Water Sleeps (32 page)

She did have plenty of time to commune with her spiritual mother.

She smiled as though aware of the serpents of dark temptation slithering the
black corridors of my mind. I wanted to bed her. I wanted to murder her. I
wanted to run away, begging for mercy. It took an exercise of will to remind
myself that Kina and her children were not evil in the sense that northerners or
even my Vehdna co-religionists understood evil.

Nevertheless . . . she was the darkness.

I stepped back, tossed the tent flap open so my ally, daylight, could come
inside. The girl lost her smile. She backed to the far side of her cage. I could
think of nothing to say. There was really nothing we could say to one another. I
had no inclination to gloat and little news of the world outside to report,

which might motivate her to do something besides wait.

She had her spiritual mother’s patience, that was sure.

A blow from behind rocked me. I clawed at my stubby little sword.

White wings mussed my nattily arranged hair. Talons dug into my shoulder. The
Daughter of Night stared at the white crow and revealed real emotion for the
first time in a long time. Her confidence wavered. Fear leaked through. She
pressed back against the bars behind her.

“Have you two met?” I asked.

The crow said something like, “Wawk! Wiranda!”

The girl began to shake. If possible, she became even paler. Her jaw seemed
clenched so tight her teeth ought to be cracking. I made a mental note to
discuss this with Murgen. He knew something about the crow.

What could rattle the girl so badly?

The crow laughed. It whispered, “Sister, sister,” and launched itself back into
the sunlight, where it startled some passing brother into a fit of curses.

I stared at the girl, watched the inner steel reassert itself. Her gaze met
mine. I felt the fear within her evaporate. I was nothing to her, less than an
insect, certainly less than a stubbed toe at the beginning of her long trek
across the ages.

Shuddering, I broke eye contact.

That was a scary kid.

O ur days began before sunrise. They ended after sunset. They included a great
deal of training and exercise of the sort that had been let slide for too long.

Tobo worked with almost fanatic devotion to improve his skills as an
illusionist. I insisted upon daily readings from the Annals in an effort to
reinforce the depth and continuity of brotherhood that were so much the
foundation of what the Company was. There was resistance at first, of course,

but the message sank in at a pace not unrelated to a growing realization that we
were going to go up onto the glittering plain—really!—or were going to die here
in front of the Shadowgate when Soulcatcher chose to write our final chapter.

The renewed training paid dividends quickly. Eight days after we reduced the
fort below the Shadowgate, another mob like Suvrin’s, but much larger, trudged
in out of the country west of the New Town. Thanks to Murgen, we had plenty of
warning. With Tobo and Goblin assisting, we sprang a classic Company ambush
using illusions and nuisance spells that confused and disorganized a force that
had had almost no idea what it was doing already. We hit fast and hard and
mercilessly and the threat evaporated in a matter of minutes. In fact, the
relief force fell apart so fast we could not take as many prisoners as I wanted,

though we did round up most of the officers. Suvrin generously identified those
he recognized.

Suvrin was practically an apprentice Company man by now, so desperate was he to
belong to something and to gain the approval of those around him. I felt halfway
guilty exploiting him the way I did.

The prisoners we did take became involuntary laborers in our preparations for
the future. Most jumped on the opportunity because I promised to release those
who did work hard before we went up onto the plain. Those who failed to work
hard would go along as porters. Somehow a rumor got started amongst the
prisoners that human sacrifice might be involved in what we were going to be
doing once we passed the Shadowgate.

I found Goblin in with One-Eye, whose recovery seemed to have been sped by
Gota’s presence. Possibly because he needed to be well enough to get away from
her and her cooking. I do not know. They had the Key laid out on a small table
between them. Doj, Tobo and Gota watched. Even Mother Gota kept her mouth shut.

Sahra was conspicuously absent.

She was carrying her snit over Tobo too far. I expect there was more to it than
what she admitted, though. A big part would center on her fear of the near
future.

“Right there,” One-Eye said just as I leaned forward to see what Goblin was
doing. The little bald man had a light hammer and a chisel. He tapped the
chisel. A piece of iron flipped off the Key. This had been going on for a while,

evidently, because about half the iron was gone, revealing something made of
gold. I was so surprised at the wizard’s lack of greed that I almost forgot to
worry about what they were doing to the Key.

I opened my mouth. Without looking up, One-Eye told me, “Don’t shit your
knickers yet, Little Girl. We ain’t hurting a thing. The Key is this thing
inside. This golden hammer. You want to bend down a little closer? Maybe you can
read what’s inscribed on it.”

I bent. I scanned the characters made visible by removal of the iron. “Looks
like the same alphabet as the first book of the Annals.” Not to mention the
first Book of the Dead. Which I did not mention.

Goblin used the tip of his chisel to indicate a prominent symbol that appeared
in several places. “Doj says he saw this sign at the temple in the Grove of
Doom.”

“It should be there.” I knew that one. Master Santaraksita had taught me its
meaning. “It’s the personal sign of the goddess. Her personal chop, if you
want.” I did not name a name. I suggested, “Don’t speak the name. Not in any of
its forms. In the presence of this thing, that would be guaranteed to attract
her attention.” Everyone stared at me. I asked, “You didn’t do that already, did
you? No? Uncle, you don’t know what this thing might really be, do you?” I had
an intuition it was something Narayan Singh might never have surrendered had he
been aware that it was in his possession. I thought it might exist solely so
that the priest who carried it could obtain the attention of his goddess
instantly. Even in my own religion, people had had a much more immediate and
scary relationship with the godhead in ancient times. The scriptures told us so.

But no such golden hammer played any part in the Kina mythology, insofar as I
could recall. Curious. Maybe Master Santaraksita could tell me more.

Goblin continued chipping away. I continued watching. The process went faster as
each fragment fell.

“That isn’t any hammer,” I said. “That’s a kind of pickax. It’s a Deceiver cult
thing. And older than dirt. It has to be something of huge religious
significance.” I suggested, “Show it to the girl. See how she responds.”

“You’re as close to a Kina expert as we’ve got, Sleepy. What could it be?”

“There’s actually a name for that kind of tool but I can’t remember what it is.

Every Deceiver band had a pickax like this. Not made out of gold, though. They
used them in the burial ceremonies after their murders. To break the bones of
their victims so they would fold up into a smaller wad. Sometimes they used them
to help dig graves. All with the appropriate ceremonies aimed at pleasing Kina,

of course. I really do think somebody should show this to the Daughter of Night
and see what she says.”

It seemed like a thousand pairs of eyes were staring at me, waiting for me to
volunteer. I told them, “I’m not doing it. I’m going to bed.”

All those eyes kept right on staring. I had put myself in charge. This was
something nobody but the guy in charge ought to handle.

“All right. Uncle. Tobo. Goblin. You back me up on this. That child has talents
we can’t guess at yet.” I had been warned that she still tried to walk away from
her flesh at night, despite all the constraints surrounding her. She was both
her mothers’ daughter and there was no telling what might happen when she had to
suffer too much stress.

Tobo protested. “I don’t like to be around her. She gives me the creeps.”

Goblin beat me to it. “Kid, she gives everybody the creeps. She’s the creepiest
thing I’ve run into in a hundred fifty years. Get used to it. Deal with it. It’s
part of the job. Which they say you were born to do and which you did ask for.”

Curious. Goblin the mentor and instructor seemed much more articulate than
Goblin the want-to-be-layabout and slacker.

The little wizard suggested, “You carry the Key. You’re young and strong.”

The Daughter of Night did not look up when we entered the tent. Perhaps she was
not aware of us. She seemed to be meditating. Possibly communing with the Dark
Mother. Goblin kicked the bars of her cage, which rattled nicely and shed a
shower of rust. “Well, look at her. Cute.”

“What?” I asked.

“She’s been working some kind of spell on the iron. It’s rusting away a thousand
times faster than it ought to. Clever girl. Only—”

The clever girl looked up. Our eyes met. Something behind hers chilled me to the
bone. “Only what?” I asked.

“Only every spell holding her and controlling her has that cage for an anchor.

Anything that happens to it will happen to her. Look at her skin.”

I saw what he meant. The Daughter of Night was not exactly rusty herself but did
look spotty and frayed at the surface.

Her gaze shifted to Uncle, Goblin, Tobo . . . and she gasped, like she was
seeing the boy for the first time. She rose slowly, drifted toward the bars,

gaze locked with his. Then a little frown danced across her brow. Her gaze
darted down to Tobo’s burden.

Her mouth opened and, I swear, a sound like the angry bellow of an elephant
rolled out. Her eyes grew huge. She lunged forward. Her shackles gave way. The
bars of the cage creaked and let fall another shower of rust. They bent but did
not give. She thrust an arm through in a desperate effort to reach the Key.

Little bits of skin blackened and fell off her. And still she was beautiful.

I observed, “I guess we can safely say the thing does hold some significance for
the Deceivers.”

“You could say so,” Goblin admitted. The girl’s whole arm had begun to look like
it had been badly burned.

“So let’s take it away and see what else we can find out. And get the cage
reinforced and her shackles replaced. Tobo!” The boy kept staring at the girl
like he was seeing her for the first time. “Don’t tell me he just fell in love.

I couldn’t handle it if we had to worry about that in addition to everything
else.”

“No,” Uncle Doj reassured me. “Not love, I think. But the future, just maybe.”

Although I tried to insist, he would not expand upon that remark. He was still
Uncle Doj, the mystery priest of the Nyueng Bao.

T hings came together nicely after the defeat of the relief column. Murgen said
nobody else was likely to challenge us without help from beyond the mountains.

Which help, unfortunately, was on the way already. Soulcatcher was airborne and
lurching southward in small, erratic leaps that, nevertheless, were bringing her
closer faster than any animal could do—even one of those magical stallions from
the Tower at Charm—but still definitely very feebly for a flying carpet. Once
upon a time the Howler could conquer the miles between Overlook and Taglios in a
single night.

Soulcatcher had to rest several hours for every hour she spent aloft. Even so,

she was on her way. And the impact of the news on the troops was electric. With
only days left, or possibly only hours, everyone buckled down and put their back
into it. I saw very little slacking, little wasted effort, and some very serious
concentration when it came to honing military skills.

Suvrin was right in there with the troops, drilling his behind off. Literally.

Though he had been with us only a short time, he had begun to lose weight and
show signs of shaping up. He approached me soon after Murgen and Goblin began
issuing regular reports about Soulcatcher’s progress. “I want to stay with you,

ma’am,” he told me.

“You what?” I was surprised.

“I’m not sure I want to be part of the Black Company but I do know for sure that
I don’t want to be here when the Protector shows up. She has a reputation for
seldom letting herself be swayed by the facts. The futility of me having
resisted you won’t impress her.”

“You’re right about that. If you shirked because you would’ve gotten killed
doing what she expected, she’ll arrange it so you get dead anyway. In a less
pleasant way, if possible. All right, Suvrin. You’ve kept your word and you’ve
been a good worker.”

He winced. “You understand what ‘Suvrin’ actually means?”

“Junior, essentially. But you’re stuck with it now. Most people in the Company
don’t go by their birth names. Even most of the men who go by regular names
don’t go by their real ones. They’re all getting away from their past. And you
will be, too.”

He grimaced.

“Report to Master Santaraksita. Until I find something else for you, your job
will be to assist him. Old Baladitya is no use at all. He’s worse than
Santaraksita, who keeps getting farther and farther behind in his packing
because he keeps getting distracted by his books.” Santaraksita had managed to
acquire several antique volumes locally that had, miraculously, survived the
countless disasters that had beset the region these past several decades.

Suvrin bowed. “Thank you.” There was a fresh bounce in his step as he walked
away.

I suspected he and Master Santaraksita might have a lot in common. Heck, Suvrin
could even read.

Tobo materialized. “My father says to tell you that Soulcatcher has reached
Charandaprash. And that she’s decided to rest there before she crosses the
Dandha Presh.”

“A few more hours’ grace. Excellent. Means there’s a good chance there won’t be
anything left here for her to find but our tracks. How are you getting along
with your mother? Did you make any effort at all?”

“Dad also says he wants you to post somebody with a warning horn that can be
sounded once the Protector gets dangerously close. And he says you should pull
in the pickets watching the pass now, just in case Soulcatcher changes her mind
about taking some time off.”

That was a good idea.

Runmust and Riverwalker made the mistake of being close enough to be seen. I
sent them to go bring the scouts home. “Tobo, you can’t ignore your mother.

You’ll end up getting along with her worse than she gets along with your
grandmother.”

“Sleepy . . . why can’t she just let me grow up?”

“Because you’re her baby, you idiot! Don’t you understand that? When you’re
twice as old as One-Eye you’ll still be her baby. The only baby that cruel fate
hasn’t gobbled down. You do remember that your mother had other children and she
lost them?”

“Uh . . . yeah.”

“I’ve never had children. I never want to have children. In part because I can
see how horrible it would be to see my own flesh and blood die and not be able
to do anything to prevent it. Family is supposed to be extremely important to
you Nyueng Bao. I want you to drop whatever you’re doing. Right now. Go over and
sit on that boulder. Spend two hours not thinking about anything but what it
must have meant to your mother to see your brother and sister die. Think about
how badly she must not want to go through that again. Think about what it must
be like to be her after everything else she’s had to go through. You’re a smart
kid. You can figure it out.”

When you are around people long enough you get a feel for how they react. I
could see his first petulant inclination was to remind me that I had been
younger than he was now when I attached myself to Bucket and the Company, which
had little to do with the argument at hand but which was the sort of tool you
grab when you are that age.

“If you intend to say something, make sure it makes sense before you do. Because
if you can’t think logically and argue logically, then there isn’t much hope
that you’ll have any success with the sorcery, no matter how talented you are. I
know. I know. From everything you’ve seen, the bigger the wizards are, the
crazier they are. But within the boundaries of their insanity, every one of them
is rigorously, mathematically rational. The entire power of their minds serves
their insanity. When they stumble it’s because they let emotions or wishful
thinking get in the way.”

“All right. I surrender. I’ll sit on the damned rock until it hatches. Oh, Dad
also said to tell you that Narayan Singh is somewhere close by. He can sense the
Deceiver but he can’t pinpoint him. Kina is protecting him with her dreams. Dad
says you should ask the white crow to look for him. If you can find it and get
it to sit still long enough.”

“Crowhunter. Maybe I’ll call myself that. It sounds more glamorous than Sleepy.”

“Tobo sounds more glamorous than Sleepy.” Tobo headed for the boulder and
settled in an approved attitude. I hoped I had planted seeds that would take
root and sprout while he was trying to think of everything else but.

“At least you get to change your name when you grow up . . . ” Stupid. Anytime I
feel like it I can tell everyone to call me whatever strikes my fancy.

Crowhunter gave up her name. She was a failure. The white monster was nowhere to
be found. So I went and spent some time with Sahra even though she did not
welcome me right away. We recalled old days, hard times, her husband’s lack of
perfection, till I thought she was relaxed enough to actually listen to what I
had to say about Tobo.

The villain himself scored a coup by showing up with an olive branch at the
perfect time. I elected to remove myself while things were going well. I hoped
the peace would last but did not count on forever.

I would settle for one halcyon week. In a week we would know if it was possible
to resurrect the Captured. In a week we would either be dead on the glittering
plain or ready to return as a force of ultimate destruction. Or maybe . . .