An old, old monk
opened the door to the meeting chamber. The task was a great chore
for him. He beckoned with one frail hand.
This was my first visit to Khang Phi but I knew him by his
robes, which were dark orange edged with black. They distinguished
him as one of the four or five eldest of Khang Phi. His presence
made it clear that Khang Phi’s monks were deeply interested
in this meeting’s outcome. Otherwise some midlevel
sixty-year-old would have handled the door and then would have hung
on to manage the acolytes who were supposed to attend to the
comfort of both us and the Nine. Master Santaraksita smiled. Maybe
he had had something to do with this meeting having been invested
with importance.
Sahra approached the old man. She bowed, murmured a few words.
He responded. They knew one another and he did not disdain her for
her sex. The monks might be wiser than I had thought.
We soon learned that she had asked if everyone could reduce the
ceremony that attends all functions of the Children of the Dead.
Formalities imbue every occasion with elaborate ritual. People must
not have had much that was practical to do during the reign of the
Shadowmasters.
We barbarians do not know the proper forms. The Children of the
Dead hoist their noses around us—then sigh in relief because
uncomfortable business gets handled quickly when the Black Company
is on the far side of the carpet.
Our host scowled at Shikhandini. He was old and bitter and
narrow. But! Behold! Not so old and bitter and narrow that a
shimmering smile from a beautiful girl would not put a momentary
twinkle in his eye. Never that old.
From earliest times our enemies have accused us of fighting
dirty, of dealing in trickery and treachery. And they are right.
Absolutely right. We are shameless. And this was about as dirty as
we could get, having Tobo vamp these old men. They knew women only
in the most academic fashion. It was easier than plinking blind men
with arrows.
It was all so effortless. Shiki just seemed to float around, not
quite all there, not paying much attention, showing none of the
enjoyment I expected of Tobo. I mean, what man his age does not
enjoy making fools of wise old men? Everything I knew about Tobo
suggested he would enjoy that more than most.
I was getting curious. What was going on? Sleepy claimed the kid
was along because she wanted a wizard handy. Just in case. Being
paranoid. Having been made that way by lifetimes of treachery from
outside. And Khang Phi law would keep Tobo out if he came as
himself. She wanted me to believe.
There would be more. Much, much more. I understand the sneaky
little witch better than she suspects. And I approve,
thoroughly.
“Move,” Sleepy said. She was uncomfortable in Khang
Phi. The place is infested with the trappings of strange
religions.
The chamber we entered undoubtedly served some high ceremonial
purpose when not on loan to the File of Nine. That end where the
warlords waited could pass for an altar and its associated clutter.
The warlords had seated themselves above us, in front of the
possible altar, where five large stone seats were in place
permanently. Seven of the Nine were on hand. Chairs had been
dragged in for the surplus pair, presumably the junior members of
the quorum. All seven wore masks and disguises, which seems to be
customary with secret masters—and here possibly a legacy of the
Shadowmasters who had found masks and disguises very fashionable.
In this case that was a waste of effort. But they did not need to
know that. Not right away.
Lady has a talent for rooting out true names and identities. She
learned in a deadly school. She has taught Tobo some of her tricks.
He unearthed the identities of the members of the File, using his
supernatural friends. Knowing who we might find, in the event we
developed a corporate inclination to surprise somebody, should
prove to be a valuable bargaining tool.
Sahra had dealt with the File before. They were accustomed to
her impatience with ceremony. They paid attention when she stepped
forward.
Master Santaraksita trailed her by three paces. He would serve
as a specialist translator. Though the Children of the Dead and the
Nyueng Bao spoke the same language in times past, separation and
circumstance have conspired to make misunderstandings common.
Santaraksita would have to point out those instances when the
parties were using the same word with different meanings.
Sleepy moved a few steps forward but stayed closer to the rest
of us than to the warlords.
Sleepy started humming. She was determined to appear cheerful
despite being surrounded by unrepentant heathens.
Sahra stepped forward again. She asked, “Are the File
ready to stop objecting to the Company gaining the knowledge we
need to repair shadowgates? You have to understand that we
won’t leave Hsien without it. We’re still prepared to
turn over the criminal Dhumraksha.” The same offer had been
before the File all along. They wanted something more but never
articulated it—though supernatural espionage revealed that they
hoped to gain our support in establishing a much stronger File
position. Only they did not dare suggest that themselves before the
witnesses that always exist when negotiations take place in Khang
Phi.
The masks faced Sahra’s way. None of the Unknowns
responded. You could sense their exasperation. Lately they had
begun to believe, on no creditable evidence, that they had some
power over us. Probably because we had not gotten into the sort of
pissing contest with any of our neighbors that would have
demonstrated the lethal inequalities between their forces and ours.
We would devour most of the local armies.
Sleepy stepped past Santaraksita, took position beside Sahra. In
passible local dialect she said, “I am Captain of the Black
Company. I will speak.” Facing a warlord wearing a mask
surmounted by a crane’s head, she continued, “Tran Thi
Kim-Thoa, you are Last Entered of the File.” The warlords
stirred. “You are young. Possibly you know no one whose life
and pain would regain meaning if Maricha Manthara Dhumraksha came
back here to atone for his sins. I understand that. Youth is always
impatient with the pasts of its elders—seven when that past crushes
down upon youth’s shoulders.”
She paused.
Seven silk-clad butts shifted nervously, filling an extended
silence with soft rustles. All us Company people grinned, baring
our fangs. Exactly like those rock apes around Outpost, trying to
intimidate one another.
Sleepy had named the newest of the Nine. His identity would be
no secret to the other eight. They had chosen him when last there
was an opening in their circle. He would be ignorant of their
identities—unless some of the older warlords had chosen to reveal
themselves. Each warlord normally knew only those elected to the
File after themselves. By naming the Last Entered, Sleepy offered
another threat while endangering just the one Unknown.
Sleepy beckoned. “Croaker.” I stepped forward.
“This is Croaker. He was Captain before me and Dictator to
All the Taglias. Croaker, before us we have Tran Huu Dung and six
others of the File of Nine.” She did not specify this
Tran’s position in the File. His name caused another stir,
though.
She beckoned Swan. “This is Willow Swan, a longtime
associate of the Black Company. Willow, I present Tran Huu Nhan and
six others of the File of Nine. Tran is a common patronym in Hsien.
There are a lot of Trans among the Nine, none of them related by
blood.”
The next name she offered, after introducing Willow Swan, was
Tran Huu Nhang. I began to wonder how they kept themselves sorted
out. Maybe by weight. Several of the File carried some surplus
poundage.
When Sleepy named the last of the Trans of the File, Tran
Lan-Anh, their spokesman, the First, interrupted her with a request
for time to confer. Sleepy bowed, offered him no further
provocation. We knew that he was Pham Thi Ly of Ghu Phi, an
excellent general with a good reputation among his troops, a
believer in a unified Hsien, but old enough to have lost his
zest for struggle. By the slightest of nods Sleepy let him know
that his identity was no secret, either.
Sleepy announced, “We have no interest in coming back to
Hsien once we return to the plain.” As though that was some
dear secret we had held clutched close to our hearts forever. Any
spy among us would have reported that we just wanted to go home.
“Like the Nyueng Bao who fled to our world, we came here only
because we had no choice.” Doj would not have accepted her
assessment of Nyueng Bao history, brief as it might be. In his eye
his immigrant ancestors had been a band of adventurers similar to
the forebrethren of the Black Company, who had gone forth from
Khatovar. “We’re strong now. We’re ready to go
home. Our enemies there will cringe, unmanned by the news of our
coming.”
I did not believe that for an instant. Soulcatcher would be
pleased to see us. A good squabble would relieve the tedium of her
daily grind. Being an all-powerful ruler actually takes most of the
fun out of life. In the heyday of her dark empire, my wife had made
that discovery, too. Management trivia consumes you.
Lady hated it enough to walk away. But misses it now.
Sleepy said, “We lack only the knowledge to repair our
shadowgate, so that our world isn’t overrun by the Host of
the Unforgiven Dead.”
Our spokespeople never fail to harp on that point. It remains
central to every statement of our purpose. We would wear the Nine
down. They would give in so they would not have to hear about it
anymore. They were, however, extremely paranoid about the risk of
another otherworld invasion.
If they were hard asses they could try to outstubborn us, hoping
we would give up, go home, and have our shadowgate fall apart
behind us. That would end our threat permanently.
The power of the File lies in the anonymity of its members. When
warlords get together to plot they are restrained by the
possibility that among them is one of the Nine. The File publishes
any schemes it uncovers, thereby focusing the wrath of warlords not
included in the plan. It is a clumsy system but it has kept
conflict limited for generations by making it difficult to forge
alliances.
Sleepy could expose the File. If they were betrayed, chaos would
come baying right behind. Few warlords like having their ambitions
held in check—though restraints had to be imposed on all those
other villains.
The Unknowns did not like being bullied, either. Those whose
names had been betrayed soon grew so angry the elder monk placed
himself between parties as a reminder of where we were.
Being an old soldier, I began a swift inventory of resources
available for a fight if some warlord was dim enough to force one.
I was not reassured. Our greatest asset was missing.
Where did Shiki go? When did she go? Why?
I needed to keep a closer eye on my surroundings. An oversight
this big could turn fatal.
One masked warlord bounded out of his chair. He yipped and
slapped his buttocks. We gaped. Silence fell. The man began to
gather his dignity. A trill of faint high-pitched laughter sparkled
in the silence. Something with humming diamond wings darted about
too fast to be made out clearly. It left the room before anybody
could react.
Sahra observed, “Most of the Hidden Realm will follow us
when we leave. Possibly so much of it that Hsien will no longer be
the Land of Unknown Shadows.”
Master Santaraksita murmured in her ear. That irked the warlords
and the old referee elder, too. The monk was particularly unhappy
because the ladies kept spinning those implied threats. But he was
cautious. The Company was up to something new. This was
frightening. Had the outsiders run out of patience? All Hsien
nurtures some fears of the sleeping tiger of the Abode of Ravens.
And we make a point of encouraging them.
When I looked around again there was Shikhandini.
How? . . .
I studied her, expecting to see some deviltry suggested by her
stance or expression. There was nothing there. The kid was stone
cold indifferent.
Sahra waved Santaraksita away. He scurried over to Sleepy,
murmured some more. Sleepy nodded but did not do anything else.
That left the old scholar looking like he was about to panic.
Shiki’s disappearance and reappearance made it more
obvious than ever that there was something going on. Obvious to the
former Captain, anyway. And the former Captain had been told
nothing beforehand.
The ladies were into one of their schemes. And that would be the
real reason they wanted Shiki along. Shiki brought an awesome array
of weapons into the game.
And they had had me convinced that they just wanted the magic
handy in case somebody suffered an impulse to be unpleasant, which
happens all too frequently when we are around.
The Radisha and the Prahbrindrah Drah still mourn their
treacherous impulses.
I told Swan, “This business was a lot more fun when I was
the one scheming and being mysterious.”
The First of the File said, “Will you do us the courtesy
of withdrawing for a moment, Captain? Ambassador? I believe a
consensus may be within reach.”
While we waited in the antechamber, Swan asked, “Why did
he bother asking us to leave? After what happened? Does he really
think we won’t know what’s going on in there?”
Things moved in the corners of my vision. Strings of shadow snaked
over the walls until I tried to look at them directly. Then, of
course, nothing was visible.
“Possibly he didn’t catch all the
implications.” Like the fact that something would be
eavesdropping on every word he spoke until the Black Company left
the Land of Unknown Shadows. At this late date anything he tried to
pull together would be a complete wasted effort.
“Let’s go,” Sleepy said. “Move out.
Croaker. Swan. Quit jacking your jaws and get moving.”
“Moving where?” I asked.
“Downstairs. Home. Get going.”
“But . . . ” This was not what I
expected. A good Black Company trick ends up with lots of fire and
bloodshed, the vast majority of both not inflicted upon us.
Sleepy growled. It was a pure animal sound. “If I’m
going to be Captain I’m going to be Captain. I’m not
going to discuss or debate or request preapproval from the old
folks. Get moving.”
She had a point. I had made it a few times myself, in my day. I
had to set an example. I went.
“Good luck,” Sleepy told Sahra. She strode toward
the nearest stairwell. I followed. Presumably better trained by
Sleepy’s predecessor, the others were clattering down those
ancient stairs already. Only Sahra and Master Santaraksita remained
behind, though Shiki did hover around Sahra briefly, as though
interested in a parting hug.
“Interesting,” Sleepy observed. “It’s
such a good mimic that it almost forgets itself.”
She was talking to herself, not to the Captain-Emeritus. He no
longer needed an explanation. He had seen this stuff before. The
ladies were going to take the information that we needed.
Santaraksita had located it and had tagged it and now our own
people were in the process of collecting it. Tobo was somewhere
else, hard at work. One of his spooky friends was masquerading as
Shikhandini.
All of which meant that Sleepy was better prepared to travel
than I had supposed. You miss so much when you are laid up. Things
continued to stir in the corners. Movements persisted at the edge
of my vision. Always there was nothing to be seen when I looked
directly. Nevertheless . . .
Khang Phi had been conquered. That unvanquishable fortress of
enlightenment had been taken and its occupants did not yet know.
Most might never find out—assuming the real Shikhandini
successfully completed the real mission given to Tobo by Sleepy and
Sahra. Hard to imagine becoming badly winded by running downhill. I
managed. Those stairs went down forever, much farther than when I
had gone up at a more leisurely pace. I began to develop cramps.
Behind me Sahra and Sleepy kept right on barking and mocking and
pushing like they were not almost as old as me.
I spent a lot of time wondering what had compelled me to come
along. I was too old for this shit. The Annals did not need to
record every little detail. I could have done this One-Eye’s
way. “They went to Khang Phi and got the knowledge we needed
to fix the shadowgates.”
Some deep-voiced bell bonged far above. No one had enough breath
to explain but no explanation was needed. An alarm was being
sounded.
Our fault?
Who else? Though I could imagine scenarios where the File of
Nine might be guilty of trying to snuff the Company brain
trust.
It did not matter. I reminded myself that Khang Phi is bereft of
arms. That the monks abhor violence. That they always yield to
strength, then seduce it with reason and wisdom.
Yes, sometimes it does take a while.
I did not feel reassured. I spend too much time hanging around
with guys like me.
The air began to whisper and rustle, like a gentle breeze in a
time of falling leaves. The sound started in the dimness far below.
It rose toward us, met and passed us before I had any real chance
to become afraid. I had a brief impression of passing
two-dimensional, black, transparent forms accompanied by a touch of
cold and a whiff of old mold, then autumn was gone on to adventures
far above.
At times the stairway passed behind the outer face of Khang Phi.
Windows presented themselves then. Each was filled with an
exquisite view of grey mist. Shapes moved within the greyness,
never defined. They did not need definition for me to know that I
had no interest in making the acquaintance of anything that did not
mind having a thousand feet of wet air beneath its toes.
Several times I saw Shikhandini drift downward or rise through
the fog. Once she saw me watching, paused, smiled and showed three
slim fingers in a delicate wave.
The genuine Tobo was not shy any digits.
What I did not see during our entire descent was even one member
of the Khang Phi community. They all had business elsewhere when we
passed by.
“How much farther?” I panted, thinking it was a good
thing I had lost all that weight while I was recuperating.
I got no answer. No one wanted to waste the breath.
It proved to be much farther than I had hoped. It always is when
you are running away.
Ten Finger Shikhandini was waiting with the horses and the rest
of our gang when we stumbled out of the unguarded Lower Gate.
Animals and escort were ready to travel. All we had to do was mount
up and go.
Tobo would sustain the Shiki role till we were home again. The
Children of the Dead did not need to know that he was she.
Tobo told his mother, “Sri Santaraksita refused to
come.”
“I didn’t think he would. That’s all right. He
did his part. He’ll be happier here after we’re
gone.”
Sleepy agreed. “He’s found his paradise.”
“Excuse me,” I gasped. It had taken me three tries
and a boost from a helpful escort to get myself into the saddle.
“What did we just do?”
“We committed robbery,” Sleepy told me. “We
went in there pretending we were going to appeal to the File of
Nine yet one more time. We got them all twisted out of shape by
naming some of their names, so they had nothing else on their minds
while we stole the books containing the information we need to get
home safely.”
“They still don’t know,” Tobo said.
“They’re still looking the other way. But that
won’t last. The doppelgangers I left behind will fall apart
before long. Those things can’t keep their minds on
business.”
“Quit jawing and ride, then,” Sleepy grumbled. I
swear. The woman was Annalist for fifteen years. She ought to have
a better appreciation of the Annalist’s needs.
The mist surrounded us and seemed to move with us, unnaturally
dense. Tobo’s work, probably. Shapes moved out there but did
not come too close. Until I looked back.
Khang Phi had vanished already. It might be a thousand miles
away or might never have existed at all. Instead I saw things I
would rather not, including several of the Black Hounds, big as
ponies, with high, massive shoulders like those of hyenas. For an
instant, as they began to lose color and focus, an even larger
beast with a head like a leopard’s, but green, loomed out of
the mist between them. Cat Sith. It, too, wobbled away from
reality, like an exaggerated case of heat shimmer fading. The gleam
of its exposed teeth was the last to go.
With Tobo’s help we evaporated into the landscape
ourselves.
An old, old monk
opened the door to the meeting chamber. The task was a great chore
for him. He beckoned with one frail hand.
This was my first visit to Khang Phi but I knew him by his
robes, which were dark orange edged with black. They distinguished
him as one of the four or five eldest of Khang Phi. His presence
made it clear that Khang Phi’s monks were deeply interested
in this meeting’s outcome. Otherwise some midlevel
sixty-year-old would have handled the door and then would have hung
on to manage the acolytes who were supposed to attend to the
comfort of both us and the Nine. Master Santaraksita smiled. Maybe
he had had something to do with this meeting having been invested
with importance.
Sahra approached the old man. She bowed, murmured a few words.
He responded. They knew one another and he did not disdain her for
her sex. The monks might be wiser than I had thought.
We soon learned that she had asked if everyone could reduce the
ceremony that attends all functions of the Children of the Dead.
Formalities imbue every occasion with elaborate ritual. People must
not have had much that was practical to do during the reign of the
Shadowmasters.
We barbarians do not know the proper forms. The Children of the
Dead hoist their noses around us—then sigh in relief because
uncomfortable business gets handled quickly when the Black Company
is on the far side of the carpet.
Our host scowled at Shikhandini. He was old and bitter and
narrow. But! Behold! Not so old and bitter and narrow that a
shimmering smile from a beautiful girl would not put a momentary
twinkle in his eye. Never that old.
From earliest times our enemies have accused us of fighting
dirty, of dealing in trickery and treachery. And they are right.
Absolutely right. We are shameless. And this was about as dirty as
we could get, having Tobo vamp these old men. They knew women only
in the most academic fashion. It was easier than plinking blind men
with arrows.
It was all so effortless. Shiki just seemed to float around, not
quite all there, not paying much attention, showing none of the
enjoyment I expected of Tobo. I mean, what man his age does not
enjoy making fools of wise old men? Everything I knew about Tobo
suggested he would enjoy that more than most.
I was getting curious. What was going on? Sleepy claimed the kid
was along because she wanted a wizard handy. Just in case. Being
paranoid. Having been made that way by lifetimes of treachery from
outside. And Khang Phi law would keep Tobo out if he came as
himself. She wanted me to believe.
There would be more. Much, much more. I understand the sneaky
little witch better than she suspects. And I approve,
thoroughly.
“Move,” Sleepy said. She was uncomfortable in Khang
Phi. The place is infested with the trappings of strange
religions.
The chamber we entered undoubtedly served some high ceremonial
purpose when not on loan to the File of Nine. That end where the
warlords waited could pass for an altar and its associated clutter.
The warlords had seated themselves above us, in front of the
possible altar, where five large stone seats were in place
permanently. Seven of the Nine were on hand. Chairs had been
dragged in for the surplus pair, presumably the junior members of
the quorum. All seven wore masks and disguises, which seems to be
customary with secret masters—and here possibly a legacy of the
Shadowmasters who had found masks and disguises very fashionable.
In this case that was a waste of effort. But they did not need to
know that. Not right away.
Lady has a talent for rooting out true names and identities. She
learned in a deadly school. She has taught Tobo some of her tricks.
He unearthed the identities of the members of the File, using his
supernatural friends. Knowing who we might find, in the event we
developed a corporate inclination to surprise somebody, should
prove to be a valuable bargaining tool.
Sahra had dealt with the File before. They were accustomed to
her impatience with ceremony. They paid attention when she stepped
forward.
Master Santaraksita trailed her by three paces. He would serve
as a specialist translator. Though the Children of the Dead and the
Nyueng Bao spoke the same language in times past, separation and
circumstance have conspired to make misunderstandings common.
Santaraksita would have to point out those instances when the
parties were using the same word with different meanings.
Sleepy moved a few steps forward but stayed closer to the rest
of us than to the warlords.
Sleepy started humming. She was determined to appear cheerful
despite being surrounded by unrepentant heathens.
Sahra stepped forward again. She asked, “Are the File
ready to stop objecting to the Company gaining the knowledge we
need to repair shadowgates? You have to understand that we
won’t leave Hsien without it. We’re still prepared to
turn over the criminal Dhumraksha.” The same offer had been
before the File all along. They wanted something more but never
articulated it—though supernatural espionage revealed that they
hoped to gain our support in establishing a much stronger File
position. Only they did not dare suggest that themselves before the
witnesses that always exist when negotiations take place in Khang
Phi.
The masks faced Sahra’s way. None of the Unknowns
responded. You could sense their exasperation. Lately they had
begun to believe, on no creditable evidence, that they had some
power over us. Probably because we had not gotten into the sort of
pissing contest with any of our neighbors that would have
demonstrated the lethal inequalities between their forces and ours.
We would devour most of the local armies.
Sleepy stepped past Santaraksita, took position beside Sahra. In
passible local dialect she said, “I am Captain of the Black
Company. I will speak.” Facing a warlord wearing a mask
surmounted by a crane’s head, she continued, “Tran Thi
Kim-Thoa, you are Last Entered of the File.” The warlords
stirred. “You are young. Possibly you know no one whose life
and pain would regain meaning if Maricha Manthara Dhumraksha came
back here to atone for his sins. I understand that. Youth is always
impatient with the pasts of its elders—seven when that past crushes
down upon youth’s shoulders.”
She paused.
Seven silk-clad butts shifted nervously, filling an extended
silence with soft rustles. All us Company people grinned, baring
our fangs. Exactly like those rock apes around Outpost, trying to
intimidate one another.
Sleepy had named the newest of the Nine. His identity would be
no secret to the other eight. They had chosen him when last there
was an opening in their circle. He would be ignorant of their
identities—unless some of the older warlords had chosen to reveal
themselves. Each warlord normally knew only those elected to the
File after themselves. By naming the Last Entered, Sleepy offered
another threat while endangering just the one Unknown.
Sleepy beckoned. “Croaker.” I stepped forward.
“This is Croaker. He was Captain before me and Dictator to
All the Taglias. Croaker, before us we have Tran Huu Dung and six
others of the File of Nine.” She did not specify this
Tran’s position in the File. His name caused another stir,
though.
She beckoned Swan. “This is Willow Swan, a longtime
associate of the Black Company. Willow, I present Tran Huu Nhan and
six others of the File of Nine. Tran is a common patronym in Hsien.
There are a lot of Trans among the Nine, none of them related by
blood.”
The next name she offered, after introducing Willow Swan, was
Tran Huu Nhang. I began to wonder how they kept themselves sorted
out. Maybe by weight. Several of the File carried some surplus
poundage.
When Sleepy named the last of the Trans of the File, Tran
Lan-Anh, their spokesman, the First, interrupted her with a request
for time to confer. Sleepy bowed, offered him no further
provocation. We knew that he was Pham Thi Ly of Ghu Phi, an
excellent general with a good reputation among his troops, a
believer in a unified Hsien, but old enough to have lost his
zest for struggle. By the slightest of nods Sleepy let him know
that his identity was no secret, either.
Sleepy announced, “We have no interest in coming back to
Hsien once we return to the plain.” As though that was some
dear secret we had held clutched close to our hearts forever. Any
spy among us would have reported that we just wanted to go home.
“Like the Nyueng Bao who fled to our world, we came here only
because we had no choice.” Doj would not have accepted her
assessment of Nyueng Bao history, brief as it might be. In his eye
his immigrant ancestors had been a band of adventurers similar to
the forebrethren of the Black Company, who had gone forth from
Khatovar. “We’re strong now. We’re ready to go
home. Our enemies there will cringe, unmanned by the news of our
coming.”
I did not believe that for an instant. Soulcatcher would be
pleased to see us. A good squabble would relieve the tedium of her
daily grind. Being an all-powerful ruler actually takes most of the
fun out of life. In the heyday of her dark empire, my wife had made
that discovery, too. Management trivia consumes you.
Lady hated it enough to walk away. But misses it now.
Sleepy said, “We lack only the knowledge to repair our
shadowgate, so that our world isn’t overrun by the Host of
the Unforgiven Dead.”
Our spokespeople never fail to harp on that point. It remains
central to every statement of our purpose. We would wear the Nine
down. They would give in so they would not have to hear about it
anymore. They were, however, extremely paranoid about the risk of
another otherworld invasion.
If they were hard asses they could try to outstubborn us, hoping
we would give up, go home, and have our shadowgate fall apart
behind us. That would end our threat permanently.
The power of the File lies in the anonymity of its members. When
warlords get together to plot they are restrained by the
possibility that among them is one of the Nine. The File publishes
any schemes it uncovers, thereby focusing the wrath of warlords not
included in the plan. It is a clumsy system but it has kept
conflict limited for generations by making it difficult to forge
alliances.
Sleepy could expose the File. If they were betrayed, chaos would
come baying right behind. Few warlords like having their ambitions
held in check—though restraints had to be imposed on all those
other villains.
The Unknowns did not like being bullied, either. Those whose
names had been betrayed soon grew so angry the elder monk placed
himself between parties as a reminder of where we were.
Being an old soldier, I began a swift inventory of resources
available for a fight if some warlord was dim enough to force one.
I was not reassured. Our greatest asset was missing.
Where did Shiki go? When did she go? Why?
I needed to keep a closer eye on my surroundings. An oversight
this big could turn fatal.
One masked warlord bounded out of his chair. He yipped and
slapped his buttocks. We gaped. Silence fell. The man began to
gather his dignity. A trill of faint high-pitched laughter sparkled
in the silence. Something with humming diamond wings darted about
too fast to be made out clearly. It left the room before anybody
could react.
Sahra observed, “Most of the Hidden Realm will follow us
when we leave. Possibly so much of it that Hsien will no longer be
the Land of Unknown Shadows.”
Master Santaraksita murmured in her ear. That irked the warlords
and the old referee elder, too. The monk was particularly unhappy
because the ladies kept spinning those implied threats. But he was
cautious. The Company was up to something new. This was
frightening. Had the outsiders run out of patience? All Hsien
nurtures some fears of the sleeping tiger of the Abode of Ravens.
And we make a point of encouraging them.
When I looked around again there was Shikhandini.
How? . . .
I studied her, expecting to see some deviltry suggested by her
stance or expression. There was nothing there. The kid was stone
cold indifferent.
Sahra waved Santaraksita away. He scurried over to Sleepy,
murmured some more. Sleepy nodded but did not do anything else.
That left the old scholar looking like he was about to panic.
Shiki’s disappearance and reappearance made it more
obvious than ever that there was something going on. Obvious to the
former Captain, anyway. And the former Captain had been told
nothing beforehand.
The ladies were into one of their schemes. And that would be the
real reason they wanted Shiki along. Shiki brought an awesome array
of weapons into the game.
And they had had me convinced that they just wanted the magic
handy in case somebody suffered an impulse to be unpleasant, which
happens all too frequently when we are around.
The Radisha and the Prahbrindrah Drah still mourn their
treacherous impulses.
I told Swan, “This business was a lot more fun when I was
the one scheming and being mysterious.”
The First of the File said, “Will you do us the courtesy
of withdrawing for a moment, Captain? Ambassador? I believe a
consensus may be within reach.”
While we waited in the antechamber, Swan asked, “Why did
he bother asking us to leave? After what happened? Does he really
think we won’t know what’s going on in there?”
Things moved in the corners of my vision. Strings of shadow snaked
over the walls until I tried to look at them directly. Then, of
course, nothing was visible.
“Possibly he didn’t catch all the
implications.” Like the fact that something would be
eavesdropping on every word he spoke until the Black Company left
the Land of Unknown Shadows. At this late date anything he tried to
pull together would be a complete wasted effort.
“Let’s go,” Sleepy said. “Move out.
Croaker. Swan. Quit jacking your jaws and get moving.”
“Moving where?” I asked.
“Downstairs. Home. Get going.”
“But . . . ” This was not what I
expected. A good Black Company trick ends up with lots of fire and
bloodshed, the vast majority of both not inflicted upon us.
Sleepy growled. It was a pure animal sound. “If I’m
going to be Captain I’m going to be Captain. I’m not
going to discuss or debate or request preapproval from the old
folks. Get moving.”
She had a point. I had made it a few times myself, in my day. I
had to set an example. I went.
“Good luck,” Sleepy told Sahra. She strode toward
the nearest stairwell. I followed. Presumably better trained by
Sleepy’s predecessor, the others were clattering down those
ancient stairs already. Only Sahra and Master Santaraksita remained
behind, though Shiki did hover around Sahra briefly, as though
interested in a parting hug.
“Interesting,” Sleepy observed. “It’s
such a good mimic that it almost forgets itself.”
She was talking to herself, not to the Captain-Emeritus. He no
longer needed an explanation. He had seen this stuff before. The
ladies were going to take the information that we needed.
Santaraksita had located it and had tagged it and now our own
people were in the process of collecting it. Tobo was somewhere
else, hard at work. One of his spooky friends was masquerading as
Shikhandini.
All of which meant that Sleepy was better prepared to travel
than I had supposed. You miss so much when you are laid up. Things
continued to stir in the corners. Movements persisted at the edge
of my vision. Always there was nothing to be seen when I looked
directly. Nevertheless . . .
Khang Phi had been conquered. That unvanquishable fortress of
enlightenment had been taken and its occupants did not yet know.
Most might never find out—assuming the real Shikhandini
successfully completed the real mission given to Tobo by Sleepy and
Sahra. Hard to imagine becoming badly winded by running downhill. I
managed. Those stairs went down forever, much farther than when I
had gone up at a more leisurely pace. I began to develop cramps.
Behind me Sahra and Sleepy kept right on barking and mocking and
pushing like they were not almost as old as me.
I spent a lot of time wondering what had compelled me to come
along. I was too old for this shit. The Annals did not need to
record every little detail. I could have done this One-Eye’s
way. “They went to Khang Phi and got the knowledge we needed
to fix the shadowgates.”
Some deep-voiced bell bonged far above. No one had enough breath
to explain but no explanation was needed. An alarm was being
sounded.
Our fault?
Who else? Though I could imagine scenarios where the File of
Nine might be guilty of trying to snuff the Company brain
trust.
It did not matter. I reminded myself that Khang Phi is bereft of
arms. That the monks abhor violence. That they always yield to
strength, then seduce it with reason and wisdom.
Yes, sometimes it does take a while.
I did not feel reassured. I spend too much time hanging around
with guys like me.
The air began to whisper and rustle, like a gentle breeze in a
time of falling leaves. The sound started in the dimness far below.
It rose toward us, met and passed us before I had any real chance
to become afraid. I had a brief impression of passing
two-dimensional, black, transparent forms accompanied by a touch of
cold and a whiff of old mold, then autumn was gone on to adventures
far above.
At times the stairway passed behind the outer face of Khang Phi.
Windows presented themselves then. Each was filled with an
exquisite view of grey mist. Shapes moved within the greyness,
never defined. They did not need definition for me to know that I
had no interest in making the acquaintance of anything that did not
mind having a thousand feet of wet air beneath its toes.
Several times I saw Shikhandini drift downward or rise through
the fog. Once she saw me watching, paused, smiled and showed three
slim fingers in a delicate wave.
The genuine Tobo was not shy any digits.
What I did not see during our entire descent was even one member
of the Khang Phi community. They all had business elsewhere when we
passed by.
“How much farther?” I panted, thinking it was a good
thing I had lost all that weight while I was recuperating.
I got no answer. No one wanted to waste the breath.
It proved to be much farther than I had hoped. It always is when
you are running away.
Ten Finger Shikhandini was waiting with the horses and the rest
of our gang when we stumbled out of the unguarded Lower Gate.
Animals and escort were ready to travel. All we had to do was mount
up and go.
Tobo would sustain the Shiki role till we were home again. The
Children of the Dead did not need to know that he was she.
Tobo told his mother, “Sri Santaraksita refused to
come.”
“I didn’t think he would. That’s all right. He
did his part. He’ll be happier here after we’re
gone.”
Sleepy agreed. “He’s found his paradise.”
“Excuse me,” I gasped. It had taken me three tries
and a boost from a helpful escort to get myself into the saddle.
“What did we just do?”
“We committed robbery,” Sleepy told me. “We
went in there pretending we were going to appeal to the File of
Nine yet one more time. We got them all twisted out of shape by
naming some of their names, so they had nothing else on their minds
while we stole the books containing the information we need to get
home safely.”
“They still don’t know,” Tobo said.
“They’re still looking the other way. But that
won’t last. The doppelgangers I left behind will fall apart
before long. Those things can’t keep their minds on
business.”
“Quit jawing and ride, then,” Sleepy grumbled. I
swear. The woman was Annalist for fifteen years. She ought to have
a better appreciation of the Annalist’s needs.
The mist surrounded us and seemed to move with us, unnaturally
dense. Tobo’s work, probably. Shapes moved out there but did
not come too close. Until I looked back.
Khang Phi had vanished already. It might be a thousand miles
away or might never have existed at all. Instead I saw things I
would rather not, including several of the Black Hounds, big as
ponies, with high, massive shoulders like those of hyenas. For an
instant, as they began to lose color and focus, an even larger
beast with a head like a leopard’s, but green, loomed out of
the mist between them. Cat Sith. It, too, wobbled away from
reality, like an exaggerated case of heat shimmer fading. The gleam
of its exposed teeth was the last to go.
With Tobo’s help we evaporated into the landscape
ourselves.