Bleak Seasons (23 page)

“He won’t be in a good mood,” Goblin predicted. “There’s been rioting. Food
shortages are getting really bad. He won’t turn one grain of rice loose. Even
his handpicked Taglian sergeants have started to desert.”

“It’s all falling apart for him,” I said. “He was going to take over and show
the world wonders but his followers can’t match his iron will.”

“And we’re some kind of philanthropic brotherhood?” One-Eye muttered.

“We never kill nobody who don’t ask for it. Come on. Let’s do it. And be ready
for anything. Both of you.”

But first we went up to the battlements, both so I could see this world by
daylight and so the Nar at the North Gate could see me looking sick before I
presented myself that way.

The water level was just eight feet below the ramparts, higher than Hong Tray’s
prediction. “Any flooding inside?”

“Mogaba sealed the gates somehow. He has Jaicuri working parties
bucket-brigading what seepage there is.”

“Good for him. How about down below?”

“There’s some seepage in the catacombs. Not a lot. We could keep up by hauling
it up in buckets.”

I grunted. I stared at Shadowspinner’s lake. I saw more corpses than I could
count. “Those didn’t float up from the mounds, did they?”

Goblin told me, “Mogaba threw people off the wall during the riots. And some
might be from rafts that turned over or broke up.”

I squinted. I could just make out a mounted patrol beyond the water. A raft with
Jaicuri piled high had been caught by daylight. The people aboard were trying to
move away from the waiting patrol by paddling with their hands.

Thai Dei turned up so we knew his people were watching. I figured he would want
me to visit the Speaker. But he said nothing. I told my bearers, “Take me to his
worship.”

As we approached I observed, “The citadel looks like something out of a spook
story.” And it did, with the sky overcast behind it and crows swarming around.

Dejagore was a paradise for crows. They were going to get too fat to fly. Maybe
we would get fat eating them.

The Nar at the entrance would not let One-Eye and Goblin inside. “So take me
home,” I told them.

“Wait!”

“Stick it, buddy. I got no need to put up with Mogaba’s crap. The Lieutenant is
alive. So is the Captain, probably. Mogaba ain’t shit nowhere but inside his own
head anymore.”

“You could have at least argued until we were rested up.”

One-Eye started shuffling sideways so he could turn and head back down the
steps.

Ochiba caught us before we reached street level. He was cast in the same mold as
all Nar. His face remained neutral. “Apologies, Standardbearer. Won’t you
reconsider?”

“Reconsider what? I don’t especially want to see Mogaba. He’s been eating magic
mushrooms or chewing lucky weed or something. I been shitting my guts out for
over a week. I ain’t in no shape to play games with no homicidal lunatic.”

Something fluttered behind Ochiba’s dark eyes. Maybe he agreed. Maybe there was
another war going on inside him, a struggle between keeping faith with Gea-Xle’s
greatest Nar ever and keeping faith with his own humanity.

I was not going to pursue it. Any hint of outside interest would push waverers
in the direction of “That’s the way it’s always been.”

That was the top two, then, quietly questioning Mogaba’s way. If these guys
doubted him things were probably worse than I thought.

“As you wish.” Ochiba told the sentries, “Let the litterbearers in.”

Nobody missed the significance of who my litterbearers were. It was a pretty
direct statement.

I felt comfortably confrontational.

Was Mogaba happy to see Goblin and One-Eye, and them looking so fit? You better
believe he wasn’t. But he did not pursue his displeasure. He just ticked
something on his mental get-even slate. He would make me even more unhappy than
he had planned. Later.

“Can you sit up?” he asked, almost like he cared.

“Yeah. I made sure. That’s partly why I took so long. That and I wanted to make
sure I’d stay rational.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been suffering severe fevers and dysentery for over a week. Last night
they took me out and threw me in the water to cool me down. That worked.”

“I see. Come to the table, please.”

Goblin and One-Eye helped me into a chair. They put on a fine show.

There were just six people in the conference chamber, us three and Mogaba,

Ochiba and Sindawe. Through the window behind Mogaba I saw water and hills. And
crows. They squabbled over space on the window sill, though none would come
inside. An albino turned an especially baleful pink eye my way.

I suppose we looked too hungry.

For one instant I saw that same room in another time, with Lady and some of the
same faces around the same table. Mogaba was not among them. The window behind
them opened on greyness.

One-Eye pinched my earlobe. “Kid, now ain’t the time.”

Mogaba watched intently.

“Less recovered than I thought,” I explained. I wondered what the vision meant.

And vision it was because it was too fully realized for imagination.

Mogaba settled into a chair opposite me. He pretended solicitousness, avoided
his usual assertiveness.

“We face numerous grave problems, Standardbearer. They are out there and
indifferent to whatever animosities we have developed amongst ourselves.”

Goddamn! Was he going to turn reasonable on me?

“They will be there whether or not we want to believe the Lieutenant or Captain
survived. We will have to face them because I do not expect to be relieved any
time soon.”

I would not argue with that.

“We would be better off had Lady not interfered this last time. We are isolated
and trapped now because the Shadowmaster was forced to find a solution for
managing two fronts.”

I nodded. We were in a worse situation. On the other hand, we would not have
yowling hordes piling over the wall every few nights anymore. Nor would Mogaba
be flinging men hither and yon without regard for their lives, just trying to
irritate the Southerners into doing something stupid.

Mogaba glanced out the window. We could see two Shadowlander patrols raising
dust in the hills. “He can starve us out now.”

“Maybe.”

Mogaba grimaced but controlled his anger. “Yes?”

“For no rational reason I feel confident that our friends will break us out.”

“I must confess that I remain a stranger to that sort of faith. Although I
concede the importance of maintaining an optimistic aspect in front of the
soldiers.”

Was I going to argue? No. He was more right than I could be.

“So, Standardbearer, how do we survive a protracted siege when most of our food
stores are exhausted? How do we recover the standard once we do get out of these
straits?”

“I don’t have any answers. Although I think the standard is in friendly hands
already.” Why was he interested? Almost every time we talked he asked something
about the standard. Did he believe possessing it would legitimize him?

“How so?” He was surprised.

“The Widowmaker that was here the first time carried the real standard.”

“You’re sure?”

“I know it,” I promised.

“Then share your thoughts about food.”

“We could try fishing.” Wisecracking was not a good idea with Mogaba. It just
made Mogaba angry.

“Ain’t no joke,” Goblin snapped. “That water comes down here from regular
rivers. There’s got to be fish.”

The little shit wasn’t as stupid as he acted sometimes.

Mogaba frowned. “Do we have anyone who knows anything about fishing?” he asked
Sindawe.

“I doubt it.” They meant among their Taglian soldiers, of course. Nar are
warriors, back for a dozen generations. They do not sully themselves doing
unheroic work.

I was negligent. I failed to mention that the Nyueng Bao came from country where
fishing was, probably, a way of life.

“It’s a thought,” Mogaba told me. “And there is always baked crow.” He glanced
back at the window. “But most Taglians won’t eat flesh.”

“A conundrum,” I agreed.

“I will not surrender.”

No reply seemed adequate.

“You have no resources either?”

“Less than you,” I lied. We still had a little rice from the catacombs. But not
much. We were stretching ourselves every way possible, in accordance with hints
recorded in the Annals. We did not look like famine victims. Not quite yet.

We looked, I noted, less well fed than did the Nar.

“Suggestions for reducing the number of unproductive mouths?”

“I’m letting my worn out Taglians and any locals who want build rafts and go.

But I don’t let them take anything with them.”

He controlled his anger again. “That does consume valuable timber. But it is
another thought worth consideration.”

I studied Sindawe and Ochiba. They remained jet statues. They were not even
breathing, it seemed. They expressed no opinions.

Mogaba glared at me. “I feared this meeting would be this nonproductive. You
haven’t even thrown the Annals in my face.”

“The Annals aren’t magic. What they say about sieges is plain commonsense stuff.

Be stubborn. Ration. Don’t support the nonproductive. Control the spread of
plague. Don’t exhaust your enemy’s patience if there is no hope of outlasting
him. If surrender is inevitable do it while your enemy is still amenable to
terms.”

“This enemy never offered.”

I wondered about that, although the Shadowmasters did have a tendency to think
like gods.

“Thank you, Standardbearer. We will examine our options and keep you informed of
what we mean to do.”

Goblin and One-Eye helped me ease my chair back. They settled me into the
litter. Mogaba said nothing else and I could think of nothing I wanted to tell
him. The other Nar just stood there awkwardly and watched us go.

“What was that in aid of?” I asked once we were clear. “I expected yelling and
threats.”

“He wanted to pick your brains,” Goblin said.

“While he made up his mind if he was going to kill you,” One-Eye added
cheerfully.

“Oh, that’s real encouraging.”

“He did decide, Murgen. And he didn’t pick the option you want to hear. It’s
time to start being real careful.”

We did make it home unharmed.

“sDon’t bother dragging me up there till we find out what Uncle wants.” Goblin
and One-Eye were at the foot of steps leading to the battlements. Doj was up
top, looking down.

“I wasn’t planning to carry your dead ass anywhere anyhow anymore,” One-Eye told
me. “Far as I’m concerned this exercise was for camouflage.”

Uncle Doj started downward.

I stared at the wall. Tiny beads of sweat covered it, but that was because the
stone was cooler than the air, not because water had begun seeping through from
outside.

The Shadowmasters were good builders.

“Stone Soldier. You are well?”

“Not bad for a guy with the runs. Ready to dance on your grave, Stubby. We got
business?”

“The Speaker wishes to see you. Your excursion was not successful?” He moved his
head to indicate my trip outside.

“If you call spending two weeks as a guest of the Shadowmaster a success I tore
them up, Uncle. Otherwise, all I did was get sick, lose some weight, then have
barely enough sense left to run for it when some Taglians hit Shadowspinner’s
camp with a nuisance raid. That’s all right. I can walk that far.” Just don’t
let me fall down any rabbit holes.

I could walk to the Speaker’s place easily but why give up the pretense of
weakness if it might be useful?

Nothing changed with the Speaker’s crew. Except that this time one smell was
absent. I noticed that as soon as I stepped inside. I could not identify the
missing odor, though.

The Speaker was ready. Hong Tray was in place. The beautiful one had tea
brewing.

Ky Dam smiled. “Thai Dei ran ahead.” He read my curiosity from my glance and
flaring nostrils. “Danh has gone to his judgment. At last. A bleak season has
ended for this house.”

I could not help myself. I looked at the young woman. I found her looking at me.

Her gaze shifted immediately, but not so fast that I did not feel guilty when I
returned attention to the Speaker.

The old man missed nothing. Neither did he get excited about something best left
ignored. He was wise, was Ky Dam.

I had come to respect that frail oldster a lot.

“The hard times have come, Standardbearer, and will lead to more terrible
tomorrows.” He reviewed my discussion with Mogaba well enough to convince me
that someone had watched us.

“Why tell me this?”

“To support my claim when I tell you we spy on the black men. After your
departure they spoke only their native tongue until they sent messengers to the
tribunes of the cohorts and other senior Taglians. They are to gather at
suppertime.”

“Sounds big.”

The old man bowed slightly, “I would like you to see something for yourself. You
know these men more certainly than do I. You can determine if my suspicions are
well-founded.”

“You want me to spy on that meeting?”

“Something of the sort.” The old man did not tell me the whole story. Not then.

He wanted me walking into it cold. “Doj will conduct you.”

Doj conducted me. The way led through cellars as intricately connected as ours
but less care had been used in the tunneling. The people who did this just
wanted to be able to sneak away. They had had no intention of hiding. They must
have been Jaicuri collaborators in Stormshadow’s administration, acting for her.

She would have wanted an emergency exit.

“I’m surprised at you,” I told Uncle Doj. “I wouldn’t think underground would
occur to swamp people. I don’t suppose there are a lot of tunnels in the delta.”

“Not many.” He smiled.

My guess is they found the escape route through sheer blind luck, maybe coupled
with an informed suspicion about how Stormshadow’s mind worked.