Chapter Thirty-Five:
THE BARROWLAND, FROM BAD TO WORSE
Returning Raven’s letter to the oilskin, I lay back on my
bough bed, let my mind go blank. So dramatic, the way Raven told
it. I wondered about his sources, though. The wife? Someone had to
note the tale’s ending and had to hide what was found later.
What had become of the wife, anyway? She has no place in legend.
Neither does the son, for that matter. The popular stories mention
only Bomanz himself.
Something there, though. Something I missed? Ah. Yes. A
congruence with personal experience. The name Bomanz had relied
upon. The one that, evidently, proved insufficiently powerful.
I’d heard it before. In equally furious circumstances.
In Juniper, as the contest between the Lady and the Dominator
neared its climax, with her ensconced in a castle on one side of
the city and the Dominator trying to escape through another on the
far side, we discovered the Taken meant to do the Company evil once
the crisis subsided. Under orders from the Captain we deserted. We
seized a ship. As we sailed away, with husband and wife contesting
above the burning city, the struggle peaked. The Lady proved the
stronger.
The voice of the Dominator shook the world as he vented a last
spate of frustration. He had called her by the name Bomanz had
thought puissant. Apparently, even the Dominator could be
mistaken.
One sister killed another and, maybe or maybe not, took her
place. Soulcatcher, our one-time mentor and plotter to usurp the
Lady, it proved during the great struggle at Charm, was another
sister. Three sisters, then. At least. One named Ardath, but
evidently not the one who became the Lady.
Maybe the beginnings of something here. All those lists, back in
the Hole. And the genealogies. Find a woman named Ardath. Then
discover who her sisters were.
“It’s a beginning,” I murmured. “Feeble,
but a beginning.”
“What?”
I had forgotten Case. He had not taken advantage. I suppose he
was too frightened.
“Nothing.” It had grown dark outside. The drizzle
persisted. Out on the Barrowland ghostly lights drifted about. I
shuddered. That did not seem right. I wondered how Goblin and
One-Eye were getting on. I did not dare go ask. Over in a corner
Tracker snored softly. Toadkiller Dog lay against his belly, making
sleeping dog noises, but I caught a glint of eye which said he was
not unalert.
I invested a little more attention in Case. He was shaking, and
not just with the chill. He was sure we would kill him. I reached
over, rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right,
son. You won’t be harmed. We owe you for looking out for
Raven.”
“He’s really Raven? The Raven that was the White
Rose’s father?”
The lad knew the legends. “Yeah. Foster-father,
though.”
“Then he didn’t lie about everything. He was in the
Forsberg campaigns.”
That struck me as humorous. I chuckled, then said,
“Knowing Raven, he didn’t lie about much. Just edited
the truth.”
“You’ll really let me go?”
“When we’re safe.”
“Oh.” He did not sound reassured.
“Let’s say when we get to the edge of the Plain of
Fear. You’ll find plenty of friends out there.”
He wanted to get into a quasi-political discussion about why we
insisted on resisting the Lady. I refused. I am no evangelist. I
can’t make converts. I have too much trouble understanding
myself and unravelling my own motives. Maybe Raven could explain
after Goblin and One-Eye brought him out.
The night seemed endless, but after three eternities which took
me up to midnight I heard unsteady footsteps.
“Croaker?”
“In,” I said. It was Goblin. Without a light I could
not read him well, but got the impression that his news was not
good. “Trouble?”
“Yes. We can’t get him out.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What do you
mean?”
“I mean we don’t have the skills. We don’t
have the talent. This’s going to take someone bigger than we
are. We aren’t much, Croaker. Showmen. With a few handy
spells. Maybe Silent could do something. His is a different sort of
magic.”
“Maybe you’d better back up. Where’s
One-Eye?”
“Resting. It was rough on him. Really rocked him, what he
saw in there.”
“What was that?”
“I don’t know. I was just his lifeline. And I had to
pull him out before he got trapped, too. All I know is, we
can’t get Raven without help.”
“Shit,” I said. “Double damned floating sheep
shit. Goblin, we can’t win this one unless we have Raven to
help. I don’t have what it takes either. I’ll never
translate half those papers.”
“Not even with Tracker’s help?”
“He reads TelleKurre. That’s it. I can do that, only
I take longer. Raven must know the dialects. Some of the stuff he
was translating was in them. Also, there’s the question of
what he was doing here. Why he faked his death again and took off
on Darling.”
Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. I do that. Or maybe I was
indulging in the human penchant for oversimplification, figuring
that if we just had Raven back our troubles were solved.
“What are we going to do?” I wondered aloud.
Goblin rose. “I don’t know, Croaker. Let’s let
One-Eye get his feet under him again and find out what we’re
up against. We can go from there.”
“Right.”
He slipped out. I lay down and tried to sleep. Whenever I
dropped off I had nightmares about the thing lying in the mud and
slime the Barrowland had become.
Chapter Thirty-Five:
THE BARROWLAND, FROM BAD TO WORSE
Returning Raven’s letter to the oilskin, I lay back on my
bough bed, let my mind go blank. So dramatic, the way Raven told
it. I wondered about his sources, though. The wife? Someone had to
note the tale’s ending and had to hide what was found later.
What had become of the wife, anyway? She has no place in legend.
Neither does the son, for that matter. The popular stories mention
only Bomanz himself.
Something there, though. Something I missed? Ah. Yes. A
congruence with personal experience. The name Bomanz had relied
upon. The one that, evidently, proved insufficiently powerful.
I’d heard it before. In equally furious circumstances.
In Juniper, as the contest between the Lady and the Dominator
neared its climax, with her ensconced in a castle on one side of
the city and the Dominator trying to escape through another on the
far side, we discovered the Taken meant to do the Company evil once
the crisis subsided. Under orders from the Captain we deserted. We
seized a ship. As we sailed away, with husband and wife contesting
above the burning city, the struggle peaked. The Lady proved the
stronger.
The voice of the Dominator shook the world as he vented a last
spate of frustration. He had called her by the name Bomanz had
thought puissant. Apparently, even the Dominator could be
mistaken.
One sister killed another and, maybe or maybe not, took her
place. Soulcatcher, our one-time mentor and plotter to usurp the
Lady, it proved during the great struggle at Charm, was another
sister. Three sisters, then. At least. One named Ardath, but
evidently not the one who became the Lady.
Maybe the beginnings of something here. All those lists, back in
the Hole. And the genealogies. Find a woman named Ardath. Then
discover who her sisters were.
“It’s a beginning,” I murmured. “Feeble,
but a beginning.”
“What?”
I had forgotten Case. He had not taken advantage. I suppose he
was too frightened.
“Nothing.” It had grown dark outside. The drizzle
persisted. Out on the Barrowland ghostly lights drifted about. I
shuddered. That did not seem right. I wondered how Goblin and
One-Eye were getting on. I did not dare go ask. Over in a corner
Tracker snored softly. Toadkiller Dog lay against his belly, making
sleeping dog noises, but I caught a glint of eye which said he was
not unalert.
I invested a little more attention in Case. He was shaking, and
not just with the chill. He was sure we would kill him. I reached
over, rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right,
son. You won’t be harmed. We owe you for looking out for
Raven.”
“He’s really Raven? The Raven that was the White
Rose’s father?”
The lad knew the legends. “Yeah. Foster-father,
though.”
“Then he didn’t lie about everything. He was in the
Forsberg campaigns.”
That struck me as humorous. I chuckled, then said,
“Knowing Raven, he didn’t lie about much. Just edited
the truth.”
“You’ll really let me go?”
“When we’re safe.”
“Oh.” He did not sound reassured.
“Let’s say when we get to the edge of the Plain of
Fear. You’ll find plenty of friends out there.”
He wanted to get into a quasi-political discussion about why we
insisted on resisting the Lady. I refused. I am no evangelist. I
can’t make converts. I have too much trouble understanding
myself and unravelling my own motives. Maybe Raven could explain
after Goblin and One-Eye brought him out.
The night seemed endless, but after three eternities which took
me up to midnight I heard unsteady footsteps.
“Croaker?”
“In,” I said. It was Goblin. Without a light I could
not read him well, but got the impression that his news was not
good. “Trouble?”
“Yes. We can’t get him out.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What do you
mean?”
“I mean we don’t have the skills. We don’t
have the talent. This’s going to take someone bigger than we
are. We aren’t much, Croaker. Showmen. With a few handy
spells. Maybe Silent could do something. His is a different sort of
magic.”
“Maybe you’d better back up. Where’s
One-Eye?”
“Resting. It was rough on him. Really rocked him, what he
saw in there.”
“What was that?”
“I don’t know. I was just his lifeline. And I had to
pull him out before he got trapped, too. All I know is, we
can’t get Raven without help.”
“Shit,” I said. “Double damned floating sheep
shit. Goblin, we can’t win this one unless we have Raven to
help. I don’t have what it takes either. I’ll never
translate half those papers.”
“Not even with Tracker’s help?”
“He reads TelleKurre. That’s it. I can do that, only
I take longer. Raven must know the dialects. Some of the stuff he
was translating was in them. Also, there’s the question of
what he was doing here. Why he faked his death again and took off
on Darling.”
Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. I do that. Or maybe I was
indulging in the human penchant for oversimplification, figuring
that if we just had Raven back our troubles were solved.
“What are we going to do?” I wondered aloud.
Goblin rose. “I don’t know, Croaker. Let’s let
One-Eye get his feet under him again and find out what we’re
up against. We can go from there.”
“Right.”
He slipped out. I lay down and tried to sleep. Whenever I
dropped off I had nightmares about the thing lying in the mud and
slime the Barrowland had become.