The Many Deaths of the Black Company (Chronicle of the Black Company) (26 page)

Del Mukharjee understood the threat just fine. But he had no idea whatsoever why the Protector would want to interfere with his livelihood.

The Protector had a passion about corruption.

In time the Protector reasoned that three women had come into the Palace and three women had gone away again. It seemed very likely that the three who had departed were not the three who had entered. And no one the Radisha’s size had gone out since.

Which meant that someone with some answers might still be inside.

Chuckling wickedly, Soulcatcher began to look for evidence that someone had slipped off into the untenanted wilds of the Palace.

*   *   *

Goblin was asleep on a dusty old bed. Occasionally his snores would turn to sneezes and snorts when too much dust got into his nostrils.

A squawk had him bouncing up so suddenly he almost collapsed from light-headedness. He spun around. He saw nothing. He heard soft laughter, then a bizarre, squawking voice that sounded almost familiar. “Wake up. Wake up. She is coming.”

“Who’s coming? Who’s talking?”

There was no response. He did not feel any strong sorcerous presence. It was a puzzle.

Goblin had a good idea who might be coming, though. Not many women were likely to be hunting him here in the middle of the night.

He was ready. His little pack was carrying the two books Sleepy most wanted to save. Taking all three was physically impossible. His traps were set. All he had to do was move on into the now-empty part of the Palace that had been occupied by the Black Company back when its staff and leadership had been quartered there. There were ways to get out unnoticed. He and One-Eye had found them in olden times. The trouble was, he had no desire to be on the streets after dark, amulet or no.

*   *   *

Soulcatcher gave up most of her sense of touch when she chose to wrap every inch of her body in leather and helmet. She never noted the touch of or resistance of the strand of spider silk stretched across the corridor. But she did have a marvelously well-developed sense for personal danger. Before the Ghanghesha hit the floor, she was moving to defend herself. It was such reflexes that made it possible for creatures like her, her sister Lady, and the Howler, to have survived for so long. This time she had the proper controlling spells ready, hung about her, sparkling like spanking-new tools.

The shadow trapped inside the figurine barely got its bearings before it was attacked itself, seized and constrained, then twisted and crushed down into a whining, seething ball completely enclosed inside one of the Protector’s gloved hands. A merry young voice called, “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Soulcatcher continued to move forward, amused by the idea of tossing the shadow back into someone’s face. The trail began to grow indistinct, then disorienting. Experimentation showed her the cause was external. The corridor had been strewn with cobwebs of spells so subtle that even she might not have noticed had she just been hurrying along. “Oh, you clever devils. How long has this been here? Ah. A very long time indeed, I see. You were still in favor when you started this. Have you been hiding here all along? I certainly couldn’t find you in the city if you never were out there.”

In another voice entirely, she asked, “What have we here? It smells like somebody very frightened is hiding behind this door. And he didn’t even bother to lock it. How stupid does he think I am?”

She shoved the door with her toe.

A clay Ghanghesha plummeted from its place atop the door. Soulcatcher giggled. She was even quicker to recapture this shadow, which she squeezed down inside her other hand. Then she pushed into the room.

There was no one there anymore. That was easy to sense. But there was a curious feel to the place. It demanded an investigation.

She generated a small light, stood in place, turned slowly while she read the history of the room for subtle clues. A great deal had happened there. Much of the recent history of the Black Company had been shaped in that room. It retained a strong smell of old fear she identified eventually with the long-dead Taglian court wizard, Smoke.

All this she debated with herself in a committee of argumentative voices. In the end, she seemed entertained. Most of the time life was a great entertainment for Soulcatcher.

“And what do we have here?” Something with inked characters on it peeped from beneath a dusty old bed where someone had been lying until minutes ago. Thoughtlessly, she reached for the object, opening her hand to grasp it. “Damn! That was stupid!” She wasted several minutes regaining control of the shadow. It was very agile this time. She stuffed it into the hand restraining the other. The two were extremely unhappy in there. One thing shadows seemed to hate more than the living was other shadows.

What Soulcatcher had found was a book with half the pages torn out. It was alone. “So this is what became of those. I was never quite sure who took them. I wonder if they got any use out of them?”

As she was about to depart, the Protector glanced at the damaged book once more. “Been taking these pages a few at a time. That would take a long time. Which means they’ve been coming in and out of the Palace for a long time. Which therefore suggests that the Radisha didn’t engineer her own disappearance. Oh, well. She’s gone. It amounts to the same thing. Let’s catch our little rat and let him play with our little friends.”

*   *   *

Unlike Soulcatcher, Goblin could not see in the dark. But he had the advantage of knowing where he was going. He did manage to stay ahead and did slide out of one of the old hidden exits. There was a little light outside from a fragment of moon peeking through scurrying young clouds trying to catch up with Mother Storm. Goblin laid the last Ghanghesha on the cobblestones in plain sight, then ran. The books on his back beat against him, pounding the breath out of him. He muttered something about the good news being that it was all downhill from here. The bad news was that it was dark out, there were shadows on the prowl, and he was not so sure about the quality of his fifteen-year-old amulet. He had to hope that in a city this vast, none of the handful of nightstalkers would cross his path while he was huffing and puffing and concentrating on staying ahead of Soulcatcher.

It did not occur to him that she might have recovered the shadows he had left in ambush, that they might be after him, too.

*   *   *

Soulcatcher stepped into the night close enough behind to glimpse a flicker of her quarry vanishing into the shadows between structures across the open area outside the Palace. She spied the abandoned Ghanghesha and several other small items that looked like they had been dropped in the rush to get away. She tossed her two shadows into the air and stomped her heel down on the clay figurine at the same time. This would set a pack of small deaths on the little man’s heels.

By now, she was reasonably certain that she was chasing the wizard called Goblin.

She screamed. The pain in her heel was beyond anything she had ever experienced. As she collapsed, trying to will her throat to seal itself, she watched three ferociously bright balls of light streak into the night in pursuit of the shadows she had sent to claim Goblin. Still fighting the incredible pain, she produced a dagger and used its tip to dip another fireball out of her heel. Already it had eaten all the way to the bone and in, and had done some damage as high as her ankle—despite her normal protection.

“I’ll be crippled,” she snarled. “He lulled me. He set me up so I’d think this would be another easy shadowtrap.” None of her voices were amused now. “Clever little bastard will pay for this.”

The fallen fireball burned its way into the cobblestones. Still ignoring her pain, Soulcatcher tried to stand. She discovered that she was not going to be able to walk. She was, however, not losing any blood. The fireball had cauterized her wound. “My beloved sister, if you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you for inventing those damned things.”

Laughter echoed down off the ramparts of the Palace.

A flicker of white glided after Goblin.

“I think I’ll kill
somebody
anyway.” Soulcatcher made her way toward the Palace entrance on hands and knees, muttering continuously. She had isolated her pain in a remote corner of her mind and was now concentrating on being angry about what this odyssey was doing to her beautiful leather pants and gloves.

41

“Can you believe that?” I asked. “She was as mad about ruining her outfit as she was about losing Goblin and getting hurt.”

One-Eye chuckled, immensely relieved because Goblin had gotten away. “I believe it.”

“What? You, too?”

“It’s a northern thing. Everything she wears is leather. You people are all goofy about stuff like that. She probably has to fly five thousand miles every time she wants a new pair of pants. Means she’s really got to watch her waist and behind. Unlike some—hey! No punching! We’re all on the same side here.”

“Do you believe this little pervert?” I asked Sahra.

“You go ask Swan.” One-Eye showed me his tooth. The one he was about to lose. “He’ll tell you the woman’s got her good points.”

Sahra remained all business. “What are we going to do if she just pretends the Radisha is all right? How many people normally see the Princess? Not many, I know. And there’s no Privy Council anymore. We’ve seen to them. Except for Mogaba.”

“We’ve got to see about him, too,” One-Eye grumbled.

“Let’s not overreach. The Great General will be harder to take than the others were.”

I mused, “She wouldn’t actually have to keep the Radisha in hiding very long. Maybe two weeks, while she builds a new Council, handpicked to woof ‘Yes, ma’am!’ and ‘How high?’ when she tells them to jump.”

One-Eye blew out a bushel of air. “She’s right. Maybe we should’ve considered that.”

I said, “I did consider it. Having the Radisha under our control looked like the best deal. We can trot her out any time Soulcatcher gets too bizarre. And Soulcatcher will realize that. She won’t let temptation carry her too far. Not until she sorts us out.”

“She will do everything she can to find and recover the Radisha,” Sahra said. “I’m sure of that. Which means we need to hurry up and get out of the city.”

I said, “I have one little thing to do before I go. Don’t anybody wait on me. Murgen. Be a pal and put a little real effort into finding out about this other white crow.”

I did not await his response. Now that Goblin seemed safe, I was eager to interview our newest prisoner.

*   *   *

Someone had taken some effort to make the Radisha comfortable. Nor had she been forced into a cage. Presumably, One-Eye had provided a sampler of choker spells.

I studied her while she remained unaware of my presence. She had had a formidable reputation when first the Company had come to Taglios. She had put up a good struggle, too, but the years had worn her down. She looked old and tired and defeated now.

I stepped forward. “Have they treated you well so far, Radisha?”

She showed me a weak smile. There was a twinkle both of anger and sarcasm in her eye.

“I know. It’s not the Palace. But I’ve enjoyed worse. Including chains and no roof at all.”

“And animal hides?”

“I’ve lived here for the last six years. You get used to it.” It had been longer than that but I was not taking time to be precise.

“Why?”

“Water sleeps, Radisha. Water sleeps. You were expecting us. We had to come.”

At that point it became completely real to her. Her eyes grew big. “I’ve seen you before.”

“Many times. Lately, around the Palace. Once upon a time, long ago, around the Palace also, with the Standardbearer.”

“You’re the idiot.”

“Am I? Perhaps one of us—”

She began to grow angry then.

I told her, “That won’t help. But if you need to rage to feel better, consider this. The Protector is covering up your disappearance already. The one person who knew for sure—not counting us villains, of course—is dead already. There’ll be more deaths. And you’ll begin making the most outrageous pronouncements from the anonymity of your Anger Chamber. And in six months the Protector will be so solidly in control, behind her Greys and those who think they can profit from an alliance with her, that you won’t matter anymore.” As long as Soulcatcher could come to an accommodation with Mogaba.

I did not mention that.

The Radisha began to speak quite rudely of her ally.

I let her run for a while, then offered another slogan: “All their days are numbered.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Sooner or later we’re going to get everyone who injured us. You’re right. It’s not really sane. But it’s the way we are. You’ve seen it happening lately. Only the Protector and the Great General are still running free. All their days are numbered.”

The reality sank in a little deeper. She was a captive. She did not know where. She did not know what was going to happen. She did know that her captors were willing to pursue their grudges to insane lengths, just as they had promised they would before she made the mistake of letting herself be seduced by Soulcatcher’s deadly promises.

“You have no designated heir, do you?”

The change of direction startled her. “What?”

“There isn’t any clear-cut line of succession.”

Again, “What?”

“At the moment I don’t just hold you hostage, I have the entire future of Taglios and the Taglian Territories firmly under my thumb. You don’t have a child. Your brother has no child.”

“I’m too old for that now.”

“Your brother isn’t. And he is still alive.”

I left her then, to think, her mouth hanging open.

*   *   *

I considered seeing Narayan Singh again, decided I would seem too eager. I was too tired, anyway. You do not treat with a Deceiver without full command of your faculties. Sleep was the lover whose arms I needed to wrap me up.

42

I was playing tonk with Spiff and JoJo and Kendo Cutter, an interesting mix. At least three of us took our religion somewhat seriously. JoJo’s real name was Cho Dai Cho. He was Nyueng Bao and, in theory, One-Eye’s bodyguard. One-Eye did not want a bodyguard. JoJo did not want to be a bodyguard. So they did not see much of one another, and the rest of us saw as little of JoJo as we did of Uncle Doj. JoJo complained, “You’re just ganging up on the dumb swamp boy. I know.”