The Many Deaths of the Black Company (Chronicle of the Black Company)

by Glen Cook

  That was not supposed to happen. It was unthinkable, supposedly. And for ordinary people that was mostly true. But not so at a level where men began to believe that they existed outside the usual rules.

  “Narita!” Barundandi called. “Where have you gotten to? That damned woman. She’s slipped off to the kitchen again. Or she’s gone somewhere to sneak a nap.”

  I heard the Radisha behind us, in the meeting chamber, but could not make out individual words. An angry voice responded. That had to be Soulcatcher. I wanted to be somewhere a little farther away. I started moving.

  Sawa, of course, did things others did not always understand. Subredil grabbed hold and started to fuss. Barundandi told her, “Take this bunch to the kitchen, get something to eat. If Narita is there, tell her I want her.”

  The moment he was out of sight, I announced, “Sawa is going to wander off.” Sawa was not completely happy with the pages Subredil kept bringing Sleepy. Subredil could not read them, worked in a rush and seemed incapable of collecting anything interesting.

  I hoped I remembered the way. Even when you wear the yarn bracelet, the Palace is a confusing place and I had not roamed it since the days when the Captain was the Liberator and a great hero of the Taglian people. And even then, I had been only an occasional visitor.

  As soon as I began to feel unsure, I got out a small piece of chalk and began to leave tiny marks in the Sangel alphabet. I had managed to learn a little of that language during our years in the far south but it had been a struggle. I hoped anyone who discovered the marks would not recognize what they were.

  I did find the room where the old books were hidden. It was obvious that someone came there often. The dust was disturbed badly, which in itself would raise questions if discovered. I tried to drag out the book that looked the oldest. Darn, that thing was heavy. Once I got it open, I found that the pages were real stubborn about tearing. They were not paper at all, which never has been very common. I could tear them only one at a time. Which maybe explained why Subredil just grabbed whatever came easiest. She would not have time to pick and choose.

  I worried that I had been away too long myself, convinced that Barundandi or his wife must have noticed that I was missing. I hoped it did not occur to them to wonder why Subredil was not making a scene because she had lost track of me.

  Even so, I continued to tear pages until I had all I thought the three of us could carry away.

  I hid everything in an unused room not far from the service postern, uncertain how we would recover it heading out, then took myself way down inside Sawa, almost to the point of incapacitating confusion.

  They found me dirty and tearstained and still trying to find the way back to the meeting chamber, “they” being some of the other day workers. In moments I was reunited with Subredil and Shikhandini. I clung to my sister-in-law like a wood chip desperate to shed the embrace of a rushing flood.

  Jaul Barundandi was not happy. “Minh Subredil, I accepted this woman here for your sake, out of kindness and charity. But lapses of this sort are not acceptable. No work got done while we were searching…” His voice trailed off. The Radisha and the Protector were headed our way, following a most unusual route. This was backstairs country. Which meant nothing whatsoever to Soulcatcher, of course. That woman had no sense of class or caste. There was the Protector and beneath the Protector there was everyone else.

  Sawa just sort of folded up and squatted with her face in her lap. Subredil and Shikhandini and Jaul Barundandi partially tried to get out of the way, partially gawked. Shiki had not seen either woman before.

  Sawa crossed her fingers out of sight in her lap. Subredil whispered prayers to Ghanghesha. Jaul Barundandi shivered in terror. Shikhandini stared with a teen’s inability to feel appropriate fear.

  The Radisha paid us no heed. She stamped past talking about ripping the guts out of Bhodi disciples. Her voice contained almost no emotional conviction. The Protector, though, slowed down and considered us all intently. For an instant I found myself almost overcome by the dread that she really could read minds. Then she went on and Jaul Barundandi ran along behind, forgetting us and Narita both because the Radisha barked some command back his way.

  Sawa rose and whimpered, “I want to go home.”

  Subredil agreed that it was enough of a day.

  Neither the Greys nor the Royal Guards were searching anyone. A good thing, too. I carried so much paper in my small clothes I could fake a normal walk for only a few dozen yards.

  29

  I got through my part of the evening meeting quickly and ran off to my own little corner so I could compare my newly acquired pages with those of the book I had stolen from the library that I thought was an exact copy—if not the genuine original—of the true first volume of the Annals of the Black Company. I was so cheerful I am sure One-Eye must have had great fun talking about me behind my back.

  It did not occur to me to stick around to see how our temptation of Chandra Gokhale played out.

  The story I got later was, Gokhale had a man try to follow Shiki home. When that man did not report back within a reasonable time—on account of he ran into Runmust and Iqbal Singh someplace he should not have been and ended up taking the long swim downriver—Gokhale headed for the joy house that specialized in serving him, his associates and those who shared their select but hardly rare tastes in pleasure. Riverwalker and several other brothers picked him up when he left the Palace. He was accompanied by two companions who would regret their wishes to ingratiate themselves with the Inspector-General by joining him in an evening of indulgence.

  Murgen followed events closely, too. Knowing that he would do so, I felt at ease snuggling up with my new acquisitions.

  It took me over an hour to conclude that what I had brought out today was indeed a later version of the first ever Annal and most of another hour to realize that I would not be able to winkle out the book’s secrets without skilled help. Or a lot more time than I had.

  Chandra Gokhale apparently died in that joy house. Likewise, his two companions. There were witnesses. People saw them strangled. Then a red rumel got left behind in the killers’ haste to get away.

  The Greys arrived almost immediately. They loaded the corpses into a cart, saying the Protector wanted Gokhale’s back in the Palace instantly. But the Greys stopped being Greys moments after they left the pleasure house. Their course led them toward the river rather than toward the Palace. The extra bodies vanished into the flood.

  A white crow dozing on a rooftop wakened when they started downhill. It stretched and followed them.

  30

  Murgen was there when Soulcatcher received the news. The report reached the Palace in a remarkably short time and was unusually complete. The Greys worked hard to please their mistress.

  The party bringing Gokhale to the warehouse had not yet arrived.

  Murgen had been asked to look around the Protector’s quarters while he was there. We knew nothing about them. Nobody ever went into her suite. Not since Willow Swan had gone to his reward.

  Murgen would have to be questioned about how she lived in private.

  Soulcatcher did not retreat there, however. She went out looking for the Radisha right away.

  The Radisha knew something had happened to Gokhale but she had not had detailed reports. The women settled in the receiving chamber of the Radisha’s austere suite. Soulcatcher told what she knew. She used a very businesslike voice. It was said sometimes that the Protector was her most dangerous and least stable when she stopped being capricious and seemed calmest and most serious.

  “It seems the Inspector-General shared some habits with Perhule Khoji. In fact, I’m now assured that his particular weakness was common amongst the senior men of his ministry.”

  “There were rumors.”

  “And you did nothing?”

  “Chandra Gokhale’s private amusements, loathsome as I found them personally, did not prevent his performing perfectly as Inspector-General of the Re
cords. He was particularly adept at generating revenue.”

  “Indeed.” Soulcatcher’s businesslike manner wavered momentarily. Murgen would report his amusement at the thought she might actually have a moral opinion. “He was attacked in the same manner as Khoji was.”

  “Suggesting somebody might have a grudge against the ministry as a whole? Or that the Deceivers pick men of his particular weakness as ceremonial targets?”

  “Deceivers didn’t kill Gokhale. Of that I’m sure. This was done by the people who lured Swan out and killed him. If they killed him.”

  “If?” The Radisha was startled by the implication.

  “We saw no corpse. Note that we have no body this time, either. Men disguised as our men were right there to haul the body away. That’s two members of the Privy Council lost in less than a week. Organizationally, they were the most important. They made the machinery work. If the Great General was anywhere nearby, I’d predict that he would be their next target. That gaggle of priests means nothing. They do nothing. They control nothing. My sister proved that if they’re killed, they can be replaced by other do-nothings within minutes. Nobody can replace Swan or Gokhale. The Greys are beginning to unravel already.”

  Murgen made a mental note to mention that Willow Swan might have been less a puppet than he led the world to believe.

  “Why couldn’t it be the Stranglers?” the Radisha asked.

  “Because those people cut the head off that particular serpent the other day.” She described events in the Thieves’ Garden. Obviously, she had not bothered to share the news before. It was clear that the Protector considered the Princess a necessary but junior partner in her enterprise. “In a matter of days these people, whom we thought ruined forever, have cut the head off one enemy and have crippled the other seriously. There is a dangerous mind behind this.”

  Not dangerous at all. Not even that lucky. But a sufficiently paranoid mind will discern patterns and threats where only fortune has conspired. Soulcatcher was ever alert for evils as great as her own.

  “We knew they couldn’t remain in the darkness forever,” the Radisha said. She corrected herself hastily. “I knew. The Captain reminded me often enough.” She did not need to bring up the past and her belief in mistakes she had made. That devil was buried deep, hundreds of miles away. A much more immediate danger was right there in the room with her.

  The Protector was a mistake she had abandoned hope of living long enough to correct. Blind to the consequences at the time, she had chosen to mount the tiger. Now her sole choice was to hang on for the rest of the ride.

  Soulcatcher said, “We have to recall the Great General. If we can get his troops into the city before our enemies make their next move, we’ll have the manpower to hunt them down. You should send the orders immediately. And once the courier is safely off, we should announce that the Great General is returning. Their special dislike for Mogaba should cause them to delay their other plans till they can gather him in as well.”

  “You think you know what they’ll do?”

  “I know what I’d do if I came down with the kind of sudden, burning ambition that seems to have taken them over. I wonder if there hasn’t been some kind of coup or something?”

  Exasperated, the Radisha demanded, “What will they do next?”

  “I’ll keep that to myself for now. Not that I don’t trust you.” Soulcatcher probably had abiding suspicions about herself. “I just want to make sure I’ve identified enough of a pattern to begin tapping into the workings of this new mind. I’m quite talented at that, you know.”

  The Radisha knew, to her own despair. She said nothing. Soulcatcher sat silently herself, as though waiting for the Princess to speak. But the Radisha had nothing to say.

  The Protector mused, “I wonder who it could be? I knew the wizards of old. Neither one has the ambition or imagination or drive, even though both do have the hardness.”

  The Radisha made a squeak of sound. “The wizards?”

  “The two little men. The day-and-night pair. They aren’t much of anything but lucky.”

  “They survived?”

  “I said they’re lucky. Do you recall anyone who didn’t go onto the plain who looked like a potential leader? I don’t.”

  “I thought all those people were dead.”

  “As did I, in most cases. Our Great General claims to have seen most of their bodies personally. But the Great General identified them assuming that the two wizards had been killed first. Hmm. Here I had begun to be suspicious of him. Perhaps his only crime is that he’s a fool. Can you think of anyone?”

  “Not inside the Company I knew. But there was a Nyueng Bao who had something to do with the Standardbearer’s wife. A priest of some sort. He seemed to be totally obsessed with weapons and the martial arts. I ran into him only a few times. And he’s never been accounted for in any reports.”

  “A Master of the Path of the Sword? That would explain a lot. But I killed them all when I— Have you noticed how people keep turning up alive when there’s every reason to believe that they’re dead?”

  An actual smile tried to gnaw its way out of the Radisha’s mouth. The woman talking could be considered the mother of all those whose deaths had been celebrated prematurely. “There’s sorcery afoot. Nothing should be any great surprise.”

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. And that’s a blade that can have more than one edge.” Soulcatcher rose to leave. Her voice changed, became cruel. “More than one edge. A Master of the Path of the Sword. It’s been a long time since I visited those people. They may be able to tell me something useful.” She stalked out of the room.

  The Radisha remained motionless for several minutes, clearly troubled. Then she got up and went to her Anger Chamber. She settled herself there. The unseen spy went after the Protector. She, he discovered, had gone directly to the ramparts. She assembled her small, single-rider carpet, all the while arguing with herself in a dozen querulous voices.

  He barely listened. He was too surprised and shocked. There was a white crow up there. It was watching the Protector, who remained unaware of Murgen’s presence although, historically, she had been more sensitive to him than to any of the living except her sister. But the bird had no trouble seeing Murgen. It examined him with first one eye, then with the other. Then it winked deliberately. And then it launched itself into the night when the Protector’s rookery took flight to accompany her on her travels.

  But I am the white crow!

  The disorientation was brief but as frightening as it had been years ago, when first Murgen had started stumbling around outside his flesh.

  31

  I said, “Better get Uncle Doj before we go any farther with this, Tobo.” I spotted Kendo Cutter and Runmust. “You guys finally back? How did it go?”

  “Perfect. Just like you planned it.”

  Sahra asked, “You have my present?”

  “They’re lugging him in now. He’s still out cold.”

  “Drop him right here where I can chat with him when he comes around.” Sahra had a wicked gleam in her eye.

  I chuckled. “Soulcatcher thinks we’re following some grand, carefully orchestrated master plan exquisitely fashioned by a great strategic mastermind. If she knew we were just stumbling around in the dark, hoping we stay lucky until we can open the way for the Captured—”

  One-Eye barked, “You telling me you masterminds don’t got a next step ready to go, Little Girl?”

  “We have several.” I did. “And I’m sure the next one hasn’t ever occurred to Soulcatcher as being within the realm of possibility. I’m going to bring Master Santaraksita home for supper and give him a chance to sign up for the adventure of a lifetime.”

  “Heh-heh! I knew it.”

  Uncle Doj joined us. He was seriously peeved about the way he had been treated lately.

  I told him, “One of our friends just reported a conversation between The Thousand Voices and the Radisha. The process of reasoning is bey
ond my imagination but The Thousand Voices has decided that all her troubles recently are the fault of a Master of the Path of the Sword who should’ve been killed a long time ago. When last seen, she was off to visit the folks at the Vinh Gao Ghang temple to ask about the man. You may be familiar with that temple.”

  Doj lost color. His sword hand trembled for an instant. His right eyelid twitched. He turned toward Sahra.

  Sahra told him, “It’s true. What can she learn there?”

  “Speak the tongue of The People.”

  “No.”

  The Master of the Path of the Sword accepted what he could not control. You would have to say he was somewhat less than gracious about it, though, if you wanted to report the whole truth.

  I said, “You still have a book we want. And you could tell us a great deal that we could use, I think.”

  He was a stubborn old man. He was determined not to let me stampede him into anything.

  I said, “The Thousand Voices has sent for Mogaba. She means to have the army come dig us out. If I could, I’d like to get out of Taglios before she starts. But we have a lot to do and a lot to find out before we can go. Your help would be invaluable. As I keep reminding you, you have people under that plain, too.… Huh?”

  “What? Sleepy?” Sahra said. “Goblin! See what’s the matter with her!”

  “I’m all right. I’m fine. I just had what you call an epiphany, I think. Listen. All the evidence indicates that Soulcatcher thinks the Captured are dead. Which would mean that she believes Longshadow is dead. We know he’s not, which is why we’re not worried right now. But if she doesn’t know, why isn’t she amazed that the world hasn’t been overrun by shadows?”

  I got a lot of blank looks for my trouble, even from the wizards.

  I said, “Look, what it means is, it doesn’t matter if Longshadow is dead or alive after all. As long as he stays inside the Shadowgate. There isn’t a doomsday sword hanging over the world, certain to fall when the madman croaks. Somebody besides the cleverest wizards will survive.”