She Is The Darkness

78

Chalk dust bands defined fields of fire for the soldiers, so they could pick off shadows more efficiently. But, though they glowed, the dusts did not betray the shadows perfectly.

Lady had given me some tools and instructions on how to use them. I was supposed to resist any temptation to take shortcuts.

A lot of soldiers came to watch. The Taglians were awed because a man who was neither priest nor sorcerer could read. They made me feel like a freak.

Essentially, Lady’s directions had me lay down strips of leather rope in semicircles around the most dangerous passthrough, which was where the original gate had stood. More ropes went down as spokes.

Everything had to be done just so. None of which took into account the presence of the standard. If Lady understood that the standard was special she never made much of it.

I scuttled around inside the bunker we had appropriated. It was barely three feet from floor to ceiling. There was room for four men and a pile of bamboo. The place stank. No one had gone out after dark, no matter how pressing the need. As a shelter it was a feeble improvement over sitting out in the rain.

I told everyone watching, “When a shadow crosses one of the leather ropes it’ll make a spark so we’ll not only know that one is there, we can follow its movements. As long as we stay calm we can pick them off without wasting any fireballs.”

The situation there was grim. A repeat of last night meant not many guys would see another sunrise.

“Not much of a mattress,” I told Thai Dei, patting the ground. “Why don’t you get some rest?” Whatever happened, I had to sleep later so I could prowl. If that worked for me again.

I crawled outside, settled on a comfortable block from the old wall. I studied the roof of my new home. It had been fashioned from a tent taken from the Shadowlanders. Everywhere around me I saw a wealth of plunder taken from our enemies. So much that in another month we would be as gaunt and disease-ridden as we were when we broke the siege of Dejagore.

The big edge we held over our enemies now was that we were still around. We could pretend to be an army still. Mogaba’s band was the best they had left.

What would Mogaba do when he heard about Longshadow’s disaster?

“Speaking of disasters.” Real bad news was headed my way.

At the bottom of the slope, where the road southward gave up its final pretense and became an eroded dirt track, Uncle Doj stood staring up at the Shadowgate. If he had come any later it would have been too dark to pick him out. Mother Gota was fifty yards behind him, still moving, bitching so loudly that I caught snatches from where I sat. Both carried packs, which suggested that they planned to move in with me again. They had become professional squatters.

I flipped a stone at a crow. It was not a serious effort and the crow showed slight enthusiasm about getting out of the way. He just leaned. There were not a lot of the birds around now that dusk was thickening, though at their most numerous they had remained uncommon all day. Curious. I had seen nothing to explain the absence of the usual flocks. Nobody had started roasting them.

Maybe they were all off taking care of Mom.

I sat by the entrance to the bunker. “Thai Dei. How come your mother and Uncle Doj are over here?”

Thai Dei peeked outside, looked down the long slope, muttered in salty Nyueng Bao, went back in and lay down. You would have thought he had no respect for his elders.

He did not answer my question.

I checked the amulet I had not returned to Croaker. I considered the height of my shadow-repellent candle. We should be all right.

I hoped.

Somebody a lot smarter than me once said, “Put no trust in wizards.”

I shut my eyes and waited.

“Murgen, you know a couple guys name of Wobble and Leadbeater?”

I opened my eyes. “Rudy. You ugly son of a bitch. Where’d you come from? I ain’t seen you in half a year. How the fuck are you?”

“What is that? It’s been so long I forget how. But I still got all my limbs and I’m still breathing.”

“Makes you a winner in the soldiering game. Yeah. I remember Wobble. He was Jaicuri. Everybody he ever knew died during the siege of Dejagore. He just stuck with us after we came out of the city. He was a stonemason by trade. He was with us when we caught the Deceivers in the Grove of Doom.”

“That’s the guy. He made a good showing at Charandaprash, too.”

“And the other one? Leadbeater? I didn’t know him.”

“He was some kind of Shadowlander. A prisoner of war who started out doing scutwork and gradually turned into one of us. Only took the oath maybe a month ago.”

I knew but I had to ask. “What about them?”

“They didn’t make it last night. I had to tell you. On account of you always want to put all that stuff in the Annals.”

“Thank you. Though I don’t know if I like this or not.”

“What?”

“Only time half you guys talk to me anymore is if somebody gets his ass skragged. Then you come around because you want me to remember them.”

“Get away from headquarters, Murgen. Get out here in the field. Stop being one of them and turn back into one of us.”

Damn! Apparently I had crossed over from labor to management without noticing. “You maybe got a point. We’re in for some changes now that the Shadowmasters are wrapped up. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Red Rudy grunted. He was not convinced. He headed back to his command, though, satisfied that he had done his duty.

I scrunched down into myself more tightly, shivering. A cold wind was blowing off the plateau. It was probably my imagination but I thought there was a whiff of Kina in it. It recalled the persistent wind stalking the place of bones. It made the standard sway. I thought about piling more rocks at its foot but could not find the ambition.

I thought about a warm fire, too, but on this side of Overlook, after last night, wood was scarce. Stocks were being used for cooking only. Not that there was much to cook anymore but bitterroot.

You will learn to live without the light. That was in one of the older Annals somewhere, too.

A pair of boots positioned themselves in front of me. Uncle Doj. I knew because Mother Gota was just down the slope, puffing and complaining. She would never catch up unless he waited, wobble-walking the way she did.

“Uncle,” I said without looking up. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure, after all these months?”

“You should plant your standard closer, Soldier of Darkness. You should be able to lay your hand on it at any time. Otherwise you are likely to lose it.”

“I don’t think so. But one of the Prahbrindrah Drah’s loyalists, a Deceiver, hell, maybe even some minor, he-thinks-his-talent-is-a-secret kind of wizard, anybody, can take a crack. And end up in that ditch over there before they know what bit them.” I was bullshitting but he would not recognize it. I had not done that in the past. “It knows who the good guys are.”

Mother Gota hobbled up. She carried a load as big as she was, everything useful that could be salvaged from our former home and the ruins of Kiaulune. That included an accumulation of firewood.

I decided not to be totally abrasive. While the wood lasted. There are cooks in this world worse than Mother Gota. Among them are her favorite son and son-in-law.

Uncle Doj, being both male and what passes for exalted caste amongst Nyueng Bao, carried Ash Wand and a quite unprepossessing pack.

Mother Gota shed her load, dropped to hands and knees and started to crawl into the bunker. As she met my gaze I could not help grinning. She began muttering curses that, no doubt, were directed at the sort of evil fate that would unleash an earthquake at such an inopportune moment.

The earth moved. One-Eye would hear about that for however many more centuries he hung around.

I said, “Let Thai Dei rest. It’s going to be another long night.” As I edged over Uncle Doj glimpsed the little bamboo tube I had tucked in my belt behind me.

The cold wind was getting stronger. The cloth of the standard popped and cracked.

Uncle Doj peered up the darkening slope, eyed the bunker, glared at me like he was developing serious reservations about having left his swamp. I said, “Sometimes you have to live like this when you do what we do.” Mother Gota crept back outside, still muttering, verbalizing what Uncle Doj was thinking. I reminded them, “You invited yourselves along.”

Uncle Doj opened his mouth but overcame the urge to bicker. He settled on the other side of the bunker entrance, Ash Wand across his lap. Gota proceeded to scout the neighborhood, collecting stones. Our neighbors did not object despite rocks beginning to look like the only measure of wealth at this end of the world.

I shut my eyes. Softly, just to be a pain in the ass, I whistled an air Sarie liked to hum when she was happy.

As it always does, darkness came.