Dreams of Steel

by Glen Cook

  “Forthright and final begets forthright and final. You kill a Jah, the other Jahs will get the idea their only option is to kill you.”

  “Only if they ignore the option of minding their own business. And where’s my risk? I have nothing to lose. That’s the fate planned for me once I’m used up, anyway. Why cooperate in my own destruction?”

  “You can’t just keep killing people who don’t agree with you.”

  “I won’t. Only people who disagree and try to force their ideas on me. Here in Taglios, now, there’s no legitimate cause for conflict.”

  The prince seemed surprised. “I don’t follow.”

  “Taglios must be preserved from the Shadowmasters. The Company contracted to do that. Where’s the problem? We do what we agreed, you pay up as agreed, we go away. That ought to make everyone happy.”

  The prince looked at me like he wondered how I could be so naive. “I’m starting to think we have no basis for communication. This dinner may have been a mistake.”

  “No. It’s been productive. It’ll keep on being productive if you listen to me. I’m not beating around the bush. I’m telling you how it is and how it’s going to be. Without me the Shadowmasters will eat you alive. You think they’ll be impressed by which cult got a leg up on what with a boondoggle wall construction grant? I know how those people think. If they reach Taglios they’ll slaughter everybody who could possibly make trouble ever. You should understand that. You saw what they did elsewhere.”

  “It’s impossible to argue with you.”

  “Because you know I’m right. I have a list of things I need right away. I have to build an encampment and prepare a training ground immediately.”

  This could lead to a quick confrontation. The resources would have to come from that absurd wall project. The city was too-big to surround effectively. The project could not be justified. It was a tool for transferring the wealth of the state to a few individuals.

  I said, “The men and resources devoted to the wall can be more profitably employed.”

  He understood. I was asking for trouble. He grunted.

  I said, “Why don’t we just enjoy our meal?”

  We tried but it never turned into a festive evening.

  A few courses along, with the conversation darting between his younger years and mine, I took the offensive again. “One more thing I want. The books Smoke hid.”

  His eyes got big.

  “I want to know why you’re afraid of the past.”

  He smiled weakly. “I think you know. Smoke is sure you do. He believes it was the point of your coming.”

  “Give me a clue.”

  “The Year of the Skulls.”

  I was not entirely surprised. I feigned bewilderment. “Year of the Skulls? What’s that?”

  He glanced at Ram and Abda. Doubt appeared. I recalled toying with my rumel while talking to his sister. He would not doubt long.

  “If you don’t know you should find out. But I’m not the best authority. Talk it over with your friends.”

  “I have no friends if I don’t have the Prahbrindrah Drah.”

  “A pity.”

  “Do you have?”

  That baffled him again. He forced a smile. “Perhaps I don’t. Perhaps I ought to try to make some.” The smile changed.

  “We all need a few. Sometimes our enemies won’t let us find them. I should be getting back. My number two is inexperienced and handicapped by his place in your caste system.”

  A hint of disappointment? He had wanted more than a discussion of princes and warlords.

  “Thank you for the dinner, Prahbrindrah. I’ll treat you in kind, soon. Ram. Abda.” They stepped close. Ram offered a hand up. They had stayed behind me, unseen. I was pleased that they were alert. Ram would have been if only because of where we were. A man of his station had no hope of visiting the grove ordinarily. “Have a pleasant evening, Prince. I expect to hand you the heads of Taglios’ enemies within the year.”

  He wore a sort of sad, yearning look as he watched us go. I knew what he was feeling. I had felt it often while I was empress in the north. But I had hidden it better.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ram waited till he was confident we were out of earshot. “Something is going to happen, Mistress.”

  “Trouble?”

  “We were watched by sneaking Gunni priests all the time. They acted like they were up to no good.”

  “Ah.” I did not question his estimate. He did not have too rich an imagination. I snapped fingers at a nearby servitor. “Fetch Master Gupta.”

  Master Gupta ran the grove, a benign dictator. He was attentive to his guests-especially those who were close to the Prahbrindrah Drah. He appeared almost instantly.

  Bowing like a coolie, he asked, “What could the great lady want of this lowly worm?”

  “How about a sword?” Dressed as a woman and empress I had not come heavily armed. I had one short dagger.

  His eyes got huge. “A sword? What would I do with a sword, Mistress?”

  “I haven’t the faintest. But I want to borrow one if you can provide it.”

  Eyes even bigger, he bowed several times. “I’ll see what can be found.” He scooted off, throwing uncertain looks over his shoulder.

  “Ram, help me shed some of this showpiece.”

  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.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  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.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  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 w
ere 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.