Bleak Seasons (29 page)

In moments I discovered that my companions, although utterly ignorant of the
Taglian language, expected me to be in charge on this side, too. Uncle Doj’s
idea, no doubt, and in effect only till he arrived.

“Rudy. Take charge of getting camp set.” We had swung back into the general
course of the fleet and had made landfall where others joined us in savoring the
miracle of life outside Dejagore’s walls.

Hanging around in a rainstorm in the middle of the night did not seem much of an
improvement to me.

“Let’s go, people. We can’t just stand here. Start putting up those shelters.”

We had the tents the Nyueng Bao had carried on pilgrimage. We had blankets,

wrapped inside those same tents so they would stay dry. “Somebody collect some
brush and get some fires going.” Maybe easier said than done in this weather.

“Bubba-do. Take some men and set a perimeter. You. Joro? That your name,

sergeant?” I was talking to one of the Taglian soldiers. “Get patrols out. Come
on! Come on! We don’t know that there aren’t people over here who want to kill
us.” But it gets hard to care when you are cold and wet and tired.

I was tired to the point of collapse but I made myself an example. Sahra
followed and helped. While I barked at people we took turns caring for the baby.

I had visions of some major historical asskicker like Khrombak the Terrible
ordering his hordes about while he had a smelly baby tucked into the crook of
his arm.

To Tan was a good kid but he always needed changing.

Soon everyone was bustling industriously. Shelters went up. Brush got cut. Small
fires took life and spawned others until there were enough to heat water to cook
rice. The water we gathered using some tents to collect rain into the pots. It
was going to be difficult for any of us to get wetter than we were already.

We even sent several small loads of brush over to the city on returning rafts.

Our friends might get to do a little cooking, too.

We had known so much misery for so long that night became just another sad
chore. And in time there was poor shelter, bad food, and feeble warmth for all.

But by then it was getting light and the rain was just an occasional sprinkle.

Sahra and To Tan and I crept into our tent and bundled up. For a while I was
almost happy.

That To Tan was remarkable. He was almost as quiet as Sahra most of the time,

though he could get a good fuss going when he wanted. He was content to sleep
right then. For the first time in a week his tummy was full.

Mine, too.

I got four hours of perfectly wonderful sleep before disaster interrupted.

First it took the shape of Ky Gota. I had not seen Sahra’s mother since Uncle
Doj cajoled her out of my quarters. I had not missed her, either.

Because I was asleep I did not witness the part where she ripped open the end of
the tent. When I awoke she was spitting and howling in a mix of Nyueng Bao and
really bad Taglian. Sahra was sitting up already, her mouth open and tears
starting.

To Tan began to cry.

Ky Gota was not immune to baby tears. The soul of a granny did lurk behind all
the ill temper. Way behind. She said something to the toddler. Gently!

Rudy hurried up. “You want I should throw this one back in the lake, Murgen?”

“What?”

“She crawled out of the water a while ago. Claimed somebody tried to murder her.

Supposedly pushed her off the raft she was riding. Looks to me like maybe she
asked for it.”

“She probably did.” Sahra looked at me in surprise. Despite her tears. “But I
got to be nice. She’s almost family.”

“Man,” Rudy said. He walked off shaking his head. Sahra began gesturing
exasperatedly at her mother. To Tan stared at his granny, sucked his thumb. I
caught a whiff. “Go to Nana,” I whispered. “Show her how good you can walk.” He
did not understand me but she did and held her arms out.

Near as I could tell To Tan was the only person in the world who cared for Ky
Gota. He toddled and his granny forgot all about being wet and cold and cranky.

Sahra looked at me hard. I shrugged, grinned, mouthed, “He needs changing
again.”

Rudy found me staring at the city. Fresh smoke hung over our part of town.

“Bubba-do just ambushed a patrol, Murgen.”

“Shit. When they don’t report . . . ”

“He said they knew we were here. They were sneaking up. That Swan character is
with them.”

“One-Eye was right, then. Anybody get hurt?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Good. Did they get a look at the camp?” The Nyueng Bao had done a good
job of camouflage, considering. You could tell where the camp was but not its
extent.

“I think they just saw the smoke. They were real surprised to get jumped
according to Bubba-do.”

“They see him?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunate. Maybe they didn’t recognize him.” I shrugged. “Some things can’t
be helped. I’ll deal with them. Hang on.” I stomped over to Sahra and her
mother. “Hush!” I snapped when the old woman opened her mouth to start. “We have
trouble. Who can speak for the Nyueng Bao?” I did not know who else to ask.

These strange people did what I said when I told them, if that improved our
situation, but they did not talk.

The old woman put the baby down and rose. She squinted. Her eyesight was not
good. “Tarn Dak!” she barked.

A frail ancient turned. Despite his age he was carrying a huge bundle of
brushwood. Ky Gota beckoned imperiously. The oldster headed our way at a
high-speed shuffle.

I went to meet him. “Greetings, father. I am the one who dealt with the
Speaker.” I spoke both loudly and slowly.

“I’m not deaf yet, boy,” he replied in Taglian better than mine. “And I know who
you are.”

“Good. Then I’ll get to the point. The soldiers over here have found us. We
don’t know what their attitude toward your people might be. If they’re in a bad
temper I can’t help much. Your warriors have scouted. Can you disappear?”

He looked at me for a dozen seconds. I looked back. Sahra came to stand beside
me. Behind us, To Tan giggled as he played with his grandmother. The old man
shifted his look to Sahra. For a moment he seemed to be staring into yesterday.

He shivered. His expression grew more inscrutable. “We can.”

“Good. Do it while I’m with them.” I jerked a thumb uphill. “I’ll get word to
Doj. He’ll find you.”

Tarn Dak continued to stare cooly. Not inimically at all, just without
comprehension. I was not behaving like a proper foreigner.

“Good luck.” I returned to Rudy. “Here’s the deal. The Nyueng Bao need to take a
powder. I’ll go with Swan. I’ll stall around when I get to his camp. You see
that the Nyueng Bao get moved out, then make this mess look like we were setting
up for the guys coming over tonight.”

The old man overheard every word.

I continued, “As far as anybody around here goes, these people never existed.”

“But . . . ”

“Do it. And let them have most of the food. We can sponge off Lady’s gang.” I
hoped.

Rudy looked at Sahra. Everybody seemed to think that she was the key. He
shrugged. “You’re the boss. I guess I don’t need to understand. How are you
going to explain her?”

“I don’t have to.” I headed toward where Swan’s patrol was surrounded.

Sahra came right along after pausing to grab up To Tan.

“Stay here,” I told her. She looked at me blankly, smitten by sudden deafness. I
took a few steps. She matched them. “You need to stay with your own people.”

A little smile teased her lips. She shook her head.

Hong Tray was not the only witch in this family.

“Ky Gota . . . ”

Boom!

“You! Soldier of Darkness! You her ruin, now is not good enough for you? Cruel
witch was my mother but . . . ” She became incomprehensible but not the least
bit quiet. I checked Tarn Dak. He remained inscrutable but I would have bet my
shot at heaven he wanted to laugh.

“Fuck this. Rudy! Find out what belongs to Sahra and see that it stays in our
tent. Come on, woman.”

“Holy shit,” Swan murmured when I stepped out where he could see me. “No wonder
you went back.”

“Hands off, pretty boy. Ay, Nyueng Bao! If you are out there go see Tarn Dak.

It’s important. Taglians. See Rudy from the Company.” I turned back to Swan.

“There. We’re down to a few snipers. Just in case.”

He stopped staring at Sahra. “Sorry. You really stumbled into the sweet shit,

didn’t you?” He did have the courtesy to make his remarks in Forsberger.

“Yeah. I did. What’s going on? I wake up the other day, after my wizards did an
experiment on me, and I find out that somebody has been inside my head, messing
with my memories. I find out I’m back over there in hell’s kitchen hunting rats
and fighting cannibals when all the time my so-called friends are sitting around
out here not even letting me know the Shadowmaster is dead.”

Swan gave me a dumb look. “But . . . You knew that, Murgen. You was over here
when we killed the bastard. You was here for a week after that.”

“Killed him?”

It began to dawn. “You didn’t insist on going back? She said you . . . ”

“No. I didn’t. When I found myself headed that way I thought I was escaping from
Shadowspinner. I really believed that I hadn’t gotten to you people. I think.”

It got more confused as I tried to figure it out.

Somebody called out something in Nyueng Bao. My troops had not followed orders.

Someone else, in Taglian, called, “Can you come up here please, Mr. Murgen?”

I told Swan, “I don’t know what’s up. You better stand fast. These guys are real
touchy.”

“I got nothing else to do with my life.”

“I mean it. They’re paranoid in a big way. If you had spent the last several
months in there you’d understand,” I clambered up a steep slope to where one
Taglian knelt in some scraggly brush with a Nyueng Bao about fifteen years old.

The boy pointed, eager to be the first to deliver bad news.

Fresh smoke rose from Dejagore. From, near as I could tell, the north barbican.

It looked like there was fighting there.

A mauve flash told me One-Eye or Goblin was involved.

Mogaba must be trying to recover the barbican.

I spied flickers around the west gate, too.

“Damned Mogaba. Thanks, guys. Nothing we can do about it, though.” I hoped
One-Eye and Goblin carved Mogaba a new poop chute. “Get on back to camp, will
you? There’s stuff that’s got to get done.”

Lady was gone. Blade was in charge and just sitting around collecting refugees
from the city, keeping them from reporting back with news about Shadowspinner.

He admitted that. “That’s what she wants done.” He seemed indifferent to Sahra,

unlike every other man in camp.

“She’s lucky she’s not here,” I grumbled. “I’d turn her over my knee.”

Since there was nothing else going on I sat around with him and Swan and Mather
until it started to get dark. Somebody found a puppy for To Tan to play with.

When it got late I said, “We’d better get back to our people. They’ll be getting
nervous.”

“No can do, buddy,” Mather told me.

Blade agreed. “She said no exceptions.”

The warmth went out of the air. I gave each one what I thought of as the Nyueng
Bao look. Swan and Mather averted their eyes. Blade took it but with a twitch.

Sahra seemed untroubled. I suppose, after Dejagore, it was hard to imagine a
turn for the worse. She even smiled.

“I assume the prison pen is where I left it?” I remembered that part of my
previous visit perfectly.

“We will keep you more comfortably,” Blade promised.

Mather volunteered, “I’ll show you where to bunk.”

We were far enough away not to overhear, Swan thought. He told Blade, “You look
at her good? That’s one spooky woman.”

I glanced at Sahra. I assumed she heard, too, but her expression told me
nothing.

If Blade answered Swan he spoke more softly.

I continued to study Sahra, wondering what Swan had seen.

The tent was decent. It must have belonged to a middle-grade Shadowlander
officer. We were not unhonored guests. And the tent came with a man assigned to
make us comfortable and bring us our supper. Blade’s troops were foraging
successfully, it seemed. I ate better than I had for a long time.

“What I want more than anything in the world,” I told our man, whose name I
never learned, “is a bath.” Sahra hit him with a smile guaranteed to melt armor
plate. She was enthusiastic about that idea. “I’m so filthy my fleas have lice,”

I said.

Must have been a real ration of guilt going around at high levels. An hour later
several soldiers showed up humping a looted stone horse trough. With them came
guys lugging buckets of hot water. I told Sahra, “We must of died and come back
as princes.”

Our tent was big enough to contain the trough and water with room left over.

Swan turned up. “What do you think of that, eh?”

“If I didn’t have friends over there fighting and dying I’d ask for a life
sentence.”

“Take it easy, Murgen. It’ll all work out.”

“I know that, Swan. I know that. But some of us aren’t going to be happy how it
does.”

“Yeah, well. Good night.”

It was. Beginning with the bath Sahra made it clear her definition of our
relationship was exactly what others feared or suspected. She astounded me with
her ability to communicate without spoken words, amazed me that in the midst of
such unrelenting hell a flower of such beauty could bloom and defy the night.

I slept longer and better than I had for months. Maybe some part of me just
resigned and let go.

Water in the face wakened me.

“What?” I cracked an eyelid. And popped upright. Sahra sat up as I did. “To Tan?

What’re you doing, kiddo?” The little guy was leaning over the edge of the horse
trough, spanking the water. He looked at me and grinned, said something in
Nyueng Bao baby talk that sounded like “Dada.”