The Many Deaths of the Black Company (Chronicle of the Black Company) (90 page)

Nashun made a dismissive gesture with one gloved hand. “We come to you because we want our children back.”

He spoke clearly and slowly enough that Lady caught that. She made a surprised little noise that might have been half a laugh.

“You’re out of luck. They may prove useful. Nor have we any incentive to give them back.”

Their anger seemed a palpable force.

Tobo felt it. He said, “Warn them that any power they use to try to break through will bounce back at them. Tell them that the harder they try the worse they’ll get hurt.”

I translated. Our visitors were not impressed by anything a boy said. Neither did they experiment. They did recall events at their own Shadowgate. The Researcher said, “We are prepared to make an exchange.”

“What do you have to trade?”

“You still have people on this plain.”

“Go for it. They’re covered. When the dust settles you’ll be picking up dead family members.” Of that I was confident. Because Tobo trusted Shivetya completely. “You’re powerful but ignorant. Like an ox. You don’t know the plain. It’s alive. It’s our ally.”

Smoke should have rolled out of their ears. Goblin sometimes did that in the old days. But these men had no sense of humor.

Their desperation overcame their anger.

“Explain,” Nashun hissed.

“You know nothing about the plain but you’re arrogant enough to believe that your power will be supreme there. In a realm of the gods. Evidently you don’t even know your own world’s history. The people you’re facing, that you believe you can threaten, are spiritual descendants of soldiers sent out from Khatovar five hundred years ago.”

“What happened before the Voroshk does not signify. However, you demonstrate ignorance of your own.”

“It
is
of consequence. You want something from the last Free Company of Khatovar. And you don’t have anything to offer in exchange. Except, possibly, that disdained history and a little contemporary knowledge.”

Neither man commented.

Lady told me, “Ask them why they want these kids back so bad. They’re safe over here.”

I asked.

“They are family,” the First Father said.

His voice had a quality which made that seem not only plausible but possibly even true.

I said, “They’re a long way away. They’ve been travelling northward steadily since they arrived. One is deathly ill.”

“They have their
rheitgeistiden.
They can get down here in a few hours.”

“I think this guy is for real,” I told Lady. “He’s really got some mad-ass notion that I’d give those kids their toys and turn them loose, just on his say-so. They sure don’t have to work to survive in Khatovar.”

The Researcher picked up the one word. “I mentioned your ignorance. Listen, Outsider. Khatovar is not our world. Khatovar was one city of darkness, where damned souls worshipped a Goddess of the night. That evil city was expunged from the earth before the Voroshk arose. Its people were hunted down and exterminated. They have been forgotten. And they will remain forgotten. Never will any Soldier of Darkness be permitted to return.”

Once upon a time, on a lazy day, ages before he had become the vessel he was now, Goblin had told me that I would never get to Khatovar. Never. It would forever remain just beyond the horizon. I could get closer and closer and closer but I would never arrive. So I had imagined I had set foot in Khatovar. But I had only been to the world where Khatovar had existed once upon a time.

“Time itself has evened the score. That which Khatovar sent out came back. And the world that killed Khatovar will die.”

“Did you catch that?” Lady asked.

“Huh? Catch what?”

“He used the world evil. We don’t hear that much in this part of the world. People don’t believe in it.”

“These guys aren’t from this part of the world.” I returned to the language of Juniper. “Given a complete, working breakdown on the construction and operation of your flying logs, and of the material from which your clothing is made, I’d say we could give you what you want.”

Lady did her best to keep the others up-to-date on what was being said. She did not always get it right.

Nashun the Researcher could not grasp the enormity of my demand. He tried speaking three different times, failed, finally turned to the First Father in mute appeal. I was sure his hidden face was taut with despair.

I told my guys, “It might be wise to back away from the Shadowgate. These people are about out of patience.”

I felt wonderfully wicked. I always do when I frustrate overly powerful, responsible-to-no-one types who think all existence was created only for their pleasure and exploitation.

I told the Voroshk, “It’ll be dark soon. Then the shadows will come out.” And, as the Voroshk exchanged glances, I borrowed from Narayan Singh. “When dealing with the Black Company you would do well to remember: Darkness always comes.”

Lady’s expression was one of less than one hundred percent approval when I turned away. “That could’ve gone better.”

“I let my feelings intrude. I should know better. But talk wasn’t going to get us anywhere, anyway. They think too much of themselves and too little of everyone else.”

“Then you’re giving up the dream of returning to Khatovar.”

The Voroshk made their first furious attempt to bust through the Shadowgate.

I did warn them.

They did not want to listen.

It was worse than I had imagined it could be.

It was worse than Tobo had predicted.

The countermagical blast hurled both sorcerers all the way up the slope to the edge of the plain, bouncing and tumbling all the way. By some miracle neither broke the barrier protecting the road. Maybe Shivetya was watching over then.

One still had shown no sign of recovering when I gave up watching. I told Tobo, “I reckon it’s time to go, now. Those guys might have gotten the message this time.”

I did not look back. The trials the Voroshk faced left me confident that they would never become a problem to my world.

As we descended the hill I asked, “Anybody think there might be a connection between the Shadowmasters and the Voroshk? They seem to have gotten their start about the right time. And the Shadowmasters tried to sever all connections with the past in Hsien. It was just too big a job. I wonder what we’d find out if we talked to some ordinary farming stiff over there?”

“I can ask Shivetya,” Tobo said. “And the prisoners.” But he did not sound particularly motivated.

49

Nijha: Place of the Dead

Sahra kept calling for more torches. As though bringing in enough light would nullify the disaster. By the time the Captain arrived there were fifty torches, lamps and lanterns illuminating what had been a stable before the Company arrived.

“Strangled?” Sleepy asked.

“Strangled.”

“I’m tempted to use the word ‘ironic’ but I fear there’s no irony in it at all. Doj. That white raven of Croaker’s was hanging around outside. Find it. There were little people hanging around here, some of them supposedly watching Singh. I want to know what they saw.”

Sleepy had a good idea what she would hear from the Unknown Shadows. It would be a variation on reports she had had before. She said, “I’ll want to send the news south, too.”

Nothing happened around the Black Company without some hobyah there to witness it. The soldiers from Hsien understood that perfectly. They took it for granted. They tended to be well-behaved. But someone without experience of life in Hsien would not take the Unknown Shadows as seriously.

A minute later, Sleepy asked, “I don’t suppose anyone’s seen Goblin, have they? I don’t reckon anyone knows who was supposed to be watching him?”

Riverwalker said, “He was right over there till a minute ago.”

Sleepy looked, considered, muttered, “No doubt right up to the second I decided to consult the Unknown Shadows about what they saw.” Which would have been the same moment he would have realized that his recent history was no mystery to anyone. The moment when he realized that Sleepy had been paying out the hangman’s rope while seeing what she could learn.

Riverwalker asked. “Want him rounded up? In one piece?”

“No.” Not now. Not when the best wizard she had was an old, old man whose skills, outside using a sword, were too weak even to put hexes on people and animals. “But I wouldn’t mind knowing where he is.” Doj could manage that. The Unknown Shadows communicated with him. Sometimes. When the mood took them. “What you do need to do right now is get extra guards around the Voroshk. Goblin showed a lot of interest in them while we were traveling. I don’t want anything happening to them and I don’t want them wandering off.” It did not occur to her to reinforce the company responsible for the comatose sorcerer Howler. But Fortune stood behind her there.

Goblin, it developed, had grabbed a couple of fast horses and some loose supplies and had gotten himself out of Nijha, headed north, all without attracting any particular notice. Sleepy very nearly indulged in profanity when she received the report. Someone pointed out that the little wizard always had had that knack. Sleepy growled, “Then somebody should have been watching for him to take advantage of it.”

Uncle Doj told her, “I can’t stop him or control him but I can make life miserable for him.”

“How?”

“His horses. The Black Hounds can have a lot of fun with them. And when he tries to lead them to water…” He chuckled wickedly.

“Send them.” Sleepy beckoned Sahra. “I kept leaning both ways during the meeting. Looking for a sign. I’ve just had it. We’re not going to rush in anymore. We’ll move ahead slowly, into more hospitable country, and stop somewhere where we can support ourselves without much trouble. We’ll wait till everyone catches up. And issue a call for volunteers willing to support the Prabrindrah Drah and the Radisha.” If anyone even remembered them.

“Wait especially for my son. Yes.” Sahra was angry and unhappy but too tired to fight much. “Now that Murgen is no longer the major tool.”

“Especially for Tobo, yes. Tonight it was clear that without Tobo we’re in trouble bad.”

Sahra said nothing more. She was tired of fighting a battle in which even the men she wanted to protect refused to honor her concern.

50

The Taglian Territories: The Palace

The Taglian field army slowly assembled astride the Rock Road in lightly settled country midway between Dejagore and the fortified crossings over the River Main at Ghoja. Another, less powerful force, consisting of troops from the southern provinces, assembled outside Dejagore. And a third gathered outside Taglios itself. There seemed no reason to suspect that the force at Dejagore should have any trouble denying that city to a force such as that the Black Company was bringing up. Mogaba expected his enemies to swing west once they descended from the highlands, possibly marching as far as the Naghir River, which they could follow north, then swing eastward again and try to get over the Main at one of the lesser downriver crossings. He intended to let them march and march and wear themselves down. He intended to let them do whatever they wanted till he slammed the door shut behind them. Once he had them north of the Main he could build a ring around them and slowly squeeze.

The Great General was feeling quite positive. Taglios was restive but not rebellious. Even the most remote garrison commanders were bringing their soldiers to the assembly points with their units at near strength even though some harvesting would commence in the far south before the end of the month.

Harvest season inevitably precipitated higher desertion rates.

Best of all, the Protector was staying away. Her tinkering and interference always made his task more difficult. And, of course, it was always his fault when a bastardized plan fell apart.

The Great General gathered his senior staff and inner circle, which included a dozen generals as well as Ghopal and Aridatha Singh. He told them, “The plan appears to be coming together perfectly. With a couple of nudges and timed withdrawals I think we can lead them to the ford at Vehdna-Bota. I still wish we had better communications with the Protector. But she can’t find enough crows anymore. Some plague is wiping them out. I seldom hear from her more than once a day. And then, often as not, she’ll waste time on weather news or a flue epidemic in Prehbehlbed.” Nor were there any shadows about, nor any of the Protector’s lesser spies. Mogaba did not mention that. Taglians were dedicated conspirators. Let them continue to think that there might be eyes in the corners, watching.

Only his own conspiracy need go forward.

*   *   *

The Great General had more to preoccupy him than how to isolate and destroy his enemy. He suspected there was a definite question about the identity of Taglios’ most dangerous foe.

Something about this incarnation of the Black Company had Soulcatcher so concerned that she insisted on focusing all her attention there. Something about this incarnation of the Black Company had touched almost everyone of substance within the Taglian empire, though news of their return had barely had time to spread and there were no eyewitness reports available at all. All customary enmity and internal friction seemed to be dwindling at a time when, normally, factionalism should be exploding as old antagonists tried to use the situation to their advantage.

And Mogaba had found that he was thinking less and less about the practicalities of eliminating the Protector, more and more obsessively about destroying the Black Company. Not just defeating them but obliterating them. To the last man, woman, child, horse, mule, flea and louse.

After decades of unhappy fortune Mogaba was naturally wary of everything—including his own emotional state.

He had begun keeping a personal journal the day he had made the decision to betray Soulcatcher, to track his thoughts and emotions during the subsequent, stressful days. It was a journal he opened only in brilliant sunlight. It was a journal he would destroy before actually taking action against the Protector because there were names in it he did not want betrayed if he failed—and was lucky enough to die before she captured him.