The Many Deaths of the Black Company

  He seemed a shallow young man, overall. No doubt his companions were much the same.

  The Company was going to be a revelation for them.

  * * *

  Lady and I stayed at the end of the road, waiting to make sure we had sealed it successfully against shadow incursions. The sun set. The sense of presence that comes when a large number of killer shadows are gathering grew powerful as darkness came. A rising excitement informed that presence, as though the Host of the Unforgiven Dead knew that some change had taken place even though they could not come out and scout around in the daytime.

  The skies remained clear over Khatovar. The moon rose just before sunset, so there was ample silvery light to reveal the opening stage of the shadow invasion. A trickle of small explorers gradually slithered through the shattered boundary. The scream of a dying pig reached us. More shadows descended the slope. Though they did not appear to be communicating with one another, somehow more and more and bigger and bigger shadows became aware of the opportunity.

  “Look there,” Lady said. A line of Voroshk flyers had begun passing near the moon. Before long little balls of light were bubbling into existence within the dense vegetation down the slope. “Maybe something like our fireballs.”

  The fireballs had been created, originally, to destroy the floods of darkness the Shadowmasters insisted on throwing against us.

  “They’re going to put up a fight, anyway. Will you look at that?” That being the Nef.

  “The dreamwalkers are going out? I wonder why.”

  “Too bad we couldn’t let the shadows all get out, then slam the gate shut behind them.”

  Even Shivetya would agree, I supposed. He was not pleased with some of the improvements made on his plain during recent millennia.

  Lady said, “We should get moving. And you might want to put some thought into what to do with our new children once we get to the other end and they become tempted to run away.”

  Yes. I should. We did not need any more psychotic sorcerers getting under foot.

  34

  The Shadowlands: Tobo’s Chores

  Tobo finished interviewing the black raven that was not really a bird, sent it racing back to Croaker. He found his mother and Sleepy with Sleepy’s usual fellow travelers studying a map of the territories north of the Dandha Presh. They were trying to determine the most favorable route northward, once the force finished crossing the mountains. Little colored patches represented the last known positions of the Protector and of Narayan Singh.

  Sleepy asked, “News from Croaker?”

  “He’s finished it. He’s on his way. But it turned stranger than he expected.” He relayed the full report.

  Sleepy told him, “You’ll have to go back. We can’t risk the chance of another gang of sorcerers getting loose over here.”

  “I suppose.” Tobo had no enthusiasm for that.

  “I don’t like it. Why didn’t he just kill them after he had their flying things and that remarkable clothing?”

  “Because he doesn’t do things like that.” Not to mention the fact that dead people are not real cooperative when it comes time for them to share their knowledge.

  “No. He lets people get away with stuff, then hunts them down thirty years later.” She made a growling noise. “How can I keep moving if I don’t have you here?”

  “If Croaker is on this side all the Unknown Shadows will be on this side, too. The Black Hounds will be running out front in no time. A day or two later we’ll be able to see what’s going on anywhere we want to look.” Sleepy needed that reassurance. She was worried about everything going on out where she had no ability to see. Reminding her that most people, including most captains, went through whole lives far more blind than she had ever been, did nothing to improve her temper.

  Sleepy was spoiled. Throughout her association with the Company, one way or another, we had owned some ability to find out what was happening far away from us. You let anybody have something for a little while, they soon consider it their birthright. Sleepy was very much no exception to that rule.

  * * *

  Goblin crabbed, “I understand that you need Tobo here before you can let the prisoners leave the plain. But why shouldn’t the rest of us go ahead? We aren’t getting anything useful done just sitting here.”

  “You’re getting done what I want you to get done. Now be quiet. Before I gag you.”

  I became impatient myself before Tobo finally appeared. He was subject to the constraints of normal travel. We had no flying carpets anymore, though there was hope that the Howler might create some once he was reawakened. (Nobody had yet tried.) And now there was the possibility we might gain the secrets of the Voroshk flying posts.

  Tobo came in astride the superhorse that had attached itself to Sleepy. Bred originally to serve the Lady of the Tower up north, a number had come south with the Company. This was the last known survivor.

  “How long do those things live, hon?” I asked Lady as Tobo approached.

  “Maybe forty years. At the extreme. This one is pushing the limit.”

  “Looks pretty spry.” Despite having run forty miles the animal looked almost fresh.

  “I did good work in those days.”

  “And you miss them now?”

  “Yes.” She would not lie to me. She did not love me any less for missing being what once she had been, either. Near as I can tell, she never regrets anything she does, good or evil. I wish I could be that way.

  Tobo dismounted right outside the Shadowgate. I passed him through. He got straight to business, though he smiled and waved to his father and uncle and Doj. “You have five prisoners? All major wizards?”

  “I don’t know about that. They could be complete no-talents, far as I can tell. But they did go flying around on fenceposts wearing a kind of super-fabric that Goblin says can be manipulated by thoughts. This comes across as a ‘You’d better be careful, Croaker’ kind of sign.”

  “We can communicate with them?”

  “We have two brothers whose father studied and managed Bowalk while she was in Khatovar. The father could force Bowalk to resume human shape for an hour or two sometimes, but he couldn’t keep her there. He thought the problem was a dead-man-loop Shapeshifter built into the shape-changing spells. Shifter didn’t trust her. The loop activated when One-Eye killed him.

  “Anyway, this Voroshk’s kids picked up some of Bowalk’s native tongue from being around her, which has been for all of their lives. When the Voroshk blew up the Shadowgate one of them got the bright idea that he could talk us into taking them to safety somewhere else. He rounded up some friends who were just as scared and came to us. He assumed we all spoke the same language as the forvalaka. He had some strange notion that we would recognize the innate superiority of the Voroshk and take his bunch in as honored guests. He couldn’t imagine it being any other way because that’s the only way it could be in Khatovar. He’s vain, stupid and arrogant. They all seem to be. The other brother more so. He won’t even talk.”

  Tobo smiled a little unpleasantly, perhaps recalling similar attitudes amongst Hsien’s warlords. “I expect they’ve all suffered one disappointment after another.”

  “Absodamnlutely. Life has become an unimaginable hell for these kids. I have to remind them over and over that they’re still alive.”

  “Let’s go meet them, shall we?” The kid looked like he was excited by the challenge.

  As we approached the refugees I warned Tobo, “They’re all gorgeous but I really don’t think they have a brain between them. At least they show every sign of being slow learners.”

  We stopped several yards from Khatovar’s forlorn children. They huddled together beside the road as Black Company men and mules began to move out through the Shadowgate. Only one of the girls had ambition enough to look up. The little one. The one we had taken prisoner.

  She stared at Tobo for half a minute. Then she murmured something to her companions. They looked up, too. Only the ringleader and h
is brother betrayed their native arrogance. And it had not been that long or arduous a journey.

  They seemed to sense something in Tobo that was not apparent to me. It awakened hope. Several babbled questions in their own language.

  “When they stop yammering tell them who I am. Don’t feel like you have to be entirely honest, either.”

  “A little exaggeration couldn’t hurt?”

  “Hardly ever.”

  The interview lasted longer than I anticipated. Tobo was remarkably patient for his age. He worked hard to make the Voroshk understand that they were no longer in the land of their fathers, that here it did not matter who they were or who their parents had been. In our world they were going to have to sing for their supper.

  We broke for a snack. The Voroshk and their guards were the only people left on the plain side of the Shadowgate. I told Tobo, “I admire your patience.”

  “Me, too. Already I want to kick some of them. And it’s not really all patience, anyway. I’m trying to learn more about them by reading what they don’t say and what they do let slip. You’re right. They don’t seem very bright. Though I’m guessing that’s as much because of the way they were educated as it is any natural stupidity. They have no idea whatsoever of their own past. None! Never heard of the Free Companies. Never heard of the Lance of Passion. Didn’t know that some really great wizards from Khatovar erected the standing stones that are all over the plain, at great peril to themselves from shadows. Didn’t even recognize the name Khatovar, though they do know Khadi as some vague, old-time demon that nobody cares about anymore.”

  “How do you know that? About the memorial stones.”

  “Baladitya got it from Shivetya. You did notice that the runes on the flying logs are almost identical to the ones on the standing stones?”

  “I didn’t notice that, no. Mostly I’ve kept busy watching Goblin. The little shit speaks a bit of the language. He’s been sneaking around talking to them.”

  Tobo chewed and nodded and looked thoughtful. “You ask him about it?”

  “Hardly. I don’t trust that guy, Tobo. One-Eye told me not to just before he passed.”

  “Nobody is going to trust Goblin for a long time, Croaker. And he knows that as well as anybody else does. He’ll be the carefulest Goblin you ever saw. You won’t even recognize him.”

  “We’re talking about Goblin here. He can’t help himself.”

  “He got into most of what he got into because One-Eye dragged him along. Think about it, Croaker. If he’s somehow turned into Kina’s tool, his assignment will be a long-term one. ‘Bring on the Year of the Skulls’ kind of stuff. He won’t get himself killed trying something trivial.”

  I grunted. That made perfect sense on a rational level but I remained unconvinced. Goblin was Goblin. I had known him for a long time. The things he did did not always make sense, even to him. I asked, “What’ll we do with the Voroshk?”

  “I’m going to educate them.”

  Damn! I did not like the way he said that.

  He replaced my guards with his own cronies, Taglians led by a senior sergeant called Riverwalker. All these guards were fluent in the language of Hsien and possessed a working knowledge of Nyueng Bao, which was a close cousin of the language spoken in the Land of Unknown Shadows.

  Tobo instructed the guards, then the prisoners. Through me. Explaining the facts of life. “These men will be your teachers. They will teach you languages and the skills you will need to get along in this world. They will expose you to our religions and laws and the ways we have for getting along with one another.”

  The boy doing the translating started to protest.

  Riverwalker smacked him in the back of the head hard enough to knock him down.

  Tobo continued, “You have to understand that you’re guests. You bought passage out of Khatovar with your knowledge. Your lives will be as comfortable as we can make them so long as you cooperate. But we are at war with ancient and powerful enemies. We won’t be inclined toward patience with anyone who doesn’t cooperate. Our patience will be especially short with people we consider dangerous. Do you understand?”

  Tobo waited for me to finish translating. I asked an extra time to make sure the kids really grasped the gravity of the situation. Youngsters have a hard time getting it when the cruel and deadly applies to them personally. They also tend to agree to almost anything just to stop hearing about it.

  Tobo had me tell them, “The rest of today and tonight you can rest. Tomorrow you’ll begin an intensive education in Taglian. While we’re hurrying to catch up with the rest of our army. I’ll travel with you and will help you as much as I can.”

  The leader boy wanted to argue again. He had not listened closely enough to what he was translating. Riverwalker knocked him down again. Tobo told me, “That one’s going to be trouble.”

  “There’s a good chance they all will be. They couldn’t get along at home.” They had to be misfits. Shifting languages, I told the kids, “If you make yourselves more trouble than you’re worth these people will kill you. Come on. I think I see some chow waiting to make our acquaintance.”

  One of the girls said something in her own language. The captive, not the one who had come along with the boys.

  I responded to the whine. “Tell her she can’t go home. It’s too late for that.”

  Meantime, Tobo remarked, “But everybody here is running away from something.”

  “Some,” I stipulated. “How soon do you think we’ll get a chance to sit down somewhere? I’ve got a lot of writing to catch up on.”

  Tobo laughed. “You’d better stage a coup, you want a chance to sit down. Sleepy won’t take time off until the corpses are piled high enough to make fences.”

  * * *

  The Voroshk seemed to enjoy their evening meal. They were hungry enough to appreciate anything. We started teaching them Taglian nouns. Tobo studied both them and the wonders they had brought with them. He seemed less impressed by their flying posts than he was by the clothing they were no longer permitted to wear.

  He told me, “Those posts look like a variation on the same sorcery Howler uses to operate his flying carpets. I should be able to work it out eventually. If I can get around some spells that’re meant to make the posts destroy themselves if they fall into the wrong hands.”

  I told him about the two I had seen explode.

  “Pretty potent self-destruct, then. I’ll be careful.”

  “Be careful of those girls, too. I think the little one’s already staked you out.”

  * * *

  Come morning the leader kid could not be wakened. He was alive, all right, but no one could rouse him. “What did you do?” I asked Tobo, whispering, having leapt to a conclusion involving Tobo wanting the potential troublemaker out of the way without us losing access to his post and clothing.

  “I had nothing to do with it.”

  Lady examined the boy after I did. She said, “This looks a lot like the coma Smoke went into for so long.”

  I agreed. But Soulcatcher had been responsible for that, we believed. And there was no way this could be her doing. The Unknown Shadows knew every move she made. And would turn aside any monsters she sent against us. I wondered aloud, “Were any of your invisible friends around here last night? Maybe they saw something.”

  “I’ll check.”

  By dint of ferocity I got the unconscious kid’s brother to admit that he could communicate. I made him understand that they needed to bind his brother onto one of their posts. Otherwise he would get left behind when we moved out.

  The kids were terrified.

  “Handy disaster,” Lady remarked.

  “Yeah. But for whom?”

  35

  Taglios: The Message

  Mogaba swore softly but virulenty, foully and steadily. Crows had been arriving for over an hour, each bird carrying a fragment of a long message from the Protector. Being birdbrained, no one crow could carry much of the whole. And because they were v
ulnerable to a thousand misfortunes, every fragment had to be sent again and again.

  The Great General hated putting these puzzles together and this one was the worst ever, by an order of magnitude. There should not be this many crows in the whole world.

  He had twenty scribes working on the message already.

  Some points became clear quickly.

  He sent for Aridatha Singh and Ghopal Singh. This message would affect all of them.

  By the time the others arrived, enough of the puzzle had come clear for Mogaba to reveal what, for him, was the most critical detail. “They’re back.”

  Aridatha jumped, startled by Mogaba’s intensity. “Back? Who’s back?”

  “The Black Company. The Protector destroyed them. Right? Root and branch. Right? But now she says they’re back. They’re patching her message together in the next room right now.”

  Ghopal asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a huge message coming in from our employer. She’s given up her quest. She’s on the run, headed home. The Black Company is pouring through the Shadowgate. Thousands strong. Well-armed, well-clad, well-trained. With the Radisha Drah and Prahbrindrah Drah in their train and blessing them. And we have nothing much in their way for hundreds of miles. She’s headed back here. She expects to lose her ability to watch them shortly. They have some unfamiliar kind of supernatural help coming off the plain with them. Evidently something like the shadows but more dangerous because they’re smarter.”

  Aridatha observed, “Sounds like pretty good intelligence gathering for somebody who’s on the run from an enemy who knows her capabilities.” Singh’s handsome face had lost some of its color. His voice had gone husky.

  “A thought which did not escape me. She is Soulcatcher, after all. On the other hand, though, she can’t learn anything when there isn’t anything to see.”

  Aridatha and Ghopal nodded. In all ways, except in their hearts, they remained dedicated servants of the Protector.