“Calm down, hell. It ain’t right. Somebody’s got to tell old farts like this to go suck rocks.”
Blade grunted agreement. But Blade didn’t like anyone in authority.
Swan, not as upset as he put on, noted that Blade was in position to whack the wizard if he got obnoxious.
Smoke smiled. “Swan, once upon a time all us old farts were young loudmouths like you.”
Mather stepped between them. “Enough! Instead of squabbling, how about we get out of here before that mess catches up with us?” Remnants of the battle swirled around the toes of the foothills. “We can gather the garrisons from the towns north of here and collect everybody at Ghoja.”
Swan agreed. Sourly. “Yeah. Maybe some of the Company made it.” He glowered at Smoke.
The old man shrugged. “If some get out they can train a real army. They’d have time enough now.”
“Yeah. And if the Prahbrindrah Drah and the Radisha was to get off their butts they might even line up a few real allies. Maybe come up with a wizard with a hair on his ass. One who wouldn’t spend his whole life hiding out in the weeds.”
Mather started down the back of the hill. “Come on, Blade. Let them bicker.”
After several seconds Smoke confessed, “He’s right, Swan. Let’s get on with it.”
Willow tossed his long golden hair, looked at Blade. Blade jerked his head toward the horses below the hill. “All right.” Swan took a last look at the city and plain where the Black Company had died. “But what’s right is right and what’s wrong is wrong.”
“And what’s practical is practical and what’s needful is necessary. Let’s go.”
Swan walked. He would remember that remark. He was determined to have the last word. “Bullshit, Smoke. That’s bullshit. I seen a new side of you today. I don’t like it and I don’t trust it. I’m going to watch you like your conscience.”
They mounted up and headed north.
Chapter Three
In those days the Company was in service to the Prahbrindrah Drah of Taglios. That prince was too easygoing to master a numerous, factious people like the Taglians. But his natural optimism and forgiving nature were offset by his sister, the Radisha Drah. A small, dark, hard woman, the Radisha had a will of sword steel and the conscience of a hurtling stone.
While the Black Company and the Shadowmasters contested possession of Dejagore, or Stormgard, the Prahbrindrah Drah held an audience three hundred miles to the north.
The prince stood five and a half feet tall. Though dark, his features were caucasic. He glowered at the priests and engineers before him. He wanted to throw them out. But in godridden Taglios no one offended the priesthoods.
He spied his sister signalling from the shadowed rear of the chamber. “Excuse me.” He walked out. Bad manners they would tolerate. He joined the Radisha. “What is it?”
“Not here.”
“Bad news?”
“Not now.” The Radisha strode off. “Majarindi looked unhappy.”
“He got his hand caught in a monkey trap. He insisted we build a wall because Shaza has been having holy visions. But once the others demanded a share he sang a different song. I asked if Shaza had begun having unvisions. He wasn’t amused.”
“Good.”
The Radisha led her brother through tortuous passages. The palace was ancient. Additions were cobbled on during every reign. No one knew the labyrinth whole except Smoke.
The Radisha went to one of the wizard’s secret places, a room sheltered from eavesdroppers by the old man’s finest spells. The Prahbrindrah Drah shut the door. “Well?”
“A pigeon brought a message. From Smoke.”
“Bad news?”
“Our mercenaries have been defeated at Stormgard.” The Shadowmasters called Dejagore Stormgard.
“Badly?”
“Is there any other...?”
“Yes.” Before the appearance of the Shadowmasters Taglios had been a pacifist state. But when that danger first beckoned the Prahbrindrah had exhumed the ancient strategikons. “Were they annihilated? Routed? How badly did they hurt the Shadowmasters? Is Taglios in danger?”
“They shouldn’t have crossed the Main.”
“They had to harry the survivors from Ghoja ford. They’re the professionals, Sis. We said we wouldn’t secondguess or interfere. We didn’t believe they could win at Ghoja, so we’re way ahead. Give me details.”
“A pigeon isn’t a condor.” The Radisha made a face. “They marched down with a mob of liberated slaves, took Dejagore by stealth, destroyed Stormshadow and wounded Shadowspinner. But today Moonshadow appeared with a fresh army. Casualties were heavy on both sides. Moonshadow may have been killed. But we lost. Some of the troops retreated into the city. The rest scattered. Most of the mercenaries, including the captain and his woman, were killed.”
“Lady is dead? That’s a pity. She was exquisite.”
“You’re a lustful ape.”
“I am, aren’t I? But she did stop hearts wherever she went.”
“And never noticed. The only man she saw was her captain. That Croaker character.”
“Are you miffed because he only had eyes for her?”
She gave him a savage look.
“What’s Smoke doing?”
“Fleeing north. Blade, Swan, and Mather will try to rally the survivors at Ghoja.”
“I don’t like that. Smoke should’ve stayed down there. Rallied them there, to support the men in the city. You don’t give away ground you’ve gained.”
“Smoke is scared the Shadowmasters will find out about him.”
“They don’t know? That would surprise me.” The Prahbrindrah shrugged. “What’s he saving himself for? I’m going down there.”
She laughed.
“What?”
“You can’t. Those idiot priests would steal everything but your eyes. Stay. Keep them occupied with their idiot wall. I’ll go. And I’ll kick Smoke’s butt till he gets off it and does something.”
The prince sighed. “You’re right. But go quietly. They behave better when they think you’re watching.”
“They didn’t miss me last time.”
“Don’t leave me twisting in the wind. They’re hard to deal with when they know more than I do.”
“I’ll keep them off balance.” She patted his arm. “Go shock them with your turnaround. Work them into a wall building frenzy. Get benevolent toward whichever cult shows the most productivity. Get them cutting each other’s throats.”
The Prahbrindrah grinned boyishly. That was the game he loved. That was the way to accumulate power. Get the priests to disarm themselves.
Chapter Four
It was a bizarre little parade. At its head was a black thing that could not decide if it was a tree stump or someone weirdly built carrying a box under one arm. Behind that a man floated a yard off the ground, feet foremost, inelegantly sprawled. An arrow had pierced his chest. It still protruded from his back. He was alive, but barely.
