The Many Deaths of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  “This’s getting out of hand!” Goblin yelled. “If it gets any heavier, we’re up Shit Creek.”

  He was right. If this snowfall turned into a blizzard, we were going to have no other worries. If it worsened much, we were going to die out here and make Soulcatcher the happiest girl in the world.

  She probably was anyway, now that she had had time to reflect on the fact that there was no one left able to dispute her in any whim she cared to indulge. Water sleeps? So what. Those days were over.

  Not while I was still standing, they were not.

  Swan joined me for breakfast. “How’s my wife this morning?”

  “Frigid.” Darn! Open mouth, insert boot with manure veneer.

  Swan grinned. “I’ve known that for years. Isn’t this something? There’s more than an inch already.”

  “It’s something, all right. Unfortunately, I don’t encourage myself to use the kind of language needed to describe it. Most of these people have never seen snow. Watch out for somebody to do something stupid. In fact, you might stick close to the Radisha. I don’t want her getting hurt because somebody doesn’t use his head.”

  “All right. Did you dream last night?”

  “Of course I did. I got to meet Kina right up close, too.”

  “I saw lights on the road to the east of us.”

  That got my attention. “Really?”

  “In my dream. They were just witchlights. Maybe the plain’s own memories, or something. There wasn’t anything there when I went to look.”

  “Getting bold in your old age, are you?”

  “It just sort of happened. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d thought about it.”

  “Did I snore again last night?”

  “You solidified your grasp on the all-time women’s championship. You’re ready to compete at the next level.”

  “Must have something to do with the dreaming.”

  Sahra drifted up. She looked grim. She did not like what was happening even a little, the snow or the way we had to cope with it. But she bit her tongue. She understood that it was now too late to be a fussy mom. Like it or not, her boy was carrying us all right now.

  One-Eye limped along using a staff somebody had made for him from one of the smaller bamboo weapons. I did not know if it was still armed. Very likely so, he being One-Eye. He told me, “I’m not going to last at this, Little Girl. But I’ll go as long as I can.”

  “Show Tobo what to do and let him take over as soon as he’s got it. Let Gota carry the pickax and you get up on the horse. Advise from there.”

  The old man just nodded instead of finding some reason to argue, betraying his true weakness. Goblin scowled at me, though, assuming he was going to get a large ration of unsolicited counsel. But he shrugged off the temptation to debate.

  “Tobo. Hold up. You really understand what we have to do today?”

  “I’ve got it, Sleepy.”

  “Then give your grandmother the Key. Where is that horse buddy of mine? Get up here, you. Carry One-Eye.” I noted that the white crow had left the beast’s back. In fact, the bird was nowhere to be seen. “Up you go, old man.”

  “Who you calling old, Little Girl?” One-Eye drew himself up as tall as he got.

  “You, so old you’ve gotten shorter than me. Get your tail up there. I really want to get there today.” I offered Goblin a hard look, just in case he got a notion to try poking sticks in the spokes. He just looked back blankly. Or maybe blandly.

  Spoiled brat, me. I got my way. The ruined fortress loomed out of weakly falling snow around what felt like noon. Once Tobo got the hang of discovering the boundaries well enough to keep up with Goblin, the band began moving at a pace limited only by Mother Gota’s capacities. And she seemed taken by a sudden urge to hasten toward whatever destiny awaited whoever arrived with the Key.

  My natural pessimism went almost entirely unrewarded. Had Iqbal’s boys not discovered the wonders of snowballs, I would have had nothing to complain about at all. Even then I would have been entertained had not a few wild volleys of missiles not strayed my way.

  We arrived at the chasm Murgen had mentioned, a tear in the face of the plain rent by powers almost unimaginable. The earthquake responsible had been felt as far away as Taglios. It had flattened whole cities this side of the Dandha Presh. I wondered if it had wrought as much destruction in the other worlds connected to the plain.

  I also wondered if the quake had been natural in origin. Had it been caused by some premature effort of Kina’s to rise and shine?

  “Swan! Willow Swan! Get up here.”

  Mother Gota had halted at the lip of the chasm simply because there was no way for her to go forward. The rest of the mob crowded up behind the leaders because, naturally, everyone wanted to see. I snapped, “Make a hole, people! Make a hole. Let the man get up here.” I stared at the wrecked fortress. Shattered was too strong a description but its state of disrepair went way beyond neglect, too. I supposed if the original golem garrison were still around, it would be in perfect condition and right now the whole crew would be outside dusting off the snow patches attached to every little roughness of the stone.

  Swan grumbled, “You need to make up your mind, darling. You want me to look out for the Radisha or—”

  “Never mind. I don’t have time. I’m cold and I’m cranky and I want to change that. Look at this crack. Is this the way it was before? Because even though it’s pretty impressive, it’s nowhere as huge as Murgen made me think it would be. Everybody but Iqbal’s baby can skip across this.”

  Swan studied the gap in the plain.

  Immediately evident to any eye was the fact that there were no sharp edges. The stone seemed to have softened and oozed like taffy.

  “No. It wasn’t like this at all. It looks like it’s been healing, it’s not a quarter as wide as it was. I bet in another generation there won’t even be a scar.”

  “So the plain can heal itself. But not so things that were added later.” I indicated the fortress. “Except for the spells protecting the roads.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Start moving across. Swan, stick with Tobo and Gota. Nobody else has any idea where to go from here. There you are,” I answered an impatient caw! from above. If I kind of squinted and looked sideways, I could make out the white crow perched on the battlements, looking down.

  Still muttering to himself, though somewhat good-naturedly, Swan stepped across the crack, slipped, fell, skidded, got up exercising a string of out-of-shape northern expletives. Everyone else laughed.

  I summoned Runmust and Riverwalker. “I want you two to figure out how to get the animals and carts across. Draft Suvrin if you want. He claims he’s had some minor experience in practical engineering. And keep reminding everyone that if they remain calm and cooperative, we’ll all get to sleep in a warm, dry place tonight.” Well, maybe dry. Warm was probably too much to expect.

  Uncle Doj and Tobo helped Mother Gota across. Sahra followed. Several other Nyueng Bao followed her. That made an awful lot of Nyueng Bao concentrated in one place suddenly. My paranoia began to quiver and narrow its eyes suspiciously.

  I said, “Goblin. One-Eye. Come along. Slink? Where are you? Come with us.” Slink I could count on to be quick and deadly and as morally reluctant as a spear when I pointed and said, “Kill!”

  Uncle Doj did not fail to note the fact that even now I trusted him only incompletely. He seemed both irked and amused. He told me, “There isn’t anything for our people here, Annalist. This is all for Tobo’s benefit.”

  “That’s good. That’s good. I wouldn’t want the future of the Company to be placed in the slightest risk.”

  Doj frowned, disappointed by my sarcasm. “I have not won your heart yet, Stone Soldier?”

  “How could you? You keep calling me names and won’t even explain.”

  “All will become clear. I fear.”

  “Of course. Once we reach the Land of Unknown Shadows. Right? You’d better hope there aren
’t any half-truths or outright cover-ups in your doctrine. ‘All Evil Dies There an Endless Death.’ It could still be true.”

  Doj responded with a baleful look but it seemed neither angry nor calculating.

  I said, “Swan. Show us the way.”

  81

  “I think this’s as far as I can take you,” Swan told me. He spoke slowly, as though having trouble sorting out his thoughts. “I don’t get it. Stuff keeps going away. I know I was farther inside than this. I know all the things we did. But when I try to remember anything specific, I lose everything between the time I got to this point until sometime during the gallop back. Stuff comes to me all the time when I’m not trying. I do remember that. Maybe Catcher messed up my brain somehow.”

  “There’s an all-time understatement,” Goblin muttered.

  Swan ignored Goblin. He complained, “We were actually off the plain before I realized that we were the only ones who would be coming out.”

  I was not sure I believed that but it did not matter now. I grunted, suggested, “How about you make a guess? Maybe your soul will remember what your brain can’t.”

  “First you need to get some light in here.”

  “What do I have wizards for?” I asked the gloom. “Certainly not anything useful or practical like providing a light. They wouldn’t need one. They can see in the dark.”

  Goblin muttered something unflattering about the sort of woman who indulges in sarcasm. He told Swan, “Sit down and let me look at your head.”

  “Let me!” Tobo enthused at the same time. “Let me try to make a light. I can do this one.” He did not wait for permission. Filaments of lemon and silver light crawled over his upraised hands, swift and eager. The darkness surrounding us retreated, I thought reluctantly.

  “Wow!” I said. “Look at him.”

  “He has the strength and enthusiasm of youth,” One-Eye conceded. I glanced back. He was still astride the black stallion, wearing a smug look but obviously exhausted. The white crow was perched in front of him. It studied Tobo with one eye while considering our surroundings with the other. It seemed amused. Then One-Eye began to chuckle.

  Tobo squealed in surprise. “Wait! Stop! Goblin! What’s happening?”

  The worms of light were snaking up his arms. They would not respond to his insistence that they desist. He started slapping himself. One-Eye and Goblin began to laugh.

  Meantime, the two of them had done something to Swan to clarify his mind. The man looked like he had just sucked down a tall, frosty mug of self-confident recollection.

  Sahra saw nothing funny in Tobo’s situation. She screamed at the wizards to do something. She was almost incoherent. Which betrayed how much stress she inflicted upon herself.

  Doj told her, “He isn’t in any danger, Sahra. He just let himself get distracted. It happens. It’s part of learning,” or words to that effect, several times, before Sahra calmed down and began to look defiant and sheepish at the same time.

  Goblin told Tobo, “I’ll take it till you get your concentration back.” And in a moment there was light enough to see the walls of the huge chamber. Someone who is skilled at something always makes it look easy. The little bald wizard was no exception. He told One-Eye, “Help Swan keep his head clear.”

  I thought the place looked like a nice change from sleeping out in the weather. I wished there was fuel we could burn to heat it.

  “Whither now?” I asked Swan. For some time I had been silently regretting not having caught Murgen while I was dreaming so I could have gotten reliable directions.

  The white crow squawked and launched itself, leaving One-Eye cursing because it had swatted him in the face with its wings.

  I was starting to understand the beast. “Somebody see where it goes. One of you sorcerer geniuses want to send a light with it?” Tobo had received control of his light again and had it working in good form but it took all his attention to manage it. I hoped he outgrew this more-confidence-than-sense stage before he took a really big bite of disaster.

  Uncle Doj trailed the crow at a dignified pace. I supposed I ought to contribute something more than executive decisions, so I followed him. A ball of leprous green light from behind overtook me and made a nest in my tangled hair. My scalp began to itch. I had a suspicion One-Eye might be sneering at my personal hygiene, which, I confess, sometimes became the victim of a negligent attitude. Sort of. “This’ll teach me to take my darn helmet off,” I grumbled. I refused to allow him to flash me his smug, toothless grin by not looking back.

  I had not been wearing an actual helmet. God save me, that would have been cold. I had been wearing a leather helmet liner, which had kept my ears from getting frostbitten. Barely. Winter. It was one of those things the planning team had not foreseen.

  I hurried past Doj, who was startled when he saw my hair. Then he grinned as big as ever I had seen him do. I tossed him a bloodthirsty scowl. Unfortunately, to do so I had to turn around far enough to see One-Eye and Goblin suddenly stop exchanging handslaps and snickers. Even Sahra turned slightly sideways to conceal her amusement. All right. So suddenly I am the clown princess of the Company, eh? We would see. Those two would …

  I realized that they had lured me into accepting their system of thought. Before long I would be setting traps so I could get even first.

  The crow cawed. It was down on the cold stone floor. It danced back and forth, suddenly impatient. Its talons clicked softly. I dropped to my knees. It let me get almost within touching distance before it flopped farther into the darkness.

  More light took life behind us as people and animals came inside, making the predictable racket. Every new arrival had to know what was going on.

  The crow became a silhouette if I lowered my head and looked at it with my cheek against the floor.

  I told Doj, “There’s light coming from somewhere. This must be where the Captured got into the inner fortress.” I got down on my belly. There was a definite gap in a wall of stone so dark it seemed unseeable even in the available light. I could not make out anything on the other side.

  Doj got down and placed his own cheek on the floor. “Indeed.”

  I called, “We need some more light over here. And maybe some tools. River. Runmust. Have those people start setting up some kind of camp. And see what you can do about shutting out the cold.” That would be difficult. There were several large gaps in the outside wall.

  Goblin and One-Eye stopped grinning like fools and came forward dressed in their business faces. They kept Tobo right there with them, determined to teach him their trade quickly, hands-on.

  With more light it was easier to see what the bird meant me to see, which had to be the crack Soulcatcher had sealed after working her wicked spells on the Captured. “There any spells or booby traps here?” I asked.

  “The Little Girl’s a genius,” One-Eye grumbled. His speech had grown a little slurred. He needed rest badly. “The bird strutted through and didn’t go up in smoke. Right? That suggest anything?”

  “No spells,” Goblin said. “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because him and Gota haven’t had no privacy for a week.”

  “I’m gonna fit you out for all the privacy you’ll need for a couple of eons, Runt Man. I’m gonna plant your wrinkled old ass—”

  “Enough! Let’s see if we can make the hole any bigger.”

  The crow made impatient noises on the other side. It had to have some connection with the Captured even if it was not Murgen operating from some lost corner of time. Certainly I hoped it was not Murgen from the future. That would imply a less than successful effort on our part now.

  I grumbled and snarled. I stamped back and forth while half a dozen men expanded the hole, every one of them grousing about the shortage of light. I did not contribute much as a human candle, either. Maybe the thing in my hair was Goblin and One-Eye offering commentary on how bright I was. Though I doubted that after only two hundred years they could yet have developed that much cleverness and subtlety.
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  A larger and larger crowd piled up behind me. “River,” I growled, “I said you should have these people do something useful. Tobo, get back from there. You want a boulder to fall on your head?”

  A voice behind me suggested, “You ought to get more light on it so you can see if you need to do any shoring.”

  I turned. “Slink?”

  “There were miners in my family.”

  “Then you’re as near an expert as we’ve got.”

  One-Eye jabbed a thumb at Goblin. “The dwarf here has sapper experience. He helped undermine the walls at Tember.” His face split in an ugly grin.

  Goblin squeaked, a definite clue that “Tember” was an episode he did not recall fondly. I did not remember any mention of a Tember in the Annals. Reason suggested that the referenced event must have taken place long before Croaker became Annalist, which he had done at an early age.

  Two of Croaker’s more immediate predecessors, Miller Ladora and Kanwas Scar, had been so lax in their duties that little is known about their time—other than what their successors have reconstructed from oral tradition and the memories of survivors. It was during that era that Croaker, Otto and Hagop joined the band. Croaker says little about those days himself.

  “Am I to take it, then, that I shouldn’t invest unlimited faith in Goblin’s engineering skills?”

  One-Eye cawed like a crow. “As an engineer our bitty buddy makes a wonderful lumberjack. Things fall down wherever he goes.”

  Goblin growled like a mastiff issuing a warning.

  “See, this here skinny little bald-egg genius sold the Old Man the notion of sneaking into this burg Tember by tunneling under its walls. Deep down. Because the earth was soft. It’d be easy.” One-Eye snorted as he talked, his laughter barely under control. “And he was right. It was easy. When his tunnel caved in, the wall fell down. And the rest of us charged through the gap and sorted them Temberinos out.”

  Goblin grumbled, “And about five days later somebody remembered the miners.”

  “Somebody was just plain damned lucky he had a friend as good as me to dig him out. The Old Man just wanted to put up a gravestone.”