Dreams of Steel

by Glen Cook

  I knew how her mind worked. I had evidence she was loose again. She would continue to keep us apart and punish me through him.

  She was whole again. She had the power to do whatever she willed. She had been second only to me when I was at my peak.

  I came as close to despair as I’ve ever come.

  The Radisha invited herself in without knocking. A tiny woman in a pink sari accompanied her. The Radisha said, “This is Doctor Dahrhanahdahr. Her family are all physicians. She’s my own physician. She’s the best. Even her male colleagues admit she’s marginally competent.”

  I told the woman what I had been suffering. She listened and nodded. When I was done, she told me, “You’ll have to disrobe. I think I know what it is but I’ll have to look.”

  The Radisha stepped to the cell door, used her own clothing to cover the viewport. “I’ll turn my back if your modesty demands it.”

  “What modesty?” I stripped.

  Actually, I was embarrassed. I did not want to be seen looking as bad as I did.

  The physician spent a few minutes examining me. “I thought so.”

  “What is it?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “If I did I would’ve done something about it. I don’t like being sick.” At least the dreams had let up since the initiation. I could sleep.

  “You’ll have to put up with it a while longer.” Her eyes sparkled. That was a hell of an attitude for a physician. “You’re pregnant.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Croaker posted himself where he could be clearly seen from the city. Murgen stood beside him with the standard. Swan set off in a boat the cavalry had stolen off the banks of the river north of the hills.

  Murgen asked, “You think he’ll come?”

  “Maybe not himself. But somebody will. He’ll want to make sure, one way or the other.”

  Murgen indicated the Shadowlander soldiers along the shoreline. “You know what that’s about?”

  “I can guess. Mogaba and Lady both want to be Captain. She took care of Shadowspinner but thought it might be inconvenient if she told Mogaba. As long as he’s trapped in Dejagore he’s no problem.”

  “Right.”

  “Stupid. Nothing like this ever happened before, Murgen. Nowhere in the Annals can you find a squabble over the succession. Most Captains come in like me, kicking and screaming.”

  “Most don’t have a holy mission. Lady and Mogaba both do.”

  “Lady?”

  “She’s decided she’ll do anything to get even with the Shadowmasters for killing you.”

  “That’s real sane. But it sounds like her. Looks like Swan’s gotten some attention. Your eyes are better than mine.”

  “Somebody black is getting in the boat with him. Would Mogaba make up his mind that fast?”

  “He’s sending somebody.”

  Swan’s passenger was Mogaba’s lieutenant Sindawe, an officer good enough to have commanded a legion. Croaker saluted. “Sindawe.”

  The black man returned the salute tentatively. “Is it you indeed?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “But you’re dead.”

  “Nope. Just a story spread by our enemies. It’s a long tale. Maybe we don’t have time for it all. I hear things aren’t good over there.”

  Sindawe guided Croaker out of sight of the city, settled on a rock. “I’m caught on the horns of a dilemma.”

  Croaker settled facing him, winced. His ankle had taken a lot of abuse coming south. “How so?”

  “My honor is sworn to Mogaba as first lord of the Nar. I must obey. But he’s gone mad.”

  “So I gather. What happened? He was the ideal soldier even when he didn’t agree with the way I ran things.”

  “Ambition. He’s a driven man. He became first lord because he’s driven.” Among the Nar, chieftainship was determined by a sort of soldierly athletic contest. The all-round best man at physical skills became commander. “He joined your expedition thinking you weak, likely to perish quickly. He saw no obstacle to his replacing you, whereupon he would become one of the immortal stars of the chronicles. He’s still a good soldier. But he does everything for Mogaba’s sake, not that of the Company or its commission.”

  “Most organizations have mechanisms for handling such problems.”

  “The mechanism among the Nar is challenge. Combat or contest. Which is no good here. He’s still the quickest, fastest, strongest amongst us. He’s still the best tactician, begging your pardon.”

  “I never claimed to be a genius. I got to be Captain ‘cause everybody voted against me. I didn’t want it but I didn’t not want it as badly as everybody else didn’t want it. But I won’t abdicate so Mogaba can rack himself up some glory.”

  “My conscience permits me to say no more. Even so, I feel like a traitor. He sent me because we’ve been like brothers since we were boys. I’m the only man left he trusts. I don’t want to hurt him. But he’s hurt us. He’s blackened our honor and our oaths as guardians.”

  Sindawe’s “guardians” was a Nar word for which there was no exact translation. It carried implications of an obligation to defend the weak and stand firm in the face of evil.

  “I hear he’s trying to stir up a religious crusade.”

  Sindawe seemed embarrassed. “Yes. From the beginning some have clung to the Dark Mother. I didn’t realize he was one of them-though I should have guessed. His ancestors were priests.”

  “What’s he going to do now? I can’t see him getting excited about me turning up.”

  “I don’t know. I’m afraid he’ll claim you’re not you. He may even believe you’re a trick of the Shadowmasters. A lot of men thought they saw you killed. Even your standardbearer.”

  “A lot of men saw me hit. If anyone questioned Murgen closely they know I was alive when he left me.”

  Sindawe nodded. “I remain on the horns.”

  Croaker did not ask what would happen if he tried to eliminate Mogaba. The Nar would fight, Sindawe included. That was not his style, anyway. He did not eliminate a man because he was a nuisance.

  “I’ll come over and confront him, then. He’ll either accept me or he won’t. It’ll be interesting seeing where the Nar stand if he chooses mutiny.”

  “You’ll exact the penalty?”

  “I won’t kill him. I respect him. He’s a great soldier. Maybe he can continue to be a great soldier. Maybe not. If not, he’ll have to give up his part in our quest.”

  Sindawe smiled. “You’re a wise man, Captain. I’ll go tell him. And everyone else. I’ll pray the gods remind him of his oaths and honor.”

  “Fine. Don’t dawdle. Since I don’t want anything to do with this I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

  “Eh?”

  “If I put off doing something unpleasant I never get around to dealing with it. Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Chapter Seventy

  Longshadow consulted the shadows he had left in the cell with the missing woman. Then he visited the bedridden Howler. “You idiot. You grabbed the wrong woman.”

  Howler did not respond.

  “That was Soulcatcher.” Her. And whole. How had she managed that?

  In a voice little more than a whisper, Howler reminded, “You sent me there. You insisted Senjak was in Taglios.”

  And what did that have to do with the result? “You couldn’t scout the situation well enough to find out we’d been deceived?”

  Contempt, poorly veiled, flashed across Howler’s face. He did not argue. There was no point. Longshadow never made a mistake. Whatever dismayed him, it was always another’s fault.

  Longshadow pitched a tantrum. Then he went coldly calm. “Error, no error, fault, no fault, the fact is we’ve made an enemy. She won’t bear it. She was just playing with her sister before. Now she won’t be playing.”

  Howler smiled. He and Soulcatcher were not beloved of one another. He rasped out, “She’s walking.”

  Longshadow grunted. “Yes. There is th
at. She’s in my territories. Afoot.” He paced. “She’ll hide from my shadow eyes. But she’ll want to watch the rest of the world. I won’t look for her, then. I’ll look for her spies. The crows will lead me to her. And then I shall test us both.”

  Howler caught the timbre of daring in Longshadow’s voice. He was going to try something dangerous.

  Disasters had knocked the daring out of Howler. His inclinations were toward the quiet and safe. That was why he had chosen to build his own empire in the swamps. They had been enough. And nothing anyone wanted to take away. But he had succumbed to seduction when Longshadow’s emissaries had come to him. So here he was easing back from the brink of death, alive only because Longshadow still thought him useful. He was not interested in more risks. He would return to his sloughs and mangroves happily. But till he fashioned some means of flight he would have to pretend interest in Longshadow’s plans. “Nothing dangerous,” he whispered.

  “Not at all,” Longshadow lied. “Once I find out where she is the rest is easy.”

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Volunteers willing to cross the lake with Croaker were few. He accepted Swan and Sindhu, rejected Blade and Mather. “You two have plenty to do here.”

  Three of them in a boat. Croaker rowed. The others did not know how. Sindhu sat in the stern, Swan in the bow. Croaker did not want the wide man behind him. That might not be wise. The man had a sinister air and did not act friendly. He was biding his time while he made up his mind about something. Croaker did not want to be looking the wrong way when that happened.

  Halfway across Swan asked, “It serious between you and Lady?” He chose Rosean, the language of his youth. Croaker spoke the tongue, though he had not used it for years.

  “It is on my side. I can’t say for her. Why?”

  “I don’t want to stick my hand in where I’m going to get it bit off.”

  “I don’t bite. And I don’t tell her what to do.”

  “Yeah. It was nice to dream about. I figure she’ll forget I’m alive as soon as she hears you still are.”

  Croaker smiled, pleased. “Can you tell me anything about this human stump back here? I don’t like his looks.”

  Swan talked for the rest of their passage, evolving complex circumlocutions to get around non-Rosean words Sindhu would recognize.

  “Worse than I thought,” Croaker said as the boat reached the city wall where part had collapsed and left a gap through which the lake poked a finger. Swan tossed the painter to a Taglian soldier who looked like he had not eaten for a week. He left the boat. Croaker followed. Sindhu followed him. Croaker noted that Swan placed himself so he could watch Sindhu. The soldier tied the boat up, beckoned. They followed him.

  He led them to the top of the west wall, which was wide and unbroken. Croaker stared at the city. It was nothing like it had been. It had become a thousand drunken islands. A big island marked its heart: the citadel, where they had dispatched Stormshadow and Shapeshifter. The nearer islands sprouted spectators. He recognized faces, waved.

  Ragged at first, beginning with the surviving non-Nar he had brought to Taglios, a cheer spread rapidly. The Taglian troops raised their “Liberator!” hail. Swan said, “I think they’re glad to see you.”

  “From the looks of the place they’d cheer anybody who might get them out.”

  Streets had become deep canals. The survivors had adapted by building rafts. Croaker doubted anyone travelled much, though. The canals were choked with corpses. The smell of death was oppressive. Plague and a madman tormented the city and there was nowhere to dispose of bodies.

  Mogaba and his Nar came marching around the curve of the wall, clad in all their finery. “Here we go,” Croaker said. The cheering continued. One raft, almost awash under the weight of old comrades, began laboring toward the wall.

  Mogaba halted forty feet away. He stared, his face and eyes smoldering ice. “Say me a prayer, Swan.” Croaker moved to meet the man who wanted so badly to be his successor. He wondered if he would have to play this out again with Lady. Assuming he survived this round.

  Mogaba moved to meet him, taking stride for stride. They stopped a yard apart. “You’ve done wonders with nothing,” Croaker said. He rested his right hand upon Mogaba’s left shoulder.

  Sudden silence gripped the city. Ten thousand eyes watched, native and soldier alike, knowing how much hung on Mogaba’s response to that gesture of comradery.

  Croaker waited quietly. It was a time when almost anything said would be too much said. Nothing needed to be discussed or explained. Everything hinged on Mogaba’s reaction. If he reciprocated, all was well. If not...

  The men looked one another in the eye. Hot fires burned within Mogaba. Nothing showed on his face but Croaker sensed the battle within him, his ambition against a lifetime of training and the obvious will of the soldiers. Their cheers made their sentiments clear.

  Mogaba’s struggle went on. Twice his right hand rose, fell back. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, then bit down on ambition’s tongue.

  Croaker broke eye contact long enough to examine the Nar. He tried to send an appeal, Help your chieftain.

  Sindawe understood. He fought his own conscience a moment, started walking. He passed the two, joined the old members of the Company forming up behind Croaker. One by one, a dozen Nar followed.

  Mogaba’s hand started up a third time. Men held their breaths. Then Mogaba looked at his feet. “I can’t, Captain. There is a shadow within me. I can’t. Kill me.”

  “And I can’t do that. I promised your men I wouldn’t harm you no matter your choice.”

  “Kill me, Captain. Before this thing in me turns to hatred.”

  “I couldn’t even if I hadn’t promised.”

  “I’ll never understand you.” Mogaba’s hand fell. “You’re strong enough to come face me when for all you knew you’d be killed. But you’re not strong enough to save the trouble sparing me will cost.”

  “I can’t snuff the light I sense in you. It may yet become the light of greatness.”

  “Not a light, Captain. A wind out of nowhere, born in darkness. For both our sakes I hope I’m wrong, but I fear you’ll regret your mercy.” Mogaba took a step backward. Croaker’s arm fell. Everyone watching sighed, dismayed, though they had had little hope of rapprochement. Mogaba saluted, wheeled, marched away followed by three Nar who had not crossed over with Sindawe.

  “Hey!” Swan yelled a moment later, breaking the silence. “Them bastards is stealing our boat!”

  “Let them go.” Croaker faced friends he had not seen for months. “From the Book of Cloete: ‘In those days the Company was in service to the Syndarchs of Dai Khomena, and they were delivered...’ “His friends all grinned and roared approval. He grinned back. “Hey! We’ve got work to do here. We’ve got a city to evacuate. Let’s hit it.”

  From one eye he watched the boat cross the lake, from the other he kept watch on Sindhu.

  It felt good to be back.

  Thus was Dejagore delivered and the true Company set free.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  The Howler perched atop a tall stool, out of the way while Longshadow prepared. He was impressed by the array of mystical and thaumaturgic gewgaws Longshadow had assembled during one short generation. Such had remained scarce while they had been in thrall to the Lady and nonexistent under the rule of her husband before her. They had wanted no one getting independent. Howler had very little though he was free now. He had little need to possess.

  Not so Longshadow. He wanted to own at least one of everything. He wanted to own the world.

  Not much of Longshadow’s collection was in use now. Not much would be ever, Howler suspected. Most had been gathered mainly to keep anyone else from having it. That was the way Longshadow thought.

  The room was brightly lighted, partly because it was approaching noon beyond the crystal walls, partly because Longshadow had packed a score of brilliant light sources into the room, no two of which used the same fuel. Agai
nst an ambush of shadows he left no precaution untaken.

  He would not admit it but he was terrified.

  Longshadow checked the altitude of the sun. “Noon coming up. Time to start.”

  “Why now?”

  “They’re least active under a noonday sun.”

  “Oh.” Howler did not approve. Longshadow meant to catch one of the hungry big ones to train and send after Soulcatcher. Howler thought that a stupid plan. He thought it unnecessary and overly complicated. They knew where she was. It made more sense just to hit her with more soldiers than she could handle. But Longshadow wanted drama.

  This was too risky. He could loose something nothing in this world could control. He did not want to be part of this but Longshadow left him no choice. Longshadow was a master of leaving one no choice.

  Several hundred men climbed the old road to the plain, dragging a closed black wagon ordinarily drawn by elephants. But no animal would go near the shadowtraps, however much it was beaten. Only Longshadow’s men feared him more than they feared what might befall them up there. Longshadow was the devil they knew.

  Those men backed the wagon against the main shadowtrap.

  Longshadow said, “Now we begin.” He giggled. “And tonight, in the witching hour, your old comrade will cease to be a threat to anyone.”

  Howler was skeptical.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Soulcatcher sat in the middle of a field, disguised as a stump. Crows circled, their shadows scooting over wheat stubble. An unknown city loomed in the distance.

  The imp Frogface materialized. “They’re up to something.”

  “I’ve known that since they started blocking the crows. What they’re up to is what I want to know.”

  The imp grinned, described what he had seen.

  “Either they’ve forgotten to take you into account or they’re counting on you feeding me incorrect information.” She started moving toward the city. “But if they wanted to feed me false information they would confuse the crows, too. Wouldn’t they?”