Bleak Seasons (18 page)

I could do something about that. A pitcher and metal cup stood on the table
beside Smoke’s head. Beneath the cup I found a scrap of paper torn from a larger
sheet. It carried a message in Croaker’s tight script. No time to coddle you
now, Murgen. If you wake up on your own drink this water. There is food in the
box. One-Eye or I will be back as soon as possible.

The scrap might have come from a procurement request. The Old Man hates to waste
any fragment of blank paper. Paper is too damned dear.

I checked the tin box on the other side of Smoke’s head. It was filled with
heavy, unleavened cakes of the sort my mother-in-law bakes despite all pleas to
desist. In fact, on closer examination, I knew no one else could have baked
them. If I survived here I would owe Croaker a swift kick in the slats.

P.S. Check the Strangler’s bonds. He nearly got away once already .

So that was what he was doing when I woke up. He wanted to worm out so he could
murder me and my pal Smoke and then make a run for it.

I drank from the pitcher. The Deceiver looked at me with a longing you could
almost smell. “Want a sip?” I asked. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

The man was not yet ready to sell his soul for a drink of water.

Soon after I wolfed down one of Mother Gota’s sinkers I felt my strength
returning. “Let’s get you cinched up good and tight,” I told my companion.

“Wouldn’t want you wandering off and getting hurt.”

He stared at me in silence while I fixed him up. He didn’t need to speak to let
me know what was on his mind. I told him, “This is the risk you took when you
signed on with the bad guys.”

He would not argue but he refused to agree. I was confused.

I was the bad guy because I wasn’t blazing hot on the effort to bring Kina back
into the world. I patted his head. “You could be right, brother. But I hope not.

Here.” I snatched up the cloth and drew it back over him, where it belonged.

Then I drank some more water and ate part of a roll and when I got to feeling
frisky I decided to return to my apartment. It was subjective as hell but it was
an age since I had seen my wife. In reality it could not have been more than a
few hours. I got lost.

Of course I got lost. It was inevitable. The future me within me did not recall
anything else but it did remember that I was going to get lost, then find my way
to someplace I was not trying to go. That much came to me just after I realized
that I did not have a clue how to get back to any familiar part of the Palace. I
stopped to take stock.

At that moment I had enough near-current memories of other Murgens from other
times that I was ready to trust any memory from any time, though it came with no
supporting context whatsoever.

This memory of getting lost carried flavors of the excitement of unexpected
discovery and powerful overtones of pain. An echo told me I did not want to find
my way again.

Somewhere, while still stubbornly trying to get out, I came upon a gloomy
hallway that seemed to smell of old magic. A few yards away a shattered door
hung precariously upon a single hinge.

Discovery beckoned. I went forward unafraid.

One look inside told me I had found Smoke’s secret library—the place where the
only surviving copies of the first several Annals had been gathered and sealed
away so there would be no chance we Black Company types would ever chance upon
them. I wanted to read them so badly. But I had not come to read. I did not have
time to sort the wheat from the chaff of a hundred other books. I had to get
back to my family.

I strove valiantly but could not get there. Head spinning, I tried to retrace my
steps. It looked like I would have to wait with Smoke until One-Eye or the Old
Man turned up. They could lead me out the easy way and maybe tell me why I did
not want to go, because that part would not come to mind clearly. I got back to
Smoke easily, with no misturns. I had begun to suspect that there were spells
webbed into that part of the Palace, cast so no intruder could find his way
around the maze without One-Eye’s blessing. It might be that all paths led to
the same destination. Or maybe they all led away if you did not start out with
Smoke to begin.

That would not surprise me, though I had no idea if One-Eye had the skill and
power to manage it. Nor would it surprise me to find out that he did not
remember casting the spell in the first place, so had made no provision for me
to get around it.

The Deceiver was wiggling when I returned, my step so soft he did not sense my
presence immediately. He froze when he did. Give that man credit for
determination.

I settled into the empty chair. I waited. Nobody came. It seemed hours passed
but probably it was just a few long minutes. I got up and tramped around, back
and forth. I tormented the Strangler some but that just made me feel bad, too. I
covered him up and sat down again.

I stared at Smoke. I thought about the Black Company and its tribulations. I
remembered what Smoke could do.

Why not? Just to kill time? But where to go? What to see? When?

Why not the great enemy again?

It was easy this time. Nothing to it. Like closing my eyes and drifting off into
a reverie.

I did not go without some reluctance. I was spending way too much time beyond
the normal pale, against my will. Why add to my confusion by going wandering on
my own, too?

With almost a snap and pop I found myself adrift outside fortress Overlook. The
mad sorcerer Longshadow stood atop one of his tall towers, amidst reflected
light, less than ten feet away. I suffered a mild panic. He was looking right at
me.

Right through me.

Behind him, stance mocking, was that wretch Narayan Singh, with Croaker’s kid,

the mortal flesh of Kina, the Daughter of Night, the One Foretold who would
bring on the Deceivers’ Year of the Skulls, which will end with the awakening of
their goddess. Singh never let the child out of his sight. Singh was a dangerous
tool but Longshadow needed every ally willing to join him.

Quite a few folks seemed willing to sign on against the Black Company.

A figure emerged from a hatchway apparently dark only because of the intensity
of the light surrounding the mad wizard. This man was tall, ebony, lithe as a
panther. No anger touched me because emotions turn pale in Smoke’s domain,

although this was Mogaba, the most dangerous of the Shadowlander generals.

I suspect Longshadow appreciated Mogaba less for his abilities than because he
could be trusted. Mogaba has nowhere to run. The Company stands astride every
road to safety.

I cannot understand why Croaker does not hate Mogaba. Hell, he makes excuses for
the man, even feels sorry for him. He takes his feud with Blade much more to
heart.

Mogaba said, “Howler brought news. The storm system no longer works.”

Longshadow grunted. “I saw. My small shadows remain useful. I recall that I
predicted they would catch on quickly. Have you any thoughts on how the woman
Senjak could regain her powers when, by the nature of these things, she ought to
be at the mercy of anyone who knows her True Name?”

I had a feeling he really wanted to know how Howler could survive a Lady with
her powers restored and her old, wicked knowledge intact. Longshadow viewed the
world through a lens of paranoia.

I wondered myself. About Lady’s powers. Croaker guessed it had something to do
with crossing the equator. That did not sound plausible. Neither One-Eye nor
Goblin would hazard a guess. Lady herself refused to discuss it. I had no idea
what she believed. Nobody pressed. That was not something you did if you wanted
to stay friendly with somebody like Lady. She can get real unpleasant if she
doesn’t like you.

“No ideas,” Mogaba said. “It isn’t something I understand.” There were many
things Mogaba did not understand, including any languages native to that region.

He communicated with Longshadow using his improved but still flawed Taglian.

“Maybe she changed her name.”

Could they do that?

I realized the remark was Mogaba’s attempt at a joke. But Longshadow did mull it
over as though it was possible in some subjective fashion.

The moment passed. Longshadow faced Singh. “Deceiver. Why are you here? What
machinations has the Howler involved you in now?”

Mogaba answered for Narayan. “The Black Company jumped them in their holy grove
and killed everyone but him and the girl. Your shadowweavers barely had time to
call for Howler before they died. Howler found these two hiding a few miles away
and got them out only yards ahead of the pursuit.”

So. This was only a short while after our raid. And here was a surprise. I
believed Narayan had gotten warning from the Shadowmaster. But he had not. So
how had he shaken the sleep spell?

Mention of the shadowweavers rocked Longshadow. I thought he would fly into one
of his famed foamy-mouthed rages. Those strange little old men were a resource
he dared not squander. It took a lifetime to train them. And we have taken care
of a bunch of them over the years.

Longshadow sucked in a deep breath, held it, restrained his insanity. “My error.

I should not have sent them. Have you any idea how our enemies could appear at a
time so propitious to their cause?”

Nobody volunteered the news that we could hover over his shoulder any time the
urge hit.

Longshadow observed, “This is not good. Each day they develop new resources.

Each day ours dwindle.” He glared at Singh. “What are we getting from these
Deceivers?”

Mogaba replied. “They spy. Before long they will undertake selected
assassinations. The enemy shows no awareness of that program. If their
assassinations succeed the results will be of more value that anything but a
decisive encounter on the battlefield.”

Mogaba invited comment from Singh with his glance but Narayan held his tongue.

Mogaba said, “Unfortunately, the intelligence the Deceivers gather grows less
reliable with each report. The enemy have enjoyed considerable success in their
efforts to eliminate the cult.”

Still no one else spoke.

Mogaba continued, “Lady and Croaker have become very aggressive against spies. I
believe that indicates a major move is imminent.”

“It’s winter,” Longshadow said. “And my enemies are in no hurry. They are
content to nibble me to death. This so-called Liberator will never be satisfied
that he has men and weapons enough.”

He was right about that. Croaker never stopped going after more.

The Howler joined the group, stifling a scream as he did so. He husked, “The
enemy labor battalions have completed the paved road linking Taglios and
Stormgard. A similar road is almost complete from Stormgard to Shadowlight.”

Shadowlight lies near the heart of the most populous and prosperous region of
the Shadowlands. Shadowspinner had been overlord there. Nominally, the city and
its environs still owed allegiance to Longshadow. Yet our soldiers were building
a road in the area untroubled.

I wondered why. Croaker’s strategic plan did not require it. He had no intention
of besieging Shadowlight. That would tie up too many men for far too long.

Mogaba grumbled, “They press us everywhere. No day passes but that we hear of
the fall of another town or village. Many places the locals no longer resist at
all. And it would be folly to assume that Croaker and Lady will respect the
season.”

Longshadow turned his dread mask toward Mogaba, who flinched. “Have you done
anything to make it difficult to sustain a major campaign, General?”

An army must live off the land if it ventures far from home. You cannot carry
enough food and fodder to sustain it any length of time.

“Very little.” Mogaba didn’t show an ounce of contrition. “I have my orders. And
our enemies know what those orders are.

“What?” Now Longshadow was testy.

“They expect me to sit still.” Mogaba indicated Singh, who nodded agreement
reluctantly. “Their strategy assumes that I will defend one fixed point. Because
your orders constrain me to do just that they scatter their forces and attack
everywhere. Blade cannot blunt their sword alone. The villages will not resist
because the people know no help will come. I could defeat the fools in detail,

in a short while, if our strategy changed suddenly.”

I don’t think so, I thought, floating there smug in the knowledge that we had
Smoke.

“No!” Longshadow forced his quaking flesh to face southward. He glared at the
plain of glittering stone. “We will discuss military matters in private only,

General.”

Howler delivered a horrible scream edged with mockery. Singh practically dove
through the hatchway. His contempt for the Shadowmaster was obvious to everyone
but Longshadow himself though it was likely Longshadow would not have cared. To
the Shadowmaster the Strangler was little more than a useful termite. In his
mind none of us were much more than pesky insects.

The child left last. She considered Longshadow coldly. Her eyes seemed as old
and wicked as time itself. She was a scary little thing for sure.

I wondered what the Old Man thought when he saw her.

Or if he even dared look.

Longshadow said, “They don’t think I know what I’m doing.”

“My soldiers are wasted where they are,” Mogaba replied. “They’re losing what
edge they had.”

“You may be right. But to attack in any direction you will have to leave what
protection I am able to afford you. Without my lost comrades I cannot reach
nearly as far as once I did. Will you risk their sorcery without mine to support
you?” Mogaba grunted. He glared at the glittering plain. “You believe I am a
coward for fearing that, General?”

“I stipulate the danger. I grant the value of your protection. But there is much
that I could do anyway. Blade has been allowed to act on a limited scale and has
accomplished great things. For certain he has demonstrated repeatedly how these
Taglians will collapse if you attack their weaknesses.”