Soldiers Live (9 page)

“Moving where?” I asked.

“Downstairs. Home. Get going.”

“But . . . ” This was not what I expected. A good Black Company trick ends up
with lots of fire and bloodshed, the vast majority of both not inflicted upon
us.

Sleepy growled. It was a pure animal sound. “If I’m going to be Captain I’m
going to be Captain. I’m not going to discuss or debate or request preapproval
from the old folks. Get moving.”

She had a point. I had made it a few times myself, in my day. I had to set an
example. I went.

“Good luck,” Sleepy told Sahra. She strode toward the nearest stairwell. I
followed. Presumably better trained by Sleepy’s predecessor, the others were
clattering down those ancient stairs already. Only Sahra and Master Santaraksita
remained behind, though Shiki did hover around Sahra briefly, as though
interested in a parting hug.

“Interesting,” Sleepy observed. “It’s such a good mimic that it almost forgets
itself.”

She was talking to herself, not to the Captain-Emeritus. He no longer needed an
explanation. He had seen this stuff before. The ladies were going to take the
information that we needed. Santaraksita had located it and had tagged it and
now our own people were in the process of collecting it. Tobo was somewhere
else, hard at work. One of his spooky friends was masquerading as Shikhandini.

All of which meant that Sleepy was better prepared to travel than I had
supposed. You miss so much when you are laid up. Things continued to stir in the
corners. Movements persisted at the edge of my vision. Always there was nothing
to be seen when I looked directly. Nevertheless . . .

Khang Phi had been conquered. That unvanquishable fortress of enlightenment had
been taken and its occupants did not yet know. Most might never find
out—assuming the real Shikhandini successfully completed the real mission given
to Tobo by Sleepy and Sahra. Hard to imagine becoming badly winded by running
downhill. I managed. Those stairs went down forever, much farther than when I
had gone up at a more leisurely pace. I began to develop cramps. Behind me Sahra
and Sleepy kept right on barking and mocking and pushing like they were not
almost as old as me.

I spent a lot of time wondering what had compelled me to come along. I was too
old for this shit. The Annals did not need to record every little detail. I
could have done this One-Eye’s way. “They went to Khang Phi and got the
knowledge we needed to fix the shadowgates.”

Some deep-voiced bell bonged far above. No one had enough breath to explain but
no explanation was needed. An alarm was being sounded.

Our fault?

Who else? Though I could imagine scenarios where the File of Nine might be
guilty of trying to snuff the Company brain trust.

It did not matter. I reminded myself that Khang Phi is bereft of arms. That the
monks abhor violence. That they always yield to strength, then seduce it with
reason and wisdom.

Yes, sometimes it does take a while.

I did not feel reassured. I spend too much time hanging around with guys like
me.

The air began to whisper and rustle, like a gentle breeze in a time of falling
leaves. The sound started in the dimness far below. It rose toward us, met and
passed us before I had any real chance to become afraid. I had a brief
impression of passing two-dimensional, black, transparent forms accompanied by a
touch of cold and a whiff of old mold, then autumn was gone on to adventures far
above.

At times the stairway passed behind the outer face of Khang Phi. Windows
presented themselves then. Each was filled with an exquisite view of grey mist.

Shapes moved within the greyness, never defined. They did not need definition
for me to know that I had no interest in making the acquaintance of anything
that did not mind having a thousand feet of wet air beneath its toes.

Several times I saw Shikhandini drift downward or rise through the fog. Once she
saw me watching, paused, smiled and showed three slim fingers in a delicate
wave.

The genuine Tobo was not shy any digits.

What I did not see during our entire descent was even one member of the Khang
Phi community. They all had business elsewhere when we passed by.

“How much farther?” I panted, thinking it was a good thing I had lost all that
weight while I was recuperating.

I got no answer. No one wanted to waste the breath.

It proved to be much farther than I had hoped. It always is when you are running
away.

Ten Finger Shikhandini was waiting with the horses and the rest of our gang when
we stumbled out of the unguarded Lower Gate. Animals and escort were ready to
travel. All we had to do was mount up and go.

Tobo would sustain the Shiki role till we were home again. The Children of the
Dead did not need to know that he was she.

Tobo told his mother, “Sri Santaraksita refused to come.”

“I didn’t think he would. That’s all right. He did his part. He’ll be happier
here after we’re gone.”

Sleepy agreed. “He’s found his paradise.”

“Excuse me,” I gasped. It had taken me three tries and a boost from a helpful
escort to get myself into the saddle. “What did we just do?”

“We committed robbery,” Sleepy told me. “We went in there pretending we were
going to appeal to the File of Nine yet one more time. We got them all twisted
out of shape by naming some of their names, so they had nothing else on their
minds while we stole the books containing the information we need to get home
safely.”

“They still don’t know,” Tobo said. “They’re still looking the other way. But
that won’t last. The doppelgangers I left behind will fall apart before long.

Those things can’t keep their minds on business.”

“Quit jawing and ride, then,” Sleepy grumbled. I swear. The woman was Annalist
for fifteen years. She ought to have a better appreciation of the Annalist’s
needs.

The mist surrounded us and seemed to move with us, unnaturally dense. Tobo’s
work, probably. Shapes moved out there but did not come too close. Until I
looked back.

Khang Phi had vanished already. It might be a thousand miles away or might never
have existed at all. Instead I saw things I would rather not, including several
of the Black Hounds, big as ponies, with high, massive shoulders like those of
hyenas. For an instant, as they began to lose color and focus, an even larger
beast with a head like a leopard’s, but green, loomed out of the mist between
them. Cat Sith. It, too, wobbled away from reality, like an exaggerated case of
heat shimmer fading. The gleam of its exposed teeth was the last to go.

With Tobo’s help we evaporated into the landscape ourselves.

Wastelands:

Night’s Children
Narayan Singh released his grip on his rumel, the consecrated killing scarf of a
Strangler. His hands had become two aching, arthritic claws. Tears filled his
eyes. He was glad the darkness hid them from the girl. “I never took an animal
before,” he whispered, drawing away from the cooling carcass of the dog.

The Daughter of Night did not respond. She had to concentrate hard to use her
crude talents to misdirect the bats and owls searching for them. The hunt had
been on for weeks. Scores of converts had been taken. The rest had scattered in
time-honored fashion. They would come together again after the hunters lost
interest. And the hunters did lose interest in them before long. But this time
the Witch of Taglios seemed determined to collar the Daughter of Night and the
living saint of the Deceivers.

The girl relaxed, sighed. “I think they’ve moved off to the south.” Her whisper
contained no note of triumph.

&ldsquo;This should be the last dog.” Narayan felt no sense of accomplishment,

either. He reached out, touched the girl lightly. She didn’t shake him off.

“They’ve never used dogs before.” He was tired. Tired of running, tired of pain.

“What’s happened, Narayan? What’s changed? Why won’t my mother answer me? I did
everything right. But I still can’t feel her out there.”

Maybe she was not there anymore, the heretical side of Narayan thought. “Maybe
she can’t. She has enemies among the gods as well as among men. One of those may
be . . . ”

The girl’s hand covered his mouth. He held his breath. Some owls had hearing
acute enough to catch his wheezing—should they catch the girl off guard.

The hand withdrew. “It’s turned away. How do we reach her, Narayan?”

“I wish I knew, child. I wish I knew. I’m worn out. I need someone to tell me
what to do. When you were little I thought you’d be queen of the world by now.

That we would’ve passed through the Year of the Skulls and Kina’s triumph and I
would be enjoying the rewards of my persistent faith.”

“Don’t you start, too.”

“Start?”

“Wavering. Doubting. I need you to be my rock, Narayan. Always, when everything
else turns to filth in my hands, there’s been the granite of Papa Narayan.” For
once she seemed not to be manipulating him. They huddled, prisoners of despair.

The night, once Kina’s own, now belonged to the Protector and her minions. Yet
they were compelled to travel under cloak of darkness. By day they were too
easily recognized, she with her pale, pale skin and he with his physical
impairments. The reward for their capture was great and the country folk were
always poor.

Their flight had led them southward, toward the uninhabited wastelands clinging
to the northern foothills of the Dandha Presh. Peopled lands were far too
dangerous right now. Every hand was against them there. Yet there was no promise
the wastelands would be any friendlier. Out there it might be easier for the
hunters to track them.

Narayan mused, “Perhaps we should go into exile until the Protector forgets us.”

She would. Her passions were furiously intense but never lasted.

The girl did not reply. She stared at the stars, possibly looking for a sign.

Narayan’s proposition was impossible and they both knew it. They had been
touched by the Goddess. They must do her work. They must fulfill their
destinies, however unhappy the road. They must bring on the Year of the Skulls,

however much suffering they must endure themselves. Paradise lay beyond the pale
of affliction.

“Narayan. Look. The sky in the south.”

The old Deceiver raised his eyes. He saw what she meant immediately. One small
patch of sky, due south, very low, rippled and shimmered. When that stopped for
half a minute an alien constellation shone through.

“The Noose,” Singh whispered. “It isn’t possible.”

“What?”

“The constellation is called the Noose. We shouldn’t be able to see it.” Not
from this world. Narayan knew of it only because he had been a prisoner of the
Black Company at a time when the constellation had been the subject of intense
discussion. It had some connection with the glittering plain. Beneath which Kina
lay imprisoned. “Maybe that’s our sign.” He was ready to grasp any straw. He
dragged his weary frame upright, tucked his crutch under his arm. “South it is,

then. Where we can travel by day because there’ll be no one to spot us.”

The girl said, “I don’t want to travel anymore, Narayan.” But she got up, too.

Travel was what they did, day after month after year, because only by remaining
in motion could they evade the evils that would prevent them from fulfilling
their holy destinies.

An owl called from somewhere far away. Narayan ignored it. He was, for the
thousandth time, reflecting on the change of fortune that had befallen them so
swiftly, after life had gone so well for several years. His whole life had been
that way, one wild swing after another. If he could cling to the tatters of his
faith, if he could persevere, soon enough fortune would smile on him again. He
was the living saint. His tests and trials had to be measured accordingly.

But he was so tired. And he hurt so much.

He tried not to wonder why there was no sense whatsoever of Kina’s presence in
the world anymore. He tried to concentrate his whole will upon covering the next
painful hundred yards. With that victory in hand he could concentrate on
conquering the hundred yards that followed.

The Land of Unknown Shadows:

The Abode of Ravens
It took Tobo ten days to teach himself everything he needed to become a master
shadowgate tinkerer. Those ten days seemed much longer for some of us because
the File of Nine, defying the express wishes of the Elders of Khang Phi and the
lords of the Court of All Seasons, issued a bull declaring the Black Company to
be the enemy of the Children of the Dead. It encouraged all warlords to gather
their forces and march against us.

That trouble was slow developing. The warlords who were our neighbors knew too
much about us to try anything. Those who were farther away were willing to wait
until someone else moved first. Most never bothered to call in their troops.

And, characteristic of Hsien’s politics, the stream of volunteers, of money and
materials helping us become an ever greater threat to the Children of the Dead,

never slackened.

Tobo finished work on the Hsien-end shadowgate fourteen days after our return
from Khang Phi. Despite the war clouds, Sleepy was in no hurry. Sahra assured
her that it would be months before anyone got started our way—if they ever did
at all. She claimed the warlords could not possibly agree that quickly and move
that fast. No need to hurry. Haste causes mistakes. Mistakes come back to haunt
you every time.

“You do a good job, you’re guaranteed gonna have to pay for it,” I told Suvrin.

The young Shadowlander had just been informed of his latest honor: He was going
to cross the glittering plain to scout and to repair our home shadowgate. Right
after Tobo trained him. Tobo would not go himself because he did not want to be
separated from his pets. Filled with low cunning, I asked, “How are your writing
skills?”

He stared at me for several seconds, eyes big and brown and round in a big
round, brown face. “No. I don’t think so. I like it in the Company. But I don’t
plan to spend my life here. This is a learning experience. This is training. But
I won’t become a lord of mercenaries.”

He surprised me, in several ways. I never heard anyone describe their Company
time quite that way, though many do join up fully intending to desert just as
soon as they are safely away from the trouble that had them on the run. Nor had
I noticed, ever, anyone grasp so quickly what it could mean, in the long run, to
be approached about becoming the apprentice Annalist.

A stint as Annalist could be a step toward becoming Captain someday.

I was teasing, mostly, but Sleepy did think a lot of Suvrin. The suggestion
might not be a joke to her.

“Have fun on the other side. And be careful. You can’t be careful enough where
Soulcatcher is involved.” I went on and on. His patient blank expression and
glazed eyes told me he had heard it all before. I stopped. “And you’ll hear it
all a hundred times more before you go. The Old Woman’ll probably write it all
down in a scroll you’ll have to take along and read before breakfast every
morning.”

Suvrin put on a feeble, insincere smile. “The Old Woman?”

“Thought I’d try it out. I have a feeling it isn’t going to work.”

“I think you can count on that.”

I didn’t expect to cross paths with Suvrin again this side of the plain. I was
wrong. Only minutes after we parted it occurred to me that it might be useful if
I sat in on the shadowgate training.

It occurred to me that I ought to ask the Captain’s permission. I was able to
resist the temptation.

Lady decided it might be good if she extended her own education, too.