by Glen Cook
“I wasn’t planning to carry your dead ass anywhere anyhow anymore,” One-Eye told me. “Far as I’m concerned this exercise was for camouflage.”
Uncle Doj started downward.
I stared at the wall. Tiny beads of sweat covered it, but that was because the stone was cooler than the air, not because water had begun seeping through from outside.
The Shadowmasters were good builders.
“Stone Soldier. You are well?”
“Not bad for a guy with the runs. Ready to dance on your grave, Stubby. We got business?”
“The Speaker wishes to see you. Your excursion was not successful?” He moved his head to indicate my trip outside.
“If you call spending two weeks as a guest of the Shadowmaster a success I tore them up, Uncle. Otherwise, all I did was get sick, lose some weight, then have barely enough sense left to run for it when some Taglians hit Shadowspinner’s camp with a nuisance raid. That’s all right. I can walk that far.” Just don’t let me fall down any rabbit holes.
I could walk to the Speaker’s place easily but why give up the pretense of weakness if it might be useful?
Nothing changed with the Speaker’s crew. Except that this time one smell was absent. I noticed that as soon as I stepped inside. I could not identify the missing odor, though.
The Speaker was ready. Hong Tray was in place. The beautiful one had tea brewing.
Ky Dam smiled. “Thai Dei ran ahead.” He read my curiosity from my glance and flaring nostrils. “Danh has gone to his judgment. At last. A bleak season has ended for this house.”
I could not help myself. I looked at the young woman. I found her looking at me. Her gaze shifted immediately, but not so fast that I did not feel guilty when I returned attention to the Speaker.
The old man missed nothing. Neither did he get excited about something best left ignored. He was wise, was Ky Dam.
I had come to respect that frail oldster a lot.
“The hard times have come, Standardbearer, and will lead to more terrible tomorrows.” He reviewed my discussion with Mogaba well enough to convince me that someone had watched us.
“Why tell me this?”
“To support my claim when I tell you we spy on the black men. After your departure they spoke only their native tongue until they sent messengers to the tribunes of the cohorts and other senior Taglians. They are to gather at suppertime.”
“Sounds big.”
The old man bowed slightly, “I would like you to see something for yourself. You know these men more certainly than do I. You can determine if my suspicions are well-founded.”
“You want me to spy on that meeting?”
“Something of the sort.” The old man did not tell me the whole story. Not then. He wanted me walking into it cold. “Doj will conduct you.”
65
Doj conducted me. The way led through cellars as intricately connected as ours but less care had been used in the tunneling. The people who did this just wanted to be able to sneak away. They had had no intention of hiding. They must have been Jaicuri collaborators in Stormshadow’s administration, acting for her. She would have wanted an emergency exit.
“I’m surprised at you,” I told Uncle Doj. “I wouldn’t think underground would occur to swamp people. I don’t suppose there are a lot of tunnels in the delta.”
“Not many.” He smiled.
My guess is they found the escape route through sheer blind luck, maybe coupled with an informed suspicion about how Stormshadow’s mind worked.
Getting into the citadel, then, was no problem, though it required some crawling. The architects had not been concerned with Stormshadow’s dignity. It was tough for me. I was not yet back to my best.
We came to a small open space beneath a ladder. That rose straight up into infinity, so far as I could see by the light of one feeble candle. I had a feeling the candle was a luxury laid on for me, that the Nyueng Bao made this journey entirely in darkness.
I could not have endured that. I dislike enclosed places intensely despite having lived in them. Close places, darkness, recurring spells and visions were not a combination I wanted to tempt.
I did seem more stable lately, I reflected. I set a hand and foot on the ladder.
Uncle Doj grabbed my wrist, shook his head.
“What? Isn’t that the way to the council chamber?” My whisper rattled off like the scurry of mice.
“Not what the Speaker wants you to see.” Doj used almost no air when he whispered. “Come.”
There was no crawling now, just a lot of easing along sideways in an airspace almost too narrow for Uncle. His belly was going to ache from rubbing against stone.
I learned that there was a lot more to Stormshadow’s citadel than I had seen in the little time I spent there these past few months. Down below there, beneath the surrounding plazas, were countless unsuspected storerooms and prison cells, armories and barracks rooms, cisterns and smithies. I whispered, “They have supplies down here to hold out for years.” Meaning the Nar and their favorites, holed up inside the citadel. Stormshadow had laid in a great store against the evil day.
Mogaba had lied to me, just trying to find out how well off we Old Crew were.
Was that what the old man wanted me to know?
Was this why the Nyueng Bao had seemed to prosper while everyone else became gaunt? Were they nibbling at these stores like mice, taking just a little here and there so their predations would go unnoticed?
Uncle Doj beckoned. “Hurry.”
Soon I began to hear a distant chanting. “We may not be in time, Bone Warrior. Hurry.”
I didn’t slug him mostly because the racket would have alerted the singing men.
I knew they were Nar before I saw a thing. I had heard the rhythms and style before, though not these particular lyrics. Always before, though, there had been joy in their work songs and celebrations. This song was cold and grim.
Uncle Doj left the candle, tugged my elbow. We continued to step sideways until, suddenly, we were in an ordinary passageway, not some tight, secret squeeze behind a wall. Nothing concealed the entrance to the hidden ways. That was just a shadowed corner unlikely to entice a closer look.
There was light out there, from candles in sconces widely spaced. The people in charge were frugal despite their wealth.
Uncle Doj placed a finger to his lips. We were near dangerous people who might detect us in an instant. He dropped to his knees and led me right into a large chamber where most of the Nar had gathered. Lighting was nonexistent except down where they were. Doj got behind a pillar. I squatted behind a low, dusty table just inside the doorway. I wished I was as dark as the Nar. My forehead must be shining like a little half moon.
This life hardens you. Too soon you have seen so much that when you encounter another something terrible you don’t howl and run in circles, snapping at your tail. But most of us still appreciate horror if horror is there. Horror was there.
There was an altar. Mogaba and Ochiba were involved in something ceremonial. Above the altar stood a small statue of dark stone, a four-armed woman dancing. I was too far away to make out details but I was pretty sure sure she had vampire fangs and six teats. She might be wearing a necklace of baby skulls. The Nar might give her another name but she was Kina. The worship offered by the Nar was not that described in the Jaicuri scriptures, though.
The Deceivers do not want to spill blood. That is why they are called Stranglers.
The Nar not only spilled blood on behalf of their goddess, they drank it. And it looked like they had been doing so for some time down there. Drained corpses hung to one side. Their latest sacrifice, a hapless Jaicuri, got hoisted up with those soon after I arrived.
The Nar were practical in their religion. After the grim ceremony ended they began butchering one of the bodies.
I got down and crawled out of there. I did not give one rat’s ass what Uncle Doj thought.
I have seen a lot with the Company, including tort
ures and cruelties almost beyond comprehension and inhumanities I do not have the capacity to fathom, but never had I encountered socially-sanctioned cannibalism.
I did not puke or boil over in outrage. That would be silly. I just put distance between me and that till I could speak without worrying about who might overhear. “I have seen enough. Let’s get out of here.”
Uncle Doj responded with a thin smile and lifted eyebrow.
“I have to relay this. I have to write it down. We may not survive this siege. They will. Word of what they are has to survive, too.” He watched me closely. Was he wondering if the rest of us also enjoyed the occasional long pig roast as well?
Probably.
This sort of thing might go some toward explaining our ambiguous reception in these parts.
Mogaba could not read. If it did not occur to him that the dark side of the Nar was no secret anymore I could leave word in my Annals, to be salvaged by Lady or the Old Man.
“They are all down there,” Uncle said. “So we will return by a swifter path.” By which he meant we would stroll through regular passageways just like we belonged there.
“What’s that noise?” I asked.
Uncle gestured for silence. We stole forward.
We discovered a group of Taglian soldiers bricking up a sallyport we could have used to leave. Why were they doing that? That door could not be broken open from the outside. It still had Stormshadow’s spells protecting it.
Uncle pulled me back, headed another direction. Obviously he knew the citadel quite well. And I had no difficulty imagining him roaming around in there all the time, just for the hell of it. He seemed like that kind of guy.
66
You look like somebody ate your favorite puppy,” Goblin told me. Cracks like that could be heard all the time now that there were no more dogs. There were just two sources of meat left. The Nar exploited both. We restricted ourselves to stupid crows.
I told Goblin and One-Eye what I had seen. Uncle Doj stood behind me, quietly disgruntled because I wanted to see my own people before I visited the Speaker. I was barely halfway through it when One-Eye interrupted. “You got to tell the whole Company this one, Kid.” For once he was as serious as a spear through the gut.
And for once Goblin agreed with One-Eye without any big groan and moan about the unfairness of it all. “You need to get this word out exactly the way you want it known to everybody. There’s going to be a lot of talk. You don’t want anybody building it up worse than it is when they pass it along.”
“Get them together, then. While I’m waiting I’m going to skim those Jaicuri books. There may be something else I need to tell them.”
“May I join you?” Uncle Doj asked.
“No. Go tell the old man that I’ll be there as soon as I can. This is family.”
“As you will.” He said something to Thai Dei, stalked away.
Bucket interrupted my reading. “Got them together, Murgen. All but Clete. He’s off somewhere whoring and even his brothers don’t know where to find him.”
“All right.”
“It something bad? You got that look.”
“Yeah.”
“It can get worse than it already is?”
“You’re going to hear all about it in just a little bit.”
In five minutes I got up in front of sixty men and told my tale, marvelling as I did that a band so frail and few could be so feared. More, I marvelled that there were so many of us when, hardly more than two years ago, there were just seven of us pretending to be the Black Company.
“You guys want to keep it down until I’m done?” The news had them excited in a grim way. “Listen up. That is the word. They’re making human sacrifices and eating the corpses. But that ain’t the whole story. Ever since they joined us at Gea-Xle they’ve been hinting and even saying right out that us northern guys are heretics. That means they think the whole Company used to do things their way.”
That started everybody talking and yelling.
I pounded a mason’s hammer on a block of wood. “Shut up, you morons! It ain’t the way the Company ever was. The Nar never kept any Annals. They would know that if they had. But they can’t even read.”
I could not be absolutely sure that human sacrifice was never a Company rite. We were missing several early volumes of the Annals and I now suspected strongly that our earliest forebrethren did follow a dark and hungry god with breath so foul and cruel that even oral histories were enough to keep the native people terrified.
Most of the guys did not care about the implications. They were just angry because the Nar were going to make life harder for them.
I told them, “This is one more thing to make trouble between us and them. I want you all to realize that we might have to fight them before we get out of here.
“Tonight I’m bringing back some traditional business that we have let slide since Croaker got to be Captain. We are going to have regular readings from the Annals so you all know what you have become part of. This first reading is from the Book of Kette, this part probably set down by the Annalist Agrip when the Company was in service to the Paingod of Cho’n Delor.” Our forebrethren endured a long and bitter siege then, though there had been a lot more of them to suffer. Additionally, I planned readings from books Croaker recorded on the Plain of Fear, when the Company lived underground for so long.
I dismissed the men to supper. “One-Eye. No more groaning when I announce a reading. All right? These guys didn’t live through that stuff.”
“Cho’n Delor was way before my time, too.”
“Then you need to hear about it.”
“Kid, I been hearing about it for two hundred years. Every damned Annalist that ever was wallowed in the horrors of Cho’n Delor. I wish I could get my hands on those guys who did the Book of Kette. You know Kette wasn’t even the Annalist? He was the...”
“Goblin. Grab Otto and Hagop. I want a little confab with the oldest Old Crew.”
We five put our heads together, conjured a little something for the meanness. Once we had a scheme I said, “I’ll see what the Speaker thinks.”
67
Ky Dam listened patiently, as an adult will to a bright child with an ingenious but impractical idea. He told me, “You are aware this could spark fighting?”
“Sure. But that’s inevitable. Doj says Mogaba decided that at our meeting. Goblin and One-Eye agree.” So did Hagop and Otto. None of us favored a get along effort. “There are more of us than there are Nar.” But their Taglians way outnumbered ours and there was no way to guess how the Taglians with either group would jump.
The old man turned to Hong Tray. A quizzical expression accentuated the lines at the corners of his eyes.
Ky Sahra knelt beside me, presenting tea. This was a step beyond anything previous. She met my wondering gaze. I don’t think I slobbered.
Hong Tray observed without reaction. That made her far calmer than I was. She focused on her husband, nodded. He said, “There will be fighting. Soon. The Jaicuri will revolt.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. I asked, “Will they bother your people or mine?” I should not have shoved in. I apologized immediately.
Ky Sahra poured more tea for me, before even she served her grandparents.
Ky Gota manifested like a demon conjured for its serrated tongue. She barked at her daughter in a harsh, lilting gale.
The old man looked up, said one word sharply. Hong Tray supported him with a complete sentence in what I would have to call a sharp whisper. It seemed she could speak no other way.
Ky Gota withdrew. There were well-defined limits and absolute hierarchy inside the Ky family.
I glanced at the beautiful woman. She met my eye again, rocked back and rose. Flushing.
Was something going on? They would not try to manipulate me, would they?
It would not work. No woman, not even this woman, was that special. And Ky Dam had seen enough of me to guess that about me.
If he wanted
to manipulate me he would have better luck trading me the straight poop on why the hell everybody pissed blue when the Company got mentioned.
He and the old woman batted whispers back and forth in flurries. Suddenly, he told me, “We will join you in this enterprise, Standardbearer. Provisionally. Hong believes that fighting between the Jaicuri and the soldiers of the black men is imminent. It will be fierce but might not touch the rest of us. That would provide sufficient distraction. But I must insist that Doj has the option to end it if it risks calling unfriendly attention to our people.”
“Excellent. Of course. Done. Though I would have tried it without you.”
Ky Dam permitted himself a small smile, either at my enthusiasm or at the prospect of adding a little more misery to Mogaba’s life.
After dark, assuming the riots got started, we were going to steal Mogaba’s food stores.
68
It started like a well-rehearsed play where Mogaba’s characters were desperate to please their audience. The rioting, that is. Uncle Doj and I formed work parties to take advantage. We got into the storage chambers without challenge, ten Old Crew and ten Nyueng Bao. We started dragging off sacks of rice and flour, sugar and beans. The riots were nasty from the start. They swamped the whole southern half of Dejagore. Every man Mogaba controlled was out there helping crush the rebellion. And every Jaicuri man and boy seemed to want to get at the Nar, even if they had to exterminate the whole First Legion to reach them.
My people went on the alert, established in strong positions, long before nightfall. Likewise the Nyueng Bao, who had no immediate trouble. We ambushed one mob. A shower of missiles from front, sides, and above swiftly changed their minds.
Mogaba’s men had more problems. They were not ready. Worse, they were scattered, often in isolated work parties and patrols.
For a while everybody joked and cracked wise and speculated on Mogaba’s first words after the fighting ended and he found his cellars plundered.
