The Books of the South: Tales of the Black Company (Chronicles of the Black Company)

by Glen Cook

  He preened. Smug little rat. “A third. Maybe more if put to the test.”

  “That many? Really?” I was surprised. It wasn’t evident to me.

  “You see only the other sort. Some men learned discipline and tolerance in the legions. The slaves came out of bondage filled with hatred. They want revenge. They know no Taglian can lead them against the Shadowmasters. Some even sincerely believe in you for yourself.”

  Thank you for that, little man. “But most will have trouble following me?”

  “Maybe.” That fawning grin. Hint of cunning. “We Taglians don’t deal well with upheavals in the natural order.”

  “The natural order is that the strong rule and the rest follow. I’m strong, Narayan. I’m like nothing Taglios has ever seen. I haven’t yet shown myself to Taglios. I hope Taglios never sees me angry. I’d rather spend my wrath on the Shadowmasters.”

  He bowed several times, suddenly frightened.

  “Our ultimate destination remains Ghoja. You may pass that word. We’ll collect survivors there, winnow them and rebuild. But I don’t intend to get there till we have this force whipped into shape.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Collect whatever weapons are available. Take no arguments. Redistribute them to the men you think reliable. Assign those men to march in the left-hand file. The men to their right are to be religiously mixed. They are to be separated from those they knew before Dejagore.”

  “That may cause trouble.”

  “Good. I want to pinpoint its sources. I’ll give it back with interest. Go on. Get them disarmed before they understand what’s happening. Ram. Give him a hand.”

  “But…”

  “I can look out for myself, Ram.” His protection was a nuisance.

  Narayan did move fast. Only a few men had to be separated from their weapons by force.

  Organized according to my orders, we marched all day, till they were too exhausted to complain. I halted them in the evening and had Narayan form them for review, with the reliables in the rear. I donned my armor, mounted one of the black stallions, rode out to review them with little witchfires prancing about me There wasn’t much to those. I hadn’t made large strides recapturing my talent.

  The armor, horse, and fires formed the visible aspect of a character called Lifetaker, whom I had created before the Company moved to the Main to face the Shadowmasters at Ghoja. In concert with Croaker’s Widowmaker she was supposed to intimidate the enemy by being something larger than life, archetypally deadly. My own men could use a little intimidation now. In a land where sorcery was little more than a rumor the witchfires could be enough.

  I passed the formation slowly, studying the soldiers. They understood the situation. I was looking for that which I would not tolerate, the man disinclined to do things my way.

  I rode past again. After centuries of watching people it wasn’t difficult to spot potential troublemakers. “Ram.” I pointed out six men. “Send them away. With the nothing they had when they joined us.” I spoke so my voice carried. “Next winnowing, those chosen will taste the lash. And the third winnowing will be a celebration of death.”

  A stir passed through the ranks. They heard the message.

  The chosen six went sullenly. I shouted at the others, “Soldiers! Look at the man to your right! Now look at the man to your left! Look at me! You see soldiers, not Gunni, not Shadar, not Vehdna. Soldiers! We’re fighting a war against an implacable and united enemy. In the line of battle it won’t be your gods at your left and your right, it will be men like those standing there now. Serve your gods in your heart if you must, but in this world, in the camp, on the march, on the field of battle, you won’t set your gods before me. You’ll own no higher master. Till the last Shadowmaster falls, no reward or retribution of god or prince will find you more swiftly or surely than mine.”

  I suspected that was maybe pushing too hard too soon. But there wasn’t much time to create my cadre.

  I rode off while they digested it. I dismounted, told Ram, “Dismiss them. Make camp. Send me Narayan.”

  I unsaddled my mount, settled on the saddle. A crow landed nearby, cocked its head. Several more circled above. Those black devils were everywhere. You couldn’t get away.

  Croaker had been paranoid about them. He’d believed they were following him, spying on him, even talking to him. I thought it was the pressure. But their omnipresence did get irritating.

  No time for Croaker. He was gone. I was walking a sword’s edge. Neither tears nor self-pity would bring him back.

  During the journey north I’d realized that I’d done more than lose my talent at the Barrowland. I’d given up. So I’d lost my edge during the year-plus since.

  Croaker’s fault. His weakness. He’d been too understanding, too tolerant, too willing to give second chances. He’d been too optimistic about people. He couldn’t believe there is an essential darkness shadowing the human soul. For all his cynicism about motives he’d believed that in every evil person there was good trying to surface.

  I owe my life to his belief but that doesn’t validate it.

  Narayan came, sneaky as a cat. He gave me his grin.

  “We’ve gained ground, Narayan. They took that well enough. But we have a long way to go.”

  “The religion problem, Mistress?”

  “Some. But that’s not the worst hurdle. I’ve overcome such before.” I smiled at his surprise. “I see doubts. But you don’t know me. You know only what you’ve heard. A woman who abandoned a throne to follow the Captain? Eh? But I wasn’t the spoiled, heartless child you imagine. Not a brat with a pinch of talent who fell heir to some petty crown she didn’t want. Not a dunce who ran off with the first adventurer who’d have her.”

  “Little is known except that you were the Captain’s Lady,” he admitted. “Some think as you suggest. Your companions scarcely hinted at your antecedents. I think you’re much more, but how much more I dare not guess.”

  “I’ll give you a hint.” I was amused. For all Narayan seemed to want me to be something untraditional he was startled whenever I didn’t behave like a Taglian woman. “Sit, Narayan. It’s time you understood where you’re placing your bets.”

  He looked me askance but settled. The crow watched him. His fingers teased at that fold of black cloth.

  “Narayan, the throne I gave up was the seat of an empire so broad you couldn’t have walked it east to west in a year. It spanned two thousand miles from north to south. I built it from a beginning as humble as this. I started before your grandfather’s grandfather was born. And it wasn’t the first empire I created.”

  He grinned uneasily. He thought I was lying.

  “Narayan, the Shadowmasters were my slaves. Powerful as they are. They disappeared during a great battle twenty years ago. I believed them dead till we unmasked the one we killed in Dejagore.

  “I’m weakened now. Two years ago there was a great battle in the northernmost region of my empire. The Captain and I put down a wakening evil left over from the first empire I created. To succeed, to prevent that evil from breaking loose, I had to allow my powers to be neutralized. Now I’m winning them back, slowly and painfully.”

  Narayan couldn’t believe. He was the son of his culture. I was a woman. But he wanted to believe. He said, “But you’re so young.”

  “In some ways. I never loved before the Captain. This shell is a mask, Narayan. I entered this world before the Black Company passed this way the first time. I’m old, Narayan. Old and wicked. I’ve done things no one would believe. I know evil, intrigue, and war like they’re my children. I nurtured them for centuries.

  “Even as the Captain’s lover I was more than a paramour. I was the Lieutenant, his chief of staff.

  “I’m the Captain now, Narayan. While I survive the Company survives. And goes on. And finds new life. I’m going to rebuild, Narayan. It may wear another name for a while but behind the domino it will be the Black Company. And it will be the instrument of my will.”


  Narayan grinned that grin. “You may be Her indeed.”

  “I may be who?”

  “Soon, Mistress. Soon. It’s not yet time. Suffice it to say that not everyone greeted the return of the Black Company with despair.” His eyes went shifty.

  “Say that, then.” I decided not to press him. I needed him pliable. “For the moment. We’re building an army. We’re woefully beggared of an army’s most precious resource, veteran sergeants. We have no one who can teach.

  “Tonight, before they eat, sort the men by religion. Organize them in squads of ten, three from each cult plus one non-Taglian. Assign each squad a permanent place in the camp and the order of march. I want no intercourse between squads till each can elect a leader and his second. They’d better work out how to get along. They’ll be stuck in those squads.”

  Another risk. The men were not in the best temper. But they were isolated from the priesthoods and culture which reinforced their prejudices. Their priests had done their thinking for them all their lives. Out here they had nobody but me to tell them what to do.

  “I won’t approach Ghoja before the squads pick leaders. Fighting amongst squad members should be punished. Set up whipping posts before you make the assignments. Send the squads to supper as you form them. Learning to cook together will help.” I waved him away.

  He rose. “If they can eat together they can do anything together, Mistress.”

  “I know.” Each cult sustained an absurd tangle of dietary laws. Thus, this approach. It should undermine prejudice at its most basic level.

  These men would not rid themselves of ingrained hatred but would set it aside around those with whom they served. It’s easier to hate those you don’t know than those you do. When you march with someone and have to trust him with your life it’s hard to keep hating irrationally.

  * * *

  I tried to keep the band preoccupied with training. Those who had been through it with the hastily raised legions helped, mainly by getting the others to march in straight lines. Sometimes I despaired. There was just so much I could do. There was only one of me.

  I needed a firm power base before I dared the political lists.

  Fugitives joined us. Some went away again. Some didn’t survive the disciplinary demands. The rest strove to become soldiers.

  I was free with punishments and freer with rewards. I tried to nurture pride and, subtly, the conviction that they were better men than any who didn’t belong to the band, the conviction that they could trust no one who wasn’t of the band.

  I didn’t spare myself. I slept so little I had no time to dream, or didn’t remember that I’d dreamed. Every free moment I spent nagging my talent. I’d need it soon.

  It was coming back slowly. Too slowly.

  It was like having to learn to walk again after a prolonged illness.

  9

  Though I wasn’t trying to move quickly I outdistanced most of the survivors. For loners and small groups, foraging outweighed speed. Once I slowed to avoid reaching Ghoja, though, more and more caught up. Not many decided to enlist.

  Already the band was recognizably alien. It scared outsiders.

  I guessed maybe ten thousand men had escaped the debacle. How many would survive to reach Ghoja? If Taglios was fortunate, maybe half. The land had turned hostile.

  Forty miles from Ghoja and the Main, just inside territory historically Taglian, I ordered a real camp built with a surrounding ditch. I chose a meadow on the north bank of a clean brook. The south bank was forested. The site was pleasant. I planned to stay, rest, train, till my foragers exhausted the countryside.

  For days incoming fugitives had reported enemy light cavalry hunting behind them. An hour after we began making camp I got a report of smoke south of the wood. I walked the mile to the far side, saw a cloud rising from a village six miles down the road. They were that close.

  Trouble? It had to be considered.

  An opportunity? Unlikely at this stage.

  * * *

  Narayan came running through the dusk. “Mistress. The Shadowmasters’ men. They’re making camp on the south side of the woods. They’ll catch us tomorrow.” His optimism had deserted him.

  I thought about it. “Do the men know?”

  “The news is spreading.”

  “Damn. All right. Station reliable men along the ditch. Kill anybody who tries to leave. Put Ram in charge, then come back.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Narayan scampered off. At times he seemed a mouse. He returned. “They’re grumbling.”

  “Let them. As long as they don’t run. Do the Shadowmasters’ men know we’re this close?”

  Narayan shrugged.

  “I want to know. Put out a picket line a quarter mile into the wood. Twenty good men. They’re not to interfere with scouts coming north but they’re to ambush them headed back.” They wouldn’t be expecting trouble going away. “Use men who aren’t good for anything else to raise an embankment along the creek. Drive stakes into its face. Sharpen them. Find vines. Sink them in the water. There’s no room to maneuver on the south bank. They’ll have to come straight at us, hard. Once you’ve got that started, come back.” Best get everybody busy and distract them from their fears. I snapped, “Narayan, wait! Find out if any of the men can handle horses.”

  Other than my mounts there were just a half dozen animals with the band, all strays we’d captured. I’d had to teach Ram to care for mine. Riding amongst Taglians was restricted to high-caste Gunni and rich Shadar. Bullock and buffalo were the native work animals.

  It was the tenth hour when Narayan returned. In the interim I prowled. I was pleased. I saw no panic, no outright terror, just a healthy ration of fear tempered by the certainty that chances of surviving were better here than on the run. They feared my displeasure more than they feared an enemy not yet seen. Perfect.

  I made a suggestion about the angle of the stakes on the face of the embankment, then went to talk with Narayan.

  I told him, “We’ll scout their camp now.”

  “Just us?” His grin was forced.

  “You and me.”

  “Yes, Mistress. Though I’d feel more comfortable if Sindhu accompanied us.”

  “Can he move quietly?” I couldn’t picture that bulk sneaking anywhere.

  “Like a mouse, Mistress.”

  “Get him. Don’t waste time. We’ll need all the darkness we’ve got.”

  Narayan gave me an odd look, took off.

  We left a password, crossed the creek. Narayan and Sindhu stole through the woods as though to stealth born. Quieter than mice. They took our pickets by surprise. Those had seen nothing of the enemy.

  “Awfully sure of themselves,” Sindhu grumbled, the first I’d heard him volunteer an opinion.

  “Maybe they’re plain stupid.” The Shadowmasters’ soldiers hadn’t impressed me with anything but their numbers.

  We spied their campfires before I expected them.

  They’d camped among the trees. I hadn’t foreseen that possibility. Damned inconsiderate of them.

  Narayan touched my arm diffidently. Mouth to ear, he breathed, “Sentries. Wait here.” He stole forward like a ghost, returned like one. “Two of them. Sound asleep. Walk carefully.”

  So we just strolled in to where I could see what I wanted. I studied the layout for several minutes. Satisfied, I said, “Let’s go.”

  One of the sentries had wakened. He started up as Sindhu drifted past, firelight glistening off his broad, naked back.

  Narayan’s hand darted to his waist. His arm whipped, his wrist snapped, a serpent of black cloth looped around the sentry’s neck. Narayan strangled him so efficiently his companion didn’t waken.

  Sindhu took the other with a strip of scarlet cloth.

  Now I knew what peeked from their loincloths. Their weapons.

  They rearranged their victims so they looked like they were sleeping with their tongues out, all the while whispering cant that sounded ritualistic. I said, “Sindh
u, stay and keep watch. Warn us if they discover the bodies. Narayan. Come with me.”

  I hurried as much as darkness allowed. Once we reached camp I told Narayan, “That was neatly done. I want to learn that trick with the cloth.”

  The notion surprised him. He didn’t say anything.

  “Collect the ten best squads. Arm them. Also the twenty men you think best able to handle horses. Ram!”

  Ram arrived as I began readying my armor. He grew troubled. “What’s the matter now?” Then I saw what he’d done to my helmet. “What the hell is this? I told you clean it, not destroy it.”

  He was like a shy boy as he said, “This apes one aspect of the goddess Kina, Mistress. One of her names is Lifetaker. You see? In that avatar her aspect is very like this armor.”

  “Next time, ask. Help me into this.”

  Ten minutes later I stood at the center of the group I’d had Narayan assemble. “We’re going to attack them. The point isn’t glory or victory. We just want to discourage them from attacking us. We’re going in, we’re doing a little damage, then we’re getting out.”

  I described the encampment, gave assignments, drawing in the dirt beside a fire. “In and out. Don’t waste time trying to kill them. Just hurt somebody. A dead man can be left where he falls but a wounded man becomes a burden to his comrades. Whatever happens, don’t go beyond the far edge of their camp. We’ll retreat when they start getting organized. Grab any weapon you can. Ram, capture every horse you can. Everybody. If you can’t grab weapons grab food or tools. Nobody risk anybody’s life trying to grab just one more thing. And, lastly, be quiet. We’re all dead if they hear us coming.”

  * * *

  Narayan reported the dead sentries still undiscovered. I sent him forward to eliminate as many more as he and Sindhu could manage. I had the main party cover the last two hundred yards in driblets. A hundred twenty men moving at once, no matter how they try, make noise.

  I looked into the camp. Men were stirring. Looked like it was near time to change the guard.