She Is the Darkness: Book Two of Glittering Stone: A Novel of the Black Company (37 page)

The summons came from Croaker. I went across. Only a few days had passed but
already the world had begun to seem peaceful again. The soldiers looked less
haggard.

Shadows were not a problem now. For us.

“I’m here,” I told the Old Man. The guard outside had sent me right in.

“Where’s your mother-in-law?”

“Good question. The other day she said she was going after firewood. We haven’t
seen her since.”

“One-Eye’s gone, too.”

I gaped. Then I started to snicker. The snicker turned into a guffaw. Before
long I was bent double, unable to regain control. “They eloped? Don’t tell me
they eloped.”

“I wouldn’t think of it. Knock off the braying. You sound like a jackass giving
birth.” A stone impossibility. He indicated the alcove where special people were
stored. “Use Smoke. Find them.”

I headed that way, still shivering with restless giggles. “How come I have to do
it? You and Lady were already here.”

“We’re busy restructuring the force. We don’t have time.”

“She over being hooked on ghostwalking?”

“She’s gonna have to be. Get busy. I don’t have time to jack my jaw, either.” He
pointed. He was not in a playful mood. Must have been getting less sleep than
usual.

Smoke was alone behind the curtain. “What happened? You bury the other two?”

“Stashed them in what’s left of your dugout. We needed the room. Get to work.”

I pulled the curtain. He was the boss. He did not have to be a nice guy all the
time.

Smoke did not look the same. Lady had done something to keep him under. He
seemed more drugged than comatose.

He smelled, too. Bad. Somebody had been letting their chores slide. “You’re the
physician, you ought to know about keeping clean. This guy is a mess.”

“I’ll get you a bucket.”

I did not wait for him to tell me. I went to work.

Croaker had made appropriate preparations. There was drinking water and fresh
bread. I ate some of the latter immediately. The command types sure lived the
good life. I had not had anything but bad bitterroot for the past several
days—and not nearly enough of that. A point I ought to make to Rudy.

“Send out for sausages,” I muttered. Maybe when we finally found Khatovar it
would be like the Vehdna paradise. Hot and hotter running houris driven by an
overwhelming passion for smelly old guys with no social skills, houris who spent
the rest of their time whipping up lots of freshly cooked food. Good food.

“Quit stalling around,” Croaker growled a while later. “That little prick is
clean enough.”

I was not anxious to go out. “Somebody ought to watch what he eats.” Smoke
looked like he was suffering the early stages of dietary disease.

Croaker just gave me a dark look. He did not much care, apparently. “You have a
problem doing your job?”

“Cranky, cranky.”

I had a problem with going out. It had been scary getting batted around between
Catcher and Kina and the place of the bones the other day. I had tapped a
reservoir of fear I did not know I contained.

I especially did not like being a bird. That part I had not understood at all.

Catcher now knew I could walk the ghostworld without her manipulations. Maybe I
could because she had opened the way. Now I feared she could hunt me down and
snap me up out there whenever the mood took her. I was not inclined to suffer
her torments voluntarily.

“Murgen.”

I chomped down a last mouthful of bread, followed it with a slug of water.

Bloated, I did what I had to do.

Goblin must have had a notion that he was being watched from afar. Or suspected
that he could be. I would not have found him had I had no idea how his mind
worked. The clever little shit. The spells he used to camouflage himself and his
men were of the simplest sort, almost undetectable. All they did was make the
eye wander away from what was probably just a modest boulder lurking in the
bushes, gently so as to go unremarked even when you were expecting something. He
and his rangers were scattered so no concentration stood out. Mogaba did not
appear to be a concern.

I might be wrong but I assumed One-Eye’s first move, if he deserted, would be to
find Goblin. They had been best friends before anyone else in the Company was
born. If you didn’t count Lady.

A quick, determined search revealed that One-Eye had not joined Goblin yet. A
cruise up and down the road from Kiaulune did not turn him up, either. He must
be in hiding for the day.

I did not feel Kina or Soulcatcher. More confident, I found Goblin again, rode
Smoke backward in time.

Goblin did a good job ambushing the Prahbrindrah Drah’s gang. And no spells
concealed the encounter. He’d been too busy with other work.

It was a traditional Black Company-style ambush. The Prince hurried into it at
dusk. He was accompanied by several hundred soldiers. They outnumbered Goblin’s
force heavily. A few arrows wobbled in from the brush south of the road,

striking several Taglians. Ululations went up. Brush rustled. More arrows flew.

The Prahbrindrah Drah had no idea who was attacking. Shadowlander partisans
probably seemed more likely than the Company. He did not know about Goblin.

We had taught the Taglians to respond to an ambush by counterattacking
immediately. That is what the Prince’s companions did, though not quite
instantly.

Better than half charged into the brush, chasing rustlings. A handful of those
rustles were created by Goblin’s men but most were contributed by little owls
groggily trying to get away from they knew not what without ever rising out of
the cover.

Goblin’s second attack, from the opposite hillside, was far more vigorous and
included illusory people the Taglians would know could not possibly be there if
they just thought. I saw my own doppelganger wading through the brush waving a
nicked-up, rusty sword.

A couple of Goblin’s men and a gang of ghosts retreated toward Kiaulune, drawing
most of the remainder of the Prince’s band with them. Then the remainder of
Goblin’s force jumped in after the Prince. It was a brisk fight. When the dust
settled our erstwhile employer was a prisoner, alive but in no shape to trouble
anyone. He had collected a dozen wounds.

Goblin faded away. Rangers and illusions harassed and baffled the Taglians till
dawn made Goblin’s illusions too obviously illusory.

The Taglians made a valiant effort to find their Prince. They had no luck. Soon
after the next sunset a brush with a killer shadow panicked them. They fled
north with the news that the Prince might be dead.

I could imagine the effect that would have when it reached Taglios. The capital
would fall into chaos if the priesthoods rejected the Radisha’s right to rule.

It could mean civil war. The Woman had noncanonical supporters and there was no
alternate heir-apparent. The question of the succession had been around for
years but always got pushed aside by more immediate crises.

Hee-hee. She would start paying the price of her perfidy before we ever glanced
her way.

One-Eye and Gota must still be on the road. Instead of trying to find them there
it seemed easier to go all the way back and pick them up as they began their
adventure.

That worked. After a fashion. When Gota caught One-Eye alone they held only a
brief discussion before the little wizard grunted, dug a pack out of his ruined
bunker and joined her in slipping off into the nearest woods. Obviously the
matter had been discussed before. Preparations had been made.

They did not talk much, which was hard to credit. One-Eye was not known for his
reticence and Mother Gota was worse. He only grunted occasionally. When she said
anything at all it was just to complain about the general unfairness of life.

Total silence descended once they entered the shade of the trees. Light and
shadow fluttered about as the wind stirred the branches and leaves. They became
increasingly hard to track . . . Oh, but the little shit was a wizard, wasn’t
he? And one who damned well knew about Smoke.

He made me work at it but I stayed with him till my world began to shake.

Earthquake? Again?

It dawned on me at last. Somebody outside the ghostworld wanted me. Reluctantly,

I returned to flesh. “About damned time!” the Old Man snapped when I opened my
eyes. “I really thought we lost you this time.”

“Huh?” That came out a dry-throated croak. I tried for a cup but found I had no
strength to extend my arm. I was wasted bad. The Captain had to pour water into
my mouth for me.

“I really fucked up. How long was I out there?”

“Eleven hours.” That was how tough One-Eye had made it to track him.

“I bet there’s no finding him at all once it gets dark,” I said after I had
gotten a little sugar water inside me. I was confused about when I was. I meant
after dark the day he fled. He could lose himself thoroughly in the dark.

And darkness always comes.

Croaker wasted a lot of energy cursing.

I said, “I can watch for crows. Wherever there’re crows there’s something
they’re watching.” Except around Goblin, who had his owls and confusion spells.

Unless they never looked because Catcher did not know he was out there. “Mostly
they’re too dim to be fooled by low-grade glamors.” Which had to say something
about people and crows both but I am not bright enough to define it.

“I’ll just count him gone. For now. I don’t want you going out there if you’re
going to lose track so bad that you forget you’ve got to come back.”

It was my own habit of dreaming that endangered me. I had encountered fewer
perils roaming around that way.

Again Croaker said, “I’ll just count him gone.” He smiled grimly. “He’ll be
back. Right after he strangles that woman. Which will happen about as soon as
the new wears off. You go back over there. Keep a close eye on the standard. And
send me whatever writings you’ve got ready for review.”

Ulp. I was not ready for this. He had not shown much interest ever before.

“When are we going to move on? Or are we not going to?”

“Not till we have our crops in. Unless we’re under really heavy pressure. Five
months minimum. Enjoy the rest.”

Enjoy the rest. Like I enjoyed all that loafing around when we were bottled up
inside Dejagore. He missed all that because he could not turn down the chance to
go off and play games with Soulcatcher.

“When you went after Catcher the other day . . . Was there a plan? Did you
really expect to accomplish anything?” I retained doubts about the depth of
their antagonism even now.

“Check with my dearly beloved. That was her scheme. You’ll probably see it
again. She’s got the notion that if she keeps harassing Soulcatcher, Catcher
won’t be able to concentrate on giving us grief.”

“Now there’s an idea. Jab sticks into a nest of vipers so they don’t have time
to come hunt you down. Why not whack on hornets’ nests and hibernating bears
while we’re at it?”

“Find One-Eye or go work on the Annals. I’ve got all the bitching I can handle
right here at home.”

“You ought to get some sleep,” I said, heading out. “You’re way too crabby.”

There is color. There is life of a sort. There is light. Without light there can
be no darkness.

There is death. The husks of a hundred crows surround the listing throne.

Death will find a way. Darkness will find a way inside.

Darkness always comes.

The thing on the throne sits wide-eyed, blind. Its orbs show no pupils. They are
half-fried egg-white blanks, yet the creature does seem to see. Certainly it is
aware. Grimacing in agony, its face turns as it tracks each venturesome spy from
the world. It concentrates its will on each newcomer, wanting it to land. A
twinge of evil humor stirs its features whenever a weak bird fails to carry out
its instructions.

The earth quivers.

The throne slides a foot, tilts another inch. Alarm underscores the refreshed
pain on the face of the sleeper.

The crack in the earth opens wider. The color wafting up brightens. A breeze
whispers out of the bowels of the earth. It is colder than the heart of a
starving spider. It carries a black vapor.

The throne jerks another inch.

Death will find a way.

Even the gods must pass.

Things went too well for too long. Summer was an idyll. It never got too hot.

The rains were perfect for the crops we planted. We were threatened with the
sort of harvest for which peasants pray. We made sure the peasants we
encountered understood that the wonderful weather was all our fault. Our
foragers had liberated draft animals enough to support us if we traveled light,

leaving the heavy equipment that had followed us down from friendly territory.

There were even a few sheep for those not bound by Gunni strictures against
eating flesh.

The old saw is true. An army does travel on its stomach. What we accomplished by
projecting the Taglian will the distance we did was a tribute to Croaker’s
planning, preparation and devotion. And psychosis. And, of course, it was
founded on the four years given us by Longshadow’s utter failure to interfere.

Poor boy. Should have listened to Mogaba. He would not be living in a kennel.

Not that he could be faulted for having been deceived by the Mother of Deceivers
when Kina could spin webs of deception to warp the eyesight of gods as great as
she.

We had not yet fattened up from the winter but we were getting set to take the
next leap already.

Neither Soulcatcher nor Mogaba, neither lost Taglian loyalists nor the local
population seemed further inclined to make our lives miserable. We were getting
along with the latter fairly well, now.

After apparently at Lady’s insistence finally sending recon forces to winkle out
the secrets of Overlook, the Old Man had discovered that the fortress contained
several treasures. Half became the Company treasury, something we have not had
for a generation. All pledged brothers received equal shares of the rest.

Eventually, Croaker ordered a market established where locals could bring
anything they cared to sell.

Results were disappointing at first. But once we demonstrated that we would not
rob or murder anybody trade picked up. Peasants are resilient. They are
realists. These did not see how our yoke could weigh heavier than Longshadow’s.

They had no problems with old or imagined myths of the Black Company despite
existing so much closer to Khatovar.

They did not know the name Khatovar, as such, either. Nor were they concerned
about Kina, under any of her names. Their Kina was a creator as well as a
destroyer, fierce but no unhallowed queen of darkness. The Year of the Skulls
was no terror to them. They could imagine no future more grim than their past.

Nobody hailed us as liberators, however. We were but the shadow that displaced
the darkness.

I wandered the market occasionally, accompanied by Thai Dei and an interpreter.

Thai Dei objected. He was sure my curiosity would get me killed. He was not shy
about advising me that curiosity was a lethal curse.

Uncle Doj usually tagged along. Despite pretenses to the contrary, a lot of
strain had developed between us. I could not forgive Sarie’s absence, though I
controlled my urge to bring my knowledge into the open. What I did to irritate
him was ask every southerner I interviewed about the constellation called the
Noose.

But nobody knew it.

Except for the devastation that was Kiaulune it would have seemed a good world.

I enjoyed myself, except for missing Sarie. And I saw her in my dreams. There
were fewer demands on me lately, though I was in charge at the Shadowgate. Red
Rudy and Bucket did most of the real work there, showing me the ropes as they
went. Nobody said so but I was getting educated in case I ever had to take over.

I did not remind anybody that I managed the Old Crew tolerably during our ordeal
in Dejagore. I did not remind them that we had a Lieutenant and she was a whole
lot more experienced and hard-edged than me. Anytime you say anything you just
get more work piled on.