Bleak Seasons tbc-7

by Glen Charles Cook

  Somebody hissed.

  Paddles stopped dipping. Even the murmur of the little ones stilled as mothers placed hands over their mouths or pulled lips to teats.

  I heard nothing.

  We waited.

  Sahra rested her hand lightly upon my arm, sharing reassurance.

  Then I heard the clumsy paddling. Somebody was farther off course than we were... Only this raft was headed the other way.

  It was too early for that.

  The sounds grew louder.

  The other raft came abreast, so close that it seemed they had to see us despite the darkness and rain.

  A voice said something softly, just a few words edged with anger. In the language of Gea-Xle. I had picked up maybe twenty words, none of which I recognized now.

  I did not need to know words. I knew the voice.

  That was Mogaba.

  He had not been spotted leaving during the day. From the north and west barbicans it was possible to watch most of the lake surface.

  Which meant that he had been away at least since the previous night. Which, in turn, would explain why there had been no response to our capture of the barbicans.

  What business could Mogaba possibly have over there?

  The Nar paddled on into darkness. We resumed our journey. I remained lost in thought till the raft ran aground and tossed me forward.

  Sahra and I took up To Tan and our burdens and marched ashore. The little guy was sleeping like his aunt’s arms were a palace bed.

  In moments I discovered that my companions, although utterly ignorant of the Taglian language, expected me to be in charge on this side, too. Uncle Doj’s idea, no doubt, and in effect only till he arrived.

  “Rudy. Take charge of getting camp set.” We had swung back into the general course of the fleet and had made landfall where others joined us in savoring the miracle of life outside Dejagore’s walls.

  Hanging around in a rainstorm in the middle of the night did not seem much of an improvement to me.

  “Let’s go, people. We can’t just stand here. Start putting up those shelters.” We had the tents the Nyueng Bao had carried on pilgrimage. We had blankets, wrapped inside those same tents so they would stay dry. “Somebody collect some brush and get some fires going.” Maybe easier said than done in this weather. “Bubbado. Take some men and set a perimeter. You. Joro? That your name, sergeant?” I was talking to one of the Taglian soldiers. “Get patrols out. Come on! Come on! We don’t know that there aren’t people over here who want to kill us.” But it gets hard to care when you are cold and wet and tired.

  I was tired to the point of collapse but I made myself an example. Sahra followed and helped. While I barked at people we took turns caring for the baby. I had visions of some major historical asskicker like Khrombak the Terrible ordering his hordes about while he had a smelly baby tucked into the crook of his arm.

  To Tan was a good kid but he always needed changing.

  Soon everyone was bustling industriously. Shelters went up. Brush got cut. Small fires took life and spawned others until there were enough to heat water to cook rice. The water we gathered using some tents to collect rain into the pots. It was going to be difficult for any of us to get wetter than we were already.

  We even sent several small loads of brush over to the city on returning rafts. Our friends might get to do a little cooking, too.

  79

  We had known so much misery for so long that night became just another sad chore. And in time there was poor shelter, bad food, and feeble warmth for all. But by then it was getting light and the rain was just an occasional sprinkle. Sahra and To Tan and I crept into our tent and bundled up. For a while I was almost happy.

  That To Tan was remarkable. He was almost as quiet as Sahra most of the time, though he could get a good fuss going when he wanted. He was content to sleep right then. For the first time in a week his tummy was full.

  Mine, too.

  I got four hours of perfectly wonderful sleep before disaster interrupted.

  First it took the shape of Ky Gota. I had not seen Sahra’s mother since Uncle Doj cajoled her out of my quarters. I had not missed her, either.

  Because I was asleep I did not witness the part where she ripped open the end of the tent. When I awoke she was spitting and howling in a mix of Nyueng Bao and really bad Taglian. Sahra was sitting up already, her mouth open and tears starting.

  To Tan began to cry.

  Ky Gota was not immune to baby tears. The soul of a granny did lurk behind all the ill temper. Way behind. She said something to the toddler. Gently!

  Rudy hurried up. “You want I should throw this one back in the lake, Murgen?” “What?”

  “She crawled out of the water a while ago. Claimed somebody tried to murder her. Supposedly pushed her off the raft she was riding. Looks to me like maybe she asked for it.”

  “She probably did.” Sahra looked at me in surprise. Despite her tears. “But I got to be nice. She’s almost family.” “Man,” Rudy said. He walked off shaking his head. Sahra began gesturing exasperatedly at her mother. To Tan stared at his granny, sucked his thumb. I caught a whiff. “Go to Nana,” I whispered. “Show her how good you can walk.” He did not understand me but she did and held her arms out.

  Near as I could tell To Tan was the only person in the world who cared for Ky Gota. He toddled and his granny forgot all about being wet and cold and cranky.

  Sahra looked at me hard. I shrugged, grinned, mouthed, “He needs changing again.”

  Rudy found me staring at the city. Fresh smoke hung over our part of town. “Bubbado just ambushed a patrol, Murgen.”

  “Shit. When they don’t report...”

  “He said they knew we were here. They were sneaking up. That Swan character is with them.”

  “One-Eye was right, then. Anybody get hurt?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good. Good. Did they get a look at the camp?” The Nyueng Bao had done a good job of camouflage, considering. You could tell where the camp was but not its extent.

  “I think they just saw the smoke. They were real surprised to get jumped according to Bubba-do.”

  “They see him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unfortunate. Maybe they didn’t recognize him.” I shrugged. “Some things can’t be helped. I’ll deal with them. Hang on.” I stomped over to Sahra and her mother. “Hush!” I snapped when the old woman opened her mouth to start. “We have trouble. Who can speak for the Nyueng Bao?” I did not know who else to ask. These strange people did what I said when I told them, if that improved our situation, but they did not talk.

  The old woman put the baby down and rose. She squinted. Her eyesight was not good. “Tarn Dak!” she barked.

  A frail ancient turned. Despite his age he was carrying a huge bundle of brushwood. Ky Gota beckoned imperiously. The oldster headed our way at a high-speed shuffle.

  I went to meet him. “Greetings, father. I am the one who dealt with the Speaker.” I spoke both loudly and slowly.

  “I’m not deaf yet, boy,” he replied in Taglian better than mine. “And I know who you are.”

  “Good. Then I’ll get to the point. The soldiers over here have found us. We don’t know what their attitude toward your people might be. If they’re in a bad temper I can’t help much. Your warriors have scouted. Can you disappear?”

  He looked at me for a dozen seconds. I looked back. Sahra came to stand beside me. Behind us, To Tan giggled as he played with his grandmother. The old man shifted his look to Sahra. For a moment he seemed to be staring into yesterday. He shivered. His expression grew more inscrutable. “We can.”

  “Good. Do it while I’m with them.” I jerked a thumb uphill. “I’ll get word to Doj. He’ll find you.”

  Tarn Dak continued to stare cooly. Not inimically at all, just without comprehension. I was not behaving like a proper foreigner.

  “Good luck.” I returned to Rudy. “Here’s the deal. The Nyueng Bao need to take a p
owder. I’ll go with Swan. I’ll stall around when I get to his camp. You see that the Nyueng Bao get moved out, then make this mess look like we were setting up for the guys coming over tonight.”

  The old man overheard every word.

  I continued, “As far as anybody around here goes, these people never existed.”

  “But...”

  “Do it. And let them have most of the food. We can sponge off Lady’s gang.” I hoped.

  Rudy looked at Sahra. Everybody seemed to think that she was the key. He shrugged. “You’re the boss. I guess I don’t need to understand. How are you going to explain her?”

  “I don’t have to.” I headed toward where Swan’s patrol was surrounded.

  Sahra came right along after pausing to grab up To Tan.

  “Stay here,” I told her. She looked at me blankly, smitten by sudden deafness. I took a few steps. She matched them. “You need to stay with your own people.”

  A little smile teased her lips. She shook her head.

  Hong Tray was not the only witch in this family.

  “Ky Gota...”

  Boom!

  “You! Soldier of Darkness! You her ruin, now is not good enough for you? Cruel witch was my mother but...” She became incomprehensible but not the least bit quiet. I checked Tarn Dak. He remained inscrutable but I would have bet my shot at heaven he wanted to laugh.

  “Fuck this. Rudy! Find out what belongs to Sahra and see that it stays in our tent. Come on, woman.”

  80

  “Holy shit,” Swan murmured when I stepped out where he could see me. “No wonder you went back.”

  “Hands off, pretty boy. Ay, Nyueng Bao! If you are out there go see Tam Dak. It’s important. Taglians. See Rudy from the Company.” I turned back to Swan. “There. We’re down to a few snipers. Just in case.”

  He stopped staring at Sahra. “Sorry. You really stumbled into the sweet shit, didn’t you?” He did have the courtesy to make his remarks in Forsberger.

  “Yeah. I did. What’s going on? I wake up the other day, after my wizards did an experiment on me, and I find out that somebody has been inside my head, messing with my memories. I find out I’m back over there in hell’s kitchen hunting rats and fighting cannibals when all the time my so-called friends are sitting around out here not even letting me know the Shadowmaster is dead.”

  Swan gave me a dumb look. “But... You knew that, Murgen. You was over here when we killed the bastard. You was here for a week after that.”

  “Killed him?”

  It began to dawn. “You didn’t insist on going back? She said you...”

  “No. I didn’t. When I found myself headed that way I thought I was escaping from Shadowspinner. I really believed that I hadn’t gotten to you people. I think.” It got more confused as I tried to figure it out.

  Somebody called out something in Nyueng Bao. My troops had not followed orders. Someone else, in Taglian, called, “Can you come up here please, Mr. Murgen?”

  I told Swan, “I don’t know what’s up. You better stand fast. These guys are real touchy.”

  “I got nothing else to do with my life.”

  “I mean it. They’re paranoid in a big way. If you had spent the last several months in there you’d understand,” I clambered up a steep slope to where one Taglian knelt in some scraggly brush with a Nyueng Bao about fifteen years old.

  The boy pointed, eager to be the first to deliver bad news.

  Fresh smoke rose from Dejagore. From, near as I could tell, the north barbican. It looked like there was fighting there.

  A mauve flash told me One-Eye or Goblin was involved.

  Mogaba must be trying to recover the barbican.

  I spied flickers around the west gate, too.

  “Damned Mogaba. Thanks, guys. Nothing we can do about it, though.” I hoped One-Eye and Goblin carved Mogaba a new poop chute. “Get on back to camp, will you? There’s stuff that’s got to get done.”

  Lady was gone. Blade was in charge and just sitting around collecting refugees from the city, keeping them from reporting back with news about Shadowspinner. He admitted that. “That’s what she wants done.” He seemed indifferent to Sahra, unlike every other man in camp.

  “She’s lucky she’s not here,” I grumbled. “I’d turn her over my knee.”

  Since there was nothing else going on I sat around with him and Swan and Mather until it started to get dark. Somebody found a puppy for To Tan to play with. When it got late I said, “We’d better get back to our people. They’ll be getting nervous.”

  “No can do, buddy,” Mather told me.

  Blade agreed. “She said no exceptions.”

  The warmth went out of the air. I gave each one what I thought of as the Nyueng Bao look. Swan and Mather averted their eyes. Blade took it but with a twitch.

  Sahra seemed untroubled. I suppose, after Dejagore, it was hard to imagine a turn for the worse. She even smiled.

  “I assume the prison pen is where I left it?” I remembered that part of my previous visit perfectly.

  “We will keep you more comfortably,” Blade promised.

  Mather volunteered, “I’ll show you where to bunk.”

  We were far enough away not to overhear, Swan thought. He told Blade, “You look at her good? That’s one spooky woman.”

  I glanced at Sahra. I assumed she heard, too, but her expression told me nothing.

  If Blade answered Swan he spoke more softly.

  I continued to study Sahra, wondering what Swan had seen.

  81

  The tent was decent. It must have belonged to a middle-grade Shadowlander officer. We were not unhonored guests. And the tent came with a man assigned to make us comfortable and bring us our supper. Blade’s troops were foraging successfully, it seemed. I ate better than I had for a long time.

  “What I want more than anything in the world,” I told our man, whose name I never learned, “is a bath.” Sahra hit him with a smile guaranteed to melt armor plate. She was enthusiastic about that idea. “I’m so filthy my fleas have lice,” I said.

  Must have been a real ration of guilt going around at high levels. An hour later several soldiers showed up humping a looted stone horse trough. With them came guys lugging buckets of hot water. I told Sahra, “We must of died and come back as princes.”

  Our tent was big enough to contain the trough and water with room left over.

  Swan turned up. “What do you think of that, eh?”

  “If I didn’t have friends over there fighting and dying I’d ask for a life sentence.”

  “Take it easy, Murgen. It’ll all work out.”

  “I know that, Swan. I know that. But some of us aren’t going to be happy how it does.” “Yeah, well. Good night.”

  It was. Beginning with the bath Sahra made it clear her definition of our relationship was exactly what others feared or suspected. She astounded me with her ability to communicate without spoken words, amazed me that in the midst of such unrelenting hell a flower of such beauty could bloom and defy the night.

  I slept longer and better than I had for months. Maybe some part of me just resigned and let go.

  Water in the face wakened me.

  “What?” I cracked an eyelid. And popped upright. Sahra sat up as I did. “To Tan? What’re you doing, kiddo?” The little guy was leaning over the edge of the horse trough, spanking the water. He looked at me and grinned, said something in Nyueng Bao baby talk that sounded like “Dada.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Sahra shrugged. To Tan said “Dada” again and headed out of the tent.

  Things were happening outside. I grabbed my clothes, climbed in, stuck my head outside. “Holy shit! Where the freak did you guys come from?” Thai Dei and Uncle Doj were seated outside. Their swords lay across their laps. Sheathed, thankfully. Gangs of Taglians were coming by to check them out. I guessed they had not been there long nor had they asked permission to enter camp and assume their posts.

  Swan and Mathe
r appeared.

  Uncle Doj told me, “Only one group made it out again last night. The black men attacked. Many men were injured. Numerous rafts were damaged. But their soldiers did not want to fight and many asked to join Bonharj.”

  “Who the hell are these guys?” Swan demanded. “How did they get here?”

  “The rest of the family. I expect they sneaked. They’re good at that. Obviously, your perimeter ain’t what it should be.”

  Blade shouted something from the distance. “Crap,” Swan grumbled. “Now what?” He jogged away.

  Mather considered Thai Dei and Uncle Doj briefly, shrugged, followed Swan. Uncle Doj said something to Sahra. She nodded. I guess he wanted to know if she was all right.

  To Tan climbed around on his father.

  Doj told me, “You did well, and more than you were obliged, Standardbearer. Our people are safely away and these men know nothing about them.”

  “Yeah? Good. What about mine?”

  “They would not come out. The wizards want to pursue their vendetta with Mogaba. They might come tonight.”

  82

  They did not come that night. Nor did they come the next though they sent a lot of Taglians and Jaicuri out in place of the Company.

  Two mornings later Mather finally let me in on what the excitement had been about when Blade interrupted our discussion over Uncle Doj and Thai Dei. He told me, “Croaker will be here in an hour or two, Murgen. You might put in a good word.”

  “What?”

  It was not an hour and it was not just the Old Man. Croaker was travelling with the Prahbrindrah Drah himself. He looked like he had seen a lot of hard road. I moved toward him in fits and starts, unsure where we stood after all this time.

  He jumped down, said, “It is me. I’m real.”

  “But I saw you die.”

  “No. You saw me get hit. I was still breathing when you cut out.”

  “Yeah? The shape you was in, there wasn’t no way...” “Shouldn’t have been, either. It’s a long story. We can chew on it over a few beers sometime.” He waved. A soldier trotted up. Croaker grabbed his spear, which was almost long enough to be a pike, shoved it at me. “Here. You left this when you ran off to play Widowmaker.”