Bleak Seasons

68

It started like a well-rehearsed play where Mogaba’s characters were desperate to please their audience. The rioting, that is. Uncle Doj and I formed work parties to take advantage. We got into the storage chambers without challenge, ten Old Crew and ten Nyueng Bao. We started dragging off sacks of rice and flour, sugar and beans. The riots were nasty from the start. They swamped the whole southern half of Dejagore. Every man Mogaba controlled was out there helping crush the rebellion. And every Jaicuri man and boy seemed to want to get at the Nar, even if they had to exterminate the whole First Legion to reach them.

My people went on the alert, established in strong positions, long before nightfall. Likewise the Nyueng Bao, who had no immediate trouble. We ambushed one mob. A shower of missiles from front, sides, and above swiftly changed their minds.

Mogaba’s men had more problems. They were not ready. Worse, they were scattered, often in isolated work parties and patrols.

For a while everybody joked and cracked wise and speculated on Mogaba’s first words after the fighting ended and he found his cellars plundered.

I ran into Bucket my second trip back. “Beans,” I told him, dropping a huge sack. “The change of diet will do us good.”

“It’s real bloody out there this time, Murgen. Mogaba has asked for support twice. We told him we couldn’t find you.”

“Well, keep on not being able. Unless it looks like we would end up worse off if we didn’t help.”

“That’s not likely. He has most of the weapons. His men have been throwing people off the wall by the hundreds, just anybody, whether or not they’re rebelling, men, women and children.”

“That’s Mogaba’s way. What about those fires?” There were a few. Whenever there is disorder somebody starts burning things down.

“They’re burning themselves out.”

“Everything is going fine, then. But keep an eye out.”

I went back to my looting happy as the proverbial clam. This might be the end of Mogaba as a royal pain in the ass.

Uncle Doj caught me in the storage chamber later. “Some Taglian soldiers are abandoning their posts for the safety of the citadel. If we continue this raiding we will get caught.”

“Yeah. If we don’t get spotted Mogaba will blame it on natives who knew about the passageways.” This raid was going to cost us our opportunity to spy on any more staff meetings.

It was worth it.

Would I feel the same way tomorrow, when Mogaba began looking for his stores? When I had a full belly?

“There is a small problem, Standardbearer,” Uncle Doj said a while later. Each of us staggered under a last sack of rice. We were the last brigands out.

“What’s that?”

“News of our success is sure to leak.”

“Why? Only a few people know. It’s in all their interests to stay clammed.”

“Someone talked about what I showed you earlier.”

“Huh?”

“The dark ceremonies. Someone talked. The rumors sparked tonight’s riots.”

“I don’t believe that. They were too organized.”

“There was an organized cadre, naturally, but this uprising was more widespread. It is also out of control.”

“Whatever you say.” He had spent his evening with me. He had had no chance to observe any riots.

Before he could respond Thai Dei popped out of the darkness. He gobbled away, becoming too animated for the space. If he killed my candle I was going to choke him. As soon as I found him. “What’s happening?”

“The black men are trying to break open the north gate and flood the city.”

“They’re what?” That would take care of the riots, all right. But not even Mogaba would go that far. Would he?

Uncle Doj and I did our best to run carrying sacks of rice. I bet we looked silly.