Bleak Seasons (22 page)

No matter now. Blade took Sindhu and I away from our guards. “Standardbearer,

you stink.”

“Call out the ladies in waiting. Let them give me a bath.” I could not remember
my last bath. In Dejagore we did not waste water on trivialities.

Of course, now we could bathe all we wanted although the water would be unclean.

Blade obtained fresh clothing by the expedient of robbing some southern
officers, had us clean up and visit the inadequate field physicians Croaker had
tried to train for the Taglian forces.

They knew less about stopping the drizzling shits than I did.

It was daylight when Lady saw me. She already knew the prisoners were deserters
from the city. She was blunt. “Why did you run out, Murgen?”

“I didn’t. We decided somebody had to come find you. I lost the election . . .

Uh.” She was in a bleak mood, apparently pretty sick herself. Never mind the
humor, Murgen. “One-Eye and Goblin figured I was the only trustworthy guy who
had any chance of getting through. They couldn’t leave. I didn’t make it,

though.”

“Why did you feel the need to send someone?”

“Mogaba elected himself god. With the water around us, keeping the southerners
back, he doesn’t need to get along with anybody who doesn’t agree.”

Sindhu said, “The black men believe they serve the goddess, mistress. But their
heresies are grotesque. They have become worse than unbelievers.”

I pricked up my ears. Maybe I would learn something about Sindhu’s bunch. I had
bones to pick with them. I had not yet found any evidence to suggest that it was
not them who kidnapped me and took a crack at murdering Mogaba.

Still, I could not imagine why they would bother.

Sindhu and Lady talked. Her questions sounded vaguely doctrinal. Sindhu’s
replies made no sense.

Once Lady interrupted the interview to be sick. A skinny little gink named
Narayan, who kept hanging around, seemed inordinately pleased. I noted that
Sindhu showed him considerable deference.

I was not happy. The little I knew of their cult assured me that I did not want
them influencing my captains.

The interview ended. Blade’s cronies took me away. I got to hang out with Swan
and Mather, meaning I had somebody to speak a reasonable language with for a
while, but soon I felt like a forgotten man.

“What are we doing?” I asked Swan.

“I don’t know. Cordy and I just tag along behind Her Lordship pretending not to
be watching her for the Prabrindrah Drah and Radisha.”

“Pretending?”

“Ain’t much good being a spy if everybody knows it, is there? Anyway, Cordy gets
to do all the worrying. He’s the one playing pattycake with the Woman.”

“You mean that ain’t just a vicious rumor? He’s really plooking the Radisha?”

“Hard to believe, ain’t it? She’s got a face like . . . Hey! Cordy! Where’s them
cards? We got us a pigeon here thinks he can play tonk.”

“Thinks? Swan, you’re gonna think I invented the game if you get into it with
me.”

Mather was a nondescript character of average height with ginger hair who stood
out only because he was white in a land where nobody but harem girls, kept out
of the sun from birth, had fair skin. He asked, “Willow’s mouth running away
with him again?”

“Maybe. I’ve made a career of playing tonk. Hell, they boot you out of the Black
Company if you don’t make journeyman player.”

Mather shrugged. “Then you’ll twist Willow’s head back around straight for him.

Here. Deal. I’ll see if the mighty general Blade wants to sit in.”

Swan grumbled, “That would take him out of sight of Lady.” Sounded like some
sour grapes there. Mather showed him a smirk that confirmed my guess.

“What is it about her?” I asked. “Every damned guy that walks on his hind legs
gets near her for five minutes, he starts floating around with his tongue
hanging down, banging into things. But I’ve been around her for years. I can see
she’s got the right stuff in the right places put together about as good as you
could want but I don’t think I could get excited even if she didn’t used to be
the Lady and she wasn’t married to the Old Man.” Not that that was literally
true. They had not even bothered to jump over a sword.

Swan shuffled. “Cut?”

I cut. I always cut. One-Eye taught me that.

Swan asked, “You really don’t feel it? Man, she comes around me and my brain
goes south. And she’s a widow now so . . . ”

“I don’t think so.”

“What?”

“She ain’t no widow. Croaker is still alive.”

“Shit. That’d be my luck, too. You want to stack Cordy a hand, make him think
he’s got a winner, then skunk him?” As soon as I shook my head he wanted to know
how come I thought Croaker was alive. I evaded a definitive answer for the few
moments it took Mather to return.

“Blade’s too busy looking for an angle to use while he’s close to the magic. You
load me up again, Willow?No? Bullshit. Let’s just pick them up and deal them
over.”

“Ain’t this the story of my life?” I grumbled. “Look here.” I had two aces, a
pair of deuces and a trey. An automatic winner, damned near couldn’t be beat.

“And that’s a true natural, no help.”

Swan snickered. “Don’t matter. You don’t got anything to do anyway.”

“You got a point. Why don’t you guys come over to Dejagore? I’ll buy you a mug
of One-Eye’s home brew.”

“Ha! Competition, huh?” Swan and Mather had gone into the brewing business back
when they first came to Taglios. They were out of the racket now, among their
reasons the fact that the priests of all the native religions condemned the use
of alcohol.

“I doubt it. The only thing good about their brew is it gets you skunked.”

“That was the only good thing about the rat piss we made,” Mather said. “My dear
old daddy the brewmaster rolled over every time we tapped another keg.”

“We never laid any beer up,” Swan countered. “Soon as it was ripe we skimmed the
scum off and poured it down Taglian throats. And don’t buy that shit about his
daddy, neither. Old Man Mather was a tax assessor who was so dumb he didn’t take
bribes.”

“Shut up and deal.” Mather snatched up his cards. “He did brew his own beer. And
Swan’s old man was a hod carrier.”

“But a handsome one, Cordy. And a lover. I inherited his good looks.”

“You take after your mother. And if you don’t do something about that hair
pretty soon you’re going to wind up in somebody’s harem.”

This was a side of these guys I had not seen before. But I had not spent much
time loafing with them. They were not Company. I kept my mouth shut and
concentrated on my cards and let them tell me about who they used to be before
the wander-dust settled on their shoes and set them roving against all odds.

“What about you, Murgen?” Swan asked after he noticed that I was winning more
than my share of hands. “Where did you come from?”

I told them about growing up on a farm. There wasn’t anything exciting about my
life until I decided that farming wasn’t what I wanted to do. I joined one of
Lady’s armies, found out I didn’t like the way things were done there, deserted
and joined up with the Black Company, which was the only place I could hide with
the provost after me.

Mather asked, “You ever regret leaving home?”

“Every goddamned day, Mather. Every goddamned day. It was boring raising
potatoes but not one time did I ever did have a spud try to stick a knife in me.

I was hardly ever hungry and almost never cold and the landlord was all right.

He made sure his tenants had enough before he took his share. He didn’t live
much better than we did. Oh, and the only magic we ever saw was the kind your
wandering conjurers perform at town fairs.”

“So why not go home?”

“Can’t.”

“If you’re careful and don’t look prosperous and don’t go around pissing people
off you can travel almost anywhere safely. We did.”

“I can’t go home because home ain’t there no more. A Rebel army came through a
couple years after I left.” The Company passed through later still, marching
from somewhere unpleasant to somewhere where we would be unhappy. The whole
country had been turned desert in the name of freedom from the tyranny of the
Lady’s empire.

Lady sent for me after six days. I had shaken the runs and had eaten well enough
to regain a few of the pounds I lost in the pen. I still looked like a refugee
from hell. And I was. I was indeed.

Lady did not look good. Tired, pale, under severe pressure, apparently still
fighting the sickness that had her puking the other day. She wasted no time on
small talk. “I’m sending you back to Dejagore, Murgen. We’re getting disturbing
reports about Mogaba.”

I nodded. I had heard some of them. Every night more rafts crossed the lake. The
deserters and refugees always were astonished to learn that Shadowspinner was
dead and Lady controlled his army though that was evaporating through desertion,

too.

Lady was a hard one. My guess was she meant to let the problem posed by Mogaba
solve itself despite what that would cost Taglios and the Black Company.

“Why?” That was not smart. All those Taglians in there had relatives back home.

Many were people of place and substance, for it was that sort who had
volunteered to defend Taglios.

“I need you to just go back and be yourself. But write things down. Hone your
skills. Keep the Company together. Be prepared for anything.”

I grunted. That wasn’t something I wanted to hear, knowing that the siege could
be ended right now.

Lady sensed my reservations. She smiled wanly, made a sudden gesture. “Sleep,

Murgen.”

I collapsed on the spot.

She was her nasty old self.

My mind would not clear. The Taglians who had helped me leave Dejagore were like
zombies. They did not talk and seemed almost blind. “Down!” I muttered. “Patrol
coming.” They did what I said but like men heavily drugged.

Patrols were few by day. It was easy to elude them. It was not their mission to
keep people out, anyway. We reached lakeside without any trouble.

“Rest,” I ordered. “Wait for dark.” I was not sure why we had crossed the hills
by day. I did not recall starting. “Have I been acting real weird?” I asked.

The taller Taglian shook his head slowly, not quite sure. He was more confused
than I was.

I said, “I feel like I walked out of a fog a couple hours ago. I remember
getting captured. I remember them keeping us in a nasty pen. I know there was a
fight or something. But I don’t remember how we got away.”

“Nor do I, sir,” the shorter soldier said. “I do have a very strong feeling that
we need to get back to our comrades quickly. But I don’t know why.”

“How about you?”

The taller man nodded, frowning. He was going to bust a vein trying to remember.

I said, “Maybe Shadowspinner did something to us and let us go. That’s worth
keeping in mind—especially if you have urges that really surprise you.”

After dark we stole along the shoreline till we found a raft, jumped aboard and
headed for Dejagore. And discovered immediately that we were going to get
nowhere using poles. The water was too deep. We ended up using poles and broken
boards as inefficient paddles. It took us half the night to make the crossing.

And then, naturally, everything went to hell.

One-Eye was on watch and had been passing the time making love to a keg of beer.

He heard water splash and people ask for a hand up and concluded that the evil
hordes were upon him, whereupon he flung fireballs hither and yon so any handy
archers could plink us.

One-Eye recognized me before more than three or four arrows whizzed past. He
yelled for a ceasefire. But the damage had been done. The Nar at the North Gate
saw us.

We were far enough away that they should not recognize faces. But the
possibility that the Old Crew might have outside contacts would get Mogaba’s
interest.

“Hey, Kid, good to see you,” One-Eye said as I clambered to the top of the wall.

“We thought you was dead. We was going to have a funeral in a few more days if
we got time. I been stalling it, account of if you was officially dead then I’d
have to start keeping the Annals.” Generously, he offered me a drink from his
very own unwashed for a fortnight mug. I declined the honor. “You all right,

Kid?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me.” I told him what I could remember.

“You have another spell?”

“If I did these guys had it with me.”

“Interesting. Come around and see me about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna be off watch in ten minutes and I intend to hit the sack. And you
need some sleep yourself.”

My pal. Don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have One-Eye to worry about me.

Bucket wakened me. “One of Mogaba’s guys is here, Murgen. Says His Majesty wants
to see you.”

I groaned. “Does it have to be so bright out there?” I had not bothered to go
down into the warrens.

“He’s pissed off. We’ve been pretending you were here but couldn’t talk to him.

Goblin and One-Eye put doubles of you on the wall sometimes so the Nar could see
you.”

“And now you have the real Murgen back you want to throw him to the wolf.”

“Uh . . . Well . . . He didn’t ask for nobody else.” Meaning he did not want
Goblin or One-Eye. He wanted to stay away from those two.

“Find my bitty buddies and tell them I need them. Now.” The wizards turned up at
their own leisure, of course. I told them, “Put me in a litter and lug me over
to the citadel. We’re going to admit that you’ve been lying about me but only
because I was totally sick. What we were doing on that raft last night was
taking baths. You thought it would be cute to pop off a few fireballs while I
had my pants down.”

One-Eye started to complain but before he could start I growled, “I’m not face
Mogaba without backup. He don’t have any reason to be nice anymore.”