The Books of the South: Tales of the Black Company (Chronicles of the Black Company)

by Glen Cook

  “Yes, Mistress.” Narayan retreated. He gathered his cronies, a dozen men who showed snips of colored cloth at their waists.

  An interesting group. They sprang from all three major religions, two minor cults, and from among the liberated foreign slaves. They pretty much ran the camp though only Narayan and Ram had official standing. They kept the peace. The men weren’t quite sure how to take them, but responded seriously because of that aura of the sinister that I’d noted myself.

  Narayan admitted nothing. He handled my probes deftly. There was no doubt he directed the dozen, though several sprang from higher castes.

  I kept an eye on him. Time would betray him—if he didn’t open up, as he hinted he might.

  For the moment he was too useful to press.

  * * *

  I nodded approval. “They almost look like soldiers.” We’d have to get them uniform dress.

  Narayan nodded. He seemed smug, as though his genius had produced our triumph and sparked a renascent spirit.

  “How’re the riding lessons coming?” Just making talk. I knew. Abysmally. None of these clowns belonged to a caste that got closer to a horse than to trail along behind cleaning up. But, damn, it would be a sin to waste those mounts.

  “Poorly. Though a few men show promise. Not including myself or Ram. We were born to walk.”

  “Show promise” had become his favorite expression. In reference to everything. As he taught me to use the strangler’s kerchief, or rumel, at my insistence, he said I showed promise.

  I suspected he was surprised at how easily I picked it up. Its manipulation came as naturally as breathing, as though it was a skill I’d had all along. Maybe it came of centuries of practice at the quick, subtle gestures needed to manipulate sorceries.

  “You were saying you were going to move?” Narayan asked. “Mistress.” The honorific was becoming an afterthought. Narayan remained Taglian. He was beginning to take me for granted.

  “Our foragers are having to range pretty far.”

  Narayan didn’t reply but seemed reluctant to go.

  I had a feeling I was being watched. At first I credited it to the crows. They kept me uncomfortable. Now I understood Croaker’s reaction better. They didn’t behave the way crows ought. I’d mentioned them to Narayan. He’d grinned and called them a good omen.

  Meaning they were a bad omen for someone else.

  I scanned our surroundings. The crows were there, in their scores, but … “Narayan, collect the dozen best horsemen. I’m taking a patrol out.”

  “But … Do you think…?”

  How could I get through? “I’m no garden rose. I’m taking a patrol out.”

  “As you command, Mistress, so shall it be.”

  It had better, Narayan. It had better.

  13

  Swan glanced at Blade. The black man’s attitude toward Smoke had grown from disdain into contempt. The wizard had no more spine than a worm. He shook like a leaf.

  Cordy said, “That’s her.”

  Swan nodded. He grinned but kept his thoughts to himself. “She’s putting something together. That gang is more organized than any I’ve seen down here.”

  They backed off the knoll from which they’d been watching the camp. Blade said, “We going to drop in?” He had hold of the wizard’s sleeve like he expected the runt to run.

  “Not yet. I want to circle around, check it out down south. Shouldn’t be that far to where they hit the Shadowmasters’ men. I want to see the place. If we can find it.”

  Cordy asked, “Think they know we’re here?”

  “What?” The idea startled Swan.

  “You said they’re organized. Nobody ever accused the Lady of not being efficient. She should have pickets out.”

  Swan thought. No one had entered or left the camp, but Mather had a point. If they wanted to remain unnoticed they’d better move on. “You’re right. Let’s go. Blade, you were down here before. Know how to cross that creek somewhere that’s not too far out of the way?”

  Blade nodded. In those desperate days before the Black Company picked up the reins he’d led guerrillas behind the Shadowmasters’ main forces.

  “Lead on. Smoke, old buddy, I wish I could get a peek inside your head. I never seen anybody so ready to drizzle down his leg.”

  The wizard said nothing.

  Blade found a game ford three miles east of the south road, led the way through woods narrower than Swan expected. When they reached the southern side, Blade said, “Road’s two miles that way.”

  “I figured.” The sky was dark with buzzards. “That’s where we’ll find our dead men.”

  That was the place.

  The air was still. The stench hung like a poisonous miasma. Neither Swan nor Mather had a stomach strong enough to let them take a close look. Blade, though, seemed to have no sense of smell.

  He returned. Swan said, “You look green around the gills.”

  “Not much but bones left. Been a while. Two hundred, three hundred men. Hard to tell now. Animals been at them. One thing. No heads.”

  “Eh?”

  “No heads. Somebody cut them off.”

  Smoke moaned, then chucked his breakfast. His mount shied.

  “No heads?” Swan asked. “I don’t get it.”

  Mather said, “I’ve got an idea. Come on.” He rode south, toward where crows circled, dipped, and squabbled.

  They found the heads.

  Blade asked, “Want to get a count?” He chuckled.

  “No. Let’s drop in on our friends.”

  Smoke made protesting noises.

  Cordy asked, “You still hot to trot with your proud beauty?”

  Swan couldn’t think of a flip answer. “Maybe I’m starting to see Smoke’s viewpoint. Don’t let me get on her bad side.”

  Blade said, “Only a mile to their camp straight up the road.”

  Swan snorted. “We’ll go around, thank you.”

  After they crossed the game ford, Mather suggested, “Suppose we go up the road a ways and come down like we don’t know nothing about back there? See what they say if they think we just rode in.”

  “Stop whining, Smoke,” Swan said. “Go with it. You got no choice. You’re right, Cordy. It’ll give us a clue if she’s going to play games.”

  They rode north till they were behind a rise, turned west to the road, then turned south. They were almost back to the crest when Mather, in the lead, yelled, “Yo! Look out!”

  14

  We crossed the creek into the wood, walking our mounts behind Sindhu, who had scouted till he knew every leaf and twig of the surrounding terrain. He led us along a meandering game trail which paralleled the creek going westward. I wondered what had become of the game. We hadn’t seen anything bigger than a squirrel. A few native deer might have eased the food problem, though neither Gunni nor Shadar touch meat.

  It was a long walk. My companions grumbled and bickered.

  The watching presence centered on a grove on a knoll whence it would be possible to observe events in our camp. I’d lapsed. I’d been thinking too far ahead. If I’d had the sense of a goose I’d have had a squad posted there. The outlying pickets were too scattered to spot everything moving in the area, even if people weren’t sneaking around. Fugitives slipped through all the time. They left their traces.

  I had a good idea what I’d find on that knoll. Somebody from up north who’d heard rumors and had gotten worried that I might be trouble. I meant to be a lot, for the Shadowmasters and anybody who got between us.

  We crossed the creek a few miles downstream, out of sight of the knoll, moved back to the east, and discovered that there was no way to approach the grove unseen the last third of a mile. I told the men, “All we can do is ride straight at it. Let’s do it without getting in a hurry. Maybe they won’t run till we’re so close they can’t get away.”

  I didn’t know if they could control themselves. The excitement had them again. They were pumped up, scared and eager.

>   “Let’s go.”

  We’d covered half the open ground when the watchers flushed like quail. “Shadar,” somebody noted.

  Yes. Mounted Shadar, in uniform, cavalry equipped. “Jahamaraj Jah’s men!” I snapped.

  The men cursed. Even those who were Shadar.

  Jah was the leading Shadar priest in Taglios. Croaker’s doing. Jah’s concession to his debt hadn’t lasted through the fighting at Dejagore. He and his cavalry had abandoned the field while the outcome was in question. Most of the men had seen them run, or had heard. I’d been pushing the idea that the battle would’ve been ours had Jah stood his ground.

  It could be true. Jah had contributed nothing when a feather’s weight might have tilted the balance.

  I thought he’d run because he’d suffered an opportunistic flash. He’d intuited that the battle would go poorly and had decided to beat everybody home. He’d play a strong hand there because he’d be the only man with a military force—however inept—to back him up.

  He deserved some special thought now.

  I didn’t have to order a chase. There were five Shadar. Their flight was proof they were blackhearts. The men rode with blood in their eyes. Unfortunately, the Shadar were better riders.

  I did want to talk to them. I urged my stallion to his best pace and closed up fast.

  No everyday mount stood a chance against him.

  The Shadar hit the north road. As I nosed up on the most laggardly the leaders swept over the crest. And collided with riders headed south.

  Horses shied. Men yelled. Riders came unhorsed. I circled a Shadar who regained his feet and tried to run. He’d lost his helmet. I grabbed him by the hair, ran him fifty yards before turning to examine the victims of the collision.

  Well. Swan, Mather, and Blade. And that sneaking twit of a hedge wizard, Smoke. What now?

  Mather, Smoke, and Blade had kept their seats. Swan was on the ground, groaning and swearing. He got up, swore some more, kicked a fallen Shadar, looked around for his horse.

  Smoke was rattled right down to his ankles. He had no color left, was whispering some sort of prayer.

  Mather and Blade ignored Swan’s histrionics. I presumed that meant he wasn’t hurt.

  My captive tried to get away. I ran him a few yards, let him loose when the horse was moving faster than he could keep up. He flung forward, slid on his face, stopped at Swan’s feet. Swan sat down on him. I asked Mather, “What are you doing here?” He was the only one of the bunch who made straight sense.

  “The Radisha sent us. Wants to know what’s happening down here. There have been rumors. Some say you’re alive, some say dead.”

  “I’m not yet. Not quite.”

  My men arrived. “Ghopal. Hakim. Take these two somewhere and ask them why they were snooping.” They were Narayan’s cronies, the only two who could ride. He’d probably sent them along to keep an eye on things.

  Swan got up and leaned against Mather’s leg. “You don’t have to twist no arms to find that out. Been some wild rumors lately. You’ve got Jah jumpy as a cat in a kennel.”

  “Oh?”

  “Things were going his way. He got back from Dejagore before anybody else. Only bad luck put the Radisha at Ghoja before him. She closed the ford. He still figured he had the world by the oysters, then here comes word somebody’s kicked the feathers off a gang of the Shadowmasters’ boys. Right behind comes a rumor that it was you. You not being dead don’t look so good for Jah’s ambitions. The Company picked up a lot of respect putting it together so fast. Made all those priests look like conniving, selfish jerks.”

  Blade chuckled.

  Mather said, “You collected some of that respect, being a woman and having everybody know how much you had to do with it falling together.” He looked me in the eye. “But being a woman is going to be a handicap now.”

  “I’ve been on my own before, Mather.” And I hadn’t been happy a moment. But happiness is a fleeting creature. It’s no birthright. Not anything I expect but something I accept when I stumble into it. Meantime, power will do nicely. “And Jah has liabilities. He’s vulnerable. I have a thousand men over there. Every one will tell you Jah ran out on us at Dejagore. We would’ve won if it wasn’t for him.”

  Swan surprised me. “We watched the battle. We saw. So did a lot of men who’ve come in. Even some of Jah’s own men admit it.”

  “A liability,” Mather said. “But it’s not going to undo him.”

  Ghopal reminded me that three Shadar had escaped. True. And they would fly straight to their master, who was sure to make a move. But I doubted he’d do it right away. He was a vacillator. He’d worry a while before committing himself.

  “Back to camp. Swan. Come. Ghopal. Bring the prisoners.” I rode ahead as hard as the stallion could carry me.

  “Sound the alarm and the recall,” I told the soldiers at the north gate. “Narayan! Ram!”

  They came running. Narayan gasped, “What is it, Mistress?”

  “We’re pulling out. Right now. Forced march. Get the men ready. Let the horses carry most of the load. Make sure each man carries food. We won’t stop for meals. Move.”

  They scooted.

  It was midafternoon. Ghoja was forty miles away, a ten-hour jaunt if everyone kept the pace. If the night wasn’t too dark. It shouldn’t be if the sky stayed clear. There’d be a quarter moon rising an hour after sunset. Not a lot of light, but maybe enough.

  The horns that we’d taken from the Shadowmasters’ cavalry kept sounding recall. The pickets came running. The gang I’d left up the road arrived. Swan and Mather were impressed by the chaos.

  Mather said, “You’ve taught well.”

  “I think so.”

  “What’re you fixing to do?” Swan asked.

  “Take charge at Ghoja before Jah can react.”

  He groaned.

  “You have a problem with that?”

  “Only that we just got finished riding down here. Forty more miles and I won’t have a spine left.”

  “So walk. Sindhu! Come here.” I took the wide man aside, gave him instructions. He left smiling, gathered two dozen men with strong stomachs, mostly his cronies, and crossed the creek. I sent another man to round up the poles we used for practice pikes and spears.

  Swan asked, “You mind if we get something to eat?”

  “Help yourself. Then find me. I want to talk to you.”

  Idiot. He gave me a big, nervous smile. I didn’t need to be a mind-reader to get what was going on in the back of his head.

  The troops got it together faster than I expected. They had the word. Ghoja. Straight through.

  I still had a serious problem, lack of a command structure. I had solid squads and the squad leaders by tens had picked company commanders, but none of those had had more than a few days’ practice. And neither of my formally organized battalions had anyone in charge.

  “Mather.”

  He set his food aside. “Ma’am?”

  “You strike me as a responsible man. Also, you have field experience and a reputation. I have two battalions of four hundred men but no commanders. My man Narayan can muddle through with one if I keep him out of trouble. I need somebody to handle the other. A known hero would be perfect—if I thought he wouldn’t work against me.”

  Mather looked me in the eye for several seconds. “I work for the Radisha. I couldn’t.”

  “I could.”

  I turned. That was Blade.

  Smoke had a squeaking fit.

  Blade grinned, the first I’d seen him do so. “I don’t owe you anything, little man.” He turned to Swan. “What did I say? Ain’t over yet.”

  Something flickered across Swan’s face. He wasn’t happy. “You’re putting us in a bad spot, Blade.”

  “You putting yourself there, Swan. You said it, what kind of people they are. Soon as they got what they want they going to stick it in you. That right, wizard? Like you done the Black Company?”

  Smoke staggered. He would’
ve been dead if he’d had a bad heart. He looked like he expected me to roast him. I smiled. I’d let him stew a little first. “I’ll accept your offer, Blade. Come meet your hundred-leaders.”

  Once we were out of earshot of the others I asked, “What did you mean by that remark?”

  “Less than it sounded. The wizard, the Radisha, the Prahbrindrah, they hurt you more by deceit than treachery. They withheld information. I can’t tell you what. I don’t know. They thought we were spies you sent ahead. But I can tell you they never meant to keep their agreement. For some reason they don’t want you to get to Khatovar.”

  Khatovar. Croaker’s mystery destination, the place the Black Company had originated. For four hundred years the Company moved northward slowly, in the service of various princes, till it came into mine, then of my enemies, and was reduced to a handful of men. After the battle in the Barrowland, Croaker turned back south with fewer followers than my squad leaders had today.

  We’d gathered a man here, a man there, and when we’d reached Taglios we’d discovered we couldn’t cross the last four hundred miles because the principalities of the Shadowmasters lay between us and Khatovar. There was only one way to cover those final miles. Take Taglios, already pressed by the Shadowmasters, with its pacifist history, and win an impossible war.

  The agreement with the Prahbrindrah had been that the Company would train and lead a Taglian army. Once the war had been won that army would support the Company’s quest for Khatovar.

  “Interesting,” I told Blade. “But not a surprise. Sindhu!” He was back. He’d moved fast. Whatever he was, he could do a job. I told him, “I want you to stick to our guests.” I indicated Swan, Mather, and Smoke. “Show the little one your rumel if they abuse our hospitality.”

  He nodded.

  “They’re to walk like everyone else.”

  He nodded again, went back to mounting skulls on poles.

  Blade watched for a moment but said nothing, though I’m sure he had thoughts.

  We marched out an hour after I decided to move. I was pleased.

  15

  We didn’t reach Ghoja in ten hours but I hadn’t expected to make four miles an hour in the dark. We did get in before dawn and, with Blade’s connivance, we chose a campsite which both shouldered the road and almost nudged Jahamaraj Jah’s encampment. We were there an hour before anyone noticed. Sloppy. Deadly sloppy. If we’d been the Shadowmasters’ cavalry we could have cleaned the area.