Narayan seemed
thoroughly puzzled by my continued interest. I do not believe he
remembered me at all. But he now knew that I was female and had
been the young man Sleepy that he had encountered, only rarely,
ages ago.
“You’ve had time to reflect. Have you decided to
help us yet?”
He looked at me with pure venom, yet without obvious personal
hatred. I was just a particularly unpleasant obstacle delaying the
inevitable triumph of his goddess. He had gotten his mind back into
a rut.
“All right. I’ll see you again tomorrow night. Your
son Aridatha has a leave day coming up. We’ll bring him
around to visit you.”
There was a guard watching the Daughter of Night.
“What’re you doing here, Kendo?”
“Keeping an eye on—”
“Go away. And don’t come back. And spread the word.
Nobody guards the Daughter of Night. She’s too dangerous.
Nobody even goes near her unless Sahra or I tell them to. And then
they don’t do it alone.”
“She don’t look—”
“She wouldn’t, would she? Start hiking.” I
went to the cage. “How long would it take for your goddess to
create all the right conditions for the birth of another like you?
If I decide to kill you?”
The girl’s gaze rose slowly. I wanted to cringe away from
the power in her eyes but I held on. Maybe she should be getting
even more opium than she was already.
“Reflect upon your value. And upon my power to destroy
it.” I felt puffed up. That was the kind of thing the devas,
or lesser gods, blathered at one another on the fringes of the
epics spun by the professional storytellers.
She glared. There was so much power in her eyes that I decided
Kendo ought to spend a little time in private with Goblin and
One-Eye, making sure he had not been taken in already.
“I think that without you there never will be a Year of
the Skulls. And I know that you’re still alive only because I
want something from Narayan, who loves you like a father.”
Singh was her father, for all practical purposes. Croaker had been
denied the chance by cruel Fortune. Or, more accurately, by the
will of Kina.
“Keep well, dear.” I left. I had a lot of reading to
get done. And some writing if I got the chance. My days were always
full and all too often they got confused. I decided to do things,
then forgot. I told others to do things, then forgot that, too. I
was beginning to look forward to the time when our successes—or
sufficiently spectacular failures—forced us out of town. I could
sneak off somewhere where nobody knew me and just loaf for a few
months.
Or for the rest of my life if I wanted.
I had no trouble understanding why every year a few more of our
brothers gave up and faded away. I only hoped a little notoriety
would bring them back.
I studied the pages Sahra had brought out for me but the
translation was difficult, the subject matter was uninspiring, and
I was tired. I kept losing my concentration. I thought about Master
Santaraksita. I thought about going back up to the Palace, armed. I
thought about what Soulcatcher would do now that she knew she did
not have us trapped inside the Thieves’ Garden. I thought
about getting old and being alone and had a suspicion that that
fear might have something to do with why some brothers remained
with the Company no matter what. They had no other family.
I have no other family.
I will not look back. I am not weak. I will not relax my
self-control. I will persevere. I will triumph over myself and will
conquer all adversity.
I fell asleep rereading my own recollections of what Murgen had
reported about the Company’s adventure on the glittering
plain. I dreamed about the creatures he had encountered there. Were
they the rakshasas and nagas of myth? Did they have anything to do
with the shadows, or with the men who evidently created the shadows
from hapless prisoners of war?
Narayan seemed
thoroughly puzzled by my continued interest. I do not believe he
remembered me at all. But he now knew that I was female and had
been the young man Sleepy that he had encountered, only rarely,
ages ago.
“You’ve had time to reflect. Have you decided to
help us yet?”
He looked at me with pure venom, yet without obvious personal
hatred. I was just a particularly unpleasant obstacle delaying the
inevitable triumph of his goddess. He had gotten his mind back into
a rut.
“All right. I’ll see you again tomorrow night. Your
son Aridatha has a leave day coming up. We’ll bring him
around to visit you.”
There was a guard watching the Daughter of Night.
“What’re you doing here, Kendo?”
“Keeping an eye on—”
“Go away. And don’t come back. And spread the word.
Nobody guards the Daughter of Night. She’s too dangerous.
Nobody even goes near her unless Sahra or I tell them to. And then
they don’t do it alone.”
“She don’t look—”
“She wouldn’t, would she? Start hiking.” I
went to the cage. “How long would it take for your goddess to
create all the right conditions for the birth of another like you?
If I decide to kill you?”
The girl’s gaze rose slowly. I wanted to cringe away from
the power in her eyes but I held on. Maybe she should be getting
even more opium than she was already.
“Reflect upon your value. And upon my power to destroy
it.” I felt puffed up. That was the kind of thing the devas,
or lesser gods, blathered at one another on the fringes of the
epics spun by the professional storytellers.
She glared. There was so much power in her eyes that I decided
Kendo ought to spend a little time in private with Goblin and
One-Eye, making sure he had not been taken in already.
“I think that without you there never will be a Year of
the Skulls. And I know that you’re still alive only because I
want something from Narayan, who loves you like a father.”
Singh was her father, for all practical purposes. Croaker had been
denied the chance by cruel Fortune. Or, more accurately, by the
will of Kina.
“Keep well, dear.” I left. I had a lot of reading to
get done. And some writing if I got the chance. My days were always
full and all too often they got confused. I decided to do things,
then forgot. I told others to do things, then forgot that, too. I
was beginning to look forward to the time when our successes—or
sufficiently spectacular failures—forced us out of town. I could
sneak off somewhere where nobody knew me and just loaf for a few
months.
Or for the rest of my life if I wanted.
I had no trouble understanding why every year a few more of our
brothers gave up and faded away. I only hoped a little notoriety
would bring them back.
I studied the pages Sahra had brought out for me but the
translation was difficult, the subject matter was uninspiring, and
I was tired. I kept losing my concentration. I thought about Master
Santaraksita. I thought about going back up to the Palace, armed. I
thought about what Soulcatcher would do now that she knew she did
not have us trapped inside the Thieves’ Garden. I thought
about getting old and being alone and had a suspicion that that
fear might have something to do with why some brothers remained
with the Company no matter what. They had no other family.
I have no other family.
I will not look back. I am not weak. I will not relax my
self-control. I will persevere. I will triumph over myself and will
conquer all adversity.
I fell asleep rereading my own recollections of what Murgen had
reported about the Company’s adventure on the glittering
plain. I dreamed about the creatures he had encountered there. Were
they the rakshasas and nagas of myth? Did they have anything to do
with the shadows, or with the men who evidently created the shadows
from hapless prisoners of war?