessed. His ancestors were priests.”

  “What’s he going to do now? I can’t see him getting excited about me turning up.”

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid he’ll claim you’re not you. He may even believe you’re a trick of the Shadowmasters. A lot of men thought they saw you killed. Even your standardbearer.”