The brotherhood
had to begin moving.
Goblin burst into the tent uninvited and
gasped out the news that Murgen said my feted arrival had caught
the eyes of official informants and had aroused the suspicions of
the local authorities. Those folks had been disinclined to
investigate the refugee camp before only due to a complete lack of
ambition. I sent Kendo and a dozen men to secure the southern end
of the pass through the Dandha Presh, both to guarantee a favorable
welcome for those coming down behind me and to help keep anyone
from strolling off northward with news about where we were. I sent
several small teams off to capture senior officers and officials
before they could become organized. There was no real, fixed, solid
governmental structure here because the Protector favored the rule
of limited anarchy.
It was obvious that these former Shadowlands, despite their
proximity to the glittering plain, were no more than an
afterthought to the powers in Taglios. The troubles in the region
had been settled with a vengeance. The Great General had won the
reputation he had desired. There were few troops and no officials
of any renown here now. It looked like a safe, remote province
suitable for rusticating human embarrassments deemed not worth
exterminating.
Even so, region wide, there were many more of them than there
were of us and we were out of battle practice ourselves. Brains,
speed and ferocity would have to sustain us till we gathered the
whole clan and completed preparations to follow the road up the
south side of the valley.
“So, now you’ve had your power fix and you’ve
got time to talk, how the hell are you, Sleepy?” Goblin
asked. He looked exhausted.
“Worn to the bone from traveling but still full of
vinegar. It’s nice to talk to somebody where I don’t
have to lean over backwards to look them in the eye.”
“Walk in the goddamn door talking that shit. I knew there
was a reason I didn’t miss you.”
“You say the sweetest things. How’s
One-Eye?”
“Getting better. Having Gota here will hurry it up. But
he’s never going to be completely right. He’s going to
be slow and shaky and have spells where he’ll have trouble
remembering what he’s doing. And he’ll always have
trouble communicating, especially when he’s
excited.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, said, “And it’s going
to happen again, isn’t it?”
“It could. It often does. It doesn’t have to,
though.” He rubbed his forehead. “Headache. I need some
sleep. You can drive yourself crazy trying to deal with something
like this.”
“If you need sleep, you’d better get it now. Things
are starting to happen. We’ll need you fresh when it gets
exciting.”
“I knew there was another reason I didn’t miss you.
You haven’t been here long enough to blow your nose and
already people and things are flying all over, getting ready to
beat each other in the head.”
“It’s my perky personality. Think I should visit
One-Eye?”
“Up to you. But he’ll be heartbroken if you
don’t. He’s probably already all bent out of shape
because you came and saw me first.”
I asked how to find One-Eye and left Goblin. I noted that
refugees not associated with the Company were sneaking out of the
camp. There were signs of excitement over in the New Town, too.
Gota, Doj and Swan were nearing the camp from the uphill side.
Tobo larked around them like an excited pup. I wondered where Swan
would stand once the real excitement started. He would stay neutral
as long as he could, probably.
“You look better than I expected,” I told One-Eye,
who was actually doing something when I ducked into his tent.
“That spear? I thought you lost it ages ago.” The
weapon in question was an elaborately carved and decorated artifact
of extreme magical potency that he had begun crafting back during
the siege of Jaicur. Its designated target then had been the
Shadowmaster Shadowspinner. Later, he had continued improving it so
he could use it against Longshadow. That spear was so darkly
beautiful that it seemed a sin to use it just to kill someone.
One-Eye took his time collecting himself. He looked up at me.
There was less of him than there was when last I had seen him, and
even then he had been just a shell of the One-Eye I remembered from
when I was young.
“No.”
Just that one word. None of the usual creative invective or
accusations and insults. He did not want to embarrass himself. The
results of the stroke were more crippling emotionally than
physically. He had been master of his surroundings for two hundred
years, far beyond the dreams of men, but now he could not count on
being able to speak a complete, coherent sentence.
“I’m here. I’ve got the Key. And things have
begun to happen already.”
One-Eye nodded slowly. I hope he understood. There had been a
woman in Jaicur, she was a hundred nineteen when she died, they
said. In all my years I never saw her do anything but sit in a
chair and drool. She understood nothing anyone said to her. She had
to be changed like a baby. She had to be fed like a baby. I did not
want that to happen to One-Eye. He was old and cantankerous and a
major pain more often than not, but he was a fixture of my
universe. He was my brother.
“That other woman. That married one. She does not have the
fire.” His words were a ghost of speech. When he talked, his
hands shook too badly to hold his tools.
“She’s afraid to succeed.”
“And afraid not to. You are busy, Little Girl.” He
beamed because he had gotten that out without much trouble.
“You do what you must. But I have to talk to you again. Soon.
Before this happens to me again.” He spoke slowly and with
great care. “You are the one.” He was tiring, so great
was his mental effort. He beckoned me closer, murmured,
“Soldiers live. And wonder why.”
Someone threw the tent flap back. Brilliant light burst inside.
I knew it was Gota without being able to see. Her odor preceded
her. “Try not to make him talk too much. He’s worn
out.”
“I have seen this problem before.” Cold, yet civil.
More animated than she had been for some time but still not the
caustic, frequently irrational Gota of last year. “I will be
of more value here.” Her accent was much less heavy than
usual. “Go kill someone, Stone Soldier.”
“Been a while since anybody called me that.”
Gota bowed mockingly as she waddled past. “Bone Warrior.
Soldier of Darkness, go forth and conjure the Children of the Dead
from the Land of Unknown Shadows. All Evil Dies There an Endless
Death.”
I stepped outside, baffled. What was that all about?
Behind me, “Calling the Heaven and the Earth and the Day
and the Night.”
I thought I had heard that formula before but could not recall
the place or the context. Surely it was sometime when a person of
the Nyueng Bao conviction was being particularly cryptic.
The excitement had increased. Someone had stolen some horses
already . . . had acquired them. Let us not
leap too far with our conclusions. Several riders were charging
around, unguided by any rational plan. Something should have been
in place for a situation like this. I grumbled, “This’s
what happens when nobody wants to take charge.
You three men! Get over here! What in the name of God are you
doing?”
After listening to their hemming and hawing, I gave some orders.
They galloped off with messages. I murmured, “There is no God
but God. God is the Almighty, Boundless in Mercy. Show Mercy unto
me, O Lord of the Seasons. Let mine enemies be even more confused
than my friends.” I felt like I was inside the eye of a storm
of screwups.
My fault? All I did was show up. If I was likely to have that
effect, someone should have met me away from witnesses and led me
to Sahra’s farm. That might have given us time to get into
shape, with nobody the wiser.
We really had very little formal organization, no declared chain
of command, and no established table of responsibility. We had no
real policies other than fixed enmities and an emotional commitment
to release the Captured. We had deteriorated into little more than
a glorified bandit gang and I was embarrassed. It was partly my
fault.
I rubbed my behind. I had a distinct feeling the Captain was
going to catch up on years’ worth of chew-outs. I could make
all the excuses I wanted about only being a stand-in for Murgen
while he was buried, but I had been chosen as his understudy. And
the Annalist is often the Standardbearer, too, and the
Standardbearer is generally designated because those in command
think he is capable of becoming Lieutenant and possibly,
eventually, Captain. Which meant that Murgen had seen something in
me a long time ago and the Old Man had not found cause to disagree
with him. And I had done nothing with that but have a good time
designing torments for our enemies while a woman who was not a
pledged member of the Company assumed most of its leadership by
default. Sahra’s courage and intelligence and determination
were beyond reproach but her skills as a soldier and commander were
less so. She meant well but she did not understand strategies not
designed around her own needs and desires. She wanted to resurrect
the Captured, of course, but not for the benefit of the Black
Company. She wanted her husband back. To Sahra, the Company was
just a means of achieving her ends.
We were about to pay the price of my reluctance to step forward
and serve the interests of the Company.
We were hardly more than the gang of thugs the Protector claimed
us to be. I was willing to bet that any determined resistance we
encountered hereabouts was likely to shatter what little family
spirit the Company had left. We would have to pay for forgetting
who and what we were. And my anger, mainly at myself, made me seem
twice life-size. I stomped around screaming and foaming at the
mouth and before long had bullied everyone into doing something
useful.
And then a sorry bunch of ragamuffins trudged out of the New
Town and headed for the refugee camp like a reluctant flock of
geese, honking and straggling all over. They numbered about fifty
and carried weapons. The steel was more impressive than the
soldiers carrying it. The local armorer did his job well. Whoever
trained recruits did not. They were more pathetic than my gang. And
my guys had the advantage of having knocked people over the head
before and so had little reluctance to hurt someone again.
Particularly if that someone threatened them.
“Tobo. Go get Goblin.”
The boy eyed the approaching disorder. “I can handle that
clusterfuck, Sleepy. One-Eye and Goblin have been teaching me their
tricks.”
Scary idea, a frenetic teenager with their skills and their
lunatic lack of responsibility. “That might well be. You
might be a god. But I didn’t tell you to handle it. I told
you to go get Goblin. So move it.”
Red anger flooded his face but he went. If I had been his
mother, he would have argued until the wave of southerners rolled
over us.
I walked toward the soldiers, painfully conscious that I still
wore the rags I had had on since the day we sneaked out of Taglios.
Nor was I equipped with anything remarkable in the way of weapons.
I carried a stubby little sword
that never had been much use for anything but chopping
wood. I was always at my best as the kind of soldier who stands off
at a distance and plinks the enemy when he is not looking.
I found a suitable spot and waited, arms crossed.
The brotherhood
had to begin moving.
Goblin burst into the tent uninvited and
gasped out the news that Murgen said my feted arrival had caught
the eyes of official informants and had aroused the suspicions of
the local authorities. Those folks had been disinclined to
investigate the refugee camp before only due to a complete lack of
ambition. I sent Kendo and a dozen men to secure the southern end
of the pass through the Dandha Presh, both to guarantee a favorable
welcome for those coming down behind me and to help keep anyone
from strolling off northward with news about where we were. I sent
several small teams off to capture senior officers and officials
before they could become organized. There was no real, fixed, solid
governmental structure here because the Protector favored the rule
of limited anarchy.
It was obvious that these former Shadowlands, despite their
proximity to the glittering plain, were no more than an
afterthought to the powers in Taglios. The troubles in the region
had been settled with a vengeance. The Great General had won the
reputation he had desired. There were few troops and no officials
of any renown here now. It looked like a safe, remote province
suitable for rusticating human embarrassments deemed not worth
exterminating.
Even so, region wide, there were many more of them than there
were of us and we were out of battle practice ourselves. Brains,
speed and ferocity would have to sustain us till we gathered the
whole clan and completed preparations to follow the road up the
south side of the valley.
“So, now you’ve had your power fix and you’ve
got time to talk, how the hell are you, Sleepy?” Goblin
asked. He looked exhausted.
“Worn to the bone from traveling but still full of
vinegar. It’s nice to talk to somebody where I don’t
have to lean over backwards to look them in the eye.”
“Walk in the goddamn door talking that shit. I knew there
was a reason I didn’t miss you.”
“You say the sweetest things. How’s
One-Eye?”
“Getting better. Having Gota here will hurry it up. But
he’s never going to be completely right. He’s going to
be slow and shaky and have spells where he’ll have trouble
remembering what he’s doing. And he’ll always have
trouble communicating, especially when he’s
excited.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, said, “And it’s going
to happen again, isn’t it?”
“It could. It often does. It doesn’t have to,
though.” He rubbed his forehead. “Headache. I need some
sleep. You can drive yourself crazy trying to deal with something
like this.”
“If you need sleep, you’d better get it now. Things
are starting to happen. We’ll need you fresh when it gets
exciting.”
“I knew there was another reason I didn’t miss you.
You haven’t been here long enough to blow your nose and
already people and things are flying all over, getting ready to
beat each other in the head.”
“It’s my perky personality. Think I should visit
One-Eye?”
“Up to you. But he’ll be heartbroken if you
don’t. He’s probably already all bent out of shape
because you came and saw me first.”
I asked how to find One-Eye and left Goblin. I noted that
refugees not associated with the Company were sneaking out of the
camp. There were signs of excitement over in the New Town, too.
Gota, Doj and Swan were nearing the camp from the uphill side.
Tobo larked around them like an excited pup. I wondered where Swan
would stand once the real excitement started. He would stay neutral
as long as he could, probably.
“You look better than I expected,” I told One-Eye,
who was actually doing something when I ducked into his tent.
“That spear? I thought you lost it ages ago.” The
weapon in question was an elaborately carved and decorated artifact
of extreme magical potency that he had begun crafting back during
the siege of Jaicur. Its designated target then had been the
Shadowmaster Shadowspinner. Later, he had continued improving it so
he could use it against Longshadow. That spear was so darkly
beautiful that it seemed a sin to use it just to kill someone.
One-Eye took his time collecting himself. He looked up at me.
There was less of him than there was when last I had seen him, and
even then he had been just a shell of the One-Eye I remembered from
when I was young.
“No.”
Just that one word. None of the usual creative invective or
accusations and insults. He did not want to embarrass himself. The
results of the stroke were more crippling emotionally than
physically. He had been master of his surroundings for two hundred
years, far beyond the dreams of men, but now he could not count on
being able to speak a complete, coherent sentence.
“I’m here. I’ve got the Key. And things have
begun to happen already.”
One-Eye nodded slowly. I hope he understood. There had been a
woman in Jaicur, she was a hundred nineteen when she died, they
said. In all my years I never saw her do anything but sit in a
chair and drool. She understood nothing anyone said to her. She had
to be changed like a baby. She had to be fed like a baby. I did not
want that to happen to One-Eye. He was old and cantankerous and a
major pain more often than not, but he was a fixture of my
universe. He was my brother.
“That other woman. That married one. She does not have the
fire.” His words were a ghost of speech. When he talked, his
hands shook too badly to hold his tools.
“She’s afraid to succeed.”
“And afraid not to. You are busy, Little Girl.” He
beamed because he had gotten that out without much trouble.
“You do what you must. But I have to talk to you again. Soon.
Before this happens to me again.” He spoke slowly and with
great care. “You are the one.” He was tiring, so great
was his mental effort. He beckoned me closer, murmured,
“Soldiers live. And wonder why.”
Someone threw the tent flap back. Brilliant light burst inside.
I knew it was Gota without being able to see. Her odor preceded
her. “Try not to make him talk too much. He’s worn
out.”
“I have seen this problem before.” Cold, yet civil.
More animated than she had been for some time but still not the
caustic, frequently irrational Gota of last year. “I will be
of more value here.” Her accent was much less heavy than
usual. “Go kill someone, Stone Soldier.”
“Been a while since anybody called me that.”
Gota bowed mockingly as she waddled past. “Bone Warrior.
Soldier of Darkness, go forth and conjure the Children of the Dead
from the Land of Unknown Shadows. All Evil Dies There an Endless
Death.”
I stepped outside, baffled. What was that all about?
Behind me, “Calling the Heaven and the Earth and the Day
and the Night.”
I thought I had heard that formula before but could not recall
the place or the context. Surely it was sometime when a person of
the Nyueng Bao conviction was being particularly cryptic.
The excitement had increased. Someone had stolen some horses
already . . . had acquired them. Let us not
leap too far with our conclusions. Several riders were charging
around, unguided by any rational plan. Something should have been
in place for a situation like this. I grumbled, “This’s
what happens when nobody wants to take charge.
You three men! Get over here! What in the name of God are you
doing?”
After listening to their hemming and hawing, I gave some orders.
They galloped off with messages. I murmured, “There is no God
but God. God is the Almighty, Boundless in Mercy. Show Mercy unto
me, O Lord of the Seasons. Let mine enemies be even more confused
than my friends.” I felt like I was inside the eye of a storm
of screwups.
My fault? All I did was show up. If I was likely to have that
effect, someone should have met me away from witnesses and led me
to Sahra’s farm. That might have given us time to get into
shape, with nobody the wiser.
We really had very little formal organization, no declared chain
of command, and no established table of responsibility. We had no
real policies other than fixed enmities and an emotional commitment
to release the Captured. We had deteriorated into little more than
a glorified bandit gang and I was embarrassed. It was partly my
fault.
I rubbed my behind. I had a distinct feeling the Captain was
going to catch up on years’ worth of chew-outs. I could make
all the excuses I wanted about only being a stand-in for Murgen
while he was buried, but I had been chosen as his understudy. And
the Annalist is often the Standardbearer, too, and the
Standardbearer is generally designated because those in command
think he is capable of becoming Lieutenant and possibly,
eventually, Captain. Which meant that Murgen had seen something in
me a long time ago and the Old Man had not found cause to disagree
with him. And I had done nothing with that but have a good time
designing torments for our enemies while a woman who was not a
pledged member of the Company assumed most of its leadership by
default. Sahra’s courage and intelligence and determination
were beyond reproach but her skills as a soldier and commander were
less so. She meant well but she did not understand strategies not
designed around her own needs and desires. She wanted to resurrect
the Captured, of course, but not for the benefit of the Black
Company. She wanted her husband back. To Sahra, the Company was
just a means of achieving her ends.
We were about to pay the price of my reluctance to step forward
and serve the interests of the Company.
We were hardly more than the gang of thugs the Protector claimed
us to be. I was willing to bet that any determined resistance we
encountered hereabouts was likely to shatter what little family
spirit the Company had left. We would have to pay for forgetting
who and what we were. And my anger, mainly at myself, made me seem
twice life-size. I stomped around screaming and foaming at the
mouth and before long had bullied everyone into doing something
useful.
And then a sorry bunch of ragamuffins trudged out of the New
Town and headed for the refugee camp like a reluctant flock of
geese, honking and straggling all over. They numbered about fifty
and carried weapons. The steel was more impressive than the
soldiers carrying it. The local armorer did his job well. Whoever
trained recruits did not. They were more pathetic than my gang. And
my guys had the advantage of having knocked people over the head
before and so had little reluctance to hurt someone again.
Particularly if that someone threatened them.
“Tobo. Go get Goblin.”
The boy eyed the approaching disorder. “I can handle that
clusterfuck, Sleepy. One-Eye and Goblin have been teaching me their
tricks.”
Scary idea, a frenetic teenager with their skills and their
lunatic lack of responsibility. “That might well be. You
might be a god. But I didn’t tell you to handle it. I told
you to go get Goblin. So move it.”
Red anger flooded his face but he went. If I had been his
mother, he would have argued until the wave of southerners rolled
over us.
I walked toward the soldiers, painfully conscious that I still
wore the rags I had had on since the day we sneaked out of Taglios.
Nor was I equipped with anything remarkable in the way of weapons.
I carried a stubby little sword
that never had been much use for anything but chopping
wood. I was always at my best as the kind of soldier who stands off
at a distance and plinks the enemy when he is not looking.
I found a suitable spot and waited, arms crossed.