by Glen Cook
“Sarcastic, eavesdropping mudsucker. I did, didn’t I? And I overlooked our old pal Khusavir Pete, too. I haven’t checked in on him lately, either. Is he still healthy?” The horse nuzzled me again. I patted its neck. Maybe it felt more nostalgic about our good old days than I did.
“I can check. You definitely overlooked him in your master plan.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t. Not a bit. I have a very special mission cooked up specially for Khusavir Pete. And if he pulls it off, not only will he get to stay alive, I’ll forgive everything he did at Kushkhoshi.”
Somebody shouted. A scarlet fireball blistered across the night. It missed its target. It did not miss a tent, however. Then another tent after that, then the crude wooden barracks the men had built while they were waiting for me to arrive. All three began to smolder.
“That was Narayan Singh,” Willow Swan said, stating what two-score people had seen during the carmine instant. “And he had Booboo —”
“Can it, Swan.” I started yelling at everyone nearby, trying to organize a pursuit.
Goblin told me, “Calm down, Sleepy. All we need to do is wait till she starts screaming, then go pick her up.”
I had forgotten the incredible array of control spells attached to the Daughter of Night. Her pain would increase geometrically as she moved farther away from her cage. Then at some distance known only to Goblin and One-Eye, choke spells would kick in and tighten rapidly. Narayan could take her away from us but only at the cost of killing her. Unless...
I asked.
“The spells have to be taken off from outside. She could be her mother and sister, the Shadowmasters and the Ten Who Were Taken all rolled into one and she’d still have to have somebody else help her get loose.”
“All right. Then we’ll wait for the screams.”
There were no screams. Not then or ever.
Murgen looked hard. He could find no sign. Kina was dreaming strongly, protecting her own. Goblin remained adamant that they had to be close by, that there was no way the Daughter of Night had shed her connection to her cage.
I told Swan, “Then you gather up some men and drag that cage up to the Shadowgate. We’ll make her follow us.”
The warning horn sounded again. Soulcatcher had crossed the summit. She was on our side of the Dandha Presh. There were hints of light in the east.
It was time to leave.
69
A brutal argument was under way aboard Soulcatcher’s carpet as she approached her destination, skimming the rocks, the sun’s blinding fires behind her. Part of her wanted to forget about assuming a disguise and infiltrating the enemy. That part wanted to arrive as a killing storm, destroying everything and everyone that was not Soulcatcher. But by doing that she would expose herself to the counterefforts of people who had shown themselves very resourceful in the past. Innovation was one of the more irksome traditions of the Black Company.
She grounded the carpet and stepped off, concealed it using a minor spell. Then she crept toward the Company encampment, a few yards at a time, until she found a good hiding place where she could undertake the illusion creations and modest shapechanges that would render her unrecognizable. That work required total concentration.
Back in the brush, not far from where she had set down, Uncle Doj crept forward and after having used his small wizard’s skills to make sure there were no booby traps, demolished Soulcatcher’s flying carpet in a straightforward, no-nonsense manner using a hatchet. He might be old and a step slower, but he was still very quick and very sneaky. He was almost all the way back to the Shadowgate when Soulcatcher appeared, looking the epitome of scruffy young manhood.
A white crow, balanced precariously in a bit of rain-hungry brush, observed her passage. When she could no longer glance back and see anything damning, the bird flapped into the place where she had changed and started going through the clothing and whatnot she had left behind. The bird kept making noises like it was talking to itself.
Soulcatcher entered the encampment where she had expected to find the remnants of the Black Company. It was empty. But up ahead she saw a long column already beyond the Shadowgate. One man with a sword across his back had not passed through the gate yet but he was moving swiftly, and a number of people were waiting for him just on the other side.
They did have the Key! And they had used the damned thing! She should have gotten here faster! She should have attacked! Dammit, everyone knew subtlety was no good with these people. Hey! They had to have known that she was coming. There was no other explanation for this. They had known she was coming and they knew where she was now and...
The first fireball was so accurately directed that it would have taken her head off if she had not been getting down already. In another moment the damned things were streaking in from several different sources. They set brush afire and shattered rocks. She got down on her stomach and crawled. Before she worried about her dignity, she had to get away from the focal point of the fire. Unfortunately, her efforts did not seem to matter. The assassins seemed to know exactly where she was and her disguise did not fool them for an instant.
As a swarm of fireballs closed in, she flung herself into a deep hole that had been a cesspit not that long ago. No matter. Right now shelter was priceless. Now the snipers could not get her without coming out of hiding and coming to her.
She took advantage of the respite to engineer, prepare and launch a counterattack. That involved a lot of color and fire and boiling, oily explosions, none of which did much harm because her surviving attackers had fled through the Shadowgate as soon as she went into the pit.
She climbed out. Nothing happened. She glared up the hill. So. Even the snipers were beyond the Shadowgate now. Nearly a dozen people were standing around there, waiting to see what she would do. She calmed herself. She could not let them goad her into doing something stupid. The Shadowgate was in extremely delicate shape. One angry, thoughtless move on her part might damage it beyond repair.
She conquered the rage that threatened to conquer her. She was ancient in her wickedness. Time was an intimate ally. She knew how to abide.
She limped uphill, urging her anger to bleed off in movement, with an ease no normal being could manage.
The slope immediately below the Shadowgate was covered with swaths and patches of colored chalk. A carefully marked safe path passed through. Soulcatcher did not yield to temptation and try to follow it. There was a chance that they had forgotten that she had gone this way before. Or perhaps they refused to believe she could recall that in those days the safe path had entered the Shadowgate eight feet farther west, just beyond that rusty, twisted iron cage lying on its side as though it was exhausted and dying. She waved a finger. “Naughty, naughty.”
Willow Swan — damn his treacherous, should-be-dead bones! — and the Nyueng Bao family stared back impassively. The pale-faced little wizard Goblin smirked, obviously remembering whose fault it was that she could no longer walk normally. And the ugly little woman smiled evilly. She said, “I wasn’t trying to suck you in, Sweet Stuff. I did suck you in.” She lifted a hand and raised a middle finger in a sign obviously learned from a northerner. “Water sleeps, Protector.”
What the hell did that mean?
70
No human being can jump as high as Soulcatcher did. Nevertheless, she managed to get her heels ten feet off the ground a gnat’s breath before the fireball ripped through the air where she had stood. I should have kept my big darned mouth shut. Gloating will do you in every time. How many stories and sagas are there where the hero survives because his captor insists on wasting time bragging and gloating before the execution? Add another one to the roll, where Company Annalist Sleepy does the incredibly dumb deed and leaves the target not quite relaxed enough.
Of course, she was fast. Epically fast. Poor old Khusavir Pete only got off two more fireballs before Soulcatcher got to him where we had left him chained.
It did not play out the way I hoped, only the way I expec
ted. Now Khusavir Pete would have a hard time repaying any debt he still owed us.
I caught a glimpse of motion, the white crow plunging like a striking hawk. It pulled out and glided away. I murmured to myself, “Sister, sister.” I was beginning to read the messages.
“Come here, Tobo.” He was carrying the Key. He was supposed to be up at the head of the column but had hung back so he could watch the fireworks. He was the only one of us who did not have the sense to be frightened. Because he was not up where he belonged, all progress had come to a halt above us. He wore a hangdog look as he approached. He expected to be chastised. And he would be, later. “Hold up the Key.”
“But won’t that —”
“The Company isn’t a debating club, Tobo. Show her the Key. Today.”
He hoisted the Key overhead angrily. The morning sunlight blazed off the golden pick.
Soulcatcher did not show much excitement. But I had not meant the demonstration for her benefit, really. I wanted Narayan Singh to know what he had let slip through his fingers.
It was the Key, of course, but it was also some ancient and holy relic of Kina’s Strangler cult. In their glory days every Deceiver company priest had carried a replica. I muttered, “You win some, you lose some, Narayan. In the excitement you got the girl back. But I’ve got this. And I can carry it. You’ve got the Daughter of Night and you can take her anywhere you want to. If you can carry her and her cage.” Goblin and One-Eye had crafted a masterpiece of wicked sorcery. She could not even escape by destroying the cage. Whatever happened to it would happen to her.
I was not pleased about having to leave the cage behind but the Shadowgate had been decidedly stubborn in resisting its passage. That could have been overcome by sheer muscle power but I had not been able to get enough men onto it fast enough to force it through before the fireballs started flying.
Good luck, Baby Darkness, dragging all that iron around whilst you pursue your wickedness.
I hoped Singh had left the Book of the Dead hidden on the other side of the Dandha Presh so it would be a long time before the girl and it embraced one another. Long enough for me to get where I wanted to go and accomplish what I wanted to accomplish.
“That’s good, Tobo. Now get back up front and get this mob moving. Swan. Tell me about the camping circles. And give me your best guess about how soon we’re likely to run into trouble because of breaks in the protection of the road.”
“I don’t remember them ever being more than a few hours apart. And although we used them as camping places, I think that they were actually crossroads. That’s easier to tell at night.” Ominously, he added, “You’ll see. Everything is different at night.”
I did not like the sound of that.
I was still in the rear guard and only halfway to the crest when Soulcatcher found out what had happened to her flying carpet. The sound of her anger reached us despite the dampening effect of whatever barrier stood between us and the rest of the world. The earth shivered at the same time.
Uncle Doj was not far away, standing at the edge of the road, watching for evidence of his success. I said, “She seems displeased with the prospect of having to walk home.” My friend the horse stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. It made a sound that could have passed for a snicker if it had not been a horse making it.
Doj indulged in a rare smile. He was thoroughly pleased with himself.
Willow Swan asked me, “What did you do now?”
“Not me. Doj. He totally obliterated her means of transport. She’s on her own two hooves, now. She’s a hundred miles from her only friend. And Goblin’s already fixed up one of her feet so she can’t run or dance.”
“What you’re telling me, then, is that you’ve created another Limper.”
He was old enough to remember that nemesis of the Company. I could not contradict him. I did lose my smile. I had read those Annals often because they had been recorded by the Captain himself when he was young. “Nah, I don’t think so. Soulcatcher doesn’t have the concentrated venom and nearly divine malice that possessed the Limper. She doesn’t get obsessed the way he did. She’s more chaos walking while he was malevolence incarnate.”
I showed Swan my crossed fingers. “I’d better dash up front and pretend that I know what I’m doing. Tobo?”
“He went ahead without you,” Doj said. “You upset him.”
I noted that the column had resumed moving, which meant that Tobo was on the plain already, carrying the Key like a protective talisman.
I needed to give a lot of thought to the fact that that artifact, evidently considered a holy of holies by the Stranglers, may actually have been brought off the plain into my world by the ancestors of the Nyueng Bao. I had to spend some thought on what the Key might mean to the last informed priest of the Nyueng Bao.
71
Something beside the road caught my attention just before I reached the crest and got my first close look at the glittering plain. It was a small frog, mostly black but with stripes and whorls of dark green upon its back. It had eyes the color of fresh blood. It clung to a slightly tilted slab of grey-black rock. It wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, but its right hind leg was injured and when it tried to jump, it just sort of spun around in place. “Where the heck did that come from? There isn’t supposed to be anything alive up here.” I had been looking forward to having the clouds of flies that followed the animals get thinned out when they buzzed out beyond the safe zones and encountered killer shadows.
Swan said, “It won’t be alive for long. The white crow dropped it. I think it was bringing it along for a snack.” He pointed.
At the white crow. Bolder than ever, the bird had made itself at home on the back of my friend the mystic stallion. The horse seemed content with the situation. Perhaps even a little smug when it looked at me.
“I just remembered,” Swan said. “For what it’s worth. Last time we came up here Croaker made everybody who belonged to the Company touch their badges and amulets to the black stripe that runs down the middle of the road. Right after he touched the stripe with the lancehead on the standard. Maybe none of that amounts to anything. But I’m a superstitious kind of guy and I’d be more comfortable —”
“You’re right. So be quiet. I recently reread everything Murgen had to say about his trip and he thought it might be a good idea, too. Tobo! Hold up!” I did not believe the boy would actually hear me over the clatter generated by the column but did expect that people would pass the word. I looked at the hapless frog once more and marveled that the crow was smart enough to let it go. Then I hastened to overtake our fledgling wizard.
The column stopped. Tobo had gotten my message. He had chosen not to ignore it. Maybe he had caught something from the white crow.
His mother and grandmother both were right there with him where he waited, making sure he did sensible things. He was exasperated by the delay. He was already far ahead of everyone but Sahra and Gota...
Ah! As I recalled, Murgen had had the same trouble with the Lance of Passion.
My first glimpse of the plain awed me. Its immensity was indescribable. It was as flat as a table forever. It was grey on grey on grey, with the road just barely darker. There was no doubt whatsoever that this was all one vast artifact.
“Hang on, Tobo. Don’t go any farther,” I called. “We almost forgot something. You need to take the Key and touch it to the black stripe that runs down the middle of the road.”
“What black stripe?”
Swan said, “It doesn’t show up nearly as well this time. But it’s there if you look.”
It was. I found it. “Come back this way. You can see it back here.”
Tobo backtracked reluctantly. Maybe I should have Gota carry the Key. She could not move fast enough to outrun the rest of us.
I stared on, beyond Tobo, feeling a faint touch of that passion to hurry myself. I was getting close to my brothers now... Dark-grey clouds were beginning to gather down there. Murgen had mentioned a nearly pe
rmanent overcast that, nevertheless, did not always seem to have been around during his nights. I could make out no hint of the ruined fortress that was supposed to be a few days ahead of us. I did see plenty of the standing stones that were one of the outstanding features of the plain.
“I see it!” Tobo shouted, pointing downward. The little idiot swung the pickax, burying the point in the road surface.
The earth shuddered.
This was no devastating quake like those some of us recalled from years ago, when half the Shadowlands had been laid waste. It was just strong enough to be sensed and set tongues wagging and animals protesting.
The morning sun must have touched the plain oddly, somehow, because all the standing stones began to sparkle. People oohed and aahed. I said, “I guess this is why they call it glittering stone.”
Swan demurred. “I don’t think so. But I could be wrong. Don’t forget what I said about the Company badges.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
Tobo pried the pick out of the road’s surface. The earth shifted again, as gently as before. When I joined him he was staring downward, baffled. “It healed itself, Sleepy.”
“What?”
“When I hit it the pick went in sort of like the road was soft. And when I yanked it back out, the hole healed itself.”
Swan remarked, “The center stripe is getting easier to see.”
He was right. Maybe that was because of the brightening sunlight.
The ground trembled again. Behind me, voices changed tone, becoming frightened as well as awed. I glanced back.
A huge mushroom of dark rouge dust with black filigree highlights running through it boiled up from whence we had come. Its topmost surface seemed almost solid but as it rose and moved, the pieces of junk riding on it fell off.
Goblin burst into laughter so wicked it must have carried for miles. “Somebody got into my treasure trove. I hope she learned a really painful lesson.” I was close enough for him to add a whispered, “I wish it could be fatal but there’s not much chance of that.”