The Many Deaths of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  Goblin said, “We need a place where we can be safe and our power is strong because there is much we need to do before we commence the actual rite of resurrection.” By which the Daughter of Night understood him to mean bringing on the Year of the Skulls.

  She became attentive despite her inclination to be rebellious. It sounded like the Khadidas was going to impart some real information at last. Hitherto, the possessed little man had done nothing more than present his bonafides, then tell her what to do. They had been together for only a few days but throughout them he had been completely unforthcoming.

  She asked, “How can we possibly bring on the Year of the Skulls? Our cult has been exterminated. I doubt that there are a hundred devout believers left in the entire world.”

  “There will be hands enough to undertake the holy task. Narayan Singh did well in his last years. But before we bring them together we must recover the Books of the Dead.”

  The Daughter of Night had to pass on the cruel truth that had been used to torment her all the while she had been a captive of the Black Company. “The Books of the Dead no longer exist. The woman who commands our cruelest enemies burned them personally. Not even a scrap survived. The monster that dwells in the place of glittering stone, that prevents my mother from rising, had the ashes scattered throughout all the realms that touch upon the demon plain.”

  “That’s true.” The Khadidas grinned evilly. “But books are knowledge. The knowledge contained within the Books of the Dead is not lost. The knowledge also resides within the Goddess herself. And whatsoever there was within her that needed to be brought forth into this world she placed within me before she sent me forth.”

  “You know the Books of the Dead by heart?”

  “I do. Which is why we must find our one safe place. The scriptures are no good locked up inside me. They must be out, in written form, to assume their full power. They must be there so that the cantor priests can sing from them continuously during the time of resurrection. Come. We must travel faster.”

  The Daughter of Night hurried her pace, her exhaustion pushed back briefly by the stunning implications of what she had just heard.

  The holy books were not lost!

  She was ashamed that she had suffered even a slight wavering of faith.

  78

  Midway Between: Bad News

  People began to scurry as though in near panic. I knew the signs. News had come in and it was not good. I suspected the cavalry force sent to probe the defenses at Ghoja had suffered some major misfortune.

  I headed for Sleepy’s tent without being summoned. By the time I ducked inside I had overheard a half dozen rumors already, not a one of them reassuring.

  Generating rumors is one thing even the most inept armed force does exceedingly well.

  Sleepy was heads-together with Suvrin and Runmust, Riverwalker and several brigade commanders from Hsien. Tobo was there but was goofy with painkillers. Howler and Shukrat were not present. Tobo looked a little peeved. My guess was that he had brought the bad news but could not keep himself together well enough to contribute anything beyond his report.

  I had given up on him. If he wanted to cruise around on a post trying to do things while he was all busted up and in casts I was not going to nag him anymore. He had a half-crazy mom to handle that.

  Sleepy glanced my way, for a second revealed extreme irritation. That turned to resignation as other former Captains let themselves in behind me. Even Willow Swan invited himself to sit in.

  Sleepy did face a unique challenge. No other Captain in the Company’s history has had such a cabal of ex-Captains looking over his shoulder. Even though none of us intrude, or even offer much unsolicited advice, Sleepy’s particular insecurities leave her feeling like she is being judged whenever she had to Captain in front of us. And, of course, she is, though like proper old ladies we do it only behind her back.

  “Since everybody but the cooks and grooms is here, I suppose I should get on.… No. Tobo is here. He can tell it better than I.” She deferred to the kid as soon as her gaze fell upon him. I glared at her. She had no business putting him through …

  Tobo’s eyes focused. He shut them, took a cleansing breath, started talking. “The hidden folk have been tracking Goblin and Booboo the best they can, though it’s hard even when we know what route they have to take.” He was something less than intimidating, strapped into position aboard a Voroshk flying log, so covered with casts and splints that he was able to use only one hand. “They travel inside a fog of, for want of a better description, divine darkness and confusion. By knowing their route, though, I was able to have the Black Hounds seed the way with snail shells.… I got lucky. One of the hidden folk eavesdropped on an argument between Goblin and the girl.” His words came in a soft, swift gush that forced his audience to stay quiet and lean forward.

  Tobo paused. For effect, I would have suspected in normal circumstances. The kid liked his drama.

  The boy made the grim announcement, “The thing inside Goblin knows the Books of the Dead by heart. Once the Daughter of Night transcribes them they plan to start the rites associated with initiating the Year of the Skulls.”

  Fox in the henhouse, oh, my, oh!

  It took Sleepy several minutes to get everyone settled down. In the interim Tobo grabbed the opportunity to relax. When a measure of calm returned he said, “That’s not as bad as it sounds. Remember, there’re only two people involved. Should we kill either one, the resurrection fails. For the rest of our century and beyond. And, as anyone who ever worked on the Annals will tell you at great length, it takes a long time to write a book. Even if you’re just copying. I saw the Books of the Dead before Sleepy destroyed them. They were huge. And the Daughter of Night will have to transcribe them error-free. So we don’t exactly face an immediate crisis even though this is trouble that we never anticipated.”

  I jumped in. “If you got one of your critters close enough to find out all that then you probably know right where they are. We can set up some kind of ambush.” Lady and Howler were supposed to have been ransacking the cobwebby cellars of their minds in an effort to recall some ancient device whereby Goblin and the girl might be distracted, disoriented, distressed and destroyed. Or just disarmed, in the case of my missus. Realist and pragmatist though she was, she nevertheless nurtured a blind bit of self-delusion wherein she would turn Booboo around. Though she would never admit that, of course.

  Tobo said, “All right, Master Strategist, Architect of the Destruction of the Shadowmaster Evil, tell me how you ambush somebody you fall in love with before they get inside crossbow range.”

  “Kid has a point,” Lady said, eyeing me expectantly.

  “Your snail-shell lurker didn’t fall in love with her, did it? It just hunkered down there and eavesdropped till it decided to come running to you with its gossip.”

  “And?”

  “So the Unknown Shadows aren’t affected by the Daughter of Night. Is the opposite true?”

  “They couldn’t do her much physical harm.”

  “Skryker? Black Shuck? That big old jumping duck thing? You’re shitting me.”

  “No, really.”

  “Well, they really wouldn’t have to, anyway, would they? They’d just need to haunt her. Keep interfering with her sleep. Driving her crazy. Jogging her elbow whenever she tries to write. Really be guilty of all the annoyances they’re blamed for back in Hsien. They could piss in her inkwell. They could hide her pens. They could spill stuff on whatever she’s trying to write. They could make food go bad and milk turn sour.”

  “They could keep her husband from performing on her wedding night,” Sleepy snapped. “You’re roaming a little far into the future, Croaker. And possibly targeting the wrong victim. The Goblin thing is the one who has the Books of the Dead locked up inside his gourd. He might be able to manage without the Daughter of Night. I’m pretty sure she can’t manage without him.”

  Points worth considering.

  “Both are ju
st ephemeral tools,” Sahra announced in a hollow, oracular voice. “Both can be replaced. In time. So long as Kina herself persists the threat from the glittering plain lives on.”

  That took all the cheer right out of the gathering.

  Everybody stared at Tobo’s mother, the injured boy himself included. There was a creepy feeling to her, like something had taken control of her, to speak using her mouth.

  Murgen later said Sahra had looked and sounded exactly like her grandmother, Hong Tray, when she issued her prophecies, decades ago.

  She scared the shit out of Murgen and Tobo both. They used all the energy they could muster to insist that Sleepy’s concern about Goblin and the Daughter of Night was not yet critical.

  79

  The Taglian Territories: In Motion

  Sleepy reaffirmed her determination to move north. We limped along, accommodating the injured. We encountered no direct resistance at Ghoja, though forces loyal to the Protector had damaged the main span of the great bridge over the Main. It took our engineers more than a week to restore the bridge. Throughout that week the Prahbrindrah Drah and his sister preached to the people and soldiers of Ghoja. They managed to win the hearts and allegiance of the majority.

  The Prince was quite good with people when we let him run around loose. He preached his own restoration with an evangelical passion. He won particular favor amongst old folks nostalgic for the quiet changelessness that had characterized the world of their youth—before the coming of the Shadowmasters and the Black Company.

  Except for a small memorial pasture where the fighting had been bloodiest, the battlefield on the north bank, where the Company had won a signal victory in what seemed like another lifetime, was completely built over. Back then there had been a hamlet and watchtower on the south bank, beside a ford that could be crossed only half the year. Now Ghoja threatened to become a city. The bridge, begun at my suggestion ages ago, was a strategic gem both militarily and commercially. There were strong forts and big markets on both banks now.

  The girl and the Goblin thing should have done more to keep us from crossing over.

  We made camp twelve miles north of the bridge, in rough, bare country still not claimed by peasants. I doubt that it was good for much but pasture. Which meant it was a wasteland amongst vegetarians. But had the ground been better I doubt many farmers would have immigrated. It was too near the high holy place of the Deceivers, the Grove of Doom.

  We left the Prince and his sister at Ghoja, along with many native recruits. Sleepy thought it was time the royals got a taste of independence. She was confident that they would not conspire against the Company again. They had been included in our councils often enough to know that Tobo’s hidden folk would always be close by.

  Ten hours after we set camp, in the middle of the night, Sleepy changed her mind. She wanted to move a little closer to Taglios, to get between the City and the Grove of Doom.

  I was awake when Riverwalker brought the news, writing by lamplight and keeping an eye on our injured. Some of them had not weathered the journey well. I was concerned about Soulcatcher in particular.

  The change in plan did not irritate me as deeply as it did Lady. She had to be dragged out of a deep sleep. The way she snarled and threatened great evils left me wondering if she had not begun having nightmares again.

  Riverwalker murmured, whispered. “I’m getting me a head start.”

  “Run, River, run. You’ll need every yard you can get.”

  Lady gave me a look that made me wonder if I should not yell at him to wait up.

  * * *

  We established the new camp near a dense stand of trees which, I learned, surrounded and masked a sprawling Shadowlander cemetery that hailed from the first Shadowmaster invasion of the Taglian Territories. From before the Company’s arrival. Almost no one knew about that. I had not, though I had campaigned in the region. Of the entire host only Suvrin showed any interest. He thought he might have a relative or two tucked away there.

  He would have plenty of opportunity to visit tombs and graves. Sleepy planned to stay put, recruiting and training and harrying the edge of the Grove of Doom while Tobo and our other casualties recuperated. The trouble with the cemetery was, time had vandalized most of the Shadowlanders’ slapdash grave markers.

  The Goblin-thing and the Daughter of Night settled down, too, and they really did nothing but sit. They did not begin transcribing the Books of the Dead because they had no supplies. They did not consult with Deceivers making pilgrimages into the holy grove. Those men we left alone, every future step to be dogged by Unknown Shadows so we could follow their routines once they returned to their home environments. There were not many Stranglers left alive. This way we could find out who those few were.

  Handy as it is, being able to see whatever you want takes a lot of getting used to.

  The Grove of Doom was always a cruel and wicked place, filled with ancient darkness. The hidden folk hated it but they endured going in for Tobo’s sake.

  Their devotion to the boy gets scary when I think about it too much.

  Gromovol and Arkana were mending at a pace equaling Tobo’s, which was amazing but not magical. Gromovol’s arrogance remained undiminished by misfortune. Arkana was understandably withdrawn.

  Soulcatcher worried me increasingly. Not only did she show no improvement, she seemed to be growing weaker. She was headed right down the grim trail Sedvod had blazed.

  There was a lot of sentiment favoring letting her slide, and for possibly easing Gromovol along the same dark path while he was sleeping. The jury remained out on Arkana even though the hidden folk had exculpated her in all ways but calculation and manipulation. There were random moments, widely separated, when I felt sorry for the girl.

  I remembered the loneliness.

  I was the only one who would talk to her, excepting Gromovol. She turned her back on him every time he tried to do so. During our reluctant chats I tried to learn more about her homeworld and, especially, Khatovar. But she did not have much to say. She knew nothing. She had a full measure of youth’s indifference to the past.

  Shukrat shunned Arkana completely.

  Shukrat was almost pathetically eager to fit in. Shukrat really wanted to belong. I have a strong feeling she did not belong before she joined us. And maybe Arkana had, which might illuminate Shukrat’s spite toward her now.

  80

  The Taglian Territories: In Camp

  Life is never like a canal, flowing gently through a straightforward and predictable channel. It is more like a mountain brook, zigging and zagging, tearing things up, sometimes going almost dormant before taking an unexpected and turbulent turn.

  I was setting out some similar proposition to Lady and Shukrat while examining Tobo to see if he dared put any weight on the broken leg. He thought he was feeling better and was getting extremely restless, which is usually a sign that the patient is, indeed, getting better but is not nearly as far advanced as he wants to believe. We were in my VIP hospital. Soulcatcher and Arkana were present as well. Shukrat was putting on a show, fussing over Tobo while making it clear that Arkana no longer existed. Lady was on her knees beside her sister’s pallet, hands flat on her thighs, motionless. She had stayed that way for almost an hour. For a while I thought she was meditating. Or she had gone into some sort of trance. Now I was starting to worry.

  The women looked more like mother and daughter than sisters. Poor Lady. Against the years all men campaign in vain. And of late, time has been particularly unkind to my love.

  Now that we were settled and had little to do but wait for people to mend, Lady spent time with Soulcatcher every day. She could not explain it herself.

  She finally came around, looked back, asked the question that tormented her. “She’s dying, isn’t she?”

  “I think so.” I admitted. “And I don’t know why. It looks like the same thing that got the Voroshk kid. So I don’t know how to turn it around. Howler doesn’t know how, either.” Though the
screaming sorcerer never had been renowned for his skills as a healer.

  “Goblin must’ve done something to her but it isn’t sorcery.” I added, “Not that anybody recognizes. And it isn’t any of the diseases I see in the field.” In most armies more soldiers die of dysentery than fall to enemy arms. I am proud that that has never been true in my army.

  Lady nodded. She resumed staring at her sister. “I wonder what it is. Something Goblin did. We’d have to wake her up to find out, wouldn’t we?” After a heartbeat, “The little bastard was right there when Sedvod took sick, too. Wasn’t he?”

  “I’m afraid so.” I passed Tobo to Shukrat. “Take it easy on him, girl. Or we’ll need to get you two a separate tent.”

  Tobo blushed. Shukrat grinned. I turned to Arkana. “You think you’re ready to take up your dancing career again?”

  “Is nothing ever serious with you?”

  She caught me by surprise. Frivolity was not a crime often attached to my name. “Absolutely. None of us are going to get out of this alive so we might as well grab a laugh while we can.” So One-Eye used to claim. “Cranky this morning?” I leaned forward and whispered, “I would be, too. Broken bones are no fun. I know. I’ve had a few. But try to smile. You’re through the worst of it.”

  She put on her best scowl. The worst of it was still inside her head. She might never recover emotionally. She had not been brought up in a place and station where it was even conceivable that such horrors could overtake her.

  “Look at it this way, child. No matter how bad you think it is right now, it can always get worse. I’ve been in the soldier racket a long time and I promise you, that’s a natural law.”

  “How could my life be worse than this?”

  “Think about it. You could be back home. Where you’d be dead. And you would’ve gone through hell getting that way. Or you could be a prisoner instead of my guest. Which means that every day could be like your one bad day. There’re plenty of guys out there who think we let you off too easy. Which reminds me of another natural law. Once you’re outside the circle of people who agree that you’re special, you’re just another human body. And that’s hardly ever a good situation for a woman. You’re actually better off here, where we have women running stuff, than you would be almost anywhere else.”