Water Sleeps (19 page)

D espite her enthusiasm the night before, Sahra had been worried about having
Goblin along, playing Sawa’s role. The little man was not reliable. He was bound
to do something . . .

She did not give him enough credit. He had not survived so long by doing stupid
things in tight places. He was determined to be more completely Sawa than ever I
had played the role. He did nothing on his own. Minh Subredil guided him
completely. But over his conservative role-playing he laid a glamour of
disinterest. Jaul Barundandi and everyone else merely gave the idiot woman a
glance and concentrated on Shiki, who appeared particularly attractive this
morning. Who carried her flute hung on a thong around her neck. Anyone who tried
to use force would suffer a cruel surprise.

The flute was not new but the Ghanghesha that Shiki carried was. Today even Sawa
carried a statue of the god. Jaul Barundandi mocked Subredil. “When will you
start carrying a Ghanghesha in each hand?” This was after he had been threatened
because of Shiki and he was not feeling kindly.

Subredil bent and whispered to her Ghanghesha, something about pardoning
Barundandi because at heart he was a good man who needed help finding his anchor
within the light. Barundandi heard some of that. It disarmed him for a while.

He turned the madwoman and her companions over to his wife, who had developed an
almost proprietary interest lately. Subredil, in particular, made her look good
because she got so much work done.

Narita, too, noted the Ghanghesha. “If religious devotion will win you a better
life next time around the Wheel, Subredil, you’re headed for the priestly class
for sure.” Then the fat woman frowned. “But didn’t you leave your Ghanghesha
here yesterday?”

“Ah? Ah! Ah! I did? I thought I lost that one forever. I didn’t know what had
become of it. Where is it? Where is it?” She had prepared for this, though the
Ghanghesha had been left behind intentionally.

“Easy. Easy.” Subredil’s love affair with her Ghanghesha amused everyone. “We
took good care of it.”

There was a lot of work scheduled for the day, which was good. It helped pass
the time. Nothing else could be done till much later, and even then, luck would
have to play a big part. Another dozen Ghangheshas would not have been out of
place where the need for luck went.

During the noon break, over kitchen scraps, Subredil’s party heard rumors of the
Protector’s rage over someone having stolen some books from the royal library.

She was out there now, investigating personally.

Subredil shot warning looks at her companions. No questions. No worrying about
the people they could not possibly help.

Later in the day there were more rumors. The Purohita and several members of the
Privy Council, along with bodyguards and hangers-on, had been treated to a
wholesale slaughter on the very steps of the Kernmi What, in what sounded like a
full-scale military assault supported by heavy sorcery. Reports were vague and
confused because everyone but the attackers had been trying to find somewhere
safe to hide.

Subredil tried to take that into account but could not control her anger
entirely. Kendo Cutter was too violent a man to have been in charge. And too
devout a Vehdna. The Gunni were not going to be pleased about bloodshed
happening on the very steps of a major temple.

There was much talk about the signs and portents thrown up as cover and
diversion while the attackers faded away. There would be no doubt who had been
responsible, nor even who was next on the list of the doomed. Any smoke cloud
that did not declare “Water Sleeps” thundered “My Brother Unforgiven.”

It had been rumored only for a day that the Great General had been summoned to
Taglios to deal with the dead who refused to lie down. To the people in the
street, it looked like the Company would be waiting.

Sahra was worried. Soulcatcher was sure to abandon the library when she heard
about the attack. If she returned to the Palace extremely agitated, Sahra’s
operation might have to be abandoned because the sorceress would be too alert.

The Radisha stormed through not long after the news began to make the rounds.

She was distraught. She headed directly for her Anger Chamber. Sawa looked up
from the brasswork she was cleaning, just for an instant, apparently badly
troubled. Subredil set her mop aside and went to see what was wrong. No one else
paid them any attention.

Not much later, when Jaul Barundandi dropped in to see how the work was going
and somehow got into an argument with Narita, Sawa wandered away when no one was
looking. No one noticed right away because Sawa almost never did anything to be
noticed and today she wore charms reinforcing that.

Shiki drifted closer to her mother. She looked pale and troubled and kept
touching her flute. She whispered, “Shouldn’t be we going?”

“It isn’t time. Place your Ghanghesha.” Shiki was supposed to have done that
hours ago.

Rumor rushed through, pursued by uglier rumor still. The Protector had returned
and she was in a frothing rage. She was visiting her shadows now. It was going
to be another night of terror in the streets of Taglios.

The women started talking about the possible wisdom of finishing work before the
Protector decided she had to see the Radisha. The Protector would not respect
the privacy of the Princess. She made no secret of her contempt for Taglian
custom. Even Narita seemed to hold the opinion that it would be best not to be
where you could be seen when the Protector was in a mood.

At that point Shiki discovered that her aunt was missing.

“Damn it, Subredil!” Narita fumed. “You promised you’d watch her closer the last
time this happened.”

“I’m sorry, mistress. I became so frightened. She probably decided to go to the
kitchen. That was what she was trying to do when she got lost last time.”

Shiki was going already. Not more than a minute later, she called, “I found her,

Mother.”

When the rest of the women arrived, they found Sawa seated against a wall, brass
lamp in her lap, unconscious, with vomit all over her. “Oh, no!” Subredil cried.

“Not again.” And in a whirlwind of nonsense and apparently vain efforts to get
Sawa’s attention, she got across the hint of a fear that Sawa might be pregnant
after having been abused by one of the Palace staff.

Narita was away in seconds, fuming. Subredil and Shiki were right behind her,

supporting Sawa between them, heading for the servants’ postern. Nobody noticed
that none of the women were carrying their Ghangheshas, not even the one that
Subredil had forgotten the day before.

Because of the state Sawa was in, and the state Narita was in, and the imminent
explosion of displeasure expected from the Protector, the women managed to draw
their pay, then to escape without having to deal with Barundandi’s kickback
lieutenant. Again.

They were able to lay Sawa inside a covered ox cart not long after they got into
the twisty streets downhill from the Palace. Subredil had to caution Shiki
repeatedly against celebration.

E verything we did must have been seen by somebody,” I told the gathered troops.

“When word gets out that the Radisha has vanished, all those people are going to
remember and try to help. Soulcatcher is supposed to have a knack for separating
wheat from chaff.”

“Also a knack for calling up the kind of supernatural assistance that can pick
your particular trail out of a thousand,” Willow Swan volunteered. He was
present because he had agreed to take care of the Radisha. She was going to be
in a state when she awakened and discovered that her demons had caught up with
her at last.

Banh Do Trang wanted to know, “Are you going to flee or not?” The old man was at
the edge of collapse. He had been working since before dawn.

“Can we?” I asked.

“You could go this instant if the situation became totally desperate. It will be
a few hours yet before the barges are completely provisioned, however.”

Nobody wanted to go, though. Not just yet. A lot of the men had developed ties.

Everyone had unfinished business. That was life. The same situation had come up
time and again over the course of the Company’s history.

Sahra said, “You still haven’t gotten Narayan to give you the Key.”

“I’ll talk to him. Is River back yet? No? What about Kendo? How about Pooch and
Spiff?” We had people running all over on special assignments. Good old One-Eye
had sent our last two men, the barely competent Pooch and Spiff, to assassinate
Adoo the gateman because Murgen had been able to determine that it had been he
who had caused all the excitement at the library. More, Adoo knew the general
neighborhood where I lived.

One-Eye informed me, “Kendo Cutter is coming through the web right now. Arjana
Drupada appears to be reasonably healthy for a man with a dozen knife wounds.

Hang on.”

Murgen was whispering something. It was thundering and hailing outside. I could
not hear a word.

“It’s started at Semchi, Murgen says. Slink hit them just as they were starting
to pitch camp. Cut them off from their weapons.”

“Darn!” I swore. “Darn-darn-darn!”

“What’s the matter with you, Little Girl?”

“He should’ve waited until they tried to do something to the Bhodi Tree. This
way, nobody will know why we jumped them.”

“There’s why you don’t have you a man.”

“What?”

“You ask too much. You sent Slink out there to kill some people. Unless you told
him it’s got to be a show, all our guys allowed to fight only left-handed or
something, he’s going to do it fast and dirty and with as little risk to our own
guys as he can.”

“I thought he understood—”

“Did you assume, Little Girl? At this late stage in your career? You, who’s got
to run a checklist on lacing your own boots?”

He had me. And he had me good. I tried to change the subject. “If we decide to
evacuate, we’re going to have to run somebody out there to warn Slink and tell
him where to rendezvous.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

I turned away. “Kendo. Does he need medical attention?”

“Drupada? He’s not bleeding that much anymore.”

“Then let’s take him back to meet his new roommate.” One-Eye catching me out had
me feeling particularly evil. This seemed like a good time to take it out on the
enemy. “The rest of you, take real good care of the Radisha. We don’t want her
coming up with a hangnail anybody can blame on us.”

Cutter bobbed his head and muttered something under his breath.

“Hey, pervert!” I called to the Inspector-General of the Records. “I don’t want
you ever to say that the Black Company don’t cater to its guests, so here’s your
very own human play toy. Maybe a little longer in the tooth than you prefer but
it’s only until the Protector gets around to rescuing you.”

Kendo planted a boot in Drupada’s behind and shoved. Into the cage the Purohita
went. He and Gokhale backed off into opposite corners and glared at one another.

Human nature being what it is, each man probably thought the other was
responsible for his dismay.

I told Kendo, “Relax now. Get something to eat. Take a nap. But stay away from
the girl.”

“Hey, I got it the first time, Sleepy. And more so now she’s started
sleepwalking. So ease up.”

“Give me a reason.”

“Why don’t we just skrag her?”

“Because we need Singh to help open the way through the Shadowgate. And he won’t
unless he feels confident that we’ll be good to the Daughter of Night.”

“I don’t know any of the Captured that well. Don’t feel like you’ve got to save
them on my account.”

“I feel like we have to save them on the Company’s account, Kendo. Just the same
as we’d be doing if it was you out there.”

“Sure. Right.” Kendo Cutter was one of those people who tended to look on the
dark side no matter what.

“Get some rest.” I went to talk with Narayan while I waited for Murgen to
generate some report on what was happening inside the Palace.

I did not want to run away but knew it was very close to time for the Company to
go. We had to see what Soulcatcher’s reaction to the kidnapping would be. And we
had to get Goblin out of the Palace.

If Soulcatcher did not come after us like a screaming monsoon storm, I was going
to get really worried about what she was up to.

“I’ve had a real good day, thank you, Mr. Singh. A whole lot of planning and a
little inspired improvisation fell into place all at once. Just one thing more
could make the day perfect.” I sniffed the air. It smelled like One-Eye and
friends were cooking up a new batch. Probably so they could take a little
something along when we had to run.

I kicked a bundle of hides of some kind over beside the bars of Singh’s cage,

settled myself. I caught him up on the latest gossip. Including, “None of your
people seem to be worried about you two. Maybe you were just a little too
secretive. Be kind of pathetic if the whole cult faded away because everyone
just sat around waiting to find out what was going on.”

“I’ve been told that I’m free to deal with you.” There was no cringe to the man
tonight. He had gotten a little backbone somewhere. “I’m prepared to discuss the
object you seek if I receive absolute assurances that the Black Company will
never do the Daughter of Night any harm.”

“Never is an awful long time. You’re out of luck.” I got up. “Goblin’s been
wanting to work on her just forever. I’m going to let him pull a few fingers off
now to show you we have no conscience or remorse where certain old enemies are
concerned.”

“I offered you what you asked.”

“You offered me a delayed death warrant. If I agree to that kind of nonsense,

ten years from now the blackhearted witch will start poisoning us and we’ll be
stuck with the disastrous choice of keeping our word and accepting destruction
or breaking our word and seeing our reputation destroyed. I’m certain you don’t
know much northern mythology. There’s an old religion up there that tells how a
leading god allowed himself to be slain so his family would no longer be bound
by a promise he made foolishly to an enemy, who wore it like a turtle’s shell.”

Narayan stared at me, cold as a cobra, waiting for me to crack. And I did, a
little, because I bothered to explain. One-Eye has told me a hundred times that
I should not explain. “I just don’t want that artifact badly enough to commit my
people to the level of vulnerability that you’re asking. In particular, I won’t
undertake commitments for those of us who are buried. On the other hand, maybe
you’d like to undertake commitments whereby, assuming you get out of this alive,

you guarantee never to be a pain in the Company neck ever again. Whereby you
agree to go to the Captain and the Lieutenant and beg their forgiveness for
stealing their child.”

The very suggestion appalled the living saint of the Deceivers. “She’s the Child
of Kina. The Daughter of Night. Those two are irrelevant.”

“Evidently we don’t have anything to talk about yet. I’ll send you a few fingers
for breakfast.”

I went to see if Surendranath Santaraksita was being a good fellow and pursuing
the tasks I had suggested he could use to help overcome the tedium of his
captivity. To my surprise I found him hard at work, with old Baladitya
assisting, translating what I had presumed to be the first volume of the lost
Annals. They had a whole stack of sheets already done.

“Dorabee!” Master Santaraksita said. “Excellent. Your friend the foreigner keeps
telling us we can’t have any more real vellum when we’re done with these last
few sheets. He wants us to use those ridiculous bark books they still employ out
in the swamps.”

Before there were modern paper and vellum and parchment, there was bark. I do
not know what kind of tree it came from, just that the inner bark was removed
carefully, treated and pressed and used to write on. To make a book, you stacked
the bark sheets, drilled a hole down through the upper-left-hand corner of the
stack, then bound everything together with a cord or ribbon or length of very
light chain. Banh Do Trang would favor bark because it was both cheap,

traditional and hardier than animal products.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“There’s nothing earthshaking in there, Dorabee.”

“My name is Sleepy.”

“Sleepy isn’t a name. It’s a disease, or a misfortune. I prefer Dorabee. I’ll
use Dorabee.”

“Use whatever you like. I’ll know who you’re talking to.” I read a couple of
sheets. He was right. “This is tedious stuff. This looks like an account book.”

“That’s what it is, mainly. The things you want to know are just the things the
writer assumes any reader of his own time would know already. He wasn’t writing
for the ages, or even for another generation. He was keeping track of horseshoe
nails, lance shafts and saddles. All he has to say about their battle is that
the lower-ranking officers and noncommissioned officers failed to demonstrate an
adequate enthusiasm for appropriating weapons lost or abandoned by the defeated
enemy, preferring to wait till the next dawn to begin gleaning. As a
consequence, stragglers and the local peasantry managed to scavenge all the
best.”

“I notice he doesn’t bother to name a single name, person or place.” I had begun
reading while the Master talked. I could listen and read at the same time even
though I was a woman.

“He does give mileage and dates. The context suggests the appropriate systems of
measure. It can be figured out. But what I’ve already started to wonder,

Dorabee, is why we’ve all been deathly afraid of these people all our lives.

This book gives us no reason to be afraid. This book is about a troop of crabby
little men who marched off somewhere they didn’t want to go for reasons they
didn’t understand, fully believing that their unstated mission would last only
several weeks or, at most, a few months. Then they would be able to go home. But
the months piled into years and the years into generations. And still they
didn’t really know.”

The material also suggested we needed to revise our old belief that the Free
Companies exploded into the world at the same time, in a vast orgy of fire and
bloodshed. The only other company mentioned was noted to have returned years
before the Black Company marched, and in fact, several senior Company noncoms
had served as private soldiers in that earlier, unnamed band.

“I can see it,” I grumbled. “We’re going to translate these things, find out all
sorts of things, and not be an inch closer to understanding anything.”

Santaraksita said, “This’s much more exciting than a meeting of the bhadrhalok,

Dorabee.”

Then Baladitya spoke for the first time. “Do we have to starve to death here,

Dorabee?”

“Nobody’s brought you anything to eat?”

“No.”

“I’ll just see about that. Don’t be startled if you hear me shouting. I hope you
enjoy fish and rice.”

I took care of that, then hid in my corner for a while. I was feeling a little
depressed after having seen Master Santaraksita’s work. I suppose that sometimes
I invest too much in my goals, then suffer a correspondingly huge disappointment
when things do not work out.