Uncle Doj, being both male and what passes for exalted caste amongst Nyueng Bao, carried Ash Wand and a quite unprepossessing pack.
Mother Gota shed her load, dropped to hands and knees and started to crawl into the bunker. As she met my gaze I could not help grinning. She began muttering curses that, no doubt, were directed at the sort of evil fate that would unleash an earthquake at such an inopportune moment.
The earth moved. One-Eye would hear about that for however many more centuries he hung around.
I said, “Let Thai Dei rest. It’s going to be another long night.” As I edged over Uncle Doj glimpsed the little bamboo tube I had tucked in my belt behind me.
The cold wind was getting stronger. The cloth of the standard popped and cracked.
Uncle Doj peered up the darkening slope, eyed the bunker, glared at me like he was developing serious reservations about having left his swamp. I said, “Sometimes you have to live like this when you do what we do.” Mother Gota crept back outside, still muttering, verbalizing what Uncle Doj was thinking. I reminded them, “You invited yourselves along.”
Uncle Doj opened his mouth but overcame the urge to bicker. He settled on the other side of the bunker entrance, Ash Wand across his lap. Gota proceeded to scout the neighborhood, collecting stones. Our neighbors did not object despite rocks beginning to look like the only measure of wealth at this end of the world.
I shut my eyes. Softly, just to be a pain in the ass, I whistled an air Sarie liked to hum when she was happy.
As it always does, darkness came.
79
They let me sleep. And sleep I did despite the cold and the wind, the cooking smells and my own snoring. As nightfall waxed complete I slipped my moorings to my flesh, slowly. For a while I was like tatters stirring in a ghostly breeze. I made no real effort to go, nor any more to stay. Uncle’s Doj’s return, with all its unhappy reminders, had inspired a great lethargy.
My heart’s inclination was the breeze that carried me north. I loafed over mountains and across wildernesses, past all the conquered cities. I found Sleepy on the road from Taglios to Dejagore. He understood that he would be in no danger if he kept moving. No agent of the Radisha could outrun the steed he rode.
The Radisha remained distraught about his escape. It was critical to the conspiracy that every Company brother be caught or killed. If even one escaped the plague would return. Like Narayan Singh, she knew. Darkness always comes. She had seen it happen already, after the disaster at Dejagore.
She was terrified. She was convinced that the Year of the Skulls would commence shortly if any part of the grand plan failed. She had a great deal to say about Soulcatcher and none of it was complimentary. To get herself shut of a dreaded ally she might have taken on another who was far worse.
She remembered Catcher’s tricks and treats of a few years ago. She knew damned well that Soulcatcher was less predictable than any natural disaster.
The latest quakes had been felt in Taglios though no damage had been done there. Some people were afraid they meant that the gods, or some great power, were displeased by what had been done to the Black Company.
Croaker had mentioned the Company habit of paying back treachery so often that already some people were preparing for the vengeance storm. Again, that had to do with the terror of the Company name that no one would, or possibly could, explain.
Could that just have stolen into every heart from some shadowy source, never having possessed any substance? Was it a good old-fashioned Kina deceit?
I really needed to get my nose into those old Annals hidden in that room where... Oh oh.
The Radisha had Guards and soldiers searching for Smoke systematically. One-Eye’s confusion spells would not withstand so determined an effort. They could not confuse all the senses of that many men all the time.
She could not expect to find Smoke alive. She would just want to know what had become of him. I did not want her looking, though. She might find my books.
Stupid, stupid. I could have had Sleepy collect them while he was up there. If I had invested a little forethought and had done a little planning I could have had him kill several birds. I had to start thinking that way. We had no options to squander anymore.
The Radisha was closeted with the most powerful priests. Each time I visited Taglios, even if only one day had passed, it seemed the priests had gained influence while the wealthy merchants and manufacturers, many of whom owed their fortunes to the existence and efforts of the Company, had faded farther from favor. Unless they were priests clever enough to have used their positions to mercantile advantage during the development of the Taglian armies. It would be interesting to see how well the new bourgeoisie had been able to shed old ways of thinking as the ecclesiastical peril grew. Was there one native-born Taglian with balls big enough to respond?
The Radisha’s effort to screw us had put her in bed with men she loathed and at odds with people who thought her way.
The meeting looked like another arm-twisting session. The priests wanted further concessions from the state in return for ecclesiastical support.
You could see the Radisha thinking that Lady had had the right idea when she massacred so many of their predecessors.
I was in a wicked mood. I dropped to a point beside the Woman’s ear. “Boo!”
She jumped. She moved away and stared at the empty air, color gone from her face. The room fell silent. The priests looked troubled. They, too, had sensed something. It struck dark sparks of terror inside them. I tried an evil laugh. Some of that got through, too. I felt the black dread fill the room.
The Radisha shivered as if the temperature had dropped to midwinter.
It was already planting season around Taglios.
I whispered in the Radisha’s ear, “Water sleeps.” She did not catch that but did not need to to become more frightened.
It is a saying of my people. Even Water sleeps. But Enemy never rests.
Sarie was asleep when I reached the temple of Ghanghesha. Just enough light leaked into her room to show that she was there. I floated for a while, enjoying being near her. I did not disturb her. She needed her sleep.
Me, I was immune to that stuff.
Why was there any light at all?
The priests had placed a pair of lanterns outside Sahra’s cell. Events the other night must have troubled them.
I had to be getting strong at reaching out of the ghostworld.
Was it a good idea to try? Did I want people all over the place knowing something was going on? It would not hurt to have them scared. Oh, no. But, on the other hand, they would take steps to mask all their deviltry.
I did a tour of the temple, seeking evidence of obvious attitude changes by the priests. I found nothing unusual, although the acolytes handling nighttime ceremonies were abnormally nervous. I went back to hover over my honey.
Damn, she was beautiful! Damn, it was going to be harder and harder not to mention my disappointment to Uncle Doj and Mother Gota. Hell. We might be getting to a time when raising questions would be appropriate. They were a long way from home. They had nowhere to ran.
Sarie opened her eyes. My anger melted away. Half a moment later she looked almost directly at me and smiled her wonderful smile. Fish and rice must be good for the teeth because she had the whitest, most perfect teeth I ever saw.
“Are you here, Mur? I feel you very close to me right now.”
“I’m here,” I said into her ear, with none of the wickedness I had shown the Radisha. Sarie probably did not catch any words but understood that she had gotten a response.
“I miss you a lot, Mur. I don’t feel like I’m one of my own people anymore.”
Because they will not let you be. Granny Hong Tray did not stay around to manage the results of her sybilline mutterings. Grandpa Ky Dam did not make it clear that Hong Tray’s pronouncements were forever.
Of course, the present situation might be exactly what the old lady had had in mind. She never wrote any
thing down for me, either.
The best of the diviner breed are never wrong because they never set anything in stone.
The moment with Sarie faded without my acquiescence. She looked troubled, as though she sensed me withdrawing. I wriggled but could not hold my position.
Something back in the real world insisted on gaining my attention.
As I drifted out of Sarie’s cell several priests invited themselves in. One demanded, “Who are you talking to, woman?”
“Ghosts,” my darling replied, showing her sweetest smile.
80
At first I thought it must have been just the flake of flint biting my ass that had brought me back. That bastard hurt. But as I shuffled it out from under me I sensed movement against the starry background south of me. A voice inquired, “Are you awake now, Standardbearer?”
Sindawe. “No doubt about it. And I was having such a wonderful dream, too.”
“Since the Old Man wants you to keep an eye on us I thought it would be useful if you saw what’s happening.” Unlike most Nar, Sindawe had a sense of humor. It included a major irreverence for authority, though he represented authority himself. He must have driven Mogaba to distraction back when they were best friends. Unless Mogaba started out the same way and grew out of it. A lot of sour old farts start out as all right guys.
I had to roll onto my hands and knees to find the leverage to get up. “Stiff as a log,” I grumbled.
“Buy a better mattress.”
“What I need is a better body. Like one that’s about fifteen years younger. All right. What’s going on?”
“Thought you’d want to see what’s happening at the Shadowgate.”
“Nothing bad, apparently, or you wouldn’t be hunking around in the dark.” There were no fires tonight. There were no other bold souls wandering around like Sindawe, either. But the most remarkable lack was that of flying fireballs. Over here. There was an occasional pop on the far side of Overlook.
Sindawe headed uphill, though that was not necessary. I could feel the Lance. It seemed to be awakening. I could see the sparks as the shadows tested my leather ropes. I sensed frustrated motion beyond the sparks.
I felt no fear at all.
Always before there had been fear anytime there were shadows near enough to be sensed.
The shadows grew more energetic. So did the sparks. They began to crackle and pop. The soldiers showed remarkable restraint. Not one man went bugfuck and sprayed the hillside with fireballs. They felt no fear, either. Or maybe they were just veteran enough to understand that you can fool yourself. Especially after a trial like last night.
The stupid and the nervous would be over yonder in that trench that the survivors had so grudgingly dug.
“Sky’s clearing,” I observed, maybe just for something to say. Over the rise ahead that was as clear as it was when my ghostwalks took me up above the clouds.
“Uhm.” Sindawe seldom wasted words on small talk.
“Recognize any of those constellations?” I did not. It was like I was looking at a completely foreign sky.
“Too many stars to see any patterns.”
“The Noose,” said a voice from behind me. I started. I had heard no one come up. And I would not have expected this speaker to move quietly.
“Mother?” The sparks from the Shadowgate generated just enough light to reveal where she stood. A form that may have been Thai Dei loomed behind her, staring into the southern night.
“It was in my mother’s book. Part of a fairy tale nobody understood. That nobody knew where it came from anymore. Thirteen stars that form a noose.”
I saw nothing of the sort. I said so. Mother Gota must have been stunned into another century, so out of character had she become. She grabbed me by the arm, pulled my head down, made me sight along her pointing arm. Finally, I admitted, “I see something that looks like a bottom-up water ladle right there above what must be the skyline.”
“That is it, you fool Stone Soldier. Three stars are hidden by the earth.” She remained particularly intense.
“You recognized it, with three stars missing, from a description in a childhood story?”
A particularly brilliant burst amongst the leather ropes revealed the woman staring at me bedecked in an expression of profound bewilderment. It also revealed Uncle Doj behind her.
He wore a look of exasperation which vanished the instant he realized I could see him.
“Gota. There you are. Nephew. What is this display?”
From much closer than I would have believed he could be, Thai Dei said, “The Soldiers of Darkness have stopped the leak of death.” He spoke in rapid Nyueng Bao. He used several words that were not clear to me. I counted on context to unravel their meanings.
Uncle Doj told Mother Gota, “I have cautioned you about your tongue —”
“I’ll caution you, you mountebank.” I think “mountebank” is what she meant. Wrapped up in the word she chose was a root meaning “fraud,” with a superlative prefix hung out front.
It sounded like a cousin word to “priest.” Blade would have been amused. I was amused.
Gota had restrained herself with Doj in the past. Compared to how she had berated everyone else. She deferred to Uncle usually, albeit with poor grace. Now they squabbled like children.
I got the impression that their quarrel had nothing to do with what they really wanted to fight about. Even so, the tiff was interesting where I could follow it.
Thai Dei’s special mission in life is to poop parties. He embarrassed those two silent long enough to get in the news that they were quarreling amidst all the Bone Warriors in the world, at least one of whom understood their blather.
Doj responded instantly. He shut his mouth and went for a walk. I said, “I hope some nervous type don’t pick him off in the dark.” Thai Dei went after him.
Gota shut up only because Doj’s departure left her to carry both sides of the argument. She considered starting up with me. But she recalled that, whatever I was to her daughter, I was a Soldier of Darkness, too. Anyway, I was not Nyueng Bao and only the worms of the earth are lower than that.
I was in a peckish mood myself, having been wakened prematurely. I said, “I rather enjoyed that.”
Gota made a sputtery noise as she stalked away.
Of the general darkness I asked, “Anybody know anything about a constellation called the Noose? Or any stories about it?”
Nobody knew anything. Naturally.
Over the next several days I asked the question of everybody I ran into and always got a negative answer. Even Narayan Singh, a logical resource for information about nooses, seemed unfamiliar with the constellation. He did not say so in so many words, of course, but Lady was familiar with Deceiver lore and knew nothing, nor was she able to pry anything out of the living saint.
Poor guy seemed destined to be the living martyr Narayan Singh. The heartline of his existence consisted of unrelenting terror.
After assuring myself that the Shadowgate was holding, I ambled back down to my bunker. The standard seemed almost aglow with power. Something noteworthy was going on there. I would have to go see Croaker. If my inner thigh healed enough. If I ever got any sleep.
My in-laws were no problem. None had gone back to our nasty little bunker. I had its stone floor and stink to myself.
I was asleep about the time I chunked my head onto my rock pillow.
81
For a while I just slept. In fact, I am convinced that I dreamed normal dreams, though I cannot recall them now. Then, gradually, my spirit slipped its moorings again, in a kind of tattered, fuzzy way that might have indicated difficulty letting go. I felt no resistance. But I was not trying to go anywhere, I was just drifting.
I floated upward. It did take an effort of will but I faced southward, trying to find the noose of stars that had gotten Mother Gota exercised. Yes. There they were. But I had to climb a thousand feet to see them all and even then they were not easily discerned. They had drop
ped dramatically in a very short time.
In fact, when I reflected on it, I could not understand how they might have risen high enough for me to see from the Shadowgate.
I did not let that trouble me, though. My attention was caught by something on the plain of stone. For an instant I saw a ghost of pale light out there, about where I glimpsed that lump of darkness sometime before. Was there something out there?
I did not go look. It never occurred to me to try. In retrospect I cannot understand why. How could the impulse not arise? How could I not actively engage the choice of investigating or not investigating? I do not know. I just sort of went hmm and continued on about my normal ghosttime ratkilling.
I rejected impulses to search for Mogaba and Goblin. I can be lazy even when all the work I have to do is think. Finding them would take a lot of to-ing and fro-ing and calculating. And then I might not accomplish anything. So I decided to spy on Soulcatcher instead. By now she should be recovered enough to be grumbling and scheming and maybe doing something interesting.
Or she might just be laying around sleeping.
Soulcatcher was just laying around sleeping. Surrounded by woods where every branch and twig boasted a complement of crows. It looked like every crow in the world had gathered around her hideout.
It was unlikely they would starve for a while.
They had been living well. Already the earth beneath them was buried under their droppings. Shadows drifted below, whimpering because the crows would not come down to play.
Like a shadow myself I wormed into Catcher’s cave. I encountered the spells she had woven to keep the darkness at bay. For a time those resisted me, too, but I was different enough to find a way through.
Catcher was sleeping? How often did that happen?
The Daughter of Night was not asleep. And she was a sensitive child. She felt me arrive. She sat up on her bed of damp pine needles. “Mother?”
Catcher was a light sleeper. She sprang erect, alert, turning as she sought danger. She wore the mask that had been one of her trademarks in the old days. Mostly she had done without it lately, but seldom did I see her in public. And never in the flesh.