Authors: Glen Cook
The officer turned to Croaker. "I'm honored, Liberator. We thought you dead."
"I thought I was, too. For a while. And I need to get that way again. The prince and I are joining your company. We're not being watched now but we'll be hunted soon by a distant and wicked eye." He was sure the search had not yet begun because no crows had chased them during their ride. "When the search passes this way we want to be indistinguishable from your soldiers."
"You're in hiding?"
"More or less." Croaker explained some. He stretched the truth some, bent it some, made it clear that powerful enemies wanted to find him and that the fate of Taglios could hinge on their remaining anonymous till they joined Lady at Dejagore.
"First thing you do," he told the officer, "is make sure none of your men speak to anyone outside the camp. Our presence isn't to be discussed at all. Our enemies have spies everywhere. Most aren't human. A stray dog, a bird, a shadow could carry tales. Every man has to understand that. We can't be discussed. We'll take different names and become ordinary troopers."
"I don't quite understand, sir."
"I don't think I can explain. Take us being here as proof. I'm back, escaped from captivity, and I need to reach the main army. I can't alone, even disguised. Do you have men who know how to ride?"
"A few, possibly." Puzzled.
"These horses have to be returned to the new fortress. Hopefully before the hunt starts. They're a dead giveaway. Their riders should make no stops and should disguise themselves. We don't want them identified with this company."
Croaker had not discussed plans while travelling because someone might hear. But the prince got the drift quickly. "You're going to march this company down to Dejagore?"
"Yes. You and I will be archers in the ranks."
The prince groaned. "I have less experience walking than riding."
"And I have a tender ankle. We won't push." While Croaker talked his gaze darted, seeking the potential listener. He continued talking to the officer. Again and again he tried to drive home the need for the archers to keep quiet about their mission till they found Lady's army. One slip could kill them all. He made it sound like the Shadowmasters had all their men and demons out trying to destroy him and the prince and anyone with them.
True in theme, anyway.
The officer rounded up volunteers to return the stallions, impressed them with the need to deliver the animals rapidly, without telling anyone where Croaker and the prince had gone. He sent them off.
Croaker sighed. "I feel safer already. Get me a turban and some Shadar clothes and something to darken my hands and face. Prince, you look more Gunni."
Half an hour later they were ordinary archers except for accents. Croaker became Narayan Singh. Half the Shadar alive were Narayan Singh. The prince adopted the name Abu Lal Cadreskrah. He felt it would shield him from scrutiny because it suggested mixed Vehdna and Gunni parentage, which could only mean that his mother had been a Gunni prostitute. "No one in his right mind would think the Prahbrindrah Drah could demean himself that far."
Croaker chuckled. "Maybe so. Get some rest. Use that horse liniment. We'll pull out as soon as we get stores and transport together."
A day and a half later, grimly silent, ready for anything, the archers crossed the river. Croaker grew more fearful and excited by the hour. How would Lady react when he turned up alive?
He was scared of the answer.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Longshadow did without sleep for six days while he fought the sorcery gnawing at Howler's flesh and soul. He triumphed, but barely. Then he collapsed.
Shadowcatch was an old, old city. Forever in the looming shadow of glittering stone, it was a repository for much ancient lore, much known nowhere else, much known only to Longshadow, who had plundered its libraries and had disposed of everyone who shared any knowledge he coveted.
Among the legends of the plain, which had been old when the city had been founded, was one about the Lances of Passion. It said their heads had been forged of metal taken from the sword of a demon king devoured by Kina during the great battle between Light and Shadow. That demon king's soul was imprisoned in the steel, fragmented amongst eight lance heads. He could not be restored while Kina slept.
The shafts of the lances, too, were the object of legend. Two were supposed to have been formed from the thighbones of Kina herself, taken after she had been tricked into endless sleep. One was supposedly the penis of the Regent of Shadow, that Kina had hacked off during the great battle. The rest were supposed to be of wood from the tree in which the goddess of brotherly love, Rhavi-Lemna, had hidden her soul shortly before the Wolves of Shadow ran her down and devoured her, soon after Man was created. Kina had witnessed the concealment and had torn up the tree and had made it into arrows and lance shafts. If ever the Lords of Light did bring Rhavi-Lemna together again, out of the bellies of the hateful Wolves, she would have no soul. And they could not get that back for her while Kina lay sleeping.
Each of the outbound Free Companies of Khatovar had followed one of the Lances when they had broken into the world to bring on the Year of the Skulls. But who had sent them forth?
Longshadow could not be sure. The ghost-spirit of sleeping Kina? The Lords of Light, who would restore Rhavi-Lemna? The children of the demon king, who remained imprisoned in those lance heads while she slept? The Regent of Shadow, weary of being at a disadvantage in the lists of love?
The librarians of old recorded the return of all the Companies but one, the Black Company, which lost its own past and wandered aimlessly down the centuries, till it elected a Captain eager to seek out its roots.
Longshadow knew very little about the Lances but he did know more than anyone else alive. Howler and Catcher suspected some. No one else had a hint that the Black Company's standard was anything but an old artifact that had survived for centuries, till it vanished during the battle at Dejagore.
Only to resurface in Taglios, in the hands of a bodyguard.
Its recovery was high among Longshadow's priorities. He would send for it as soon as Howler recovered. He would devote his own time to harvesting the knowledge of his captive.
But first he slept, having conquered the Howler's wounds.
Chapter Sixty-Three
It took the imp Frogface five days to locate his mistress. Then he waited till the attention of Overlook's master lapsed before he made his way inside. He entered with trepidation. Longshadow was a powerful sorcerer, dreaded in the demon worlds.
His entry disturbed no one. Overlook's defenses were meant to stop shadows from the south. He found his mistress in a dark cell beneath the fortress's roots, her drugged mind in a cell of its own, deep inside her brain. He debated. He could forget her. He could help and maybe win his freedom. Freeing her was not within the specific orders she had given him.
He stretched out beside her, bit a hole in her throat, drank her blood. He cleansed it and returned it.
She wakened slowly, sensed what he was doing, let him finish. He closed the wound. She sat up in the darkness. "The Howler. Where am I?"
"Overlook."
"Why?"
"They mistook you for your sister."
She laughed bitterly. "My act was too good."
"Yes."
"Where is she?"
"Last seen near Dejagore. I hunted you for a week."
"And they couldn't see her? She's getting stronger. What about Croaker?"
"I've been hunting you."
"Find him. I want him back. I can't let him reach my sister. Do anything you have to to stop that."
"I'm forbidden to take life."
"Anything else, then, but keep them apart."
"You don't need help here?"
"I'll handle... You're free to roam here?"
"Pretty much. Parts are sealed behind spells only Longshadow can penetrate."
"Search the place. Tell me what everyone is doing. Then find Croaker and my sister."
The imp sighed. So much for gratitude.
She caught the sense of the sound. "Do it right and you're free. Forever."
"Right! I'm gone."
She waited for her captors to come receive their surprise. As she waited she heard the whispers of darkness carrying from the nearby plain. She caught some of what was said, began to taste the fear that plagued Longshadow.
She could not just sit there like a trapdoor spider, waiting. Longshadow and Howler were sleeping. She should go.
The very stones of Overlook had been hardened against sorcery. She melted her way out, for those stones would melt before they yielded.
The lower levels were dark. Surprising. Longshadow feared the dark. She climbed slowly, wary of ambushes, but she encountered no one. She grew nervous as she approached the light.
Nothing waited there, either. Apparently. Was the fortress deserted?
Something was wrong. She extended her senses, still detected nothing. Onward and upward. And more nothing. Where were the soldiers? There should be thousands, constantly scurrying like blood in the veins.
She spied a way out. She had to descend a stairway to reach it. She was halfway down when the attack came, a wave of little brown men carrying cruel halberds, wearing armor of wood and strange, ornate animal helmets.
She had a spell prepared, a summoning that taxed her limits. She struck a pose, loosed it. It broke a hole in the fabric of everything. Sparks of ten thousand colors flew. Something huge and ugly and hungry started through, tearing the hole wider. Steel left no mark upon its snout. Its snarls chilled the blood. It ripped itself out of the womb of elsewhere and flew after the garrison. Men screamed. It ran faster than they did.
Soulcatcher walked out into the night blanketing Overlook. "That will keep them busy." She looked north, angry. A long walk lay ahead of her.
Chapter Sixty-Four
The bridge I had wanted built was incomplete but we did cross on foot while soldiers brought our mounts across by the ford. My move was symbolic, meant to lend encouragement to the engineers.
Narayan was impressed and Ram was indifferent, except to say it was nice to cross the river without getting his feet wet. He did not see the implications of a bridge.
Because I was sick it took longer to reach Ghoja than I anticipated. We were pressed for time. Narayan rode the edge of panic but we reached the holy grove late the evening before the ceremonies. I was exhausted. I told Narayan, "You handle the arrangements. I can't do anything more."
He looked at me, concerned. Ram said, "You must see a physician, Mistress. Soon."
"I've decided to. When we're done here we head north. I can't take this much longer."
"The rains..."
The season would start soon. If we dallied in Taglios we would return to the Main after it started rising. Already there were scattered showers every day. "The bridge is there. We might have to leave our mounts but we can get across."
Narayan nodded curtly. "I'll talk to the priests. See that she rests, Ram. Initiation can be stressful."
That was the first I had heard it hinted that I was expected to go through the same initiation ceremony as everyone else. It irked me but I was too tired to protest. I just lay there while Ram borrowed fire and rice and prepared a meal. Several jamadars came to pay their respects. Ram warned them off. No priests came. By then I had sunk into a lassitude so deep I did not bother to ask Ram if that was significant.
I caught movement from the corner of an eye, a watcher where none should be. I turned, caught a glimpse of a face.
That was no Deceiver. I had not seen that face since before the fighting that had cost me Croaker. Frogface, they called him. An imp. What was he doing here?
I could not catch him. I was way too weak. Nothing I could do but keep him in mind. I fell asleep as soon as I'd eaten.
Drums wakened me. They were drums with deep voices, the kind men sound by pounding with fists or palms. Boom! Boom! Boom! No respite. Ram told me they would not let up till next dawn. Other drums with deeper voices joined them. I peered out of the crude lean-to Ram had built for me. One was not far away. The man pounding the drum used padded mallets with handles four feet long. There was one such drum at each of the wind's four quarters.
More drums throbbed within the temple. Ram assured me it had been cleansed and sanctified.
I did not much care. I was as sick as ever I had been. My night had been filled with the darkest dreams yet, dreams in which the whole world suffered from advanced leprosy. The smell lingered in my nostrils, worsening the sickness.
Ram had anticipated my condition. Maybe he had watched me in my sleep, predicting my sickness from how I rested. I don't know. But he put up a crude privacy screen so I would not become a public entertainment. '
I was past the worst when Narayan came. "If you don't go see a physician after this I'll personally drag you to Taglios. Mistress. There's no reason not to take the time."
"I will. I will. You can count on it."
"I do. You're important to me. You're our future."
Chanting began in the temple. "Why is it different this time?"
"So much to crowd in. Ceremonial obligations and initiations. You won't have to do anything till tonight. Rest. And you'll rest again tomorrow if the ceremony wears you out."
Just lying around. Nothing to do. That was a strain itself. I could not recall a time when I'd had nothing to do but lie around. Once I got control of my nausea I tried to extend and stretch my talents.
They were coming back almost of their own accord. I was capable of more than I suspected. I was close to being a match for the wizard Smoke, now.
Good news must be balanced by bad, I suppose. My elation died when I looked up from cupped palms and found myself caught in a dream right there in broad daylight.
I could see both the horror of the worst dream and the grove around me. Neither seemed completely real. Neither was more substantial than the other.