by Glen Cook
I had no trouble understanding why every year a few more of our brothers gave up and faded away. I only hoped a little notoriety would bring them back.
I studied the pages Sahra had brought out for me but the translation was difficult, the subject matter was uninspiring, and I was tired. I kept losing my concentration. I thought about Master Santaraksita. I thought about going back up to the Palace, armed. I thought about what Soulcatcher would do now that she knew she did not have us trapped inside the Thieves’ Garden. I thought about getting old and being alone and had a suspicion that that fear might have something to do with why some brothers remained with the Company no matter what. They had no other family.
I have no other family.
I will not look back. I am not weak. I will not relax my self-control. I will persevere. I will triumph over myself and will conquer all adversity.
I fell asleep rereading my own recollections of what Murgen had reported about the Company’s adventure on the glittering plain. I dreamed about the creatures he had encountered there. Were they the rakshasas and nagas of myth? Did they have anything to do with the shadows, or with the men who evidently created the shadows from hapless prisoners of war?
28
I have a bad feeling about this,” I told Sahra as she and Tobo and I started the long walk. “You’re sure the shadows are all off the streets?”
“Quit fussing, Sleepy. You’re turning into an old woman. The streets are safe. The only monsters out here are human. We can handle those. You’ll be safe in the Palace if you just stick to your character. Tobo will be safe as long as he remembers that he’s not really Shikhandini and desperate for his mother to keep her job. It’s in the nature of men like Jaul Barundandi that they do their bullying inside your head, not physically. They’ll take ‘no’ for an answer. And I won’t lose my job over it. My work is being noticed by others. Especially by Barundandi’s wife. Now, get yourself into character. Tobo, you too. You particularly. I know Sleepy can do this when she concentrates on it.”
Tobo was clad as a budding young woman, Minh Subredil’s daughter, and I hoped we could get him back inside the warehouse unnoticed by Goblin and One-Eye, because they would ride him mercilessly. With the investment of a little artifice on his mother’s part, Tobo made a very attractive young woman.
Jaul Barundandi thought so, too. Minh Subredil was the first worker called forward and Barundandi never bothered with his customary grumble about taking Sawa as part of the package.
Sawa had trouble keeping a straight face later when we found Barundandi’s wife Narita waiting to pick women to work for her. One glance at Shiki was enough. Minh Subredil’s family definitely belonged under her direct supervision.
Minh Subredil had done a good job of ingratiating herself with Narita. For the very good reason that Narita was in charge of cleaning those parts of the Palace of most immediate interest to us.
Sawa had not worked for Narita in the past. Subredil explained Sawa to Narita, who seemed more patient than she had the few times I had seen her before. Narita said, “I understand. There’re plenty of simple things that need doing. The Radisha was particularly restless last night. These days when she has trouble sleeping, she breaks things and makes messes.”
The woman actually sounded sympathetic. But the Taglian people loved their ruling family and seemed to feel that they deserved more room than the man on the street. Perhaps because of the burdens they bore, always in the past with maximum respect for Rajadharma.
Subredil maneuvered me into a spot whence I could observe well without being noticed. She and Narita brought me several brass treasures that needed cleaning. The ruling family had to be very fond of brass. Sawa cleaned tons of it. But Sawa could be trusted not to damage anything.
Shiki came to me and asked, “Will you take care of my flute for me, Aunt Sawa?” I took the instrument, studied it briefly, pasted on an idiot grin and tooted on the thing a few times. Just so everybody would know it was a real flute and not imagine that it might be a small fireball thrower, capable of making life both brief and painful for the first half-dozen people who got too close to a flautist in a bad temper.
Barundandi’s wife asked Shiki, “You play the flute?”
“Yes, ma’am. But not very well.”
“I was quite a skilled player when I was a girl...” She noticed her husband peeking in for the second time this morning and began to suspect he was interested in more than just the progress of the day’s work. “Subredil, I don’t think it’s wise for you to bring your daughter here.” And a moment later, she growled, “I’ll be back in a minute. I have to talk to that man. I have to straighten him out.”
The moment she stepped out, Minh Subredil moved with startling rapidity. She vanished into the Radisha’s Anger Chamber. I had to admire her. Her mind never seemed clearer than when she was in a dangerous position. I suspected she actually enjoyed her role as a Palace menial. And the more dangerous the times, the more effective she seemed.
Despite a massive workload and Narita’s frequent trips away to sabotage her husband’s efforts to weasel in close to Shikhandini, or to draft Shiki into a different working group, in mid-afternoon we left the Radisha’s personal suite for the gloomy chambers where the Privy Council assembled. There was a rumor that the Bhodi disciples were about to send another suicidal goof to the gateway. The Radisha wanted to forestall that somehow.
We were supposed to get the place ready for a Council session.
The Bhodi rumor had had its birth in the mind of Ky Sahra. It was supposed to be the device by which we could bring Shikhandini face-to-face with Chandra Gokhale.
We had almost two hours before the staffers appeared, the quiet little men who wrote everything down. Then the Purohita arrived, accompanied by the ecclesiastical members of the Privy Council. The Purohita did not deign to note our existence even though Shiki mistook him for Gokhale and batted her eyes till Subredil signed her off. I could hear the excuse that would come later: All old men looked alike.
Neither Arjuna Drupada nor Chandra Gokhale considered themselves old.
We continued our work, ignored. The folk of the Palace, particularly the inner circle, were lucky we had other things we wanted to do with our lives. Had we not cared about our own survival, we could have slaughtered scores of them. But getting rid of the Purohita would not mean much in the grand scheme. The senior priests would replace him with another old man just as nasty and narrow of mind before Drupada’s bones got cold.
Chandra Gokhale came in and he did not overlook the help. Sahra must have gleaned a few suggestions from Willow Swan about what the old pervert liked, because he stopped dead, staring at Shikhandini like somebody had clubbed him between the eyes. Shiki had the role down perfectly. She was a shy virgin and a flirt at the same time, as though her maidenly heart had been smitten instantly. God apparently fashioned men so that they would swallow that sort of bait ninety-nine times out of ten.
Barundandi’s timing was good. He came to move us out of the meeting chamber just as the Protector swooped in like some dark, angry eagle. Gokhale watched our departure with moon eyes. Before we completed our evacuation, he was whispering to one of his scribes.
Jaul Barundandi, unfortunately, had a sharp eye for some things. “Minh Subredil, I believe your daughter has charmed the Inspector-General of the Records.”
Subredil appeared surprised. “Sir? No. That can’t be. I won’t let my child stumble into the trap that destroyed my mother and condemned me to this cruel life.”
Sawa caught Subredil’s arm. Apparently she had become frightened by that intense outburst, but in reality she squeezed, warning Subredil not to say anything that Barundandi might remember if Chandra Gokhale disappeared.
We might want to consider a change of plan. We did not want anyone to have any reason to connect anything outside with any of us.
Subredil’s outburst faded. She became embarrassed and anxious to be elsewhere. “Shiki. Come on.”
I wa
s ready to kick Shikhandini’s bottom myself. She was being a positive slut. But she did respond to her mother’s command.
Sawa sort of settled down out of the way with the last of her dirty brass, in hopes of being overlooked while the Privy Council convened, but Jaul Barundandi was alert. “Minh Subredil. Bring your sister-in-law.” He tried to flirt with Shikhandini. He got a look of disgust for his trouble.
Minh Subredil got me going, then went after her daughter. “What did you think you were doing in there?”
“I was just having fun. The man is a disgusting old pervert.”
Softly, as though not meant for Barundandi’s ears while the words really were, Subredil said. “Don’t ever have fun like that again. Men like that will do whatever they like with you and there isn’t anything anybody can do about it.”
That warning was not all acting. The last thing we needed was one of the mighty dragging Shikhandini into a dark corner to do a little groping.
That was not supposed to happen. It was unthinkable, supposedly. And for ordinary people that was mostly true. But not so at a level where men began to believe that they existed outside the usual rules.
“Narita!” Barundandi called. “Where have you gotten to? That damned woman. She’s slipped off to the kitchen again. Or she’s gone somewhere to sneak a nap.”
I heard the Radisha behind us, in the meeting chamber, but could not make out individual words. An angry voice responded. That had to be Soulcatcher. I wanted to be somewhere a little farther away. I started moving.
Sawa, of course, did things others did not always understand. Subredil grabbed hold and started to fuss. Barundandi told her, “Take this bunch to the kitchen, get something to eat. If Narita is there, tell her I want her.”
The moment he was out of sight, I announced, “Sawa is going to wander off.” Sawa was not completely happy with the pages Subredil kept bringing Sleepy. Subredil could not read them, worked in a rush and seemed incapable of collecting anything interesting.
I hoped I remembered the way. Even when you wear the yarn bracelet, the Palace is a confusing place and I had not roamed it since the days when the Captain was the Liberator and a great hero of the Taglian people. And even then, I had been only an occasional visitor.
As soon as I began to feel unsure, I got out a small piece of chalk and began to leave tiny marks in the Sangel alphabet. I had managed to learn a little of that language during our years in the far south but it had been a struggle. I hoped anyone who discovered the marks would not recognize what they were.
I did find the room where the old books were hidden. It was obvious that someone came there often. The dust was disturbed badly, which in itself would raise questions if discovered. I tried to drag out the book that looked the oldest. Darn, that thing was heavy. Once I got it open, I found that the pages were real stubborn about tearing. They were not paper at all, which never has been very common. I could tear them only one at a time. Which maybe explained why Subredil just grabbed whatever came easiest. She would not have time to pick and choose.
I worried that I had been away too long myself, convinced that Barundandi or his wife must have noticed that I was missing. I hoped it did not occur to them to wonder why Subredil was not making a scene because she had lost track of me.
Even so, I continued to tear pages until I had all I thought the three of us could carry away.
I hid everything in an unused room not far from the service postern, uncertain how we would recover it heading out, then took myself way down inside Sawa, almost to the point of incapacitating confusion.
They found me dirty and tearstained and still trying to find the way back to the meeting chamber, “they” being some of the other day workers. In moments I was reunited with Subredil and Shikhandini. I clung to my sister-in-law like a wood chip desperate to shed the embrace of a rushing flood.
Jaul Barundandi was not happy. “Minh Subredil, I accepted this woman here for your sake, out of kindness and charity. But lapses of this sort are not acceptable. No work got done while we were searching...” His voice trailed off. The Radisha and the Protector were headed our way, following a most unusual route. This was backstairs country. Which meant nothing whatsoever to Soulcatcher, of course. That woman had no sense of class or caste. There was the Protector and beneath the Protector there was everyone else.
Sawa just sort of folded up and squatted with her face in her lap. Subredil and Shikhandini and Jaul Barundandi partially tried to get out of the way, partially gawked. Shiki had not seen either woman before.
Sawa crossed her fingers out of sight in her lap. Subredil whispered prayers to Ghanghesha. Jaul Barundandi shivered in terror. Shikhandini stared with a teen’s inability to feel appropriate fear.
The Radisha paid us no heed. She stamped past talking about ripping the guts out of Bhodi disciples. Her voice contained almost no emotional conviction. The Protector, though, slowed down and considered us all intently. For an instant I found myself almost overcome by the dread that she really could read minds. Then she went on and Jaul Barundandi ran along behind, forgetting us and Narita both because the Radisha barked some command back his way.
Sawa rose and whimpered, “I want to go home.”
Subredil agreed that it was enough of a day.
Neither the Greys nor the Royal Guards were searching anyone. A good thing, too. I carried so much paper in my small clothes I could fake a normal walk for only a few dozen yards.
29
I got through my part of the evening meeting quickly and ran off to my own little corner so I could compare my newly acquired pages with those of the book I had stolen from the library that I thought was an exact copy — if not the genuine original — of the true first volume of the Annals of the Black Company. I was so cheerful I am sure One-Eye must have had great fun talking about me behind my back.
It did not occur to me to stick around to see how our temptation of Chandra Gokhale played out.
The story I got later was, Gokhale had a man try to follow Shiki home. When that man did not report back within a reasonable time — on account of he ran into Runmust and Iqbal Singh someplace he should not have been and ended up taking the long swim downriver — Gokhale headed for the joy house that specialized in serving him, his associates and those who shared their select but hardly rare tastes in pleasure. Riverwalker and several other brothers picked him up when he left the Palace. He was accompanied by two companions who would regret their wishes to ingratiate themselves with the Inspector-General by joining him in an evening of indulgence.
Murgen followed events closely, too. Knowing that he would do so, I felt at ease snuggling up with my new acquisitions.
It took me over an hour to conclude that what I had brought out today was indeed a later version of the first ever Annal and most of another hour to realize that I would not be able to winkle out the book’s secrets without skilled help. Or a lot more time than I had.
Chandra Gokhale apparently died in that joy house. Likewise, his two companions. There were witnesses. People saw them strangled. Then a red rumel got left behind in the killers’ haste to get away.
The Greys arrived almost immediately. They loaded the corpses into a cart, saying the Protector wanted Gokhale’s back in the Palace instantly. But the Greys stopped being Greys moments after they left the pleasure house. Their course led them toward the river rather than toward the Palace. The extra bodies vanished into the flood.
A white crow dozing on a rooftop wakened when they started downhill. It stretched and followed them.
30
Murgen was there when Soulcatcher received the news. The report reached the Palace in a remarkably short time and was unusually complete. The Greys worked hard to please their mistress.
The party bringing Gokhale to the warehouse had not yet arrived.
Murgen had been asked to look around the Protector’s quarters while he was there. We knew nothing about them. Nobody ever went into her suite. Not since Willow Swan had gone
to his reward.
Murgen would have to be questioned about how she lived in private.
Soulcatcher did not retreat there, however. She went out looking for the Radisha right away.
The Radisha knew something had happened to Gokhale but she had not had detailed reports. The women settled in the receiving chamber of the Radisha’s austere suite. Soulcatcher told what she knew. She used a very businesslike voice. It was said sometimes that the Protector was her most dangerous and least stable when she stopped being capricious and seemed calmest and most serious.
“It seems the Inspector-General shared some habits with Perhule Khoji. In fact, I’m now assured that his particular weakness was common amongst the senior men of his ministry.”
“There were rumors.”
“And you did nothing?”
“Chandra Gokhale’s private amusements, loathsome as I found them personally, did not prevent his performing perfectly as Inspector-General of the Records. He was particularly adept at generating revenue.”
“Indeed.” Soulcatcher’s businesslike manner wavered momentarily. Murgen would report his amusement at the thought she might actually have a moral opinion. “He was attacked in the same manner as Khoji was.”
“Suggesting somebody might have a grudge against the ministry as a whole? Or that the Deceivers pick men of his particular weakness as ceremonial targets?”
“Deceivers didn’t kill Gokhale. Of that I’m sure. This was done by the people who lured Swan out and killed him. If they killed him.”
“If?” The Radisha was startled by the implication.
“We saw no corpse. Note that we have no body this time, either. Men disguised as our men were right there to haul the body away. That’s two members of the Privy Council lost in less than a week. Organizationally, they were the most important. They made the machinery work. If the Great General was anywhere nearby, I’d predict that he would be their next target. That gaggle of priests means nothing. They do nothing. They control nothing. My sister proved that if they’re killed, they can be replaced by other do-nothings within minutes. Nobody can replace Swan or Gokhale. The Greys are beginning to unravel already.”