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

by Glen Cook

  He was scandalized. He refused.

  “Ram, you’re pushing for the opportunity to spend your army time digging latrine trenches.”

  He took my word for it, accepted the disapproval of several dozen watchers as he helped me shed my most cumbersome garments. He was embarrassed.

  Abda, not asked to participate, pretended blindness.

  Gupta materialized. He had a sword. It was someone’s show toy. “I borrowed this from a gentleman who was gracious enough to permit me to carry it to you.” He was blind, too. I expect he had seen everything over the years. The grove was a place where lovers managed clever assignations.

  “I shall harbor kind thoughts toward you forever, Gupta. Am I correct in assuming the staff sent for my coach when they saw me getting ready to leave?”

  “The men responsible will be seeking employment elsewhere if it isn’t there when you arrive, Lady.”

  “Thank you. I’ll send this toy back shortly.”

  Ram again waited till he thought no one could hear, grunted a question. I replied, “If there’s to be trouble it’ll come just inside the gate. If we reach the coach we’ll be safe.”

  “You have a plan, Mistress?”

  “Spring the trap. If there is one. We wipe them out or take them prisoner and carry them off, never to be seen again. How many might there be?”

  Ram shrugged. He did not waste time looking at me now. He had eyes for trouble only.

  Abda said, “Eight. And the one you embarrassed. But he’ll avoid getting too close. He might have to explain if someone saw him.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was involved in two similar schemes when I was an acolyte.”

  I had no idea what he meant. It did not seem like the best time to fill myself in on his past. We were approaching a brushy area that crowded the path to the exit.

  I say brushy but I’m no devotee of formal gardening. The area consisted of heavy vegetation four to eight feet high. Every single leaf was tended and considered daily. Its function was to mask the grove from the world so Taglios’ lords would not be defiled by common eyes.

  I started a spell as soon as we left Gupta. I was ready when we reached the shrubbery. It was another child’s plaything but my most ambitious effort yet. I spoke the initiator and threw the resulting fireball into the growth to my left.

  By the time the ball went ten feet it was hot enough to melt steel. It broke into fragments that broke into smaller fragments.

  Someone screamed.

  Someone else screamed. A man plunged out of the growth pounding his side.

  I got another ball ready, threw it the other way.

  “Wait,” I said. “Let them come out. We’ll push them down the path to the gate.” There were three men on that path now, wild-eyed. Then three more came out like spooked cattle. The brush was burning. “That’s long enough. Let’s move.”

  We hustled forward. The baffled would-be assassins retreated. They piled up against the closed gate. The gatemen stared at the flames, stunned, unsure what to do.

  “Ram. Bang them over the head. Put them in the coach.” A guard recognized me, did his job by rote as Ram waded into the six.

  “Mistress.”

  Abda was behind me. I turned. A man afire was charging us with an upraised tulwar, a weapon I had not seen here before. It looked like an antique.

  Abda ducked, darted, had his rumel around the man’s neck in a blink. I did not get to use my borrowed blade. The assassin’s impetus broke his neck.

  That was it. Ram tossed bodies into the coach. I told the least rattled gate guard, “Thank master Gupta for the loan.” I gave him the sword. “And extend my apologies for the damages. The priest Chandra Chan Tal should be happy to make them good. Ready, Ram?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Abda, get that carrion loaded.” I walked to the coach, climbed up beside my driver, looked around, spotted Tal. He and two other priests in red were standing streetside eighty feet away, bug-eyed. I saluted them.

  “Loaded, Mistress,” Abda called up.

  I got some amusement from him and Ram. They did not want me up there, exposed, but did not want me inside with the dead and captive, either. “Shall I run along behind like a good Taglian woman, Ram?”

  Embarrassed, he shook his head.

  “Climb aboard.”

  We rolled right past Tal and his cronies. I called down, “Get what pleasure you can from the hours you have left.”

  Tal blanched. The other two were made of sterner or stupider stuff.

  31

  It was a gorgeous day. A few clouds above to break up the sky, a gentle breeze, the air unseasonably cool. If you stayed in the shade you could remain sweat-free. It was midafternoon. Work on the camp had begun at dawn. Four thousand men made progress obvious.

  First we would provide shelter, mess halls, stables, storage. I had planned ambitiously, for a garrison of ten thousand. Even Narayan was worried that I wanted to grab too much too soon.

  I had spent the morning administering oaths to the soldiers in small groups, by cult, having them pledge everything in the sacred defense of Taglios. Wormed into the oath was a line about unquestioning obedience to commanders.

  Narayan’s cleverer cronies weeded out the priests and religious fanatics beforehand. The dross we isolated in what was supposed to be a special unit. There were about three hundred such men. They were on the field below the hill, being given “accelerated” training. As soon as I found a good one I would send them off on a bold and dramatic mission somewhere far away. I sat in the shade of an old tree observing and directing. Ram hovered.

  I spied Narayan approaching. I had left him in the city. I rose, asked, “Well?”

  “It’s done. The last one was found an hour before I left.”

  “Good.” Tal had been easy but his companions had been hard to trace. Narayan’s friends had disposed of them. “That’s good. Has it caused excitement?”

  “Hard to tell yet, though a Gunni emissary did show up just before I left.”

  “Oh?”

  “He wanted to arrange the release of the men from the grove.”

  “And?”

  “I told him they’d been released. He’ll figure it out.”

  “Excellent. Any word on the Shadowmasters’ spies?”

  “No. But people have seen the wrinkled little brown men you mentioned. So they must be here.”

  “They’re here. I’d give a couple of teeth to know what they’re up to. Anything else?”

  “Not yet. Except a rumor that the Prahbrindrah Drah called in the big men in the wall project and told them they have to build you a fortress instead. I’ve located a friend who works in the palace occasionally, when their normal resources are taxed. Our prince doesn’t maintain a household in keeping with his station. He won’t get much if the prince doesn’t entertain, and probably not much then.”

  “Look into the possibility of arranging for your friend to become employed full time. Have there been many more volunteers?”

  “Only a few. It’s still too early. People want to see how you manage with the powers that be.”

  “Understandable. Nobody wants to sign on with a loser.”

  Be interesting to know what they said about me at that meeting. A pity I did not command the resources I once had.

  I was not going to get them back loafing. “I’ll ride back with you. I have things to do.” I had recalled one thing my husband had done to secure his rule. A version here just might make everyone forget politics for a while.

  I would need a suitable theater. I had to start looking. As we rode, I asked Narayan, “Do we have many archers?” I knew we did not but what I lacked he had a knack for finding.

  “No, Mistress. Archery wasn’t a skill much encouraged. A hobby for Marhans, that’s all.” He meant the top-dog caste.

  “We had a few, though. Find them. Have them teach the most reliable men.”

  “You have something in mind?”

  “
A new twist on an old story. Maybe. I may never need them but if I do I want to know they’re there.”

  “As always, we shall endeavor to provide.” He grinned that grin I wished I could scrub off his face forever.

  “To create a body of archers you’ll need bows and arrows and all the ancillary paraphernalia.” That would keep his mind occupied. I did not feel like talking. I did not feel ready to wrestle lions today. Had not for several days, in fact. I supposed it was lack of sleep, bad dreams, and the fact that I had been driving myself to the limit.

  The dreams persisted. They were bad but I just shoved them aside in my mind, took the unpleasantness, and got on with getting on. There was just so much I could do in the time available. I would deal with the dreams when I finished with more immediate concerns.

  For a while I thought about my one-time husband, the Dominator, and his empire-building techniques, then about my own plight. Lack of leaders continued to plague me. Every day men were handed tasks beyond their training, based on my or Narayan’s gut feelings. Some worked out, some folded under the pressure. That was heavier now that we meant to digest a horde with no idea what was happening.

  As we neared the city, approaching scaffolding where wall construction had started, Narayan observed, “Mistress, it’s less than a month till the Festival of Lights.”

  He lost me for a moment. Then I recalled the festival as the big holy day of his cult. And remembered him hinting around that I should be there if I wanted the support of the Stranglers. I had to go convince the other jamadars that I was the Daughter of Night and could bring on the Year of the Skulls.

  I had to learn more about the cult. To find out what Narayan might be hiding.

  There was no time to do everything that had to be done.

  We had gotten our first message from the men watching Dejagore last night. Mogaba was holding out. Stubborn Mogaba. I did not look forward to seeing him again. Sparks would fly. He would claim the Captaincy, too. I knew that as sure as I knew the sun rose and set.

  One step at a time. One step at a time.

  32

  The meeting with the priests had not gone well. The Radisha was in a blistering rage. Her brother looked grim. Smoke squeaked, “Something has to be done about that woman.”

  They were in a shielded room but something had installed itself amongst clutter on a high shelf. Those below did not notice the one yellow crow eye watching.

  “I’m not so sure,” the Prahbrindrah Drah replied. “We talked extensively. I think she was truthful. My gut feeling is that we should give her her head.”

  “Gods!” Smoke swore. “No!”

  The Radisha remained neutral. For the moment. “We were inches from getting thrown out tonight. We couldn’t drive a wedge between them. The fact that we might be able to point her in their direction was all that saved us. We can’t get rid of her, Smoke.”

  The Prahbrindrah Drah said, “We’ve got the tiger by the tail. Can’t let go. I feel like I’m in a big bowl and all around the rim are people who want to roll boulders down on me.”

  “She will devour us,” Smoke said. He kept his tone reasonable. Panicky talk had worked against him before. The Prahbrindrah Drah and Radisha had to be convinced intellectually. “She traffics with Stranglers.”

  “Of whom there are maybe only a few hundred in the whole world,” the Radisha observed. “How many men are there in the Shadowlands? How many shadows? There’re more backstabbing priests here in the city than there are Stranglers anywhere.”

  “Read those old chronicles again,” Smoke suggested. “How numerous were the Black Company when they came here before? Yet before they were driven out our ancestors very nearly witnessed the Year of the Skulls. You can’t traffic with this darkness. It wakens the devil in everyone. You can’t invite the tiger into your house to keep the wolf away. There are no greys. There is no tightrope to walk. No one can hope to play this off against other darknesses. This is the deep and ultimate evil beyond all evils. Consider what the woman did last night.”

  The Prahbrindrah Drah said, “I was put out by the damage done. Master Gupta and his predecessors worked on that for a century.”

  “Not the damned plants!” Smoke almost lost control. “A man is dead, killed by sorcery. Seven more were carried off to who knows what fate? Tal and his cronies were slain in their very temples. Strangled!”

  “They asked for it,” the Radisha said. “They did something stupid. They paid for it. You notice the other Gunni priests weren’t put out.”

  “Ghapor’s bunch? They probably encouraged Tal and didn’t mind when he came out on the short end.”

  “Probably.”

  “Don’t you see what she’s done? A year ago no priest would have considered murder. Now it’s accepted. Nobody is distressed.

  “Tal is gone. You say he was stupid and asked for it and you’re right. But he was one of the most important men in Taglios. So was Jahamaraj Jah. He asked for it, too. When she picks off the next one, well, maybe everybody will say the same thing again. He asked for it. And the next one and the next and then it’s you and the Prahbrindrah Drah and after that the deluge. Never mind professionalism as a soldier. She might be the best that ever was. Maybe she can ruin the Shadowmasters in her sleep. But even if they never cross the Main again, if they never come north of Dejagore, if they never win another skirmish, if she’s in charge, Taglios will lose as certainly as if we hadn’t resisted at all.”

  The Prahbrindrah Drah started to speak. The Radisha jumped in first. “He has a point. Taglios won’t ever be the same.”

  “Oh?”

  “If we give the woman a free hand she’ll make Taglios over into the image of the Shadowlands because that’s what it will take to win. Smoke, I see that. Even if you’re obsessive about the Stranglers and the Year of the Skulls. I’ve watched the woman. I doubt if anyone but that man Croaker ever had any influence on her. Brother, he’s right. She’ll turn us into what we fear in order to save us.”

  “Then we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. We let her go on, we’re done. We don’t, the Shadowmasters eat us.”

  Smoke said, “There’s another way.…” But he could not tell them. He had not told them everything when he had reported the approach by Longshadow’s agents. Too late now. If he brought up overlooked details they would no longer trust him. They might even think his opposition to the woman had been ordered by Taglios’ enemies.

  That wrinkled little man had foreseen this. Damn him.

  “Well?” the Radisha demanded.

  “I had a thought. It was impractical. Emotion guiding the mind. Forget it. Kina is stirring. The Daughter of Night walks among us. We must silence her.”

  The Prahbrindrah Drah said, “We can talk about this all night. None of us will change our minds. We’d better concentrate on staying a step ahead of the priests till we do agree.”

  Smoke shook his head. That would not do. The woman would keep everyone confused and divided; then it would be too late. That was the way of darkness. Deceit. Endless deceit.

  No point talking anymore. There was only one choice left.

  They would hate him if they caught him. They would brand him traitor. But there was no other answer.

  He had to pray for courage and a clear head. The Shadowmasters were masters of deceit themselves. They would use him if they could. But if he played the game carefully he could serve Taglios better than any dozen armies.

  He started trying to cut the conversation short.

  As brother and sister were leaving, the prince said, “Smoke, I meant to ask. Why would she put a bounty on bats all of a sudden?”

  “A what?”

  “The Shadar Singh mentioned it. He heard it on his way here. She put out word that any children who wanted could pick up a few coppers by bringing her dead bats. Every poor family in town will start hunting them. And the treasury will have to pay for them. Why?”

  “I have no idea,” Smoke lied. His heart was in his throat. She
knew. That business about reporting strangers … It wasn’t a propaganda ploy. She knew. “A few exotic spells use bat parts powdered. Fur, claws, livers. But they’re the kind that make your neighbor’s cattle sterile or his hens stop laying. Nothing of use to her.”

  But live bats were useful to the Shadowmasters.

  He barely waited till the prince and his sister turned a corner down the hall. Then he headed for the world outside, before there were no bats left to find him.

  33

  Croaker sat on a rock in the wood, leaning against a tree, twisting an animal figure. He finished it and tossed it at a stump. Crows watched. He paid them no heed. He was thinking about Soulcatcher.

  She was not great company. She had spent ages turned inward. She could be amiable and animated for brief periods but did not know how to keep it up. Neither did he. Sometimes it seemed they were moving in parallel rather than together. But she would not let him go just because they weren’t soulmates. She had uses for him.

  She had been bustling around the temple all day. He did not know why. He felt no urge to find out. He was depressed. He came to this spot when his mood was at low ebb.

  The imp Frogface materialized. “Why the long face, Cap?”

  “Why not?”

  “You got me there.”

  “What’s happening in Dejagore?”

  “Got me there, too. I’ve been busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Can’t say.” The imp aped his morose stance. “Last time I was there your boys was doing fine. Maybe fussing and feuding a little more than before. Old One-Eye and his sidekick don’t get along with that Mogaba, not even a little. They been talking about doing a fade and letting him go to hell his own way.”

  “He’d get wiped out if they did.”

  “He don’t appreciate them enough, that’s sure.”

  “She says we’re going down there.”

  “Well. Then you can look for yourself.”

  “I don’t think that’s what she’s got in mind. She call you in?”

  “Came to report. Interesting things happening. You could ask. She might tell you.”