The Return of the Black Company

by Glen Cook

  Lady’s horse had followed me around the whole while, staying out of the way but missing nothing. I told him, “Thanks a bunch. You can go back to your boss now.” I always talk to mine as an equal. You treat the critters right, they’ll do any damned thing. Even run somebody all the way to Taglios. Or back.

  The horse argued less than the Vehdna soldiers did. Off he trotted.

  I wondered how Sleepy was doing.

  He could not have run far yet. It had not been that long since everything turned to shit.

  78

  Chalk dust bands defined fields of fire for the soldiers, so they could pick off shadows more efficiently. But, though they glowed, the dusts did not betray the shadows perfectly.

  Lady had given me some tools and instructions on how to use them. I was supposed to resist any temptation to take shortcuts.

  A lot of soldiers came to watch. The Taglians were awed because a man who was neither priest nor sorcerer could read. They made me feel like a freak.

  Essentially, Lady’s directions had me lay down strips of leather rope in semicircles around the most dangerous passthrough, which was where the original gate had stood. More ropes went down as spokes.

  Everything had to be done just so. None of which took into account the presence of the standard. If Lady understood that the standard was special she never made much of it.

  I scuttled around inside the bunker we had appropriated. It was barely three feet from floor to ceiling. There was room for four men and a pile of bamboo. The place stank. No one had gone out after dark, no matter how pressing the need. As a shelter it was a feeble improvement over sitting out in the rain.

  I told everyone watching, “When a shadow crosses one of the leather ropes it’ll make a spark so we’ll not only know that one is there, we can follow its movements. As long as we stay calm we can pick them off without wasting any fireballs.”

  The situation there was grim. A repeat of last night meant not many guys would see another sunrise.

  “Not much of a mattress,” I told Thai Dei, patting the ground. “Why don’t you get some rest?” Whatever happened, I had to sleep later so I could prowl. If that worked for me again.

  I crawled outside, settled on a comfortable block from the old wall. I studied the roof of my new home. It had been fashioned from a tent taken from the Shadowlanders. Everywhere around me I saw a wealth of plunder taken from our enemies. So much that in another month we would be as gaunt and disease-ridden as we were when we broke the siege of Dejagore.

  The big edge we held over our enemies now was that we were still around. We could pretend to be an army still. Mogaba’s band was the best they had left.

  What would Mogaba do when he heard about Longshadow’s disaster?

  “Speaking of disasters.” Real bad news was headed my way.

  At the bottom of the slope, where the road southward gave up its final pretense and became an eroded dirt track, Uncle Doj stood staring up at the Shadowgate. If he had come any later it would have been too dark to pick him out. Mother Gota was fifty yards behind him, still moving, bitching so loudly that I caught snatches from where I sat. Both carried packs, which suggested that they planned to move in with me again. They had become professional squatters.

  I flipped a stone at a crow. It was not a serious effort and the crow showed slight enthusiasm about getting out of the way. He just leaned. There were not a lot of the birds around now that dusk was thickening, though at their most numerous they had remained uncommon all day. Curious. I had seen nothing to explain the absence of the usual flocks. Nobody had started roasting them.

  Maybe they were all off taking care of Mom.

  I sat by the entrance to the bunker. “Thai Dei. How come your mother and Uncle Doj are over here?”

  Thai Dei peeked outside, looked down the long slope, muttered in salty Nyueng Bao, went back in and lay down. You would have thought he had no respect for his elders.

  He did not answer my question.

  I checked the amulet I had not returned to Croaker. I considered the height of my shadow-repellent candle. We should be all right.

  I hoped.

  Somebody a lot smarter than me once said, “Put no trust in wizards.”

  I shut my eyes and waited.

  * * *

  “Murgen, you know a couple guys name of Wobble and Leadbeater?”

  I opened my eyes. “Rudy. You ugly son of a bitch. Where’d you come from? I ain’t seen you in half a year. How the fuck are you?”

  “What is that? It’s been so long I forget how. But I still got all my limbs and I’m still breathing.”

  “Makes you a winner in the soldiering game. Yeah. I remember Wobble. He was Jaicuri. Everybody he ever knew died during the siege of Dejagore. He just stuck with us after we came out of the city. He was a stonemason by trade. He was with us when we caught the Deceivers in the Grove of Doom.”

  “That’s the guy. He made a good showing at Charandaprash, too.”

  “And the other one? Leadbeater? I didn’t know him.”

  “He was some kind of Shadowlander. A prisoner of war who started out doing scutwork and gradually turned into one of us. Only took the oath maybe a month ago.”

  I knew but I had to ask. “What about them?”

  “They didn’t make it last night. I had to tell you. On account of you always want to put all that stuff in the Annals.”

  “Thank you. Though I don’t know if I like this or not.”

  “What?”

  “Only time half you guys talk to me anymore is if somebody gets his ass skragged. Then you come around because you want me to remember them.”

  “Get away from headquarters, Murgen. Get out here in the field. Stop being one of them and turn back into one of us.”

  Damn! Apparently I had crossed over from labor to management without noticing. “You maybe got a point. We’re in for some changes now that the Shadowmasters are wrapped up. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Red Rudy grunted. He was not convinced. He headed back to his command, though, satisfied that he had done his duty.

  I scrunched down into myself more tightly, shivering. A cold wind was blowing off the plateau. It was probably my imagination but I thought there was a whiff of Kina in it. It recalled the persistent wind stalking the place of bones. It made the standard sway. I thought about piling more rocks at its foot but could not find the ambition.

  I thought about a warm fire, too, but on this side of Overlook, after last night, wood was scarce. Stocks were being used for cooking only. Not that there was much to cook anymore but bitterroot.

  You will learn to live without the light. That was in one of the older Annals somewhere, too.

  A pair of boots positioned themselves in front of me. Uncle Doj. I knew because Mother Gota was just down the slope, puffing and complaining. She would never catch up unless he waited, wobble-walking the way she did.

  “Uncle,” I said without looking up. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure, after all these months?”

  “You should plant your standard closer, Soldier of Darkness. You should be able to lay your hand on it at any time. Otherwise you are likely to lose it.”

  “I don’t think so. But one of the Prahbrindrah Drah’s loyalists, a Deceiver, hell, maybe even some minor, he-thinks-his-talent-is-a-secret kind of wizard, anybody, can take a crack. And end up in that ditch over there before they know what bit them.” I was bullshitting but he would not recognize it. I had not done that in the past. “It knows who the good guys are.”

  Mother Gota hobbled up. She carried a load as big as she was, everything useful that could be salvaged from our former home and the ruins of Kiaulune. That included an accumulation of firewood.

  I decided not to be totally abrasive. While the wood lasted. There are cooks in this world worse than Mother Gota. Among them are her favorite son and son-in-law.

  Uncle Doj, being both male and what passes for exalted caste amongst Nyueng Bao, carried Ash Wand and a quite unpre
possessing pack.

  Mother Gota shed her load, dropped to hands and knees and started to crawl into the bunker. As she met my gaze I could not help grinning. She began muttering curses that, no doubt, were directed at the sort of evil fate that would unleash an earthquake at such an inopportune moment.

  The earth moved. One-Eye would hear about that for however many more centuries he hung around.

  I said, “Let Thai Dei rest. It’s going to be another long night.” As I edged over Uncle Doj glimpsed the little bamboo tube I had tucked in my belt behind me.

  The cold wind was getting stronger. The cloth of the standard popped and cracked.

  Uncle Doj peered up the darkening slope, eyed the bunker, glared at me like he was developing serious reservations about having left his swamp. I said, “Sometimes you have to live like this when you do what we do.” Mother Gota crept back outside still muttering, verbalizing what Uncle Doj was thinking. I reminded them, “You invited yourselves along.”

  Uncle Doj opened his mouth but overcame the urge to bicker. He settled on the other side of the bunker entrance, Ash Wand across his lap. Gota proceeded to scout the neighborhood, collecting stones. Our neighbors did not object despite rocks beginning to look like the only measure of wealth at this end of the world.

  I shut my eyes. Softly, just to be a pain in the ass, I whistled an air Sarie liked to hum when she was happy.

  As it always does, darkness came.

  79

  They let me sleep. And sleep I did despite the cold and the wind, the cooking smells and my own snoring. As nightfall waxed complete I slipped my moorings to my flesh, slowly. For a while I was like tatters stirring in a ghostly breeze. I made no real effort to go, nor any more to stay. Uncle’s Doj’s return, with all its unhappy reminders, had inspired a great lethargy.

  My heart’s inclination was the breeze that carried me north. I loafed over mountains and across wildernesses, past all the conquered cities. I found Sleepy on the road from Taglios to Dejagore. He understood that he would be in no danger if he kept moving. No agent of the Radisha could outrun the steed he rode.

  The Radisha remained distraught about his escape. It was critical to the conspiracy that every Company brother be caught or killed. If even one escaped the plague would return. Like Narayan Singh, she knew. Darkness always comes. She had seen it happen already, after the disaster at Dejagore.

  She was terrified. She was convinced that the Year of the Skulls would commence shortly if any part of the grand plan failed. She had a great deal to say about Soulcatcher and none of it was complimentary. To get herself shut of a dreaded ally she might have taken on another who was far worse.

  She remembered Catcher’s tricks and treats of a few years ago. She knew damned well that Soulcatcher was less predictable than any natural disaster.

  The latest quakes had been felt in Taglios though no damage had been done there. Some people were afraid they meant that the gods—or some great power—were displeased by what had been done to the Black Company.

  Croaker had mentioned the Company habit of paying back treachery so often that already some people were preparing for the vengeance-storm. Again, that had to do with the terror of the Company name that no one would, or possibly could, explain.

  Could that just have stolen into every heart from some shadowy source, never having possessed any substance? Was it a good old-fashioned Kina deceit?

  I really needed to get my nose into those old Annals hidden in that room where … Oh-oh.

  The Radisha had Guards and soldiers searching for Smoke systematically. One-Eye’s confusion spells would not withstand so determined an effort. They could not confuse all the senses of that many men all the time.

  She could not expect to find Smoke alive. She would just want to know what had become of him. I did not want her looking, though. She might find my books.

  Stupid, stupid. I could have had Sleepy collect them while he was up there. If I had invested a little forethought and had done a little planning I could have had him kill several birds. I had to start thinking that way. We had no options to squander anymore.

  The Radisha was closeted with the most powerful priests. Each time I visited Taglios, even if only one day had passed, it seemed the priests had gained influence while the wealthy merchants and manufacturers, many of whom owed their fortunes to the existence and efforts of the Company, had faded farther from favor. Unless they were priests clever enough to have used their positions to mercantile advantage during the development of the Taglian armies. It would be interesting to see how well the new bourgeoisie had been able to shed old ways of thinking as the ecclesiastical peril grew. Was there one native-born Taglian with balls big enough to respond?

  The Radisha’s effort to screw us had put her in bed with men she loathed and at odds with people who thought her way.

  The meeting looked like another arm-twisting session. The priests wanted further concessions from the state in return for ecclesiastical support.

  You could see the Radisha thinking that Lady had had the right idea when she massacred so many of their predecessors.

  I was in a wicked mood. I dropped to a point beside the Woman’s ear. “Boo!”

  She jumped. She moved away and stared at the empty air, color gone from her face. The room fell silent. The priests looked troubled. They, too, had sensed something. It struck dark sparks of terror inside them. I tried an evil laugh. Some of that got through, too. I felt the black dread fill the room.

  The Radisha shivered as if the temperature had dropped to midwinter.

  It was already planting season around Taglios.

  I whispered in the Radisha’s ear, “Water sleeps.” She did not catch that but did not need to to become more frightened.

  It is a saying of my people. Even Water sleeps. But Enemy never rests.

  * * *

  Sarie was asleep when I reached the temple of Ghanghesha. Just enough light leaked into her room to show that she was there. I floated for a while, enjoying being near her. I did not disturb her. She needed her sleep.

  Me, I was immune to that stuff.

  Why was there any light at all?

  The priests had placed a pair of lanterns outside Sahra’s cell. Events the other night must have troubled them.

  I had to be getting strong at reaching out of the ghostworld.

  Was it a good idea to try? Did I want people all over the place knowing something was going on? It would not hurt to have them scared. Oh, no. But, on the other hand, they would take steps to mask all their deviltry.

  I did a tour of the temple, seeking evidence of obvious attitude changes by the priests. I found nothing unusual, although the acolytes handling nighttime ceremonies were abnormally nervous. I went back to hover over my honey.

  Damn, she was beautiful! Damn, it was going to be harder and harder not to mention my disappointment to Uncle Doj and Mother Gota. Hell. We might be getting to a time when raising questions would be appropriate. They were a long way from home. They had nowhere to run.

  Sarie opened her eyes. My anger melted away. Half a moment later she looked almost directly at me and smiled her wonderful smile. Fish and rice must be good for the teeth because she had the whitest, most perfect teeth I ever saw.

  “Are you here, Mur? I feel you very close to me right now.”

  “I’m here,” I said into her ear, with none of the wickedness I had shown the Radisha. Sarie probably did not catch any words but understood that she had gotten a response.

  “I miss you a lot, Mur. I don’t feel like I’m one of my own people anymore.”

  Because they will not let you be. Granny Hong Tray did not stay around to manage the results of her sybilline mutterings. Grandpa Ky Dam did not make it clear that Hong Tray’s pronouncements were forever.

  Of course, the present situation might be exactly what the old lady had had in mind. She never wrote anything down for me, either.

  The best of the diviner breed are never wrong because they nev
er set anything in stone.

  The moment with Sarie faded without my acquiescence. She looked troubled, as though she sensed me withdrawing. I wriggled but could not hold my position.

  Something back in the real world insisted on gaining my attention.

  As I drifted out of Sarie’s cell several priests invited themselves in. One demanded, “Who are you talking to, woman?”

  “Ghosts,” my darling replied, showing her sweetest smile.

  80

  At first I thought it must have been just the flake of flint biting my ass that had brought me back. That bastard hurt. But as I shuffled it out from under me I sensed movement against the starry background south of me. A voice inquired, “Are you awake now, Standardbearer?”

  Sindawe. “No doubt about it. And I was having such a wonderful dream, too.”

  “Since the Old Man wants you to keep an eye on us I thought it would be useful if you saw what’s happening.” Unlike most Nar, Sindawe had a sense of humor. It included a major irreverence for authority, though he represented authority himself. He must have driven Mogaba to distraction back when they were best friends. Unless Mogaba started out the same way and grew out of it. A lot of sour old farts start out as all right guys.

  I had to roll onto my hands and knees to find the leverage to get up. “Stiff as a log,” I grumbled.

  “Buy a better mattress.”

  “What I need is a better body. Like one that’s about fifteen years younger. All right. What’s going on?”

  “Thought you’d want to see what’s happening at the Shadowgate.”

  “Nothing bad, apparently, or you wouldn’t be hunking around in the dark.” There were no fires tonight. There were no other bold souls wandering around like Sindawe, either. But the most remarkable lack was that of flying fireballs. Over here. There was an occasional pop on the far side of Overlook.