“Exactly. Remember your repair lessons?” He faced Lady when he asked that. I did sit in on the classes but my wife had gotten a lot better understanding of the process. It would have to be a major emergency before we counted on me doing anything even vaguely related to sorcery.
A stream of mules and men passed through the shadowgate. Each got checked by a sergeant who must have spent his formative years at Sleepy’s headquarters. He wanted to make note of every man, every animal, every fireball thrower and other major item of equipment or weaponry. The Nyueng Bao, not really belonging to the Company, were rude to him. I went over and was rude myself. “You’re gumming up the works, Sergeant. Go away. Or I’ll ask Tobo to sic one of the Black Hounds on you.”
The pack was not far off. Nobody could see them, of course, but they made plenty of racket when they quarreled among themselves. And that never stopped.
My threat had the desired effect. The keeper of inventories departed so fast there was almost a whoosh. He would file an official complaint. But that would end up far down the list of my delinquencies.
Tobo overtook me. Most of my gang were through now. The kid bowed to his father, formally polite. He and Murgen had a mutual problem. Neither knew quite how to bridge the gap left by Murgen having been buried during most of the years Tobo was growing up.
The boy told me, in a voice his father was intended to hear, “You’d better push it now. Mom just got word of what you’re doing. She’ll keep her mouth shut for Gota’s sake. For now. But when she hears that Dad is in on it she’s going to boil over and head straight for the Captain.”
I gave Murgen an ugly look. Didn’t tell the old lady you were going out with the guys, eh? How did Tobo know what his mother had just found out? The kid snapped his fingers, made a series of hand gestures, said something obscure, apparently to empty air.
A pair of shadows raced across the slope, slanting down from the southwest. They headed straight toward us. I saw nothing to cast them. Then, suddenly, I had a face full of flapping wings, weights on my shoulders and what felt like dragon’s talons trying to rip the meat off my collarbones. Ravens.
“They only look like crows,” Tobo said. “Don’t ever forget that they’re not.” I shuddered. I have lived with this stuff all around me, decade after decade, but being exposed to it has not made it any less creepy.
Tobo told me. “At my request they’ve agreed to assume this shape. They’ll be your eyes and ears wherever you have to operate without me. They won’t have the strategic range you were used to with Dad but they can cover a few hundred miles, fast, and they’ll give you a strong tactical advantage. Besides scouting they can carry messages. Be sure to frame those carefully, clearly, without ambiguity, and try to keep them short. Give them an absolutely crystal clear address. Name names and make sure they know who the names belong to.”
I turned my head right and left, caught glimpses from the sides of my eyes. It was disconcerting, having those cruel beaks so close. The eyes are the first things the Choosers of the Slain go for on the battlefield.
One bird was black, the other white. They were bigger than the local breed of raven. And the white one had not gotten the shape quite right. It looked like one of its parents had been a startled pigeon instead of a crow.
“If it turns out that I can’t catch up and you need to get in touch, they can find me easily.”
I am sure I looked grim.
Grinning, Tobo told me, “And I thought they’d go great with your costume. Mom told me you always had ravens on your shoulders when you did Widowmaker, years ago.”
I sighed. “Those were real crows. And they belonged to Soulcatcher. The two of us had a sort of understanding in those days. Enemy of my enemy kind of thing.”
“You did bring the Widowmaker armor with you, didn’t you? And One-Eye’s spear? You know you won’t be able to come back for anything you leave behind.”
“Yes, yes. I have it.” This Widowmaker costume armor was not the same outfit that I had worn decades ago. That had gotten lost during Sleepy and Sahra’s Kiaulune wars. Soulcatcher probably had it in her trophy chamber. This armor, though mainly for show, came from Hsien’s finest armories and had a distinct native flavor. Its black, chitinous lacquer surface boasted inlays of gold and silver symbols that Hsien associated with sorcery and evil and darkness. Some reproduced arcane characters of power once associated with the Shadowmasters. Others went back to an age when Hsien’s now-extinct Kina cult was sending out Deceiver companies on crusade. All those symbols were scary, at least in the world where first they had been imagined.
Lady’s reconstituted Lifetaker armor was uglier than mine. The stuff on its exterior was less clearly defined and much more creepy because she had insisted on being involved in its design and creation. The inside of her head is filled with spiders.
She did not get any pretend-to-be Choosers of the Slain. She got several ornate little teak boxes and a thin stack of sheets of the strange rice paper preferred by the monks of Khang Phi.
“You have to go. I’ll see that they don’t send a messenger to order you back.”
I grunted. Except for Uncle Doj, who paused to murmur with Tobo, I was the last of my gang through the Hsien shadowgate. Lady squeezed my hand when I joined her on the risky side. She said, “We’re off, darling. Again.” She seemed excited.
“Again.” I could not recall ever being excited by moving out.
Murgen asked, “You want to show the standard now?”
“Not until we’re on the plain itself. We’re renegades here. Let’s don’t make Sleepy look small.” I had an idea, then. If I could come up with some material... we could run up the old Company standard. From before we adopted Soulcatcher’s firebreathing skull.
“Good,” Doj told me, stepping through the gate. “A bit of wisdom. That’s really good.”
I began the climb to the plain somewhat numbed by the realization that I was the only living member of the company who recalled our original banner. It had been no more cheerful than today’s was but it had been a lot busier. A field of scarlet with nine hanged men in black and six yellow daggers in the upper left and lower right quadrants, respectively, while the upper right quandrant featured a shattered skull and the lower left boasted a bird astride a severed head. It might have been a raven. Or an eagle.
There was nothing in the Annals to suggest when or why that banner had been adopted.
20
Glittering Stone:
Mystic Roads
“Different stars tonight,” Willow Swan said, lying back, staring at the sky.
“Different everything,” Murgen replied. “Find me Little Boy or the Dragon’s Eye.”
There was no moon. There is always a moon up in the Land of Unknown Shadows.
The sky on the plain... is changeable. It may not boast the same constellation two nights running.
The weather is usually benign. Cold, of course. But seldom rainy, or worse. In my experience. But I was not concerned about rain or snow. Shadow weather worried me.
The sixteen shadowgates are equally spaced around the perimeter of the plain. From each a road of stone of a different color from the plain runs inward to the nameless fortress like a spoke in a wagon wheel. I had seen only two of the roads. One was darker than the surrounding plain, the other slightly lighter. At six-mile intervals along the spokes there were large circles of appropriately shaded material. Those got used as campgrounds though that might not have been their original function. The plain has changed with the ages. Man cannot leave anything alone. The roads were once just mystical routes between worlds. Now they are the only safety out there when the sun sets. When darkness falls the killer shadows leave their hiding places. As we gagged down our rough supper the little light glowing from charcoal fires revealed dozens of black stains oozing over the invisible dome protecting the circle.
“The Slugs of Doom,” Murgen said through a mouthful of bread, waving at a nearby shadow. “Much better than the Host of the Unforgiven Dead.”
“The man’s suddenly developing a sense of humor,” Cletus said. “This worries me.”
His brother Loftus said, “Be afraid, people. Very afraid. The End Days are upon us.”
“You saying it’s bad jokes going to bring on the Year of the Skulls?”
I observed, “If that was the case we’d’ve been dead twenty years ago and the only thing you’d see up there
