The Many Deaths of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  Mogaba said, “The enemy being familiar with the Protector’s capabilities means they’ll try to take them away from her. We don’t know who’s in charge but doctrine is doctrine. They’ll try to blind her first, then they’ll try to take away her capacity to communicate. They couldn’t have come at a better time for them. She’s a hundred miles from nowhere. She can’t spread the word much faster than rumors will spread. And you know the news that the Radisha and her brother are coming back will spread like the plague.”

  Ghopal said, “I’ll seal this part of the Palace off, then. We don’t want those people in there running to their temples or whatever and telling too much of the truth to someone who’d use it as a tool against us.”

  “Do that.” That would look good to the Protector’s invisible spies. But, on the other hand it might be very useful to have some of the news get out. Taglios might fall into a state of chaos. A state in which there would be opportunities. Chaos could be very useful. Chaos could make wonderful camouflage.

  Perhaps when the Protector was nearer Taglios.

  Right now it was necessary to prepare for the advent of the Company. That would be expected from all quarters.

  Where did they find so many men? Or shadows of their own? What other surprise cards did they have in their hand?

  Some, surely. That was their nature.

  Mogaba said, “We’ve got to leak some of the news. Like it or not. We have to get ready for war. We’re headed for a fight. Unless we give up without a struggle. I don’t plan to do that myself. I couldn’t live with the consequences.”

  The Singhs exchanged glances. The Great General showing a sense of humor? Remarkable.

  Ghopal said, “People are afraid of the Black Company.”

  “Of course they are. But when was the last time they won? We beat them over and over during the Kiaulune wars.” Mogaba was proud of his work back then. His thinking and planning had contributed to every Taglian triumph.

  “But we didn’t wipe them all the way out. The trouble with the Black Company is that if you leave even one of them alive, before long they’re coming right back at you again.”

  “My brother unforgiven.” That slogan haunted Mogaba’s nightmares. He had his regrets.

  “How soon can we expect the Protector?” Ghopal asked. “I’ll have preparations to make.”

  Mogaba said, “She was on foot when she started sending her message. But she’ll get to a courier station eventually. Then she’ll start making good time. I wouldn’t count on having more than another two or three days if she gets in a real hurry.”

  Ghopal grunted unhappily.

  Mogaba nodded. Nothing ever went easily.

  Aridatha asked, “Did she catch the Deceivers?”

  Once again Mogaba thought the man betrayed a curiously skewed interest. Possibly a personal interest. “No. I told you, she said she was breaking off the chase. Enough. We all pretty much know what we need to do. Aridatha, I want the entire courier battalion here as soon as possible. The garrison commanders will need to be advised. I’ll let you know right away if any critical news comes in.”

  * * *

  Watching the message continue to approach final form, the Great General reviewed his unit commanders and the readiness and reliability of their commands. He was troubled. At first glance it would seem he could call up the resources of an empire. But the Protector had not concerned herself with the upkeep of her armed forces when she was not directly and immediately threatened. And she was not remotely popular, never had been and never wanted to be. She preferred rule by raw strength.

  The Prahbrindrah Drah and his sister returning was particularly troubling. They had been popular in their era and in time’s crucible had gone through the first stages of sanctification already. Some would hail them as liberators. Hell, if Croaker was still alive they might give him his old title back.

  There would be desertions, both at high levels and among the soldiers. Mogaba was more concerned about the troops. The nobility and senior priests, who owed their positions to the Protector, would play it carefully. Taglios had received several painful lessons regarding the price to be paid for betraying the Protector.

  Where would it be best to bring the Company to battle? And how could he force battle upon them if they were reluctant to hazard a major encounter?

  He was sure that his best chance lay in forcing an early confrontation, before what forces he did have began to evaporate.

  36

  The Nether Taglian Territories: The Barrens

  Soulcatcher hastened along the bank of a creek that was almost as still and deep as a canal, looking for a way to cross. She had miscalculated when she had chosen to cut across these moors and downs to reach the shabby stronghold at Nijha. Clinging to the road would have meant a longer walk but there would have been bridges for times like these.

  When she encountered obstacles of this sort she had no choice but to guess which way to turn. She did not know the country. She was blind. There were no bats or owls to send scouting. There were no shadows tonight. She had sent all those to safety, along with her crows. She knew she was capable of dealing with the hobgoblins following her around.

  Something rose from the water behind her. It had a shape like a horse. A voice whispered in her ear, telling her to come and ride. She barely glanced at it, and then only in total scorn. These things might be smarter than shadows but they could not be by much. How stupid did they think she was? She did not have to be familiar with the folklore of Hsien to understand that the water horse would drag her under.

  She ignored the monster, not knowing it was an afanc, actually of centaur shape rather than equine. A half hour later she ignored one of its cousins, which took the semblance of a giant beaver. Then there was one resembling a crocodile, though this creek was four hundred miles from anywhere warm enough to support those giant reptiles. They all whispered to her. Some of them even knew her true name.

  She found a plank footbridge evidently put in place by the seldom-seen, horse-stealing natives of these highlands. As she started across, something whispered to her from underneath. She did not understand its words but their menace was plain enough.

  “You don’t want me crossing, come up and do something about it.” The voice she chose was that of a small child who was severely annoyed, but not frightened.

  Something came up. It was huge and dark and ugly. In spots it glowed with a leprous inner light. It had way too many teeth. They stuck out of its mouth at all angles. It would have trouble when it came time to eat.

  All those teeth and fangs snapped open as the monster prepared to lunge.

  Soulcatcher’s gloved right hand drifted forward. A spray of sparkling dust floated onward to meet the evil spirit.

  It screamed.

  Soulcatcher leapt off the bridge an instant before it shattered to kindling. She backed away, watched the fiend thrash and melt. From behind her mask came a soft wee sound like a little girl’s skip-rope song, with a refrain that went, “It was fun to watch you die.”

  37

  The Taglian Territories: Somewhere North of Charandaprash

  The Daughter of Night actually seemed to be thriving now that the Protector was stalking them no longer. Narayan was worried.

  “You’re always worried,” she chided. She was happy. Her voice was musical. The light of the campfire made her eyes sparkle—when it did not make them glow red. “If someone is after us you worry about getting caught. If we’re safe you worry about me not being a perfect replica of this image of the Daughter of Night you’ve invented inside your head. Narayan, Narayan.… Papa Narayan, what I want more than anything is somehow to fix it so you don’t have to do this anymore. You’ve been the one for so long.… You deserve to put it all down now and relax.”

  Narayan knew that was not possible. Never would be. He did not argue, though. “Then let’s bring on the Year of the Skulls. Once Kina returns we can loaf for the rest of our lives.”

  The girl shivered, s
eemed puzzled. Then she shuddered violently. She grew more pale, leaving Narayan wondering how she managed that when she was always as pale as death to begin. She stared out into the night, obviously troubled.

  Narayan started to dump dirt—piled there for that purpose—onto the fire.

  The girl said, “It’s too late.”

  A huge shape rose behind her—then faded away as though dispersed by the wind.

  “Kid’s right, old man,” said a voice Singh had not heard for years and was hearing again far sooner than he had hoped.

  Iqbal and Runmust Singh—no relation to Narayan—appeared at the edge of the firelight, wavering, as though they were a mist coalescing. Other men appeared behind them, soldiers in a style of armor Narayan had never seen. Amongst the soldiers he saw drooling red-eyed beasts of species he had never seen before, either.

  Singh’s heart redoubled its wild pounding.

  The girl observed, “Now we know why my aunt quit chasing us.”

  Runmust Singh agreed. “Now you know. The Black Company is back. And we’re not happy.” Runmust was a great shaggy Shadar whose sheer size was oppressive.

  Iqbal Singh smiled, perfect teeth glistening in the middle of his brushy beard. “This time you’ll have to deal with your mother and your father.” Iqbal was as shaggy and nearly as huge as his brother but somehow less intimidating. The girl remembered him having a wife and several children. But.… Did he mean her birth mother? Her natural father? But they were supposed to be dead.

  Her knees went watery. She never had seen her natural parents.

  The living saint was unable to keep his feet. Kina was going to test him yet again. And he had no energy left to spend in the fight for his faith. He was too old and too feeble and his faith had worn too thin.

  Runmust gestured. The soldiers closed in. They were careful men who made certain they did not get between their captives and the crossbows threatening them. They put the girl’s hands into wool-stuffed sacks, then bound her wrists behind her. They gagged her gently, then pulled a loose woolen sack over her head. They were aware that she might work some witchery.

  Narayan they placed up on an extra horse, then tied him into the saddle. They were doing him no kindness. They were in a hurry. He would be too slow if they made him walk behind them. They were more gentle with the girl but her immediate fate was identical.

  Their captors were not gratuitously cruel but the girl was sure that would change when they found themselves with adequate leisure time. The strange young soldiers in the clacking black armor seemed highly intrigued by what they could see of her pale beauty.

  This was not the way she had imagined herself becoming a woman. And her imagination had been extremely active for several years.

  38

  The Taglian Territories: The Dandha Presh

  We were high in the pass through the Dandha Presh when the news arrived. The grinding weariness dragging my ancient bones down slipped my mind. I was at the head of the column. I stopped walking, moved aside, watched all the tired mules and men trudge past. Man and animal, we hoped the main force had not stripped Charandaprash of food and fodder.

  The Voroshk had sunk deep into exhaustion and despair. Tobo traveled with them, talking all the time, trying to teach them through their pain and apathy. The kids had not had to walk anywhere ever before.

  Their flying logs followed right behind.

  Lady finally came up. I joined her. I sensed that rumor had reached her already, even though nobody seemed to have any breath to waste on conversation. Rumor is magical, maybe even supernatural.

  I told her anyway. “Runmust and Iqbal have captured Narayan and Booboo. They never stopped heading our way after Soulcatcher left off chasing them.”

  “I heard.”

  “You as nervous as I am?”

  “Probably more.” We trudged along for a while. Then she said, “I never got a chance to be a mother. I never got a chance to learn how. After Narayan kidnapped her I just went back to being me.”

  “I know. I know. We have to keep reminding ourselves not to get emotionally entangled in this. She isn’t going to think of us as Mom and Dad.”

  “I don’t want her to hate us. And I know she will. Being the Daughter of Night is her whole life.”

  I thought about that. Eventually, I told her, “Being the Lady of Charm was your whole life once upon a time. But here you are.”

  “Here I am.” Her lack of enthusiasm would have disheartened a lesser man than I.

  She—and I—were of an age now where we spent too much time wondering how things might have gone had we made a few different choices.

  I had plenty of regrets. I am sure she had more. She gave up so much more.

  Willow Swan went puffing past with some remark about old folks slowing everybody down. I asked, “You guys keeping an eye on Goblin?”

  “He don’t fart without we don’t know about it.”

  “That goes without saying. The whole countryside knows.”

  “He’s not getting away with anything, Croaker.”

  I was not confident about that. Goblin was a slick little bastard. If I had the time I would stay right beside him myself, step for step.

  Lady said, “Goblin hasn’t done anything suspicious.”

  “I know. But he will.”

  “And that attitude is beginning to win him some sympathy. I thought you ought to know.”

  “I know. But I can’t help recalling One-Eye’s warning, either.”

  “You noted yourself that One-Eye would try to get his last lick in from beyond the grave.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll try to take it easier.”

  “We need to move a little faster.” The rear guard was almost up to us.

  “We could lag behind and sneak off into the rocks for a while.”

  “Maybe you’re not as worn out as you thought, then. Get a move on.” And after a moment, “We’ll talk about that tonight.”

  Some motivation, then.

  39

  Taglios: The Great General

  Thus far Mogaba had contained the worst reaction to the seething rumor cauldron that Taglios had become. His most useful tool was the carefully placed half-truth. His representatives did not deny that something big and dangerous was going on down south. They did, however, suggest that it was an uprising by the same sort of Shadowlander troublemakers who had supported the Black Company during the Kiaulune wars. They were milking that connection from the past, trying to intimidate opponents and encourage friends. There was no Black Company anymore.

  Rumor had not yet discovered the Prahbrindrah Drah and his sister. Mogaba would offer the suggestion that those people were imposters when stories did begin to circulate.

  “This is actually going better than I expected,” the Great General told Aridatha Singh. “None of the garrison commanders have refused their marching orders. Only a handful of the senior priests and leading men have tried to pretend neutrality.”

  “I wonder if that state would persist if we lost the Protector.”

  Mogaba had been trying to find out for some time. The Prahbrindrah Drah had yet to produce an heir. His only living relative was his sister, who had run Taglios and its dependencies for years in fact, if not in name. At one point she had proclaimed herself her brother’s successor. Though the culture militated against a female ruler she might be allowed to take over again if her brother preceded her in death. No one knew what would happen if brother and sister were both gone, as most of the population believed them to be.

  The question was entirely an intellectual exercise, these days. Power in Taglios belonged to the Protector almost exclusively.

  Mogaba never pressed his questions beyond a purely speculative level. None of his respondents suspected a deeper purpose. Nor did anyone volunteer to participate in an effort to get rid of the Protector, though it was no secret that most Taglians would prefer to do without Soulcatcher’s protection.

  Communications with Soulcatcher had ceased. The cr
ow population had suffered a dramatic decimation, whether from disease or enemy action remaining unclear. Their numbers had been dwindling for decades, until murders in the wild were almost unknown. Bats could not carry significant messages. Owls would not. And there was no one at the Taglian and trained to manage and communicate with shadows. That was a rare talent indeed and the Black Company had exterminated the brotherhood who had shared it back when they were still running things their way.

  Soulcatcher had scoured the Shadowlands, whence those people had sprung, length and breadth. She had turned up just a few old women and very young children who had survived all the wars and purges. They seemed to be a people unrelated to any other in the south, had been unknown there before the advent of the Shadowmasters, and among themselves had a oral tradition of having come from an entirely different world. Those old women and babies had lacked any useful knowledge or talent.

  When his duties granted the time, Mogaba walked the main route from the Palace to the city’s southern entrance. The walls had been under construction for decades and remained unfinished but the southern gate complex, the most important, had been completed and put into use ages ago. By channeling traffic through its bottleneck the state managed to tax all incoming travelers.

  He was looking for the perfect place to put an end to the Protectorate. Four explorations had not revealed it yet. The obvious sites were just that: obvious. Soulcatcher would be alert. She was intimate enough with human nature to realize that rumors fed by the crisis in the south would reawaken opposition to her rule.

  There seemed to be no way to manage it in the streets. And the longer it was delayed the more certain she was to become suspicious of her captains. It would be impossible for them to conceal their nervousness.

  It would have to be instantly upon her arrival or immediately upon her entering the Palace. Or never.

  They could forget the whole thing, go back to being her faithful hounds, and wait with her for the disaster from the south.