by Glen Cook
They looked at me blankly. Finally, Murgen blurted out, “We’re going to meet their ten thousand with our eight? Isn’t that worry enough? Sir?”
“Ten thousand?”
“That’s the rumor. That the Shadowmasters increased the invasion force.”
I glanced at Lady. She shrugged. I said, “We have unreliable intelligence to that effect. But we’ll be more than eight thousand with the cavalry. With Sindawe we’ll actually outnumber them. We’ll have the field position. And I have a trick or two up my sleeve.”
“That charcoal?” Mogaba asked.
“Among other things.”
“You won’t tell us?”
“Nope. Word has a way of getting around. If nobody but me knows I can’t blame anybody but me if the other side finds out.”
Mogaba smiled. He understood me too well. I just wanted to keep it for myself.
We commanders are that way, sometimes.
My predecessors never told anybody anything till it was time to jump.
Afterward, I asked Lady, “What do you think?”
“I think they’re going to know they were in a fight. I still have grave doubts about winning, but maybe you’re a better captain than you want to admit. You put every man where he can do the most good.”
“Or least harm.” Wheezer and Hagop’s nephew still had not shown me they were good for anything.
Seven days till deadline. The quartermasters and engineers and Sindawe’s reserve legion were two days gone. Incoming post riders reported their progress as disappointing. The roads were hopeless. But they were getting help from people along the way. In places the troops and locals backpacked the freight while the teams dragged the empty wagons through the mud.
We were going to get some grace. We were still getting drizzle when that should have ended a week ago. Reports had the fords way too high to cross. The watchers guessed we had at least five extra days.
I told Mogaba, who needed time more than anyone else. He grumbled that his main accomplishment to date was that he had taught his troops to march in straight lines.
I thought that was the critical lesson. If they could maintain order on the battlefield...
I was not comfortable with the gift of time. As each day perished in turn, and I had more reports of the trouble the advance party was having, I grew ever more antsy.
Two days before our originally planned departure I summoned Mogaba. “Have you relaxed any because of the extra time?”
“No.”
“Not easing up at all?”
“No. If we leave five days later, they’ll be five days more prepared.”
“Good.” I leaned back in my chair.
“You’re troubled.”
“That mud. I had Frogface go scout. Sindawe is still twenty miles from Vejagedhya. What’ll it be like for the mob we’ll take down?”
He nodded. “You’re thinking of leaving early?”
“I’m seriously considering leaving when we originally planned. Just to make sure. If we’re there early we can get rested and maybe a little more trained under field conditions.”
He nodded again. Then took me by surprise. “You play hunches sometimes, don’t you?”
I lifted an eyebrow.
“I’ve watched you since Gea-Xle. I’m beginning to understand how your mind works, I think. And sometimes I think you don’t understand yourself well enough. You’ve been troubled all week. That is a sign you have a hunch trying to come through.” He left his chair. “I’ll proceed on the assumption that you’ll leave early.”
He left. I thought about him knowing how my mind works. Should I feel flattered or threatened?
I went to a window, opened it, looked at the night sky. I saw stars between racing clouds. Maybe the cycle of daily drizzle was over. Or maybe it was just another pause.
I went back to work. My current project, taken catch-as-catch-can, was one I was working on with Frogface. We were trying to figure out what had become of the books missing from all the libraries around town. I had an idea that a certain anonymous official had them squirreled away in the Prahbrindrah’s palace. The question was, how to get to them? Invoke my powers as dictator?
“Ignore the river.”
“Say what?” I looked around. “What the hell?”
“Ignore the river.”
A crow stood on the windowsill. Another settled beside it. It delivered the same message.
Crows are smart. But only for bird brains. I asked what they were talking about. They told me to ignore the river. I could put them on the rack and they would not tell me more. “All right. I got it. Ignore the river. Shoo.”
Crows. All the time with the damned crows. They were trying to tell me something, sure. What? They had warned me before. Were they saying I should pay no attention to the river stages?
That was my inclination anyway, because of the mud.
I went to the door and yelled, “One-Eye! Goblin! I need you.”
They mustered in looking surly, standing well away from one another. Not a good sign. They were feuding again. Or working up to it. It had been so long since they had eased the pressure that it might be a major blowup.
“Tonight’s the night, guys. Take out the rest of the Shadowmasters’ agents.”
“I thought we had some extra time,” One-Eye carped.
“We might have. And we might not. I want it done now. Take care of it.”
Under his breath Goblin muttered, “Yessir your dictatorship, sir.” I gave him a dirty look. He moved out. I went to the window and stared out at that clearing sky.
“I had a feeling things were going too good.”
Chapter Thirty-two: SHADOWLIGHT
The Shadowmasters met in a haste that left them exhausted. The meet had been set days earlier but as they travelled a cry had gone out saying it was too late for lazy, comfortable movements.
They were in the place of the pool and uncertain dimensions and shadows. The woman bobbed restlessly. Her companion was agitated. The one who spoke seldom spoke first. “What is the panic?”
“Our resources in Taglios have been exterminated. All but the newest. As suddenly as that.” She snapped her fingers.
Her companion said, “They are about to march.”
The woman: “They knew who our resources were. Which means everything we learned through them is suspect.”
Her companion: “We have to move sooner than we planned. We cannot give them a minute more than we must.”
The quiet one asked, “Have we been found out?”
The woman: “No. We have the one resource close to the heart, still undetected if mostly ineffective. It hasn’t reported a hint of a suspicion.”
“We should join the troops. We should leave nothing to the hazard of battle.”
“We’ve argued this out already. No. We will not risk ourselves. There is no cause to think they will have any chance against our veterans. I have added five thousand men to the invasion force. That is enough.”
“There was another thing. The thing you called us here to present.”
“Yes. Our comrade of Shadowcatch and Overlook is not as southward obsessed as he would have us think. He infiltrated some of his people into Taglian territory the past year. They attacked the leaders of the Black Company. And failed abysmally. Their efforts served only one purpose — beyond betraying his thinking. They gave me a chance to insinuate our one surviving resource into the enemy fold.”
“Then when next we meet him we can mock him in turn.”
“Perhaps. If it seems appropriate. One piece of news comes out of his effort. Dorotea Senjak is with them.”
A long stillness followed. Finally, the one who spoke so seldom observed, “That alone explains why our friend would send men north secretly. How dearly he would love to own her.”
The female replied, “For more reasons than the obvious. There appears to be a relationship with the Company’s Captain. She would be a valuable resource if that relationship is strong enough
to be manipulated.”
“She must be killed as soon as possible.”
“No! We must capture her. If he can use her, so can we. Think what she knows. What she was. She might hold the key to ridding the world of him and of closing the gateway. She may be powerless but she has not lost her memory.”
The one who spoke seldom began to laugh. His laughter was as insane as that heard in Overlook. He was thinking anyone could use the memories of Dorotea Senjak. Anyone!
The female recognized that laugh, understood what was happening in his mind, knew she and her companion would have to proceed very carefully. But she pretended not to see. She asked her companion, “Have you contacted the one in the swamps?”
“He wants nothing to do with us or our troubles. He is content with his fetid, humid little empire. But he will come around.”
“Good. We’re agreed? We advance the schedule?”
Heads nodded.
“I will send the orders immediately.”
Chapter Thirty-three: TAGLIOS: DRUNKEN WIZARDS
It had not been a good day. It got no better because the sun went down. The high had been Frogface reporting Sindawe reaching Vejagedhya. The low followed immediately. There was no material to fortify the town. A ditch would be it.
But the ground was so sodden the walls of a ditch would keep collapsing.
Oh, well. If the gods were out to get us they were out to get us. All our wriggling on the hook wouldn’t change a thing.
I was ready to collapse into bed when Murgen burst in. I was so tired I was seeing double. Two of him did not improve the state of the universe. “What now?” I snapped.
“Maybe big trouble. Goblin and One-Eye are down at Swan’s place, drunk on their asses, and they’ve started in. I don’t like the smell of it.”
I got up, resigned to another sleepless night. It had been a long time brewing. It might get out of hand. “What are they doing?”
“Just the usual, so far. But there’s no fun in it this time. There’s an undercurrent of viciousness. Anyway, it stinks like somebody could get hurt.”
“Horses ready?”
“I sent word.”
I grabbed up the officer’s baton some Nar had tossed me as we had approached Gea-Xle. No special reason other than that it was the nearest thing handy for thumping heads.
The barracks was quiet as we passed through. The men sensed something afoot. By the time I reached the stables Mogaba and Lady had joined the parade. Murgen explained while they cursed our Taglian stablehands into readying two more horses.
That the feud had gotten out of hand was obvious from blocks away. Fires illuminated the night. Taglians were coming out to see what was happening.
The wizards had squared off in the street outside Swan’s place. That had been gutted. Fires flickered up and down the street, none major, just patches gnawing the faces of buildings, evidence of the errant aim of a couple of drunken sorcerers.
Those troublesome little shits were having difficulty standing, let alone shooting straight. So maybe the gods do watch out for fools and drunks. Had they been sober they would have murdered each other.
Unconscious bodies lay scattered around. Swan and Mather and Blade and several guys from the Company were among them. They had tried to break it up and gotten creamed for their trouble.
One-Eye and Goblin were escalating. One-Eye had a pained-looking Frogface sicced on Goblin. Goblin had something that looked like a black snake of smoke growing out of his belt pouch. It was trying to get past Frogface. When the things grappled a shower of light washed the street, revealing Taglians crouched, watching from relative safety.
I halted before they noticed me. “Lady. What’s that thing Goblin’s got?”
“Can’t tell from here. Something he shouldn’t. A match for Frogface, which I would have thought was out of One-Eye’s class.” She sounded vaguely troubled.
There were times I’d had that notion myself. It did not seem reasonable that you could walk into a shop and buy a Frogface off the shelf. But it hadn’t bothered One-Eye, and he was the expert.
Frogface and the snake came to grips midway between their masters. They started grunting and straining and screaming and thumping around. I wondered aloud, “Is that what Goblin brought back from the country?”
“What?”
“From the first time I saw him after his set-to with the brown guys directing the shadows he had this smugness about him. Like he finally had him some way to whip the world.”
Lady thought. “If he picked it up from the Shadowmasters’ men it could be a plant. Shifter could tell us for sure.”
“He ain’t here. Let’s make the assumption.”
The last fire burned itself out. Goblin and One-Eye were totally preoccupied. One-Eye stumbled over his own bootlace. For a moment it looked like Goblin would get the upper hand. Frogface barely turned the snake’s strike.
“Enough. We can’t do without them, much as I’d like to bury them both and have done with their crap.” I spurred my horse. Goblin was nearest me. He barely started to turn. I leaned down and thumped his head. I did not see the result. I was on One-Eye already. I whacked him up side the head, too.
I turned for a second charge but Lady, Mogaba, and Murgen had them wrapped up. The battle between Frogface and the snake died out. But they did not. They eyed one another across ten feet of pavement.
I swung down. “Frogface. Can you talk? Or are you as crazy as your boss?”
“He’s crazy, Cap, not me. But I got an indenture. I got to do what he says.”
“Yeah? Tell me this. What’s that thing growing out of Goblin’s pouch?”
“A kind of imp. In another form. Where’d he come up with it, Cap?”
“I wonder myself. Murgen, check these other guys out. See if we’ve got any real casualties. Mogaba, drag that little shit over here. I’m going to knock some heads together.”
We plunked them down side by side with Lady and Mogaba holding them sitting from behind. They began to come around. Murgen came to tell me none of the unconscious men were injured.
That was something.
One-Eye and Goblin looked up at me. I paced back and forth, smacking the baton into my hand. My dictator’s stalk. I whirled on them. “Next time this happens I’m going to tie you two into a sack, face-to-face, and drop you in the river. I don’t have the patience for it. Tomorrow, while your hangovers are still killing you, you’re going to get up and come down here and make good fhe damage. The expense will come out of your pockets. Do you understand?”
Goblin looked a little sheepish. He managed a feeble nod. One-Eye did not respond.
“One-Eye? You want another whack up side the head?”
He nodded. Sullenly.
“Good. Now. Goblin. That thing you brought back from the country. Chances are it belongs to the Shadowmasters. A plant. Before you go to bed I want it stuffed in a bottle or something and buried. Deep.”
His eyes bugged. “Croaker...”
“You heard me.”
An angry, almost roaring hiss filled the street. The snake thing came up off the paving and struck at me.
Frogface flung in from the side, deflecting it.
In a sudden, drunken, bug-eyed panic Goblin and One-Eye both tried to get it under control. I backed off. It was a wild three minutes before Goblin got it squished into his pouch. He stumbled into Swan’s place. A minute later he came out carrying a closed wine jar. He looked at me funny. “I’ll bury it, Croaker.” He sounded embarrassed.
One-Eye was getting himself together, too. He took a deep breath. “I’ll give him a hand.”
“Right. Try not to talk too much. Don’t get started again.”
He had the grace to look embarrassed too. He gave Frogface a thoughtful look. I noted that he did not take the imp along to do the heavy work.
“What now?” Mogaba asked.
“Pains me all to hell, but now we count on their consciences to keep them in line. For a while. If I didn’t
need them so much I’d make it a night they’d remember the rest of their lives. I don’t need this shit. What’re you grinning about?”
Lady did not stop. “It’s smaller scale, but this is what it was like trying to keep a rein on the Ten Who Were Taken.”
“Yeah? Maybe so. Murgen, you were out here boozing anyway, you finish picking up the pieces. I’m going to get some sleep.”
Chapter Thirty-four: TO GHOJA
It was worse than I thought it would be. The mud seemed bottomless. The first day out of Taglios, after a cheering parade, we made twelve miles. I did not feel desperate. But the road was better nearer the city. After that it got worse. Eleven miles the next day, nine each of the three days following. We made that good a time only because we had the elephants along.
The day I wanted to reach the Ghoja ford I was still thirty miles away.
Then Shifter came, wearing his wolf shape, prancing in out of the wilds.
The rains had ended but the sky remained overcast, so the ground did not dry. The sun was no ally.
Shifter came with a smaller companion. It looked as though his understudy had caught on to shifting.
He spent an hour with Lady before we moved out. Then he galloped away again.
Lady did not look cheerful.
“Bad news?”
“The worst. They’ve put one over on us, maybe.”
I did not betray the sudden tightness in my innards. “What?”
“Recall the map of the Main. Between Numa and Ghoja there’s that low area that floods.”
I pictured it. For twelve miles the river ran through an area flanked by plains that flooded whenever the river rose more than a few feet. At its highest stage it could be fourteen miles wide there, with most of the flooding on the southern side. That plain became a huge reservoir, and was the reason the Numa ford became crossable before the Ghoja. But the last I’d heard it was mostly drained.
