As Narayan clarified by making the waters murkier he got shifty-eyed, then would not look at me at all. He fixed his gaze on the cookfire, talked, grew morose. He was good at hiding it. No one else noticed. But I had had more practice reading people. I noted tension in some of the jamadars, too.
Something was about to happen. A test? With this crowd that was not likely to be gentle.
My fingers drifted to the yellow triangle at my belt. I had not practiced much lately. There had been little time. I realized what I had done, wondered why. That was hardly the weapon to get me out of trouble.
There was danger. I felt it now. The jamadars were nervous and excited. I let my psychic sense sharpen despite the aura of the grove. It was like taking a deep breath in a hot room where a corpse had been rotting for a week. I persevered. If I could take the dreams without bending I could take this.
I asked Narayan a question that sent him off on another ramble. I concentrated on form and pattern in my psychic surroundings.
I spotted it.
I was ready when it happened.
He was a black rumel man, a jamadar with a reputation nearly rivalling Narayan’s, Moma Sharrael, Vehdna. When we’d been introduced I’d had the feeling he was a man who killed for himself, not for his goddess. His rumel moved like black lightning.
I grabbed the weighted end on the fly. I took it away before he recovered his balance, snapped it around his neck. It seemed I’d played this game always, or as though another hand guided my own. I did cheat a little, using a silent spell to strike at his heart. I wasted no mercy. I sensed that that would be an error as deadly as not reacting at all.
I would have had no chance had I not sensed the wrongness gathering around me.
No one cried out. No one said a word. They were shaken, even Narayan. Nobody looked at me. For no reason apparent at the moment, I said, “Mother is not pleased.”
That got me a few startled looks. I folded Moma’s rumel as Narayan had taught me, discarded my yellow cloth and took the black. No one argued with my self-promotion.
How to reach these men without hearts? They were impressed now, but not indelibly, not permanently. “Ram.”
Ram came out of the darkness. He did not speak for fear of betraying his feelings. I think he might have stepped in if Moma’s attack had succeeded, though that would have been the end of him. I gave him instructions.
He got a rope and looped one end around the dead man’s left ankle, tossed the rope over a branch, hauled the corpse up so it hung head down over the fire. “Excellent, Ram. Excellent. Everyone gather round.”
They came reluctantly as the summons spread. Once they were all there I cut Moma’s jugular.
The blood did not come fast but it came. A small spell made each drop flash when it reached the fire. I seized Narayan’s right arm, forced him to put his hand out and let a few drops fall on his palm. Then I turned him loose. “All of you,” I said.
Kina’s followers do not like spilled blood. There is a complex and irrational explanation having to do with the legend of the devoured demons. Narayan told me later. It has a bearing only because it made the evening more memorable for those men once they had the blood of their fellow on their hands.
They did not look at me while they endured my little ceremony. I used the opportunity to hazard a spell that, to my surprise, came off without a hitch. It turned the stains on their hands as indelible as tattoos. Unless I took it back they would go through life with one hand marked scarlet.
The jamadars and priests were mine, like it or not. They were branded. The world would not forgive them that brand if its meaning became known. Men with red palms would not be able to deny that they had been present at the debut of the Daughter of Night.
Nowhere did I see any doubts, now, that I was what Narayan claimed.
The dreams were powerful that night but not grim. I floated in the warmth of the approval of that other who wanted to make me her creature.
Ram wakened me before there was light enough to see. He and Narayan and I rode out before the sun rose. Narayan did not speak all day. He remained in shock.
His dreams were coming true. He did not know if that was what he wanted anymore. He was scared.
So was I.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Longshadow had fallen into a permanent rage. The wizard Smoke, a trivial little nothing, was stubborn. He was determined not to be enslaved. He might die first.
A howl echoed through Overlook. The Shadowmaster glanced up, imagined mockery in the cry. That bastard Howler. He had pulled a fast one somehow. No one else could have freed Shadowspinner. Treachery. Always treachery. He would pay. How he would pay. His agony would go on for years.
Later. There was damage to be undone. There was that damnable little wizard to be broken.
What had happened at Stormgard?
The obvious assumption was that the Lifetaker character had been her. Dorotea Senjak had been in Taglios. Of that there was no doubt. But she did not have the powers to battle Shadowspinner to a draw while ensuring the defeat of his armies.
Who had that been with her, bearing the Lance? The real power?
A flicker of fear. He dropped his work, climbed to his crystal chamber, looked out on the plain of glittering stone. Forces were moving. Not even he could grasp them all. Maybe that had not been her. Maybe she was gone. The tamed shadows had seen no sign of her for some time. Maybe she had gone north again after taking her revenge. She’d always wanted to rule her sister’s empire.
Was there an unknown player in the game? Were Lifetaker and Widowmaker more than phantoms conjured by Senjak? The shadows thought some power was guiding her. Suppose Lifetaker and Widowmaker were real beings? Suppose they had put the notion into her head to create imitations so everyone would believe them unreal, actors, till it was too late?
Grim presentiments. Grim questions. And no answers.
Sunlight danced among the pillars on the plain. The Howler wailed. The wizard’s groans echoed through the fortress.
It was closing in.
He had to capture Senjak. She was the keystone. Her head held the keys to power. She knew the Names. She knew the Truths. She contained secrets that could be hammered into weapons capable of stemming even that dark tide waiting to break out of the plain.
But first, the wizard. Before all else, Smoke. Smoke would give him Taglios and maybe Senjak.
He returned to the room where the little man battled his terror and pain. “There will be an end to this foolish resistance. Now. I have lost patience. Now I will find what you fear and feed you to it.”
Chapter Forty
Blade’s army moved in twenty-mile stages. He scouted heavily, used his cavalry exhaustively. Sindhu’s men, who had hurried ahead to discover what had become of the Deceivers watching Dejagore, reported finding no sign of those men.
Blade took the news to Mather. “What do you think?”
Mather shook his head. “Probably killed or captured.”
Swan and Mather had their own scouts out, farther south. Swan said, “Word we have is the Shadowlanders really did get whipped bad. Our guys got past their pickets and checked their camp. There’s only two-thirds as many of them as there should be. Half of those are dinged up. That character Mogaba keeps hitting them with sorties, too. They never get to relax.”
“Are they watching us? Do they know we’re coming?”
Mather said, “You have to assume they do. Shadowspinner is a sorcerer. They don’t call him a Shadowmaster for nothing. And there’s the bats. Croaker thought they controlled the bats. There have been plenty of those around lately.”
“Then we should be very careful. How many effectives can they field if they decide to meet us?”
“Listen to this guy, Cordy,” Swan said. “He’s starting to sound like a pro. Effectives. My, oh my. She’s going to turn him into a real ass-kicking warlord.”
Blade chuckled.
“Too many of them if you ask me,” Swan continue
d. “If they sneak them away without Mogaba noticing they probably could put eight or ten thousand veterans in our way.”
“With the Shadowmaster?”
Mather said, “I doubt he would leave. That would be an invitation to disaster.”
“Then the thing to do is advance cautiously, scout thoroughly, try to know as much about them as they know about us. Right?”
Mather chuckled. “That’s what the book would say. We have one factor in our favor. Their scouts don’t move during daylight. And the days are long now.”
Blade grunted thoughtfully.
Blade halted thirty miles north of Dejagore. Scouts brought word that Shadowspinner had moved troops into the hills ahead, at night, when the city’s defenders could not see them go. The men who had stayed behind were making a show of preparing another assault.
“Where are they?” Blade asked. The scouts could not tell him. Somewhere along the road as it snaked through the hills. Waiting. Only four thousand, apparently, but that was enough against this mob.
“You going to mess with them?” Swan asked. “Or just hang around and keep some of them off Mogaba?”
“That would make sense,” Mather suggested. “Keep some tied up while Mogaba does the fighting. If we could get a message to him...”
“I’ve tried,” Blade said. “There’s no way. They have the city sealed up. Sitting down there in the middle of that bowl like that...”
“Well?” Swan asked. “What do we do?”
Blade assembled his cavalry officers. He sent them to find the enemy. When they encountered no immediate resistance he moved his army ten miles southward and camped. Next morning, as soon as the bats went away, he formed line of battle but did nothing else. His scouts worked the hills carefully. He repeated that the next day and the day following. Late that afternoon a rider came in from the north. His news put a smile on Blade’s face. He did not tell Swan or Mather immediately.
The fourth morning his battle line advanced. He entered the hills slowly, made sure his formations stayed integrated. There was no hurry. The cavalry stayed out front.
Contact came shortly before noon. Blade did not push. He let his men skirmish but avoided a general engagement. His cavalry harassed the enemy with missiles. The Shadowlanders were not inclined to attack them.
The sun dropped westward. Blade let the skirmishes grow.
The enemy commander gave the order to attack.
Blade’s own officers had orders to stage a fighting withdrawal as soon as the enemy came out to play. They were to stop retreating only if the enemy stopped coming. If he did that they were to start harassing him again.
That game went on till the Shadowlanders lost all patience.
Chapter Forty-One
I halted the column, gathered Narayan and Ram and those men who passed for officers. “This is the place. On the back of the swale. We put me and the standard on the road, spread the men out to either side.”
Narayan and the others looked puzzled. Nobody knew what was going on. It seemed wise to keep it that way till it was too late for anybody to worry.
I set it up, practically having to show each squad leader where I wanted him. Narayan finally figured it out. “It won’t work,” he decided. He had been on a negative kick since the grove. He did not believe anything was going to go right ever again.
“Why not? I doubt they know we’re here. I was able to confuse their bats and shadows.”
I hoped.
Once I had everybody in place I got into my armor, got Ram fixed up, led him and Narayan to where we could see what lay beyond the crest.
I saw what I expected to see, a lot of dust headed my way. “They’re coming. Narayan, go tell the men that in less than an hour they’ll get their chance to drink Shadowlander blood. Tell them as soon as Blade’s men slip through the aisles in the formation they’re to plug those up.”
The dust came closer fast. I watched Narayan off to spring the surprise. I watched the nervousness spread among the men. I was especially interested in the small troops of horsemen on the wings. If they followed Jah’s old example I was in for another disaster.
Blade’s men were almost upon me. I took my position, set witchfires burning on my armor. Ram came up beside me, impressive in the Widowmaker armor I’d had made for him. I put fires upon him but could do nothing about giving him the crows that always attached themselves to Croaker’s shoulders when he turned into Widowmaker. I doubted the Shadowlanders would notice.
Blade’s men poured over the crest. There was a lot of confusion till they realized we were on their side. Willow Swan galloped up, hair flying, laughing like the demented. “Right on time, sweetheart. Right on time.”
“Go get your men under control. Cavalry to the wings. Move it!”
He went.
There were Shadowlanders among the men coming now. Chaos held court. They tried to stop but their comrades behind forced them forward. They tried hard to stay away from Ram and me.
Where was Blade? Where was his cavalry?
The Shadowlanders pelted my line in no order, like hail, then turned to flee. Once they had their backs to us the outcome was not in doubt. I signalled for the cavalry to advance. I made no effort to keep my men in formation. I let them chase the enemy.
When I crested the rise I saw Blade and his cavalry. He had had them flee to the flanks, distancing the footbound Shadowlanders, then had brought them back behind our enemies, scattered so they could cut down fugitives. My own cavalry had the Shadowlanders cut off on the flanks.
Only a few got away.
It was over before darkness fell.
Chapter Forty-Two
Swan could not get over it. “Our man Blade’s done turned into a real live general. You had it figured all the way, didn’t you?”
Blade nodded.
I believed him. He might actually make a commander-unless he’d had a once in a lifetime stroke of genius.
Swan chuckled. “Old Spinner ought to have the word by now. Bet he’s foaming at the mouth.”
“Very likely,” I said. “And he might take steps. I want a strong guard posted. The night still belongs to the Shadowmasters.”
“What can he do, hey?” Swan demanded.
“I don’t know. I’d rather not find out the hard way.”
Blade said, “Calm down, Swan. We didn’t win the war.”
You would have thought so from the celebrating. I told Blade, “Tell me more about this other Widowmaker and Lifetaker.”
“You know as much as I do. Shadowspinner attacked and should have taken the city. But they rode out of the hills. Lifetaker kept him fighting for his life. Widowmaker rode around killing his men. They couldn’t touch him. They rode away after our men drove the attackers out of the city. Mogaba tried a sortie. They didn’t help. He took heavy casualties.”
I checked a crow in a nearby bush, careful not to be obvious. “I see. We can’t do anything about it. Let’s ignore it and get on with plans for tomorrow.”
“Is that wise, Mistress?” Narayan asked. “The night does belong to the Shadowmasters.” Meaning there were shadows among us, listening, and bats whisking overhead.
“There are tools available.” I could take care of the bats-and the crows-but I could not get rid of the shadows. To do anything more than confuse them was beyond my limited powers. “But does it matter? He knows we’re here. He knows we’ll come there. He just has to sit and wait. Or run away, if that suits him.”
I had no hope Shadowspinner would elect that option. He retained the preponderance of force-if not in numbers, certainly in power. The stunt I had pulled was the limit. I would not send these men into a maelstrom of sorcery.
The victory would increase their confidence but could lead to trouble if I overvalued it. That was partly why Croaker lost his last battle. He got lucky several times and began to count on it. Luck has its way of running out.
“You have a point, Narayan. No need to ask for trouble. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Pas
s the word. We’ll make an early start. Rest. We may have to do it again.” The men had to be reminded: there were battles yet to come.
The others went, leaving Ram, Blade, and me. I looked at Blade. “Well done, Blade. Very well done.”
He nodded. He knew that.
“How are your friends taking it?” Swan and Mather were off with their band of Radisha’s Guards.
He shrugged. “Taking the long view.”
“Uhm?”
“Taglios will be there after the Black Company goes. They’ve set down roots there.”
“Understandable. Will they be trouble?”
Blade chuckled. “They don’t even want to trouble Shadowspinner. If there was any way, they’d be running their tavern and staying out of everybody’s way.”
“But they take their pledge to the Radisha seriously?”
“As seriously as you take your contract.”
“Then it behooves me to make sure there’s no tension.”
He grunted. “Shadows don’t need ideas.”
“True. Tomorrow, then.”
He rose, went.
“Ram, let’s take a ride.”
Ram groaned. In about a hundred years, maybe, he would make a horseman.
We were both in armor still, uncomfortable as that was. I touched up the glamors. We rode among the men. Had to keep their minds fixed on me. I paused to thank men who had been pointed out as having done well. When the show was over I returned to my own place in the camp, indistinguishable from any other, and gave myself up to night’s dreams.
I was sick again. Ram did his best to keep it from the men. I noticed Narayan whispering with Sindhu about it. I did not care at the moment. Sindhu glided away, presumably to tell Blade. Narayan came over. “Perhaps you ought to consult a physician.”
“You have one handy?”
His grin was a shadow of itself. “No. There isn’t one here.”