The Many Deaths of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  Not that it would take the Mother of Night to accomplish that. She was entirely willing to welcome in her own breed of darkness.

  Aren’t we all.

  The Captain said, “I haven’t heard a direct answer. Can I count on you to actually pay attention when the arrows start to fly?”

  An old, old formula came to mind, from back when I was very young indeed. “I am a soldier.” I said it first in the language I had spoken then, then repeated myself in Sleepy’s own Dejagoran dialect. “I’ve been distracted before. I’m still alive.”

  “Yeah, soldiers live. You only get one mistake, Croaker.”

  “Go teach your granny to suck eggs.” Which was a waste of colorful language. The expression had no meaning amongst these peoples.

  “What’s that?” Sleepy asked, pointing at something rising above the city.

  “Looks like a big-ass kite.”

  109

  Taglios: No Excuses Accepted

  Damn it! No matter how much I wanted it Mogaba refused to be stupid. Facing potential problems with an infestation of airborne wizards? Take advantage of the season’s almost constant winds. Put up about ten thousand giant box kites with poisoned sharp things hanging on tails made of braided fibers almost too tough to cut.

  There would be no zooming about with youthful exuberance over Taglios. Especially not after dark. Those kites would not be able to hurt us in our Voroshk clothing but they could entangle us and knock us off our posts. Whereupon whoever lost their seat would need someone else to come along and bring them out. Unless …

  Shukrat once fixed me up with a post that would travel on its own when its master could not manage it.

  I issued an order.

  Just hours later Shukrat’s post brought the girl herself back virtually mummified in cord and deadly sharps that took hours to overcome. But she had cleaned away scores of kites.

  I made Tobo untangle her. I was having a real problem getting him engaged with life. But Shukrat was supposed to be important to him.

  She certainly thought so. Once he finished freeing her, too slowly to suit her, she popped him in the middle of the forehead with the heel of her right hand. “How about you at least pretend to be interested, Tobe?” And, moments later, “You’re making me wonder just how bright I am.”

  Tobo was a real young man. He started to protest. I tried to warn him by shaking my head. No way was he going to break even here. Shukrat cut him off, unwilling to grant him the validity of any excuse. After that I tried not to hear what they were saying.

  I mused on Shukrat’s swift, nearly effortless grasp of Taglian. She had almost no accent at all, now. And she appeared equally adaptable regarding strange customs.

  Arkana was having more difficulty but she was coming along marvelously, too.

  Having allowed the girlfriend time to make her point, I approached Tobo. “Tobo, we need to know about what’s going on behind those walls.”

  He did not look like he cared much.

  Shukrat punched him.

  I told him, “You have to let go.”

  He gave me one ugly look.

  “You have to let go of the guilt. It wasn’t your fault.”

  I doubted that telling him would do any good. These things never are rational. Your mind goes on chasing the irrational even when it knows the truth. If Tobo wanted to feel guilty about his father and mother he would find ways to do that in the face of every argument, of any bit of evidence, and of all the common sense in the universe. I know. I have suffered through that bleak season a few times myself.

  I had a little of it going right then, featuring my wife.

  Shukrat said, “The Great General did it, Tobe. The Taglian supreme commander. And he’s inside those same walls.”

  There you go, girl. Appeal to the darkness within, to the stores of rage and hatred. We really needed to get those emotions cooking inside the most powerful sorcerer left in this part of the world.

  110

  Taglios: Misfortunes

  The Unknown Shadows told Tobo that Mogaba and his cronies were hunkered down, waiting us out. They thought we might begin to fade away before long, despite our wealth.

  They could be right. Though Sleepy had plenty of treasure left, many of the soldiers from Hsien had signed on for only one year in the field. I did not doubt that many would stay as long as their pay was on time but I did not doubt, either, that homesickness would begin to bleed us, too.

  * * *

  We cleared away kites faster than Mogaba could put new ones up. We made a few high altitude raids each night. We dropped firepots on the properties of known allies of the Protector, the Great General, and the Greys. But fire is a cruel and unruly ally. Some that we started spread way beyond their targets. Even more smoke than usual clung to the city.

  A second midnight approach to the occupied portion of the palace provided us with some distinctly unwelcome news. We learned that Mogaba’s efforts to seize our encampment beside the Shadowlander cemetery, while tactically disastrous for his loyalists, had not been entirely unprofitable.

  Sleepy’s chief of staff decided he needed a firsthand look at the Palace. For planning purposes. He was a thorough man. At Sleepy’s urging he and other selected folk had been getting training using the Voroshk flying posts. We had seven available with only five regularly assigned. And Lady was not using hers these days. Sleepy hated seeing resources going to waste. Sleepy being Sleepy.

  The chief of staff had Mihlos Sedona join us. Mihlos was the most competent of the part-time flyers though his only excuse for getting the opportunity was that the Captain liked him. And wanted his observations. No way was she going aloft herself.

  I went along to make sure those two had somebody to bail them out if they got in trouble. I made them wear Voroshk apparel, too. If we were seen we could expect missile fire. Mogaba’s people never gave up trying.

  You just need one lucky break.

  Mihlos Sedona had not yet realized that he was not immortal. He ventured too close to the enemy. Then we all learned how Mogaba had profited from disaster.

  A fireball ripped through the darkness. The boy escaped the worst of it by hurling himself to one side. The fireball struck him a glancing blow, which, however, was enough to knock him off his post.

  General Chu ignored my shout and went after Sedona. And actually managed to get close enough to get a hold on his post. As fireballs streaked in from half a dozen sources.

  One struck Chu’s post dead solid.

  The explosion of that post was violent enough to set off the other. And the two in concert were violent enough to smash in an acre of Palace like an invisible giant’s foot stomping on eggshells.

  More Palace continued to cave in around the initial collapse.

  A wicked wind flung me around like a rogue dandelion seed. Once again I lost my grip and fell off my steed. While dangling I caught rolling glimpses of flames beginning to peek through cracks in the rubble, of panic beginning to prowl amongst the soldiers atop the palace.

  111

  Taglios: Sleepy Flew

  “We’re going to start strapping you down, Pop,” Arkana told me as she towed me into camp. She had been on a routine patrol kite-clearing when the explosion happened. In rushing to see the results she almost got knocked out of the sky by a daredevil swinging from a flying fence post.

  “Just get me down. Fast. Preferably right in front of the Captain’s tent.” Sleepy had to know. Now. And somebody needed to go watch the Palace. If the whole damned thing caved in.… If Mogaba and his henchmen died in the disaster.… If the Khadidas and the Daughter of Night escaped in the resulting chaos.…

  Some hearty fires were burning over there now. A strong glow silhouetted the city wall now.

  I kept having to explain as more notables reached the Captain’s tent. And I kept urging Sleepy to make whatever move she was considering making right away. Never again would the other side be as confused and disordered as they must be now. She agreed but pointed
out that our bunch were not terribly well organized right now, either.

  The Captain dealt with the problem of interruptions in the most amazing fashion I could imagine. After delegating Suvrin to begin preparing an attack, she told me, “Take me up there. Show me what’s happened.”

  “You?”

  “Me. I’ll keep my eyes closed until there’s something to see. Before we leave I’ll throw an old blanket over my seat so I won’t get your post all wet.”

  I shook my head, disconsolate. “I wish Swan was still around. A straight line like that shouldn’t go to waste. Let’s do it.”

  “Wait. Suvrin.” She issued more instructions. So he would have something to do in his spare time.

  Her absence would slow nothing down.

  “Tie yourself on good,” I told Sleepy. “I might decide to do a few loops while we’re up there.”

  She growled like a whole pack of angry rats. Made it clear that if she fell off I might as well just keep on going.

  “All right. But coming home hanging underneath like a carp on a stringer is a lot better than the alternative.”

  “If you don’t mind a little embarrassment.”

  “I don’t mind at all if I’m alive to get red in the face.” Something you learn as you get older. Or, at least, you should.

  * * *

  We were passing over the gateway complex when I realized that I had gone right back up without having paused to check on my wife.

  Was I not a little old to feel guilty about everything? She would not be going anywhere any time soon.

  It was not possible to get dangerously close to the Palace. The fires were huge now. The heat was intense, even through the Voroshk clothing. And the higher you flew the more turbulent the air became. There were no kites anywhere nearby anymore.

  I figured Mogaba would give up on the kites soon. They were not doing us any harm.

  Sleepy clung to the post with white knuckles. I wondered if we would need a chisel to break her grip once we got back on the ground. But she did manage to keep her voice sounding normal. “What in the world is burning? That place isn’t anything but a big old stone pile.”

  The flames were not limited to the Palace now. Several fires were burning nearby. The entire area was crawling with people, most being gawkers who just got in the way of the soldiers, officials and volunteers actually trying to accomplish something.

  “Somebody’s still thinking,” I told Sleepy. “They’ve put troops around the place.” I dropped lower and moved close enough to spot Aridatha Singh out working two thin lines of soldiers, one facing outward, holding the mobs back, the other, stronger, facing inward. The latter were more heavily armed. Anyone leaving the palace was going to get a good hard look. “I hope they got those guys in place before the Khadidas and the girl got away.”

  “Back to the gate. If we’re ever going to invade this city, now is the time.”

  “You found enough boats yet?”

  She tensed up. She did not answer for a moment. “You figured it out.”

  “Logic suggests that it makes no sense to storm those walls with no more men than we have. Particularly when Taglios has almost no defenses on the river side.” A point which would have occurred to the Great General, too.

  “There is no easy way in,” Sleepy told me. “The defenses on the river side just aren’t as obvious.” She proceeded to explain about log booms and chains that controlled traffic, forcing it into narrow channels well-ranged by massed artillery ashore. A barge loaded with attackers could be pounded into driftwood and fish food in minutes.

  I said, “I see where this is going.”

  “Do you really? Will I attack by day or by night?”

  “It’s dark now but by the time you can get anybody to the point of attack the sun will be up.”

  “Take me back. I have to get things moving faster.”

  112

  Taglios: Under Siege

  Ghopal Singh looked terrible. He had been close enough to the fire to have had his beard singed. He had blisters on both face and hands. His turban was gone. The rest of him was rags and smoke smell.

  “You’ll never pass inspection,” Mogaba told him.

  Singh’s sense of humor was moribund. “We’ve got it controlled inside. It’ll burn itself out. Out there in the city.… Pray for unseasonable rain.”

  “Good luck doesn’t always work out, does it?”

  Grudgingly, Singh said, “No way we could know what would happen if a fireball hit one of those flying things.”

  “No. Of course not. Here comes Aridatha. Like a crow. There’ll be more bad news.” Mogaba glanced eastward. Not even close to dawn yet. Why was this night stretching out so long? “You’ve got a spot of ash on your right trouser leg, Aridatha.”

  The commander of the City Battalions actually paused to deal with the matter before he realized that the Great General was teasing him. More or less. Aridatha said, “They’re trying to take advantage of the confusion. I’m getting reports about ghosts and terrors at work around the South Gate and the river forts.”

  “They’re really coming?” Ghopal Singh could not believe the enemy would assault Taglios with so few soldiers. He had expected them to just sit tight in hopes they could forge alliances with disaffected elements inside the wall. “Where?”

  “The river,” Mogaba predicted. “They’ve had time to scout. That’s where we’re the weakest.”

  “Maybe they just want us to think…”

  “They can’t get a strong force into place for a while yet. When they attack from the air we’ll know they’re on their way and where they think they can get through.”

  Minutes later word came that enemy commandos were atop the wall half a mile west of the South Gate, ferried there by flying carpet. They were being reinforced rapidly. Neither the City Battalions nor the Greys had much strength in that area. The bulk of the Second Territorial was on the waterfront. The garrison of the barbican was responding to the threat as best it could.

  Mogaba looked to the east. Once the light came the enemy would lose the advantage of his unseen allies. Then the city’s defenders could exploit their big advantage in numbers.

  Ten minutes later news came that swimmers armed with small fireball projectors had cut the chains and broken the booms at the upstream end of the city. Firebombs were falling amongst the artillery engines.

  “You were right,” Ghopal said. “It’ll be the river.”

  “Possibly. Where are their wizards?” Mogaba wanted to know. He understood that the post riders need not be sorcerers. “If we don’t see wizards we have to remain skeptical about their commitment to any particular attack. All I see now are diversions.”

  “Shall we go out there?” Aridatha asked.

  “Out where? Would you care to bet that other attacks won’t break out sometime soon? This is the best place for us to be. We’re central.” It had occurred to him that he was being watched. That the Captain’s plans might hinge on his own behavior. Whatever he did might direct enemy efforts where he was not. It was what he would have done, given their resources. “We’ll stay central. Let’s get a tighter cordon around the parts of the Palace where the girl might be. That’ll let us free up some more of these men.”

  Hundreds had been freed up already, because the gawkers had begun to melt away when fires elsewhere proved too fierce to contain. As soon as there was a specific defense to mount Mogaba would send reinforcements.

  News came of fierce aerial attacks on the South Gate complex itself. Massive volleys of fireballs were riddling the stonework with thousands of holes. The sheer profligate expenditure of fireballs awed everyone.

  “That’s the point, you know,” Mogaba said. “This Captain is more willing to fight than her predecessors were but when she does she rachets the level of violence as high as she can. She wants to stun her enemies so they’ll be too numb to react while she overwhelms them.” A glance around told Mogaba that the Captain’s technique was enjoying some success ri
ght here, right now. And neither General Singh was eager for a lecture on the subject of combat psychology.

  So Mogaba just noted, “And we’ll be at a disadvantage until we know which probe will become the real attack.”

  And that, he suspected, had not yet been determined on the other side, either. She could just be trying to find out where she could get the best return for her investment. They never liked wasting their men, the Company Captains.

  “At this point we’ll let the district commanders respond to their own crises. We’ll reinforce them only to stop a disaster. What I need from you two is regular gauges of the mood of the mob. So far they don’t seem to care but we wouldn’t want any unwelcome surprises.”

  Ghopal offered, “I’d say the masses favor us. It wasn’t us who started all those fires.”

  Mogaba glanced eastward. There was a little color over there but he felt no elation. Ghopal had reminded him of the oppressive amount of work ahead once he suppressed the enemy’s attacks. Fires would leave tens of thousands homeless and destitute in a city where a third of the population already enjoyed that distinction.

  Maybe he should just walk away and leave all the problems to Sleepy.

  113

  Taglios: Attack

  It became clear to me that Sleepy wanted control of the South Gate itself. She was flinging people and material around everywhere and using up those of us able to fly, but when you did the numbers over half of our efforts were taking place within a half mile of the barbican. And the barbican itself had suffered immensely from above. Parts looked like slag pierced by ten thousand holes.

  I had better information than Mogaba did. But I knew that the Great General would catch on soon enough. He possessed a well-honed instinct for things warlike.

  How flexible was the Captain’s planning? Could she shift her point of attack fast once Mogaba did catch on? I did not know. Whatever level of planning had gone into this, I had not been invited to participate. Only Suvrin had a real grasp of the whole picture. And I was not that sure about him. This Sleepy was as close as I used to be when it came to sharing her thoughts.