Black Warrior

by Jolie Jaquinta

Chapter 26 – Chess in the Dark

  The last wagon cleared the gate in Irontree and followed the troops directing traffic to a waiting area. The large tri-form arch loomed over the area, its interior going from desert sky, to a fuzzy, to clear, as it powered down and prepared to switch to the next scheduled connection. The troglodyte gently snapped the reins and the donkey pulling the cart moved it away, through the fortified outer ring, and into the holding pen.

  This was the first of the secondary municipal gates erected by Scioni, architect of the second Empire. Knowing, full well, the military potential of the gates, he erected it in a fortified compound within the city, not right on the market square. They could, trivially, seal it off and any force attempting to enter through it.

  A trooper stopped at the wagons, and noted that they were riding low. He looked questioningly at the troglodyte. She shrugged, and pulled back the tarp, revealing the bed of the wagon full of sand. Puzzled the inspector picked up some of it, and let it run through his fingers. He shrugged back, tucked the tarp in place, and waved to them to ride on.

  Once clear of the market the driver rapped her knuckles on the side of the wagon three times. With a sputter and groan, Greywind shook himself up from the sand he had been buried in.

  He hopped out, stretched and took several deep breaths. “Hey”, he said, to the troglodyte's amused look. “It's hard to not breathe. Even when you know the magic will keep you alive.” He touched one of his rings and a corona of magelight surrounded him briefly, leaving a shower of sand in its wake. He ran his hands through his hair and beard, and tugged his clothes back into place.

  “You've got it from here?” he asked. The troglodyte nodded, grinning widely. Greywind exchanged a complicated handshake with her and watched the wagons trundle into the night.

  There was nothing more uplifting than another scam accomplished. Greywind sauntered into the night, keeping to the alleys and shadows out of habit. He had a love-hate relationship with Irontree. It was a very new city. Or, rather, more of a town. Magically built, so it was annoyingly clean and in good repair. The sewers were positively pristine. He glowered at the municipal lighting. At least in Romitu you could jimmy up the works on the gas lighting in the richer areas. Here it was all magical and even lit up what passed for the slums.

  But, on the other hand, it was a town that never stopped. At least half the residents were the troglodytes who originally lived here before Scioni made it his base. Originating underground, they paid little attention to night or day. They slept when they were tired, and woke up when they were rested. So, no matter the hour of the day, there was always a dice game to be had.

  His walking took him more towards the outskirts of the town. They had been somewhat overambitious when they built it. Magically constructing enough buildings for a city. But they never did end up needing it as the redoubt they thought they would need, so there were never as many settlers as they expected. And the troglodytes felt uncomfortable in spacious accommodations, and just packed themselves into fewer buildings. So there were many areas that were all but deserted.

  The darkness closed in around Greywind as he moved into a long alley. Although there were magical lights for the alleys too, they were turned on and off from the houses. Greywind went on occasional patrols, broke into the unsettled houses, and turned the lights off. Just for comfort.

  With the darkness came quiet. Even his own footfalls became quieter. Greywind pursed his lips and began to whistle a tune. It was a merry and cheery tune, celebrating a festival that was still half a year away. Before long he started rattling the coins in his pocket in a percussion accompaniment.

  “Would you just knock it off”, came a voice, very close behind him.

  Greywind gasped in dramatic surprise, turning. “My Lady Nocturne!” He executed a parody of a bow. “Why, I had no idea you were there!”

  She stood, the shadows of the alley drawn around her like a cloak. Her black skin was only discernable by a slight change in texture. One brow was arched over eyes, whose depths reflected the stars of the heavens. “Mmmm. Hmmm”, she intoned, unbelieving. “So. How goes the war?”

  “The war?” asked Greywind. “Which war? We finally beat Romitu. And the war with the gods was called off due to lack of participants. What does that leave?” he tapped his fingers on his lips. “Oh!” he said. “There has been rather a large deployment of the army. I did notice that. Is there a war on?”

  “Yes”, said Nocturne. “I smell the nighttime desert air about you. You were just there.”

  “Why so I was!” said Greywind. “How coincidental.”

  “It's a long time till dawn”, said Nocturne, “but don't try my patience.”

  “Well the troops say they're getting their butts kicked”, said Greywind. “But I couldn't help notice they still had plenty of time to play dice.” He leaned against the wall. “And when I talked to General Alessa, she seemed kind of worked up about it all. But in a professional soldier sort of way, not in a run around screaming sort of way.”

  “Hmm”, said Nocturne, considering. “We're 'loaning' them considerable amounts of mana. At least they seem to be using it well.”

  “I hope you're getting a good rate”, said Greywind.

  Nocturne smiled thinly. “We're looking more for a return on investment here.” Then she folded her arms. “Ever end up with some information that would be really important to someone. But you can't exactly tell them, since you would have to explain how you got that information?”

  “Oh, yeah!” said Greywind. “My third time through fourth grade I had all the hiding places the kids used to exchange their love notes. I had all the love triangles and back stabbings charted out. I was dying to tell someone! But that would get me beat up for sure.”

  There was a long pause. “Yes”, drawled Nocturne. “Exactly like that.” Greywind nodded enthusiastically, with absolutely no sincerity. “So the problem with being a backstage player, when the front stage and curtains have all suddenly been disintegrated, is that you're actually stuck with responsibility.”

  “That's terrible!” said Greywind in horror.

  “So I can't really, not pass this information on”, she said. “But what I can do is pass it on through a double blind. How would you like to do a stint as the herald for the goddess of night?”

  “Oh, no”, said Greywind, backing away. “Just because you've caught the responsibility bug doesn't mean I have. There isn't a responsible bone in my whole body. There's no way I'm going to do your dirty work for you.”

  “Look”, said Nocturne, uncrossing her arms, “if you don't want to get your hands 'dirty', just point me in the right direction. Who can make use of my information and not get freaked out by me manifesting or reflexively try to kill me?”

  Greywind took a few hesitant steps forward. “That depends on your information.”

  “It's pretty dry stuff”, said Nocturne. “All the juicy bits are to do with politics and scandals long dead. I've got the names of the Forsaken leaders, troop counts, and regimental structure. At least what it was two thousand years or so ago. Military stuff. Who in command can make use of that?”

  Greywind snorted. “You are asking me for an authority figure in an enforcement agency that I can recommend?”

  “Yes, of course, silly me”, said Nocturne, waving a hand. “Just something about the way you name dropped 'General Alessa'. What was I thinking?”

  “Hey!” said Greywind indignantly. “We go way back to when she was a boozing mercenary. God I miss those days.”

  “They can probably deal with the Romitu, Kemet and Sindhu troops, but since the whole 'Great Betrayal' thing all the Norslanders got wiped out. They're an unknown quality to your people.”

  “They're not my people...” began Greywind, then stopped short. “Did you say Norslanders?”

  “Yes”, said Nocturne. “Used to be another nation of people up by the Northern Seas. Until...”

  “Until their land was pulled under the water, leaving
only a few scattered islands”, finished Greywind.

  “Huh”, said Nocturne. “I thought this was lost information. I'd never heard of them.”

  “It was”, said Greywind, quietly. “We heard about them from Angelika, who had been trapped in a cyst for a few thousand years. Dev, me, and a couple of others checked them out.”

  “You've been there?” said Nocturne, interested. “What did you find?”

  “A bunch of bleak islands, rather a miserable place”, said Greywind, still distant. “Just one god wandering around, lost and confused.”

  “Othr?” said Nocturne, shocked. “Seriously? What did he say?”

  “Not a lot”, said Greywind. “He porked Dev, then the next morning they fought, and she killed him.”

  “Devonshire Beth? The godkiller?” said Nocturne. “Why am I not surprised!”

  “But wait”, said Greywind, hollowly. “There's more.” He had her attention again. “She got pregnant. Had his child. The child has the same soul.”

  Nocturne drew close, looked him deep in the eyes. “The soul of one of the first gods lives?” she asked, hushed. “This... child, of Devonshire Beth, godkiller, is Othr reborn? How ironic.”

  “You know”, said Greywind, “I think Dev would really like your information. She's in the army, and has a personal interest.”

  “You want me, Nocturne, goddess of night, to talk to Devonshire Beth, godkiller?” said Nocturne, astonished. “No way! Not a chance!”

  “It's important”, said Greywind. “Her son's a good kid. If this is going to mess him up, she needs to know!”

  “Who’s getting all responsible now?” mocked Nocturne.

  Greywind fussed and sputtered. “If you can't stand up for your drinking buddies, who can you stand up for?”

  “I don't know if this has any bearing at all on the kid”, said Nocturne. “I didn't even know about the kid until now. But it's no deal.”

  Greywind scratched his chin. “OK. How about this. Someone who isn't party to all of this. Who both Dev and the kid's respect. Penny, one of his teachers.”

  “As long as she hasn't killed any gods”, said Nocturne.

  “None that I'm aware of”, said Greywind. “But you'll need to check your gravitas at the door. She teaches ancient studies. All those creepy crawly things that were around before we were even here. She's not very impressed by gods.”

  “I'm far less arrogant than the first gods”, said Nocturne. “I still remember being mortal. That's how I put up with your insolence.”

  “Fair enough”, said Greywind.

  She stretched her shoulders. “I've actually been kind of hankering for some adventure like I used to get up to as a moral. Could be fun.”

  “Oh, you should hear the scam I'm pulling now with the army”, began Greywind.

  Nocturne waved him away. “Tell me when you're done. In the meantime you might ask yourself why they all put out carved turnip wards during the autumn festival in Romitu.”

  Greywind blinked. “I never thought about that.”

  “It started as a joke”, said Nocturne. “But, some other time. Tell me where I find this teacher.”