by Glen Cook
The blacksmith had orders to create three more, suitable for housing her sister, her sister’s husband, and that treacherous Willow Swan.
Later, in Taglios, she meant to work with a glassblower to bottle them all so they could be displayed outside the entrance to her palace. They would be kept alive and fed until they drowned in their own ordure.
Such was the fate that the Dominator often bestowed upon his most important enemies, in his time.
60
Gharhawnes: Tobo and the Voroshk
The Howler certainly kept busy. He completed his first functional four-passenger flying carpet two days after the soldiers marched westward. Gharhawnes seemed deserted, though there were enough of us around to bloody a bunch of noses the morning the former tenant took a notion to steal his home back.
Sleepy had a dozen carpets on order, from single-rider scouts to a monster she hoped would carry twenty soldiers. I do not know who she expected to fly them. Only Howler and Tobo—and, possibly, the Voroshk—had the power to manage the things.
I insisted that we have a couple of modest-sized carpets first. Those should not take too long to make and would be the size most useful to us right away. And since I was in charge of the left-behinds and the Dejagore strike I got what I wanted. Well, I got the one carpet.
Tobo had the flying post thing figured out, too. Both Shukrat and Arkana seemed eager to get along now. One or the other would allow Tobo to borrow her post when he wanted to run out to visit Sleepy, which he did by night so he would not be seen from the ground. I never felt comfortable when he did that. We had too many potentially unpleasant and unfriendly people back here in the manor. Including a lot of hostages from the leading families of the region.
Both Magadan and Gromovol were increasingly determined not to be won over, each for his own reasons. I told Magadan, “I’d be tempted to send you two home just so I don’t have to worry about what’s going on behind my back.” I was not worried, really. Tobo’s supernatural friends saw everything.
Magadan told me, “I don’t want to go home. Home no longer exists. I want to be free.”
“Sure. You Voroshk showed what you can do when you’re free. I’ve spent my life killing people like you. That’s people who believe it’s their destiny to make slaves out of people like me. I’m in a war with another one of them right now. I’m not about to cut you loose and let you start making peoples’ lives miserable, too.”
None of which was absolutely true but it did sound good. And Magadan bought it. Some. The part that really was true. That I would kill him before I turned him loose on the world.
That was the moment when he decided he might want to go home after all. From then on he brought that possibility up each time we crossed paths. The hidden folk said he was sincere. He was trying to get the other kids to go along with swapping what knowledge they had for an escort back across the place of glittering stone.
Lady did not believe it. She thought we should put him and Gromovol down because of the trouble they could cause.
My sweetie has a very direct approach to problem-solving.
Sometimes I do find what little conscience I retain a damnable handicap.
Howler, though, did successfully work his way out of the top ten on my shit list. Tobo’s appeal to Shivetya had resulted in word from the golem saying he did have the ability to intervene in Howler’s screaming and shrinking problems. Shivetya did not have much of a reputation as a liar so even Howler took him at his word. After which the smelly little wizard became extremely cooperative.
Though we still had no cause to trust his long run intentions. Nor he any call to trust ours, either.
* * *
Lady cornered Tobo. “We have a dangerous situation, here. And like a pet cobra it’s going to bite us someday. We have to do something.”
The boy sounded puzzled. “What’re you talking about? Something about what?”
“Those Voroshk. They aren’t as strong or as bright as we first thought but there are four of them and only one of you.”
“But they’re not going to.…”
“Pardon me for being an old cynic,” I said. “Magadan keeps telling me, in so many words, that he wants to be anywhere that isn’t here with us. And there’s at least the implication that he’ll do whatever it takes if we don’t help him go home. And Gromovol is going to be trouble eventually because his personality requires it. If you go out to visit Sleepy or just on a flying date the rest of us are stuck here with no better hope than the Howler.”
“And speaking of flying,” Lady said, “don’t you ever go out with both of those girls again. Hush! You’re only familiar with the women you’ve grown up around. I’m telling you right now that Arkana is exactly like Magadan. But she has one more weapon than he does and she means to use it to cloud your mind.”
“But…”
“Shukrat I’m not sure about. There’s a chance Shukrat is exactly what she seems.”
I agreed. The kid was likable. And according to Tobo the hidden folk agreed. They offered no reason not to trust her.
Tobo was not used to arguing with anybody but his mother, even when he thought he was right. He did not want to think ill of Arkana but would not fight us.
Lady demanded, “So how do we make sure of them? You have to think of something before we move against Dejagore. We’ll be scattered, distracted and extremely vulnerable then. And because you spend time with the girls, out amongst the rest of us, all four will know what’s going on. They can plan accordingly.”
Again Tobo did not get a word in before I said, “I would be.”
Lady reminded him, “You’ve never been a prisoner.”
“Now there’s a joke. I was born a prisoner. A prisoner of a prophecy by an old woman who died years before I was born. A prisoner of the expectations of all you people. Gods, I wish Hong Tray was wrong and I could’ve been a normal kid.”
“There aren’t any normal kids, Tobo,” I told him. “Just kids who fake it better than the rest of us do.”
“And that name. Tobo. That was my baby name. Why does everybody still call me that? Why didn’t we ever have a ceremony to give me a grown-up name?”
Nyueng Bao do that. And Tobo was years past the appropriate birthday.
Lady told him, “You’ll have to take that up with Uncle Doj. Meantime, the other thing needs addressing right now. Blade is moving already. In three more days Sleepy will curl back to the northeast and it’ll be too late to stop anything. I want to be sure that we won’t get stabbed in the back just when things get exciting.”
* * *
An hour after we nagged him Tobo asked Shukrat to go flying. He borrowed Arkana’s log. Arkana was not pleased. When an hour later she told me Magadan had said he did not mind if she used his post to join Shukrat and Tobo I told her, “But I mind. If you need to talk to Tobo do it when he gets back.”
Arkana was the brightest of the Voroshk. She recognized that things were tightening up.
When Tobo did return he stayed just long enough to round up Magadan. He took Magadan flying. It was the first time Magadan had been aloft since he had entered our keeping. He did not appear excited, which I would have expected.
They returned within a half hour. Magadan’s hand-me-downs, appropriated from Gharhawnes’ former occupants, were ragged. He looked like he had been in a fight and the other guy had kicked his butt. A good long way.
Tobo gave instructions for Magadan to be isolated, then found Arkana and took her for a fly.
The ice queen, I noted, had replaced her confiscated robes with native garb that served her to considerable visual advantage.
“Down, boy!” Lady said.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t run into her before I met you, isn’t it?”
That earned me a not entirely playful swat.
Arkana came back looking rougher than Magadan had. And she was not smiling.
Tobo had Arkana put in with Magadan. He collected Gromovol.
Gromovol
was not interested in going anywhere with Tobo. Tobo insisted. They were not gone long. Once they returned Tobo had the Voroshk returned to their quarters. He gathered their flying posts in the main hall. Lady and I joined him.
I asked, “What was that all about?”
“I took them out and dueled with them. Except for Shukrat.”
I stopped Lady before she explained—probably at great length—how unsmart doing that could have proven. Sometimes she could fuss as much as Sahra. I said, “I’m sure there was a reason.”
“I wanted to find out just how much we really do have to fear from them.”
“And?”
“They’re frauds. The only power they really have is what they draw from their post and their clothing. Without those even Shukrat isn’t as powerful as One-Eye was at the end. Gromovol is about Uncle Doj’s equal. Lady, even as weak as you are right now, you could manage any of them but Shukrat.”
I snorted. “I guess that would explain why Gromovol’s pop was anxious to get the kids back. Were most of the Voroshk limited talents? Were most of them carried by a few strong members of the clan?”
“I’d guess that’s likely. The point, though, is that for right now there’s a better chance our Voroshk will attack us with knives than with sorcery.” He looked at us, saw no obvious eagerness to embrace his theory. “Don’t you think that if they had any real power they would’ve used it to try to escape?”
I realized that he was upset. He had believed he was making friends with the Voroshk. Our worries had led him to test that and he had learned that his friends were not as close as he had hoped.
“You’re telling us we don’t have to kill them to be safe,” Lady said.
“That, too.”
“You have the Unknown Shadows at your command and you didn’t figure this out until today?” Lady can find something to suspect in everything. I would suggest we retire and settle down somewhere where we do not have to worry all the time but she would suspect me of ulterior motives.
“I’ve thought it for a long time,” he admitted sullenly. “But the hidden folk can’t report things that they don’t hear. The Voroshk don’t discuss their weaknesses. Or much of anything else, actually. Because of their present situation nobody likes anybody very much anymore.”
I said, “I didn’t want to kill them, anyway. Maybe I’d like to thump Gromovol a little, now and then, but…”
“So that’s settled. Heck, turn them loose if you want. Once they’ve had a dose of the real world they’ll come back. Meantime, let me get to work on these things.”
Lady asked, “You’ve finally found their secret? You can make more?”
“I’ve learned how to change who they recognize as their master. None of the Voroshk know how the posts are made. They’re not even sure of the theory behind them. I know more than they do just because I’ve studied the things. I don’t yet know how they pull their magical power. But I don’t know how I do that, either. Someday I will know. But it’ll be a long, slow, dangerous process, finding out. They’re booby-trapped.”
I told him, “Life is booby-trapped, kid.”
As we left the hallway Lady was speculating on whether the original Voroshk had invented their magics or if they had just stolen them from an ingenious but unwary predecessor. I did not care, so long as no Voroshk made my life more difficult than it already was.
61
The Taglian Territories: Nightfliers in Dejagore
Three flying posts formed the goose flock formation. Tobo had the point with Willow Swan riding pillion. Swan was in the throes of an apparently severe religious relapse, muttering a continuous polysyllabic one-word prayer. With his attitude toward heights he would be bruising Tobo by hanging on so tight. His eyes would be closed so intently that he would have muscle cramps all the way back to his ankles.
Lady and Shukrat flew the other posts. Lady had Aridatha Singh aboard behind her. Shukrat carried Uncle Doj.
Murgen, Thai Dei and I shared the flying carpet with the Howler, whose shrieks were being contained inside a big glass bowl sort of thing Lady had put over his head. It worked well enough to save trouble with people who did not know we were coming.
Murgen and Thai Dei were along only because Sahra had to be placated. She did not want her baby going into harm’s way alone. People everywhere were irked because the boy’s father and uncle had had to be flown back to Gharhawnes before the raid could be launched. But Sahra had been stubborn and loud and Sleepy had given in rather than lose a friend.
Sahra’s recollections of and fears of Dejagore remained abiding and debilitating.
I hoped Murgen and Thai Dei handled it better, though at takeoff time Murgen had been sweaty, pallid, shaking and appeared to be having trouble breathing. And Thai Dei had seemed more self-engrossed than ever.
I had spoken to each alone and had tried telling each that I was counting on him to keep an eye on the other and carry him if the emotional strain became too much. I have found that assigning major external responsibilities like that can get many of my brothers through times of deep emotional stress.
Howler kept the carpet in the pocket of the formation. We moved northward at a pace that created a cold wind strong enough to pull the tears out of my eyes. Murgen and I occupied the carpet’s rear corners. I told him, “I’d forgotten just how much I don’t like this. Why didn’t I send some of those eager young bucks from Hsien?”
“Because you’re just like every other recent Captain of the Company. You’ve got to have your pointy nose right in the middle of things so you can make sure things get done your way.”
Up ahead Tobo lifted the shutter on a red lantern. He winked the light several times. There was an answering signal from the ground, miles off our track and much farther forward than I expected.
Blade and the cavalry had made good time and were already in the ring of hills surrounding Dejagore. The moon would rise in an hour. It would provide the light they needed to filter through the hills and descend the inner slope.
We passed over the rim and discovered the scattered lights of Dejagore. We slowed to a crawl. The flying posts gathered together. Aridatha tried to explain to Tobo where we needed to go.
I told Murgen, “You should’ve gone with Tobo. You know Dejagore better than anyone else.”
“Dejagore twenty-five years ago, maybe. It’s a whole new city since my day. Aridatha belongs with him. It’s only been weeks since he was there.”
Few details could be distinguished by starlight but as we moved closer the walls and main buildings matched my recollections almost exactly.
The logs formed up in line astern with Lady and Aridatha leading. Howler fell in behind. We resumed moving.
Ten minutes later we were on the ground. Five minutes after that Aridatha hustled us into his brother’s shop.
Sugriva Singh seemed to be a shorter and older version of Aridatha. He had done well for himself. He had the whole downstairs of a building for his business and everything above for his family—none of whom were ever in evidence.
Sugriva’s past good fortune assured his deep displeasure at our invasion. All of a sudden he had ten villains in amongst the vegetables and only his brother and the bountiful little blonde did not look willing to roast him for a prank. He had a great deal to lose here. And maybe more to lose if he did not cooperate. The Strangler cult was hated in the extreme in Dejagore. Just a whisper about his relationship to the living saint of the Deceivers would destroy him and just about anyone who had ever spoken to him.
Aridatha dispensed with introductions. Sugriva did not need to know his visitors. Chances were, he recognized a few of us anyway.
Aridatha told his brother, “Our father is dead. He was murdered a few weeks ago. Strangled.”
Sugriva was the elder by a decade. He remembered the Narayan Singh who had sold vegetables and doted on his children before the invasion of the Shadowmasters. He was stricken as Aridatha had not been stricken. “And that should be no surprise, should
it? Is that what you mean?” Sugriva said through tears that might have been due as much to rage as to pain.
He needed a few minutes to collect himself.
To his credit Sugriva Singh did not rail against the inevitable. He understood exactly how his arm was being twisted and, though events were not going to proceed quite like Aridatha had led him to expect during his previous visit, he chose to cooperate. He wanted to get it over as fast as he could, then he would pray that the new administration would be as indifferent to him as he was to the one presently in place.
Things were not exactly working out the way Aridatha had hoped they would, either.
Sugriva said, “You haven’t chosen the best night to do this. The moon is going to expose anyone moving toward the city from outside.”
Tobo chuckled. “You might be surprised. The night is our friend, brother Sugriva.”
“I rather expect you’ll find that my father believed the same thing, young man.”
And his father’s son? Sugriva had been unhappy, even angry, when we turned up, but not really surprised. What kind of vegetable dealer was not surprised to be wakened in the night? Inside a city that closed its gates with fanatical devotion when the sun’s lower limb touched the western hilltops?
Could Aridatha’s big brother be some sort of crook?
Aridatha told his brother, “The reason we’re troubling you is that we don’t know how the gatekeeping is managed.”
“You told me before. I looked into it. There’s a company of soldiers assigned to each gate. The west gate is the most closely controlled because it sees more traffic than the other three put together.” One of Dejagore’s quirks was that most of today’s roads to the city joined outside it, to the west, so there was not much traffic elsewhere. The north and south gates were used only by people involved in agriculture and its produce.
“The east gate looks like it should be the easiest to seize and control,” Sugriva said. A true road did connect with the east gate but there was little out that way but a few distant villages. “The guards are slackers, at all levels. None of them are natives. None of them are old enough to remember the last time Jaicur was attacked.” Sugriva had adopted the local accent and the local name for the city when he had assumed a Dejagoran name.