Chronicles of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  Raven stared at her a good fifteen seconds, still as stone. He downed another mug of wine. Then he said, “You’re right. Absolutely right. If they were looking for me, they would have had me. And you. The Taken themselves would have been all over us. So. Coincidence, after all. But coincidence or not, the Lady’s top thugs are in Juniper. And they’re looking for something. What? Why?”

  This was the old Raven. Cool and hard and thinking.

  Darling flashed, Black castle.

  Shed’s humor vanished. Raven looked at the girl for several seconds, glanced in the general direction of the black castle. Then he looked at Darling again. “Why?”

  Darling shrugged. She flashed, There is nothing else about Juniper that would bring Her here.

  Raven thought a few minutes more. Then he turned to Shed. “Shed, have I made you rich? Have I gotten your ass far enough out of trouble?”

  “Sure, Raven.”

  “Your turn to give me a hand, then. Some very powerful enemies of mine are in Juniper. They’re working with the Custodians and the Duke, and are probably here because of the black castle. If they spot me, I’m in trouble.”

  Marron Shed had a full belly. He had a warm place to sleep. His mother was safe. He had no debts and no immediate threats hanging over his head. The man opposite him was responsible. Also responsible for saddling him with an agonized conscience, but that he could forgive. “Ask. I’ll do what I can.”

  “You’ll be helping yourself, too, if they’re looking into the castle. You, me, and Asa. We made a mistake, raiding the Catacombs. Never mind. I want you to find out whatever you can about what’s going on in Duretile. If you need bribe money, tell me. I’ll cover it.”

  Puzzled, Shed said, “Sure. Can’t you tell me a little more?”

  “Not till I know a little more. Darling, get your stuff together. We have to disappear.”

  For the first time, Shed protested. “Hey! What’re you doing? How am I supposed to run this place without her?”

  “Get that girl Lisa in here. Get your cousin. I don’t care. We have to disappear.”

  Shed frowned.

  Raven said, “They want her more than they want me.”

  “She’s just a kid.”

  “Shed.”

  “Yes, sir. How do I get in touch, sir?”

  “You don’t. I’ll get in touch with you. Darling, go. Those are Taken up there.”

  “What’re Taken?” Shed asked.

  “If you have gods, Shed, pray that you never find out. Pray hard.” And, when Darling returned with her meager belongings, Raven said, “I think you ought to reconsider leaving Juniper with me. Things are going to start happening around here, and you won’t like them.”

  “I have to take care of my mother.”

  “Think about it anyway, Shed. I know what I’m talking about. I used to work for those people.”

  Juniper: Shadow Talk

  Raven vanished on us. Even Goblin could find no trace. Feather and Whisper worked on our prisoners till each was drained, and got nothing on our old friend. I concluded that Raven had used an assumed name when dealing with them.

  Why hadn’t he used one down in the Buskin? Folly? Pride? As I recall, Raven had too much of that.

  Raven was not his real name, any more than Croaker is mine. But that was the name we knew him by the year he served with us. None of us, unless maybe the Captain, knew his real one. He had been a man of substance once, in Opal. That I knew. He and the Limper became bitter enemies when the Limper used his wife and her lovers to do him out of his rights and titles. That I knew. But not who he was before he became a soldier of the Black Company.

  I dreaded telling the Captain what we had found. He was fond of Raven. Like brothers, the two of them. The Captain, I think, was hurt when Raven deserted. He would be hurt more deeply when he learned what his friend had done in Juniper.

  Whisper called us in to announce the results of the interrogations. She said roughly, “We did not exactly score a triumph, gentlemen. All but a couple of those men were dabblers. We knocked the fight out of them at Charm. But we did learn that the black castle has been buying corpses. Its denizens even buy live bodies. Two of our captives have sold to them. Raising money for the Rebel.”

  The idea of trading in corpses was repellent, but not especially wicked. I wondered what use the black castle people had for them.

  Whisper continued, “They were not responsible for the raid on the Catacombs. In fact, they are of no interest to us. We’re turning them over to the Custodians to do with as they please. You gentlemen will now go out into the city and resume digging.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” Elmo said.

  “Somewhere in Juniper there is someone who is feeding the black castle. Find him. The Lady wants him.”

  Raven, I thought. Had to be Raven. Just had to be. We had to find that son-of-a-bitch, yes. And get him out of town or dead.

  You have to understand what the Company means. For us, it is father, mother, family. We are men with nothing else. Raven getting caught would kill the family, figuratively and literally. The Lady would disband what remained of the outfit after she’d mauled us for not turning Raven in back when.

  I told Whisper: “It might help if we knew what we’re dealing with. It’s hard to take something serious when nobody tells you anything. What’s the point of the exercise? That castle is damned bizarre, I grant you. But why should we care?”

  Whisper seemed to think about it. For several seconds her eyes were blank. She had taken the matter to higher authority. She was in communion with the Lady. When she returned, she said, “The black castle has its roots in the Bar-rowland.”

  That got our attention. I croaked, “What?”

  “The black castle is the Dominator’s escape hole. When it reaches a certain size and certain set of circumstances, the creatures who live there, who are his creatures, heart and soul, will conjure him out of the Great Barrow. Here.”

  Several men snorted in disbelief. It did seem far-fetched, for all the weird-ness and sorceries we have seen.

  Whisper said, “He foresaw his defeat by the White Rose, though not his betrayal by the Lady. Even before the Domination fell, he started preparing his return. He sent a faithful follower here with the seed of the black castle. Something went wrong. He never planned to spend so long waiting. Maybe he did not know of Juniper’s preoccupation with preserving the dead. What are they waiting for? A ship that will carry them to paradise?”

  “Roughly,” I agreed. “I studied it, but the whole business is still monkey chatter to me. Go on. The Dominator is going to pop out on us here?”

  “Not if we can stop him. But we may have gotten here too late. This man. If we don’t take him soon, it will be too late. The portal is almost ready to open.”

  I looked at Elmo. He looked at me. Oh boy, I thought. If Raven knew what he was doing. … I still couldn’t get upset. He did it for Darling. He couldn’t have known he was doing the Dominator’s work. He had that much conscience. He would have found another way. … What the hell was he going to do with so much money?

  We had to find him. That was all there was to it. Whatever we did from now on, our main goal, for the sake of the Company, had to be to warn him off.

  I glanced at Elmo. He agreed. From this moment forward we would be fighting for the survival of the outfit.

  Somewhere, somehow, Raven must have smelled trouble. Goblin looked under every rock in the Buskin, watched every alley, practically lived in the Iron Lily, and still found a big bunch of nothing. Time ground past. Warmer weather threatened. And we became ever more panicky.

  Juniper

  Raven departed soon after the outer channel opened. Shed went down to say good-bye—and only then discovered the nature of Raven’s shipping investment. He had had a ship built and crewed. A whole new ship, and as big a vessel as Shed had seen. “No wonder he needed a fortune,” he mused. How many bodies to build that?

  He returned to the Lily numbed. He
poured himself some wine, sat staring into nothing. “That Raven was a man of vision,” he mumbled. “Glad he’s gone, though. Asa, too. Maybe things can get back to normal.”

  Shed bought a cottage near the Enclosure. He installed his mother with a staff of three. It was a relief to be rid of her evil, blind stare.

  He had workmen into the Lily every day. They interfered with business, but business remained good. The harbor was busy. There was work for anyone who wanted it.

  Shed could not handle prosperity. He hared after every impulse he had known during his impoverishment. He bought fine clothing he dared not wear. He went places frequented only by the wealthy. And he bought the attentions of beautiful women.

  Women cost a lot when you pretended to be somebody off the high slope.

  One day Shed went to his secret cash box and found it empty. All that money gone? Where? The improvements on the Lily weren’t finished. He owed the workmen. He owed the people caring for his mother. Damn! Was he back where he started?

  Hardly. He had his profits.

  He scampered downstairs, to his business cash box, opened it, sighed in relief. He’d done all his spending out of the box upstairs.

  But something was wrong. There wasn’t anywhere near enough in the box. …“Hey, Wally.”

  His cousin looked at him, gulped, raced out the door. Baffled, Shed hurried outside, saw Wally vanish into an alley. Then the truth hit him. “Damn you!” he yelled. “Damn you, you damned thief!” He went back in and tried to figure where he stood.

  An hour later he told the workmen to knock off. He left his new girl Lisa in charge, started the rounds of his suppliers.

  Wally had screwed him good. He had bought on credit and pocketed monies payable. Shed covered his debts as he went, growing increasingly alarmed as his reserves dwindled. Down to little more than copper, he returned to the Lily and started an inventory.

  At least Wally hadn’t sold what he had bought on credit. The Lily was well-stocked.

  Only what was he going to do about his mother?

  The house was paid for. That was a plus. But the old girl needed her servants to survive. And he couldn’t pay their wages. But he didn’t want her back in the Lily. He could sell all those clothes. He’d spent a fortune on them and couldn’t wear them. He did some figuring. Yes. Sell the clothes and he could support his mother till next summer.

  No more clothes. No more women. No more improvements on the Lily. … Maybe Wally hadn’t spent it all.

  Finding Wally was not difficult. He returned to his family after two days in hiding. He thought Shed would endure the loss. He didn’t know he was dealing with a new Shed.

  Shed stormed to his cousin’s tiny one-room apartment, kicked the door in. “Wally!”

  Wally squealed. His children and wife and mother all screeched questions. Shed ignored them. “Wally, I want it back! Every damned copper!”

  Wally’s wife got in his way. “Calm down, Marron. What’s the matter?”

  “Wally!” Wally cowered in a corner. “Out of my way, Sal. He stole damned near a hundred leva.” Shed grabbed his cousin and dragged him out the doorway. “I want it back.”

  “Shed. …”

  Shed shoved him. He staggered backward, tripped, rolled down a flight of stairs. Shed charged after him, hurled him down another flight.

  “Shed, please. …”

  “Where’s the money, Wally? I want the money.”

  “I don’t have it, Shed. I spent it. Honest. The kids had to have clothes. We had to eat. I couldn’t help it, Shed. You had so much. … You’re family, Shed. You’re supposed to help.”

  Shed shoved him into the street, kicked him in the groin, dragged him upright, started slapping. “Where is it, Wally? You couldn’t have spent that much. Hell, your kids are wearing rags. I paid you enough to handle that. Because you were family. I want the money you stole.” As he raged, Shed drove his cousin toward the Lily.

  Wally whined and begged, refusing to tell the truth. Shed guessed he had stolen upward of fifty leva, enough to have completed the renovation of the Lily. This hadn’t been petty pilfering. He hurled blows in an angry rain.

  He herded Wally around behind the Lily, away from prying eyes. “Now I get nasty, Wally.”

  “Shed, please. …”

  “You stole from me and you’re lying about it. I could forgive you for doing it for your family. But you didn’t. Tell me. Or give it back.” He punched Wally hard.

  The pain in his hands, from hitting the man, sapped his rage. But then Wally broke. “I lost it gambling. I know I was stupid. But I was so sure I was going to win. They took me. They let me think I was going to win big, then took me, and the only way out was to steal. They would have killed me. I borrowed from Gilbert after I told him how good you were doing.…”

  “Lost it? Gambling? Borrowed from Gilbert?” Shed muttered. Gilbert had moved in on Krage’s territories. He was as bad as his predecessor. “How could you be so stupid?” The rage took him again. He snatched a board off a scrap pile left for kindling. He hit Wally hard. And hit him again. His cousin went down, stopped trying to fend off the blows.

  Shed froze, suddenly coldly rational. Wally wasn’t moving. “Wally? Wally? Hey, Wally. Say something.”

  Wally did not respond.

  Shed’s stomach knotted. He tossed the board into the pile. “Have to get that inside before people cart it off.” He gripped his cousin’s shoulder. “Come on, Wally. I won’t hit you anymore.”

  Wally did not move.

  “Oh, shit,” Shed muttered. “I killed him.” This tore it. What now? There wasn’t much justice in the Buskin, but what there was was quick and rough. They would hang him sure.

  He whirled, looking for witnesses. He saw no one. His mind flew in a hundred directions. There was a way out. No body, no proof that murder had been done. But he’d never gone up that hill alone.

  Hastily, he dragged Wally to the scrap pile and covered him. The amulet he needed to get into the black castle. Where was it? He dashed into the Lily, roared upstairs, found the amulet, examined it. Definitely serpents intertwined. The workmanship was amazingly detailed. Tiny jewels formed the eyes of the snakes. They sparkled menacingly in the afternoon sun.

  He stuffed the amulet into his pocket. “Shed, get yourself together. Panic and you’re dead.”

  How long before Sal yelled for the law? A few days, surely. Plenty of time.

  Raven had left him his wagon and team. He hadn’t thought to keep paying the stable-keeper. Had the man sold them? If so, he was in trouble.

  He cleaned out his coin boxes, left the Lily in Lisa’s care.

  The stable-keeper hadn’t sold off, but the mules were looking lean. Shed cursed him.

  “I should feed them at my own expense, mister?”

  Shed cursed him some more and paid what was owed. He said, “Feed them. And have them hitched and ready at the tenth hour.”

  Shed remained panicky all afternoon. Somebody might find Wally. But no lawman came stamping in. Soon after dark he stole away to the stable.

  He spent the journey alternately being terrified and wondering how much Wally would bring. And how much he could get for his wagon and team. He hadn’t factored them into his earlier calculations.

  He ought to help Wally’s family. He had to. It was the decent thing. … He was acquiring too many dependents.

  Then he was facing the dark gate. The castle, with all its monstrous decoration, was terrible, but it didn’t seem to have grown since last he had been there. He knocked as Raven had done, his heart in his throat. He gripped his amulet in his left hand.

  What was taking them so long? He hammered again. The gate jumped open, startling him. He fled to his wagon, got the mules moving.

  He entered exactly as Raven had done, ignoring everything but his driving. He halted in the same place, climbed down, dragged Wally out.

  No one came for several minutes. He grew ever more nervous, wishing he’d had the sense to come armed. Wha
t guarantee did he have that they wouldn’t turn on him? That silly amulet?

  Something moved. He gasped.

  The creature that stepped out of the shadow was short and wide and radiated an air of contempt. It never looked at him. Its examination of the cadaver was detailed. It was being difficult, like some petty official with a helpless citizen momentarily in his power. Shed knew how to handle that. Stubborn patience and refusal to become irritated. He stood motionless, waiting.

  The creature finally placed twenty-five pieces of silver near Wally’s feet.

  Shed grimaced, but collected the cash. He returned to his seat, backed the wagon, got the team aligned with the gate. Only then did he register his protest. “That was a prime corpse. Next time you’ll do better, or there won’t be a time after that. Git up.” Out the gate he went, amazed at his temerity.

  Going down the hill he sang. He felt great. Except for a fading guilt about Wally—the bastard had earned it—he was at peace with his world. He was free and safe, out of debt, and now had money in reserve. He returned his team to its stable, wakened the stable-keeper, paid four months in advance. “Take good care of my animals,” he admonished.

  A representative of the precinct Magistrate showed up next day. He had questions about Wally’s disappearance. Sal had reported the fight.

  Shed admitted it. “I kicked the shit out of him. But I don’t know what happened to him. He just took off. I would’ve run, too, if I had somebody that mad at me.”

  “What was the fight about?”

  Shed played the role of a man who didn’t want to get anybody in trouble. Finally, he admitted, “He worked for me. He stole money to pay back money he borrowed to pay gambling debts. Check with my suppliers. They’ll tell how he bought on credit. He told me he was paying cash.”

  “How much was involved?”

  “Can’t say exactly,” Shed replied. “More than fifty leva. My whole profit for the summer, and then some.”

  The questioner whistled. “I don’t blame you for getting pissed.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t have begrudged him money to help his family. He’s got a whole mob to take care of. But to lose it gambling . … Damn, I was hot. I borrowed to fix this place up. The payments are rough. I probably won’t make it through the winter now, because that bastard couldn’t resist a game. I may still break his neck.”