Dreams of Steel

by Glen Cook

  They exchanged worried glances but nobody volunteered to travel alone.

  “We’re going to head north. We’ll gather food, weapons, and men. We’ll train. We’re coming back someday. When we do, the Shadowmasters will think the gates of hell have opened.” Still nobody deserted. “We march at first light tomorrow. If you’re with me then, you’re with me forever.” I tried to project a certainty that we could terrify the world.

  When I settled for the night Ram posted himself nearby, my bodyguard whether or not I wanted one.

  I drifted off wondering what had become of four black stallions that had not responded. We had brought eight south. They had been specially bred in the early days of the empire I had abandoned. One could be more valuable than a hundred men.

  I listened to whispers, heard repeats of the terms Narayan had used. They troubled most of the men.

  I noticed that Ram had his bit of folded cloth, too. His was saffron. He didn’t keep it as fastidiously as did Narayan or Sindhu. Three men from two religions, each with a colored cloth. What was the significance?

  Narayan kept the fire burning. He posted sentries. He imposed a modest discipline. He seemed altogether too organized for a vegetable dealer and former slave.

  The dark dream, the same as those before, was particularly vivid, though when day came I retained only an impression of a voice calling my name. Unsettling, but I thought it just a trick of my mind.

  Somewhere, somehow, the night rewarded Narayan with bounty enough to provide everyone a meager breakfast.

  I led the mob out at first light, as promised, amidst reports that enemy cavalry were approaching the hills. Discipline was a pleasant surprise, considering.

  Chapter Eight

  Dejagore is surrounded by a ring of hills. The plain is lower than the land beyond the hills. Only a dry climate keeps that basin from becoming a lake. Portions of two rivers have been diverted to supply irrigation to the hill farms and water for the city. I. kept the band near one of the canals.

  The Shadowmasters were preoccupied with Dejagore. While they weren’t pressing me I wasn’t interested in covering a lot of ground. The future I’d chosen would be no easy conquest. The chance that the enemy might appear encouraged discipline. I hoped to keep that possibility alive till I instilled a few positive habits.

  “Narayan, I need your advice.”

  “Mistress?”

  “We’ll have trouble holding them together once they feel safe.” I always talked as though he, Ram, and Sindhu were extensions of myself. They never protested.

  “I know, Mistress. They want to go home. The adventure is over.” He grinned his grin. I was sick of it already. “We’re trying to convince them they’re part of something fated. But they have a lot to unlearn.”

  That they did. Taglian culture was a religious confusion I hadn’t begun to fathom, tangled in caste systems which made no sense. I asked questions but no one understood. Things were as they were. It was the way they’d always been. I was tempted to declare the mess obsolete. But I didn’t have the power. I hadn’t had that much power in the north. Some things can’t be swept away by dictate.

  I continued asking questions. If I understood it-even a little I could manipulate the system.

  “I need a reliable cadre, Narayan. Men I can count on no matter what. I want you to find those men.”

  “As you say, Mistress, so shall it be.” He grinned. That might have been a defensive reflex learned as a slave. Still... The more I saw of Narayan the more sinister he seemed.

  Yet why? He was essentially Taglian, low caste. A vegetable vendor with a wife and children and a couple of grandchildren already, last he had heard. One of those backbone of the nation sorts, quiet, who just kept plugging away at life. Half the time he acted like I was his favorite daughter. What was sinister in that?

  Ram had more to recommend him as strange. He was twenty-three and a widower. His marriage had been a love match, rare in Taglios where marriages are always arranged. His wife had died in childbirth, bearing a stillborn infant. That had left him bitter and depressed. I suspect he joined the legions looking for death.

  I didn’t find out anything about Sindhu. He wouldn’t talk until you forced him and he was creepier than Narayan. Still, he did what he was told, did it well, and asked no questions.

  I’ve spent my entire life in the company of sinister characters. For centuries I was wed to the Dominator, the most sinister ever. I could cope with these small men.

  None of the three were particularly religious, which was curious. Religion pervades Taglios. Every minute of every day of every life is a part of the religious experience, is ruled by religion and its obligations. I was troubled till I noted a generally reduced level of religious fervor. I picked a man and quizzed him.

  His answer was elementary. “There ain’t no priests here.”

  That made sense. No society consists entirely of committed true believers. And what these men had seen had been enough to displace the foundations of faith. They’d been pulled out of their safe, familiar ruts and had been thrown hard against facts the traditional answers didn’t explain. They’d never be the same. Once they took their experiences home Taglios wouldn’t be the same.

  The band trebled in size. I had better than six hundred followers hailing from all three major religions and a few splinter cults. I had more than a hundred former slaves who weren’t Taglian at all. They could make good soldiers once they gained some confidence. They had no homes to run to. The band would be their home.

  The problem with the mix was that every day was a holy day for somebody. If we’d had priests along there would have been trouble.

  They began to feel safe. That left them free to indulge old prejudices, to grow lax in discipline, to forget the war and, most irritating, to remember that I was a woman.

  In law and custom Taglian women are less favored than cattle. Cattle are less easily replaced. Women who gain status or power do so in the shadows, through men they can influence or manipulate.

  One more hurdle I’d have to leap. Maybe the biggest.

  I summoned Narayan one morning. “We’re a hundred miles from Dejagore.” I wasn’t in a good mood. I’d had the dream again. It had left my nerves raw. “We’re safe for the moment.” The confidence of the men in their safety showed as they started their day. “I’m going to make some major changes. How many men are reliable?”

  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 lefthand 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.

  Chapter Nine

  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