Bleak Seasons (28 page)

Uncle Doj told me, “My people are not mushrooms, Standardbearer. They cannot
endure this much longer. You Stone Soldiers have been generous to a fault and
have given no provocation but even so there will be trouble eventually. A
wounded animal will strike out at even the most loving master.”

“We’ll be out of here sooner than I planned.” I was not in a good mood. I wanted
to drag Lady across my lap and paddle her. “I’ve already given orders to start
the process.”

“You sound angry.”

“I am angry.” Lady used me in a political game with Mogaba with never a thought
for the Company’s welfare. She was no more real Company than he was.

Longo leaned in the doorway. “You get the word about the catacombs flooding,

Murgen?”

“Bucket told me. How soon is it going to be a problem?”

“Four or five days. Maybe more. Unless the leak gets a lot worse.”

“We’ll be gone. Your brothers and One-Eye are up in the big lookout. Go find out
what’s up.”

Longo shrugged and went, grumbling about the climb.

I asked, “Who speaks for the Nyueng Bao now?”

“We have not yet chosen,” Uncle Doj replied.

“Could you? Quickly? A Taglian general name of Lanore Bonharj—the guy who’s in
charge of the freed slaves and friendly Taglians and Jaicuri right now—is going
to come by. We’ll need somebody Nyueng Bao to join us in planning our
evacuation.” He started to say something. I rolled on. “It seems that the
Shadowmaster isn’t a problem anymore, only nobody bothered to tell us. Our own
so-called friends have been jobbing us for political reasons. We could leave any
time I don’t know for how long now.”

I put all the blame for our ignorance on Goblin and One-Eye. You can blame a
wizard for anything and people will believe you.

Sahra tried to make a meal from what we had. I touched her hand as she passed.

She smiled. I told her, “This should be the last time we’ll need to do this.”

I hoped.

I was wrong.

Everything takes time.

Lanore Bonharj followed me down into the warrens. He was both amazed and
appalled. He was high-caste Gunni. It was bad up top but this squalor down below
was beyond his imagination. We talked. Uncle Doj spoke for the Nyueng Bao.

Bargains were struck, agreements agreed, plans quickly laid. Preparations began
in earnest.

In the dark of night, in the rain, the Black Company stole forth, crossed a
rickety makeshift bridge to stairs to the battlements, joined the Taglians of
the al-Khul company. With Goblin at the point we sneaked along the wall, seized
the North Gate and barbican from the Nar and their Taglians. Goblin’s sleep
spell made that easy. Nobody got hurt. In our gang.

Before the last body splashed into the water outside Goblin and I and the
Company cadre headed back to grab the West Gate and its barbican.

With the gates in our hands we could proceed unobserved by Mogaba’s men.

Loftus and his brothers got to work inside the central of the three towers
between the gates. While the wall itself was stone with a rubble fill the towers
were not solid. They had to be hollow to allow crossbowmen inside to pepper the
wall faces with missiles. The boys got to work opening a hole to the outside
from the floor nearest the present water level.

The Nyueng Bao brought our remaining food stores to the surface. The women would
use the last of the Taglians’ fuel to cook for everyone. I wanted everybody to
build strength. A lot of us were little more than stick figures now.

When the sun rose next morning the Nar atop the citadel saw nothing they had not
seen the day before, except less rain. They got no signals from the north or
west barbicans but did not seem concerned.

“Aren’t many crows around anymore,” Goblin noted as daylight began to fade.

“Maybe we ate them all.”

Night returned. Everybody went back to work. The hammering and pounding and the
collapse of masonry into water had to be audible all over town but nobody could
see what we were doing and nothing was evident when the sun rose except that
several derelict buildings were missing.

The lake continued its slow fall. The weather continued damp.

The rafts the carpenters were building floated outside, against the wall.

Everything capable of offering flotation went into their construction. Even the
occasional empty beer barrel.

That afternoon we acquired some useful lumber when Mogaba sent three rafts to
the North Gate to find out why his signals were not being answered.

We could not keep the ambush from being seen from the citadel. Mogaba wasted no
more men or materials.

Loftus and his brothers said the best raft would be built long and thin so more
people could paddle against less front-end water resistance. Working in three
feet of water the three brothers and a few skilled Taglians assembled one raft
after another, each able to carry ten or more adults. By using everything they
could find they built forty-one craft. They guessed that fleet could carry seven
hundred people, more than five hundred of whom could be put ashore while the
rest brought the rafts back, reloaded them and got under way again before dawn.

So about twelve hundred could get away overnight. Enough to establish a modestly
solid beachhead on what we did not know for certain would be a friendly shore.

Problem. The numbers we needed to move undetected were greater than I had
guessed. I had my forty Old Crew, more than six hundred Nyueng Bao, and a whole
lot more Taglians, freed slaves and Jaicuri volunteers than I had thought.

Lanore Bonharj wanted to move nearly a thousand men and dependents. There was no
way to get everyone out in one night.

“Here’s what you do,” One-Eye said. “You only take one load across the first
night. Draw lots for the spots. That way we don’t get people climbing over each
other and nobody getting out in the panic. Figure the draw so a representative
percentage goes from each group. Then nobody bitches. Dump the five hundred and
some with orders to build a camp. Have the rafts come back and tie up, then
finish up with two trips next night.”

“The man is a genius,” I said. “You or Goblin will have to go, just in case.”

“Shouldn’t be necessary.”

“Why not?”

“Things aren’t that dangerous anymore.”

“Then we won’t need to dig in. We can send the Nyueng Bao and dependents out
first.”

“That will go down great.”

“Women and children and old people? That will work. I’ll bet you. Include the
Taglians’ dependents. Hold up on the Jaicuri, though, or we’ll have the whole
damned city lining up. We figure how many that all is, then draw lots for the
rest of the positions.”

It worked out that thirty Taglians, five Black Company guys and fifteen Nyueng
Bao warriors could be sent with the first group. We would have fifty swords on
the beach.

Uncle Doj grumbled about the scheme because for one night he would not be able
to keep his whole tribe together. “Clever, Soldier of Darkness.” We were back to
that? “You hold us warriors hostage.”

“You want to go, go. There are more of you than there are of us. Take the
rafts.”

He scowled, his hand called.

“It’s one night, Unc. And fifteen warriors will go with them. They’ll be drawn
by lot so one of them might even be you.”

One-Eye and Goblin did not want to leave. “I’m not going over tonight,” One-Eye
told me.

“Me too neither,” Goblin insisted.

They had that weasel look they get when they are dealing off the bottom of the
deck. “Why not?” They looked like they could use a straight man.

“It ain’t safe out there,” One-Eye told me, after Goblin failed to convince me
of his altruistic desire to protect the world by blunting Mogaba’s wickedness.

“That bitch from Juniper. Lisa Daele Bowalk. She’s laying for us out there.”

“Who?” I heard no bells ringing.

“Lisa Bowalk. From Juniper. Nasty little bitch. Ran with Marron Shed. The corpse
runner. Shifter took her as his apprentice after the Company went on the run.

She was there when we skragged Shifter. The Old Man let her get away. Well,

she’s out there, prowling, waiting for a chance to get even. She’s already tried
a couple times.”

“And you never bothered to tell me?” A healthy dose of skepticism is in order
any time One-Eye waxes passionate on any subject.

“Wasn’t no problem till now.”

Why argue? The truth seemed evident. Those two had plunder stashed and did not
want to leave it unguarded. Nor did either want the other left with it alone. I
told them, “Take your chances with the rest of us.”

Bonharj and Uncle Doj, Goblin and One-Eye all glowered at me. I told them, “I
shouldn’t have to take a turn.”

One-Eye chuckled. “Maybe not. But you said we all had to take our chances.”

I had not yet drawn. Trouble was, the outcome was not in doubt. There was only
one stone left in the jar. Five black pebbles had been allocated to the Company
and only four had been drawn.

I would go to the mainland with the first wave.

Why did my bitty buddies look so smug? “Pick your rock and pack your shit,”

Goblin said. They would not have rigged the draw, would they? Nah. Not those
two. Paragons of virtue, they were.

“Anybody want to buy this?” I held up the expected black pebble.

“Stuff it, Kid,” One-Eye said. “We’ll manage without you. Again. What could go
wrong in one day, anyway?”

“With you guys in charge?” It did not seem right, me going ashore before the
last Black Company brother was out of the city.

“Just get your stuff together and go,” Goblin snapped again. “It’ll be dark in
an hour.”

It was still drizzling. Darkness would come early, though not early enough to
complete two crossings and get the rafts back unseen. Damn it.

Sahra was burdened down with odds and ends and six pounds of rice and beans. I
carried a pack containing a Nyueng Bao tent, blankets, various clutter useful in
the field, plus I had To Tan perched on my hip. That kid was the least
troublesome baby I ever saw.

Thai Dei had not drawn a black stone.

I meant to enjoy his absence.

We climbed out of the warren, descended steps, crossed to the wall, climbed up,

walked the battlements, descended inside the middle tower. And that was about as
much exercise as I wanted.

On my raft we were all Nyueng Bao except me and Red Rudy. The Nyueng Bao were
patient about waiting their turns. The guys in the tower, operating by feeble
lamplight, were patient too. Morale was good.

“Careful,” Clete said as I stepped aboard. I accepted children as he started
handing them across. “I picked you a good one, boss, but it will lean over if
you don’t keep the weight balanced. Ma’am.” He helped Sahra. She acknowledged
his courtesy with a dazzling smile.

“Thanks, Clete. See you tomorrow night.”

“Right. Round up some cattle and dancing girls.”

“I’ll check around.”

“Kneel down. You got to keep the center of gravity low so the damned thing don’t
tip.”

I glanced around. We were ready to go.

Six Nyueng Bao men were aboard. They would paddle over. Five would bring the
raft back. Other than them, Rudy and I and one gimp Nyueng Bao about fifty were
the only adult males aboard. There were fifteen or sixteen kids and half as many
women. We were crowded but Nyueng Bao make a light load. I volunteered to help
paddle but the men on the job lost their capacity to understand Taglian.

Rudy said, “If they want to be dicks and bust their nuts, no sweat off our
asses.”

“You’re right. But keep it down. We’re doing a sneak here.”

It turned out the Nyueng Bao were skilled boatmen. Which should have been no
surprise considering their origins.

They remained as quiet as falling feathers. And made rapid headway. The rafts
immediately ahead had Taglian paddlers who not only made a lot of noise, they
were slow. With just a whispered word my paddlers swung right and began passing.

It was not much of a sneak, overall. Paddles splashed. People bumped, grunted,

banged around and occasionally managed to collide with other rafts. But those
were noises that came off the water every night and tonight the drizzle was
deadening some of the racket. And, of course, we were headed straight away from
the city. The light inside the opened tower served as a navigational beacon.

My paddle men maybe did not keep the best watch on the light. We drifted way off
line and lost it altogether.

Somebody hissed.

Paddles stopped dipping. Even the murmur of the little ones stilled as mothers
placed hands over their mouths or pulled lips to teats.

I heard nothing.

We waited.

Sahra rested her hand lightly upon my arm, sharing reassurance.

Then I heard the clumsy paddling. Somebody was farther off course than we were .

. . Only this raft was headed the other way.

It was too early for that.

The sounds grew louder.

The other raft came abreast, so close that it seemed they had to see us despite
the darkness and rain.

A voice said something softly, just a few words edged with anger. In the
language of Gea-Xle. I had picked up maybe twenty words, none of which I
recognized now.

I did not need to know words. I knew the voice.

That was Mogaba.

He had not been spotted leaving during the day. From the north and west
barbicans it was possible to watch most of the lake surface.

Which meant that he had been away at least since the previous night. Which, in
turn, would explain why there had been no response to our capture of the
barbicans.

What business could Mogaba possibly have over there?

The Nar paddled on into darkness. We resumed our journey. I remained lost in
thought till the raft ran aground and tossed me forward.

Sahra and I took up To Tan and our burdens and marched ashore. The little guy
was sleeping like his aunt’s arms were a palace bed.