Soldiers Live

by Glen Cook

  And Narayan’s murderer was still hiding somewhere inside the remains of the Palace.

  120

  Taglios:

  Thi Kim Was Always Here

  Mogaba did not participate much in the fighting. He told Ghopal, “The spirit is willing but this body is just too damned old and tired. I’ll just sit here and tell you what to do.” But mostly he visited with the white crow, which had begun scouting for him despite the presence of unfriendly ghosts. The bird could see those ghosts quite clearly, for it warned him regularly when it was time to keep his mouth shut.

  When Mogaba suggested that the unseen things did not seem to be helping the invaders much the crow told him that the folk of the hidden realm were completely devoted to making their master happy. What little they did contribute they did in response to the will of their messiah, Tobo, whom they worshipped almost as a god. As Thi Kim. Which, in the canonical language of the priests who had created the Unknown Shadows, meant One Who Walks with the Dead.

  Startled, the Great General demanded, “You mean to tell me that Thi Kim isn’t Nyueng Bao?”

  The title came from a language closely akin to the Nyueng Bao of four centuries ago.

  “So Deathwalker is the half-breed kid?”

  Not Deathwalker. One Who Walks with the Dead.

  Mogaba was too tired to wonder much about the difference. “Go find Aridatha Singh,” Mogaba said. “I want to know what he’s doing.”

  The bird was not pleased about being given orders. But it went.

  Mogaba called for Ghopal immediately. He asked, “What’re your feelings toward this city?” He knew but wanted to hear it from the man’s own mouth.

  Ghopal shrugged. “I’m not sure I understand. Like everyone who lives here I love it and I hate it.”

  “Our enemies have reorganized their chain of command. Right now they’re resting. But they’ll resume their attack while there’s yet darkness enough to conceal their hidden allies. I’m sure now that our forces will survive the night with more than enough strength left to be able to counterattack tomorrow. I think we’ll be able to hurt them badly when we do attack but their damned sorcerers will save them and when night comes again their allies will finish us.” The Great General said all this without having seen any proof that the Unknown Shadows were capable of doing anything lethal. “And I think Taglios will suffer a great deal more destruction during that time. I believe that, eventually, both sides will be so weakened that, no matter who wins, neither will be able to restrain the religious factions, nor be able to contain the ambitions of the gang lords, priests or anyone else likely to take advantage of a state of disorder. We might even see rioting between the followers of the different major religions.”

  Ghopal nodded in the darkness, unseen. As chief Grey managing unofficial ambition had been his task. He had been particularly hard on criminal gangs. Mogaba had not dug for details but knew that something in Ghopal’s past drove him to shatter criminal enterprises.

  “What’re you trying to say?” Ghopal asked.

  “I’m saying that if we continue this war the way we are now, we can win — probably — but we’ll destroy Taglios in the process. And, even if we do lose, the results will be anarchy and destruction.”

  “And?”

  “And our enemies don’t care. They didn’t come here for the city’s benefit. They came to get you and me. And the Khadidas and the girl. Especially the Daughter of Night.”

  Mogaba felt Ghopal’s growing suspicion.

  The white crow would be back soon, too.

  “I think we should walk away, Ghopal. And save Taglios the agony. The garrisons in the eastern provinces are loyal. We can continue the struggle from there.”

  Ghopal was not fooled. Neither did he raise the objection that they had little hope of success against an enemy seated in the capital, armed with a crew of wizards and well-supplied with funds.

  Ghopal had known his commander a long time. The Great General was a stubborn warlord, imbued with no weakness whatsoever. Unless that was his secret love for his adopted city, that he had revealed several times lately. Ghopal found he had no trouble believing that the Great General could walk away rather than let Taglios be destroyed as a monument to his ego. This Mogaba was not the arrogant youngster who had held Dejagore against the worst the Shadowmasters had been able to deliver. “Where would we go?”

  “Agra. Or possibly Mukhra in Ajitsthan.”

  “Vehdna strongholds, both. A band of heretic Shadar aren’t likely to be welcomed. Particularly if the strife puts any more strain on religious tolerance.”

  ’That could happen,” Mogaba admitted. “Or it might not.”

  “Nor have we mentioned families.” Family was extremely important to the Shadar. “I have only my brothers and cousins. But most of my brothers and cousins have wives and children.”

  Mogaba said, “I suppose they could stay here, cut off their beards and pretend to be people who haven’t been getting much sun. Ghopal, I’m being completely unfair. I’m putting this all squarely on your shoulders. Stay and fight? Or go away and spare the city?”

  As if to punctuate his remarks a mushroom of fire rose above the heart of the city. For an instant it resembled a gigantic, glowing brain. Flying shapes hurtled across its face.

  Mogaba said, “That respite is over.”

  121

  Taglios:

  Sleeping Beauty

  It was driving me crazy, having to hang back over friendly territory, observing an aerial assault on a cluster of buildings anchoring a defense stubbornly blocking our advance toward the Palace. We had brought the knowledge of war to this end of the world and we had taught our students too well. These Taglians refused to yield even in the face of sorcery and the Unknown Shadows.

  Someone had pointed out that the troops of the City Battalions were mainly Vehdna and Shadar. Both religions assure swift access to rivers of wine and acres of eager virgins for the man who falls in battle. Though originally that only meant warriors who perished in the name of God.

  I wondered what the Vehdna paradise was like for Sleepy.

  We had not yet been able to identify her body. The corpses in that passage had been burned that badly.

  “Why don’t we go around these guys?” I wondered. And the answer was, they would not let us. They had an interlocking defense nicely laid out. The only way past was through. Or over.

  Over we could do.

  Over we did go, twenty insanely courageous Children of the Dead at a time, with a Tobo so tired he was cross-eyed doing the lifting.

  The Unknown Shadows supported their pal from every possible direction, sometimes so blatantly that I could see them clearly from where I hovered, doing nothing whatsoever that was useful to the cause.

  I had a wife in the camp outside the city. It had been a while since I had gone to see how she was doing. That might be considered doing something useful.

  So I did leave my brethren to go visit my wife. While a fight was going on. A fight that would, no doubt, be completely unique amongst all the fights ever fought, so that somebody really should be right there to record every nuance of its unique ebb and flow.

  Lady remained unchanged. She lurked halfway between life and death. She kept talking to herself in her sleep. What I saw did not inspire me with hope. What I heard only confused me. Mostly it was incoherent. Such individual words as were recognizable did not fall together at all sensibly.

  A few minutes of that reminded me why I always resisted visiting till I had forgotten the despair a visit inspired.

  122

  Taglios:

  Unknown Shadows

  Only two unmarried second-cousins of Ghopal chose to leave the city with the Great General and the commander of the Greys. Because they had families the rest all chose to take their chances with the invaders.

  Mogaba understood. In the coming confusion scores of his allies would be finding new looks, new races to be, while the conquerers scoured the city for enemies. Ma
ny would somehow fail ever to have heard of the Greys, let alone have contributed to that organization’s criminal oppressions.

  “Here,” Mogaba said, leading the way out onto an ancient, rickety dock. “This one will do.” He indicated an eighteen-foot boat that, from its aroma, had been bringing in fish since sometime early in the last century.

  Mogaba invited himself aboard. Ghopal and the others followed warily. Shadar and large bodies of water had a relationship somewhat like that between cats and bathtubs. Mogaba said, “Untie those ropes. You really do know how to row, don’t you?” Ghopal had made the claim.

  Singh grunted. “But not competitively.”

  To Mogaba’s astonishment they stole the boat without a challenge. He was amazed that a vessel so large had been untenanted. There should have been at least one family aboard. But tonight the entire waterfront was silent and unpopulated, as though the riverside nights were too terrible to endure.

  Mogaba’s internal struggle waxed and waned. He reminded himself that it was fast becoming too late to change his mind, to give in to his prideful, arrogant side. That weakness had brought about these terrible end days. How different his life and the world would have been had he been able to control his interior demons during the siege of Dejagore.

  He would hardly be a hated and lonely old man whose memories were all of serving faithfully and well a parade of despicable masters.

  The white crow found them while they were trying to work out the mechanics of raising the boat’s lateen sail. There was a good breeze blowing, capable of carrying them up the river far more swiftly than could their incompetent rowing.

  The bird settled in the rigging. “What are you doing? I did not give you permission to flee. Why are you running away? No battle has been lost.”

  The Shadar gawked. Mogaba thumped himself on the chest. “No. A great war has been won. Here. At last. Now I go somewhere where I will do no more harm anymore forever.”

  Ghopal looked from him to the crow and back, gradually gaining understanding of both. He grew increasingly agitated and afraid as he did so.

  The bird was capable of a range of voices, though it was only a haunted crow. “Turn this vessel shoreward. Now. I will tolerate no disobedience.”

  “You hold no terror for me anymore, old whore,” Mogaba replied. “You hold no power over me. I won’t be your toy or cats-paw tonight or ever again.”

  “You have no idea how much you will regret this. I won’t be imprisoned forever. You will be the first chore on my list when I return. Ghopal Singh. Turn this disgusting tub around... awk!”

  Ghopal had whacked the bird with the flat of his oar. Flailing, losing feathers, shrieking, it flung from the rigging into the fetid, muddy river. The retiring commander of the Greys observed, “That bird has an amazingly fowl vocabulary.” He grinned. Then he began digging through the bag he had carried aboard. He really needed a sip of wine. His kinsmen scowled. “Glower all you want, you magpies! I’m my own man now!”

  The tenor of the bird’s incessant natter changed suddenly, becoming pure corvine terror. It flapped in panic as the surface of the river lifted it up.

  The rising water tilted the boat precariously. Ghopal lost his grasp on his bottle. One of his cousins took a wild swing with his oar, swatting a gallon of water out of the thing taking form. His effort had no enduring effect.

  “Holy shit!” Ghopal said from flat on his back. “What the hell is that?” He was staring over Mogaba’s shoulder.

  A thing loomed against the light of fires burning in the city. A thing resembling a huge duck capable of a grin filled with wicked, glistening teeth. And the thing was not alone.

  “Oh, man,” one of Ghopal’s cousins sighed. “They’re all around us. What are they?”

  Mogaba sighed himself. He did not say that the monsters were not the sort of things people saw and lived to describe.

  123

  Taglios:

  Crow Talk

  Aridatha Singh had just gotten back to sleep when fiery pain pierced the back of his right hand. He leapt up and flung his arm out. He thought his lamp had somehow spilled burning oil and feared his cot would be on fire. But the lamp was not burning.

  Not fire. Something had bitten him, then. Or maybe clawed him. And he had thrown it across the room, where it was struggling feebly and making incoherent chicken noises. Those people were attacking him directly now? He shouted for the sentries.

  Once light filled the room he discovered that his visitor was an albino crow. One of the men threw a blanket over the bird and wrapped it up. Another examined Aridatha’s hand. “That’s one ragged looking critter, General. You might want to see a physician. It might be diseased.”

  “Send for soap and hot water... It doesn’t look like the skin is broken much... What is that?”

  The blanket with the bird inside had begun talking.

  “It’s talking,” the soldier said, so utterly amazed that he could do nothing but state the obvious.

  “Seal the window. Close the door. Get yourselves ready to hit it with something when we turn it loose.” He recalled that one of the Company chieftains sometimes carried ravens on his shoulders. And one of those was white.

  Escape was no longer an option for the bird. Aridatha directed, “Turn it loose now.”

  The crow looked like someone had tried to drown it, then had decided to pluck it featherless instead. It was in terrible shape.

  The bedraggled beast cocked its head right, left, surveying the chamber. It made an obvious effort to put aside its anger, to collect its pride and dignity.

  Aridatha did not think this was the raven he had seen with that man Croaker. This one seemed smaller, yet more substantial.

  The bird studied Singh first with one eye, then with the other. Then it eyed the sentries. It seemed to be awaiting something.

  “You have something to say, say it,” Aridatha suggested.

  “Send them out.”

  “I don’t think so.” He motioned two soldiers into positions where they would be better able to swat the crow.

  “I am not accustomed to...”

  “Nor am I in the habit of taking back chat from birds. I assume you bring a message. Deliver it. Or I’ll wring your neck and go on about my business.”

  “I fear you will live to regret this, Aridatha Singh.”

  In that moment, with the bird’s voice changing, Singh understood that he was in touch with the Protector. But her enemies had buried her beneath the glittering plain. Had they not? “I await your message. If it’s just a threat I’ll have Vasudha step on your head.”

  “Very well. Until the day, Aridatha Singh. Aridatha Singh, you are now my viceroy in Taglios. Mogaba and Ghopal are no more. I will instruct you as to what steps to take....”

  “Excuse me. The Great General and General Singh have been killed?”

  “They tried to do something foolish. For their trouble the enemy’s shadow creatures destroyed them. Which elevates you to...”

  Aridatha turned his back on the crow. “Jitendra. Get that word out. I want every company to disengage. The only exception is to be where the enemy won’t let them. And get the word across the lines that I’m prepared to discuss terms.”

  The white crow flew into a cursing rage.

  “Throw the blanket on that thing again, Vasudha. We may have some use for it later but I don’t want to listen to its nagging now.”

  “You could get you a wife if you needed that, General.”

  124

  Taglios:

  The Sandbar

  Already there were stories on the street about how the Great General had sacrificed himself in order to void the strictures of all the oaths and vows binding him and his allies. Because he had wanted to spare the city further devastation by the invading rebels and outlanders. Amazing. We had just started taking charge and already people were nostalgic for the good old days of the Protectorate.

  Hard to blame them, I suppose. It was a generation ago that the Prah
brindrah Drah last saw the inside of his capital city.

  Let them feel however they wanted. As long as they stayed out of my way.

  Tobo and I drifted above the Palace, studying the ruin. Smoke still found its way out of the rock pile. Every few hours a little more caved in. A third had collapsed already. That third included almost all of the occupied modern sector. Maybe the abandoned parts had been constructed from sterner stuff. They had survived generations of neglect.

  Even during the worst fighting Aridatha had used volunteers from the City Battalions to keep sifting the ruins for survivors to rescue and bodies to deliver to distraught relatives. He continued in that role, now reinforced by units formerly committed to the fighting. Elsewhere, whole battalions now engaged the more stubborn fires instead of invaders.

  I asked Tobo, “You really think they’re still in there somewhere?” I meant Booboo and Goblin.

  “I know they are. The hidden folk have seen them. They just can’t remember how to get to them.”

  “Strange as it may seem, I need them out of there alive. Without them I can’t keep my promise to Shivetya.”

  Tobo grunted. I had not included him in my planning. In fact, the inner circle still consisted of a council of one. Me. And I intended to keep it that way. Nothing spoken, nothing betrayed.

  “I think Arkana’s in love.” Below, the Voroshk girl had come up with another excuse to consult Aridatha Singh.

  Tobo grunted again. He was better than he had been but victory had given him no satisfaction. He would be a long time getting over the loss of his mom and dad.

  I asked, “Have you found any trace of Mogaba or Ghopal Singh?” Aridatha said they were dead. He claimed to have been told so by the white crow — not an entirely reliable witness.