The Return of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  “And that could be his undoing. Politically he will have no option but to try his luck at Charandaprash soon. Where we will crush him.”

  “And if I do? We should consider the possibilities of life unplagued by this disease called the Black Company.”

  “Oh?”

  “Winning one battle will not be enough. If even one of them survives and maintains possession of the Lance of Passion new armies will rise against us. Lady proved that.”

  “Then you will have the pleasure of crushing them again.”

  Mogaba wanted to argue but elected not to bark into the wind.

  “Once Overlook is complete you can hare off on any adventure you like, with my approval and with my total support.”

  “Adventure?”

  “I understand you better than you suppose. You were Gea-Xle’s greatest warrior but you could not prove that to yourself. In the Black Company you were overshadowed by your captain and Senjak. It was necessary for you to have command in order to demonstrate your scope and genius. When you did have an opportunity all your efforts were sabotaged and suborned. You came to me because the Black Company would not allow you the opportunity you need.”

  Mogaba nodded. He did not seem pleased with himself, though. And that surprised me. I had thought him too self-centered to entertain moral doubts.

  “Go. Conquer the world, General. I’ll enjoy helping you. But you have to crush the Black Company first. You have to stop the Taglians. Because you will have nothing if I fall. Will the Strangler be much help, really?”

  “He could be. He talks big about his goddess getting involved but I won’t count on that. I’ve never seen the gods actually take a hand in mortal affairs.”

  Odd. Mogaba’s god was Narayan’s goddess, more or less. Had Mogaba lost his faith? Maybe Dejagore had scarred him deeply, too.

  “Use them up. Leave none over to turn on us later.”

  In my imagination the Shadowmaster was always this huge stinking devil incarnate, a colorful lunatic the magnitude of the worst Taken back in the north. But the real Longshadow was just a mean-spirited old man blessed with too much power.

  He told Mogaba, “If this becomes the Year of the Skulls I want it to be our year. Not theirs.”

  “Understood. What do you think of the child?”

  Longshadow grunted uncomfortably.

  “Spooky, right? A thousand years old. Her mother in miniature, only worse. More intense, with a deeper darkness inside.”

  He could be right. The kid definitely looked weird and evil from my ghost’s eye view.

  The Shadowmaster mused, “We may have to hurry her into the embrace of her goddess.”

  Mogaba shrugged. He turned to go. “Anyone else you want to see alone?”

  “Howler. Wait!”

  “What?”

  “Where is the Lance of Passion?”

  “Wherever Croaker is, I imagine. Or the Standardbearer. That’s still that serpent Murgen, I believe.”

  I love you too, Mogaba.

  “We must take possession. Might that not be a task for the Deceivers? Even destroying the Black Company may not be enough in the long run. And one other thing for the Deceivers. Have them find out why Senjak wants all that bamboo.”

  “Bamboo?”

  Was there an echo?

  “She has been stripping the Taglian territories for months. Wherever her soldiers go they loot bamboo.”

  “That is curious. I will find out.” I followed Mogaba for a moment. Once he was clear of the parapet he muttered, “Bamboo. I have to humor a lunatic.”

  * * *

  I tried to travel south of Overlook. Smoke went only a short way before he balked. Well.

  I would find out sooner than I wanted, I supposed. After we settled Longshadow and Overlook the plain was next on the list of obstacles blocking our path to Khatovar.

  52

  I returned to the chamber with Smoke and our stinky pet Strangler. I was hungry and thirsty but also so excited I shook. I had not uncovered much of resounding import, but, gods! The potential!

  I drank from the pitcher, cleared my throat, lifted the corner of the cloth covering the prisoner. “You in there? Want a drink? Want to tell me…?” He was asleep. “Be that way.”

  So what now? Help had not arrived. I gnawed on one of Mother Gota’s stones. That eased my hunger. That was all I wanted at the moment.

  What now? Keep going out until somebody came to reclaim me? See Lady? Look for Goblin? Hunt for Blade? How about finding out where Soulcatcher was hiding? She had to be out there somewhere, though we had not stubbed our toes on her lately. No place was free of crows if a member of the Company was around.

  Soulcatcher is patient. That is her scariest trait.

  It was kid-in-the-candy-shop time.

  I decided to look for Soulcatcher. She was the oldest mystery going right now.

  Smoke jumped right out, but then he stalled. His soul, or ka, or whatever, became more agitated as I grew more insistent. “All right! She always was more trouble than I want to deal with, anyway. Let’s find her goofy sister.”

  * * *

  Lady did not intimidate Smoke at all.

  I found her in the citadel at Dejagore, in the conference chamber with four men, leaning over a map. The frontier markings on the map lay far south of Dejagore. Earlier boundaries were noted and identified by date.

  She needed a new map. Her old one was too busy. She had won too many skirmishes.

  Lady is a beauty even fresh from the field. She looks way too young for Croaker although she is far older than One-Eye. One-Eye never mastered any youth sorcery.

  Two of Lady’s companions were Company men, Gea-Xle Nar anxious to show the world that Mogaba and his traitors were mutants, that their like would not be seen again. I did not buy that. Neither did Lady or the Old Man. We were confident that Mogaba had left somebody behind. Croaker once told me, “Watch out for somebody to start pointing fingers. That’ll be the traitor.”

  A third man was the Prahbrindrah Drah, the ruling Prince of Taglios. He was about as nondescript, for a Taglian, as a man could be and still be breathing. He put in the last four years learning the arts of war. He commanded a full division now, the right wing of the field army. Lady and the Old Man took pains to entangle him deeply in their war machine so he had a personal stake to maintain there.

  The last man was the improbable Willow Swan. When I focused on him Smoke became agitated, which proved to me Smoke’s self was partially aware on some plane. He and Swan had gotten on like rats and mice.

  These days Swan is the captain of the Royal Guards detachment assigned to Dejagore.

  Swan wears his cornsilk hair longer than Lady does her shoulder-length black hair. Sometimes Willow braids his but at the moment it was pulled back into a ponytail. Lady’s hair was back in a tail, too. Usually she lets it hang free. She did keep it combed and clean when she could.

  A soldier by accident, Swan did not want to be a hero. His Guards existed outside the army and functioned mainly as military police. He and they owed their allegiance directly to the Prince and his sister.

  Lady said, “Howler has quit attacking outposts.”

  “You said he ain’t stupid,” Swan replied.

  “I got too close when I missed him. That scared him off for good.”

  One of the Nar observed, “Our raids must trouble them.”

  “They trouble me, Isi. And I authorized them.” Lady shivered momentarily.

  “They are effective.”

  “Beyond a doubt.”

  The Prince asked, “But would the Liberator approve?”

  Lady’s smile revealed glistening white teeth that were almost too perfect. She had mastered the cosmetic sorceries early. “He doesn’t approve. Definitely. But he won’t interfere. I’m the one who is here and I’m relying on my own experience.”

  The Prince asked, “Will Longshadow unleash Mogaba?”

  The Nar brigadiers tensed. Mogaba shamed them greatly by let
ting pride and vanity seduce him away from the ancient ideals of the Nar. Not to mention he was going to be blue-assed hell in a fight.

  Swan asked, “You take any prisoners down there?”

  “Yes. And what they knew would fit into a thimble with room left for a stork’s nest. Nobody responsible down there ever sits around the campfire swapping secrets with the troops.”

  Swan stared at her while her gaze was directed elsewhere. He saw a woman five and a half feet tall, blue-eyed, 110 perfectly arranged pounds. She was big for this part of the world. She looked like she might turn twenty soon.

  That old black magic.

  Swan was transparent.

  Lady is cold and hard and committed and deadlier than a sword with a will of its own, but these guys just can’t seem to help themselves. It started with the Old Man way back but the parade goes on. The fever cost Blade big.

  Despite what may have happened with Blade I am convinced that Lady is the Captain’s woman absolutely. Whatever happened, Croaker took it to heart. He drove a good man over to the enemy and became something as cold as Lady himself. Half the time, anymore, Croaker is this living wargod so fierce that when he barks even the Prince and the Radisha jump.

  Aloud, Lady wondered what Howler’s raids were meant to accomplish. Swan blurted Bucket’s answer. “He wanted to pick off Black Company guys. That’s obvious.”

  “Isi?” Lady asked. “Is there more?”

  One of the Nar replied, “Mogaba wouldn’t test himself against lesser men. Longshadow might want to remove those so he can better manipulate Mogaba’s obsessions. Or he might be trying to initiate the final battle by being a continuous irritant.”

  The Prince nodded to himself. Now he was watching Lady with that gleam in his eye.

  Was it the fatal lure of evil?

  “Perhaps he does want to bring Croaker to the front.”

  How many times over the centuries has Lady stood like that, about to loose fire and sword? She said, “We do need to move this headquarters nearer to the action. The communications lag has become unacceptable. Swan. Hand me that map there.”

  Swan plucked a map off a sideboard cluttered with mystic paraphernalia. His caution indicated that he found that stuff obscure and wanted it to stay that way.

  The map portrayed the far south. A large blank space on its left was labelled Shindai Kus, which was a desert. Beyond the unmapped nether edge of the desert was additional blank space labeled Ocean.

  Beginning in the Shindai Kus, running east and curving northward, are mountains generically refered to as the Dandha Presh. They become rougher and rougher as they swerve around to form, eventually, the eastern limits of the Taglian territories. The range changes its local name frequently. It is supposed to be impassable east of the Shindai Kus except through the high pass at Charandaprash.

  Longshadow, Shadowcatch and Overlook lie on the far side of the Dandha Presh. Mogaba’s army was the cork in the pass bottlenecking the road south. For ages a common subject when officers were not listening was how badly would we get whipped if we took a crack at Mogaba.

  A racket apparently arose outside because Swan jumped to the window. “A courier,” he announced. I could hear no sound from outside that room. In fact, when I did glance out the window I could see nothing but greyness. Strange.

  Lady elbowed Swan aside. “Can’t be good news. Get him before he talks too much.”

  Swan returned quickly. “It’s not too bad. Seems a really huge mob of Shadar and Vehdna fanatics were chasing Blade and had the bad luck to catch him.”

  What? That wasn’t news. I knew about it. The Shadowmaster knew about it.… Of course. Lady did not have a Smoke or a screaming-nut sidekick with a flying carpet. And I had known for just a little while. Maybe it seemed longer because I learned it so far away.

  “What are you babbling?” Lady demanded.

  “Blade wiped out over five thousand religious goofs who were after him to punish him for his religious excesses.” Blade was pretty hard on temples and priests when he had the opportunity.

  His religious attitude had a lot to do with his running away, too. He had made thorough, blood-bitter enemies of all Taglian priests long before his falling out with the Old Man. The devout considered his fall from favor a blessing from heaven.

  I was confident that the priests secretly looked forward to all of our fates becoming gifts from the angels.

  “Five thousand?”

  “Maybe more. Maybe up to seven thousand.”

  “Loose on their own? How could that happen?” Neither the ruling family nor we liked having huge groups of armed men not under our control blundering around righting wrongs. “Out. All of you, out of here. Come back in two hours.”

  Lady started murmuring the instant she was alone. “That damned Croaker.” She grabbed stuff off the sideboard. “He’s out of his mind.”

  * * *

  I learned that you got damned focused out there with Smoke. Time could rush past if you let yourself become introspective. Fragments of all that was happening to me came to me in no rational order and I almost got lost trying to piece the puzzle together.

  Realization, and resulting terror, feeble as it was out there, brought me back to the present in the place I was watching when I lost my concentration. Hours had passed.

  Lady was still grumbling about the Old Man. “What’s the matter with him? How could he believe those damned rumors?”

  She was angry. She had managed some mystic scrying of the distant battlefield as it appeared after the event. All that carnage had left her more upset. “Damned fool!” It was the worst disaster for Taglian arms since Dejagore.

  From some hidden recess in the sideboard she produced a piece of black cloth. I was startled, despite having studied her Annals closely. That was the silk rumel of a master Strangler. She began exercising with the killing scarf.

  Maybe that helped her relax.

  She was upset because she had been left out of something. Usually she was the Captain’s partner.

  Got you a clue, woman, I thought. Lately he is cutting everybody out.

  Lady’s scarf flashed. She was good. I wondered. Was there still some connection with Kina?

  Did Croaker fear there might be?

  They were not called Deceivers for nothing.

  She calmed herself. She sent for her council. Once they gathered she said, “There were survivors from that battle. Some are still there burying the dead. Catch me a few.”

  53

  Croaker never came to the hidden room. Neither did One-Eye, nor even the Radisha to torment our prisoner. Nobody wakened me.

  I drifted back there almost without design, perhaps summoned by my body. I had been gone a long time. Longer than the subjective time spent out there. My stretch of introspection must have extended farther than it had seemed.

  My stomach was roaring. But Mother Gota’s baked rocks were all gone.

  The Strangler had gotten the cloth off himself again. He watched me wide-eyed. I got the feeling he had been about to do something that I would regret.

  I discovered that he had managed to work one hand free. “You naughty boy.” I took a long pull off the pitcher of water, then fixed him up again. Then I tried to decide whether to risk the labyrinth once more, in an effort to get to some of Mother Gota’s lethal chow, or to stay and take yet another look at the wide world through Smoke’s eyes while I awaited help.

  “Water.”

  “Sorry, pal. I don’t think so. Unless maybe you want to tell me what your buddies are up to.” My belly grumbled again.

  The Strangler did not answer. Weak as he was, his will remained firm. Even ignoring my own presence it seemed somebody should have come to feed him.

  It was late. Maybe Mother Gota was asleep and Sarie would handle my meal. She did not cook like she was out for vengeance.

  I was at the doorway, trying to make up my mind. Was there some way to mark my passage? Some way to follow footprints in the dust? But there was no ligh
t. This part of the Palace was not in regular use. No one maintained any candles or torches. The lamp in the chamber behind me would be the only light available. Unless I waited till daylight, when the sun would steal in through random cracks and tiny windows.

  I glanced back at the lamp. It had been burning a long time. No one had been by to fuel it. I ought to see about refilling it before I did anything else.

  There was a metallic sound from far, far away, come around a hundred corners and down the rambling halls. It chilled me despite Taglios’s natural heat and humidity.

  “Water.”

  “Shut up.” I found a beaker of lamp oil, cocked my head while I worked. The metallic sound did not repeat itself.

  I had not covered the Strangler again. When I glanced at him I discovered his deathshead face stretched in a grin. It was the grin of Death.

  Spilling oil, I flung myself out of there.

  I got lost again. Fast.

  54

  Lost in the Palace was not a matter for panic so I didn’t. I confess to a certain amount of frustration, though.

  You would think my situation vulnerable to the application of common sense. I sure thought so.

  One good rule proved to be not to enter any corridor dustier than the one I was using. Another was to avoid apparent shortcuts religiously. They never led anywhere I wanted to go. Most important was, don’t yield to emotion or frustration.

  The Palace is the only place in the world where you can step through a doorway and end up on a different floor. I found out the hard way. And it was not any sort of elf magic. It came from the place being a conglomeration of ages and ages of add-ons built upon very uneven ground.

  My anxiety reached the point where I elected to pursue what seemed the wimp route. I decided to go down to ground level, find one of the Palace’s thousand postern doors, which can be opened only from the inside, and get out into the street. Out there I would know where I was. I would walk around to the entrance I used regularly. Then I would be home.

  It is really dark in there in the middle of the night. I found that out after I stumbled descending a stair and dropped my lamp.