The Return of the Black Company

by Cook, Glen

  It was over. The road was open. I started back to One-Eye’s wagon. We would have to move fast to make sure the Company stayed in a position to take advantage. First thing might be to get all our Company brothers together.

  How long before I learn not to rack my eggs up as guaranteed fryers?

  The Old Man was not trying to provoke the response he got. Neither was Lady, though she might have feared it. I do not believe Croaker had any idea anything of the sort was possible.

  I was almost to the wagon when the ghost realm filled with a stench like somebody just kicked open all the tombs that ever were. I had not encountered much in the way of smells there before and all those had been nothing compared to this.

  Fear hit me. Panic was a scant half step behind. I got out of there fast, before the fear made it impossible for me to recall how to escape.

  Back up the canyon the Daughter of Night stood atop a boulder, oblivious to the fireballs streaking past, her little arms uplifted to greet oncoming darkness, summoning, her lips taut in an evil smile.

  Something was coming. Something that I had glimpsed before.

  31

  I tumbled out of the wagon, sort of hung on to the seat with one hand, dangling like a monkey. It was far later than I had thought. Not only was it dark out, dawn seemed to be coming again.

  No. This was no dawn. This light came from neither sun nor moon. It came from the pass. Had the firebombs ignited some Shadowlander supply dump?

  I wished that was it. I knew better. That was no mundane fire.

  I ran toward Lady’s headquarters, stumbling more than making good time. My body was drained. Whatever was happening, Lady would be involved. And being near her might be the safest place.

  I did not have far to run but the show was about over before I arrived. Surrounded by her intimates Lady was trying to get the Howler still but failed through no fault of her own.

  A new player had come to the game.

  Initially its shape and color were unclear. Then it collided with Lady’s power. Power killed power in light. That light showed me something I did not want to see.

  It was black. It was a hundred feet tall. It had four arms. It was the thing that haunted Lady’s dreams and, sometimes, ghosted into mine. It was the darkness that had claimed Croaker’s daughter.

  Lady battled that colossus before a hundred thousand eyes and, by doing so, confused a lot of people.

  The Deceivers had to be whooping it up. Things had gotten tough for them but here was concrete proof that the Year of the Skulls could be achieved. That it might be at hand. That their goddess had grown strong enough to reach into our world to protect her chosen daughter and the living saint, Narayan Singh.

  That image of Kina was a lot like Longshadow’s pets, though. It was not immune to fireballs from Lady’s bamboo poles. The panic its appearance caused lured plenty of those into the air. Soon it resembled some mythological creature on a moth-eaten tapestry.

  The thing ended before I could catch my breath. Kina guttered, vanished. It persisted only long enough for her child and her protectors to make their getaway. Still listing and smoldering, Howler’s carpet passed from sight. The hundred million whispers began to fade.

  Lady collapsed. They lifted her onto the stretcher. Swan and Blade manned its ends. Her most loyal soldiers surrounded them, men who had been with her for years. I told Swan, “You don’t have to worry about them up there. They’re headed for Overlook with their tails between their legs. Mogaba is unconscious and probably hurt. Nobody is in charge anymore.”

  Swan gave me an incredulous look. “What the hell you telling me for? Find your damned Captain and tell him.”

  “Good idea.” I went.

  32

  The Prahbrindrah Drah’s division suffered horribly yet again.

  Mogaba’s men refused to forget the first law of survival: never turn your back. It is hard to kill a soldier who clings to his training when every instinct and emotion tells him to throw down his arms and run away or to curl up in a ball to shut out the terror.

  The whole point of drilling soldiers till they whine about the stupidity of it all is so those soldiers will do the right thing automatically when the terror comes. Combat is fear and management of fear far more than it is organized murder. Those who manage fear best will seize the day.

  The Old Man observed for so long, without intervening in the Prince’s situation, that his own staff started grumbling. I asked him why he was holding off.

  “I want him to show Taglios what he’s made of. I want to see that myself. I don’t want there to be any doubts about him when he takes charge.”

  It had a nice ring but still sounded suspect. I was developing a very suspicious attitude where Croaker was concerned.

  Later he had Lady’s division, supported by Willow Swan’s Guards, replace the Prince’s division. Lady made rapid gains until Mogaba managed to reassert his control on the other side. She was so exhausted the witcheries she could manage amounted to little more than distractions.

  I wondered why Croaker did not just back off until she recovered. I no longer spent much time trying to unravel his thoughts, though. Dark designs or otherwise, I did not know the man anymore.

  He withdrew Lady’s division shortly before noon. He moved archers up on the flanks, arrayed his own two divisions for the advance, in the follow-on mode where one force fights to exhaustion, then the next advances through its positions to attack the hopefully decimated enemy. But before the drums began their grim chant he took a white flag forward. I tagged along, carrying the standard. The damned thing needed to go on a diet. It seemed to be getting heavier.

  I was put out. I was here only because Croaker insisted. I wanted to be out riding Smoke, finding out what Longshadow and Howler and Soulcatcher and whoever were up to. The Radisha needed checking, too. I had not looked in on her in far too long.

  At least she would not be aware of events here for a while.

  Mogaba surprised me by coming down to meet us. He limped. He sported an array of bandages. I imagine that if he had not been so dark he would have shown a fine crop of bruises. One of his eyes was swollen shut. His lips were compressed against the pain. But he betrayed no more emotion than an ebony statue. He said, “You managed to exploit our vulnerabilities very skillfully.”

  Warily and wearily, Croaker said, “The asshole hamstrung you. Do we have to waste any more lives?”

  “This battle may be decided but the war goes on. Its outcome may yet be determined here.”

  That had the ring of truth. If we did not get moving forward real soon we were not going to be able to hold this army together.

  Croaker’s smile suited his Widowmaker armor, which he seemed unwilling to shed lately. “Time and again I’ve told you to study the Annals. Time and again I’ve reminded you that you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  Mogaba also smiled, as though he knew something. “They aren’t holy writ.”

  “What?”

  “Your precious Annals. They aren’t holy. They’re just histories, made up of legends and outright lies in about equal parts.” He glared at me. “It will cost you dear if you put your faith in the past, Standardbearer.”

  Now the Captain smiled gently. A battle fought with smiles?

  Croaker had shown a lot of originality but Mogaba did not recognize that. He did not because he had not read the books. He would not confess it publicly but he had not read the books because he could not read. In Gea-Xle, whence he came, reading was not a warriorly skill.

  Right now there was no doubt who held the initiative on the psychological front. Croaker said, “So I have to kill a bunch more of you before you’ll face the truth?”

  “Truth is mutable and subject to interpretation. In this case its final form remains undetermined. Perhaps you brought a good recipe for rock.” Mogaba turned away, his piece said. He limped uphill. The set of his shoulders said his pride ached just having to show us his pain. He muttered to himself, something about t
he Shadowmaster no longer being there to hobble him.

  I said, “Hey, chief, he don’t got Longshadow on his back no more.”

  “He doesn’t have him to stand in front of him anymore, either. Look out!”

  Thai Dei jumped up and got a shield over my head just in time to keep me from drowning in a shower of arrows. “Wow! The weather really turned bad fast.”

  The boys uphill had a laugh at our expense. We made a spectacle backing away, three of us trying to stay under one undersized shield.

  That crafty shit Mogaba had come down only to buy a few minutes for his troops. They attacked as soon as he reached them. Their nerve was no longer what it had been but their discipline remained firm.

  Arrows from the flanks and towers and fireballs from everywhere made their effort look ill-advised. Nonetheless, they pushed us back like they thought this attack was their last hope. The situation began to look desperate. But then Lady decided she had rested enough.

  Charandaprash became quite colorful.

  The fighting did not last long after that. But when the silence fell even our reserves were too exhausted to chase anybody. Croaker let the remaining camp followers have that honor, telling them they could keep any loot they took.

  Those who tried mostly got themselves killed.

  * * *

  Mogaba’s plans were the hot topic around the big bonfire. It seemed like everyone over the rank of lieutenant was there and every man had a theory. Or two. And not a one of those was sound.

  I had gone ghostwalking and had not been able to find Mogaba, even by backtracking through time. But just a hint of a specter of a death stink had sent me running before I could get a real good look around.

  Was she going to be out there every time I went?

  Croaker kicked nothing into the speculative stew. He just sat around looking smug and more relaxed than I had seen in years.

  Lady sat beside him and she looked pretty good, too. Like she had gotten some real sleep for once. I told her, “I want to talk to you when you get a few minutes. I don’t have hardly anything about you to put down.”

  She sighed, said, “I don’t think I could tell you anything interesting.”

  I could use Smoke to study her backtrail. But that would not tell me what she was thinking.

  She asked Croaker, “Why do you look like the cat who stole the cream?”

  “Because Longshadow and Howler didn’t come back.” He looked at me. He wanted to know why. But not right now. It could wait. “And because you have.” After her rest she seemed none the worse for wear despite her head-to-head with Kina. Or whatever that was. “Because now they’re just going to hide out in Overlook while Longshadow tries to cobble together something from garrisons and militias made up of men who’d rather not get involved at all.”

  He was still the Shadowmaster. He had not played his trumps to their limit. And the walls of Overlook were a hundred feet high. I hoped Croaker did not think all we had to do now was coast.

  “You notice he hasn’t really said shit,” Swan grumbled to Blade. He had not had any trouble accepting his buddy back. Some of the men could not believe the whole defection had been a swindle. Especially those who had had relatives among the temple troops Blade had exterminated. “The son of a bitch flat ain’t going to tell nobody what he’s up to. Not even you and me. He’s got tricks up his sleeve and we’ve got to find out about them same as any poor dork that they’re going to happen to.”

  He stared at Lady sadly for a moment, unable to see what she saw in the Old Man. I had wondered that a few times myself before Sarie and I fell in love.

  It does not have to make sense. Just pray for the freedom to indulge it.

  Speaking of limits to freedom, my in-laws were still missing. Except for Thai Dei, of course. He was there even when my shadow was gone.

  Blade laughed at Swan’s sourness. He was a changed man after his adventure. He had found his niche. “You really want to know, you’d better borrow those books from Murgen. They say it’s all in there if you know where to look.”

  Murgen lied, “Good plan. But Murgen didn’t bring the books along. Except for the one he hasn’t been working on enough lately.”

  Swan’s comment was brief and obscene. Like Mogaba, he did not know how to read.

  Blade suggested, “Get Murgen Big Ears to tell it to you. He can quote chapter and verse almost as good as Croaker. He’s Croaker’s handpicked boy.”

  The old Blade did not have a sense of humor. I was not sure I liked this one better. He was not interested in being funny.

  “I’ll do it if the pay is right,” I told them. “Us mercenary types don’t do diddly unless we get paid.”

  I did have to put some thought into staying away from Smoke long enough to get some solid notes made. Charandaprash was a critical juncture in Company history. I was not doing it justice.

  And when I did go walking with the ghost I would have to concentrate on things I really needed to observe.

  I could not go just to get away from the pain.

  The pain was not so all-devouring anymore. Maybe a couple of brushes with Kina were the cure for romantic excess.

  “Thai Dei,” I said, softly and in Nyueng Bao to show this was merely a personal matter, not business. “What does it mean when a Nyueng Bao woman wears white?”

  “Ai?” He seemed surprised. “I don’t understand, brother.”

  “I just remembered a dream I had a couple nights ago. Somebody who looked like Sahra was in it. She was wearing white. Nyueng Bao always wear black except sometimes when you’re out here in the world. Or if you’re a priest. Isn’t that so?”

  “You dreamed of Sahra?”

  “I do all the time. Don’t you dream about My?”

  “No. We are taught to let their spirits go.”

  “Oh.” I did not believe that. If that was completely true there would be no call to seek revenge. “So what does it mean, wearing white? Or does it mean anything?”

  “It means she is recently widowed. A man who lost his wife would wear white as well. She may do so for as long as a year. While she is in white no one may advance a marriage offer—though of course the men of her family will be looking around unofficially. In the case of a man his father and brothers may examine the possibilities but not be allowed to speak on his behalf until he puts off the white.”

  This was news to me. “The whole time we were in Dejagore I never saw one Nyueng Bao in white. And Sarie sure didn’t wait any year after Danh died to get interested in me.”

  Thai Dei showed me one of his rare smiles. “Sarie was interested in you before Danh died. Sarie was smitten the first time you came to see Grandfather. You have no idea the quarreling that went on. Particularly after Grandmother announced that it was fated that Sarie take a foreign lover.”

  So the smile was not one of good humor.

  I could imagine Mother Gota’s take.

  “But Sarie never wore white. Nor did anybody else.”

  “Nor was there a square inch of white cloth in that city that was not worn by a Taglian soldier. Grandfather did not think it politic to take their tunics.” Thai Dei smiled again. That only made his face more skull-like. He added, “We were a small party. After all that time on pilgrimage we knew one another. We knew who had lost a mate. And we knew nothing could be done till we got back to our villages and priests anyway.”

  So the woman I saw while I was lost in the delta was a widow. I guess that explained why she was haggard and unhappy.

  “You should tell me more about Nyueng Bao. I’d feel less stupid when something like this comes up.”

  Thai Dei’s smile died. “There is no longer any need for you to know our customs, is there?”

  I was not one of them, even by marriage. He was here because he had assumed an obligation, not because I was family.

  I needed to think about that.

  33

  Croaker let everybody rest thoroughly before he launched what he hoped would be the final
assault on the Shadowlander defenses. I had an ague or maybe something I picked up from the proximity of Kina for a while, hot sweats alternating with cold shakes. Consequently I did not get out to scout our enemies.

  No matter. The Old Man was able to gossip with his crows.

  There were no living Shadowlanders anywhere in the defensive works that Longshadow had deemed so critical. While we were being soft, sitting around on our behinds resting, Mogaba and his captains had gotten their soldiers moving. They had even tried to destroy the stores they could not drag with them but were forestalled in that by the efforts of an alert Shadar cavalry detachment.

  Death is eternity. Eternity is stone. Stone is silence.

  Stone is broken.

  In the night, when the wind no longer moans and the small shadows go into hiding, stone sometimes whispers. Stone sometimes speaks. Stone sometimes sends its children plunging into the abyss. Sometimes a tendril of colorful mist rises to caress the figure pinned to the tilting throne.

  Shadows scamper playfully about the plain glittering in the moonlight, devouring one another and growing stronger. Their memories are as old as stone. They remember freedom.

  Sometimes the leaning throne slips a millionth of an inch, tilting farther. This happens more and more frequently now.

  Stone shudders. Eternity sneers as it devours its own tail. This cold feast is almost finished.

  Even death is restless.

  34

  I could hear One-Eye cursing fate in general and several Vehdna Taglians in particular. One wheel of the wagon had become pinched between boulders and the soldiers were not getting it pried out fast enough to suit the little wizard. He had been in a foul temper all morning. I do believe he thought we would not continue on south after we won at Charandaprash. I do believe he thought the Old Man would be content to occupy the pass, then withdraw to warmer climes and wait for summer.

  Where was Longshadow going to go? Home. And because of the earthquake home was a house that would not be completed any time soon. So where was the big hurry? What kind of tunnel-vision fanatic did not even take time out for one good drunk after winning a battle so huge and obviously unwinnable going in?