Shadow Games: The Fourth Chronicles of the Black Company: First Book of the South (13 page)

The biggest guy’s name was Mogaba. Him and his buddies wanted to sign on with
the Company. He said there were more at home like them if I would have them.

Then he claimed a right. He told me that all the big men I saw wandering around
with sharp steel were descendants of the Black Company men who had served
Gea-Xle in olden times. They were the Nar, the military caste of the city. I got
the impression that to them I was something holy, the real Captain, a demigod.

“What do you think?” I asked One-Eye.

“We could use guys like them. Look at them. Monsters. Take all you can get if
they’re for real.”

“Can Frogface find out?”

“You bet.” He instructed the imp, sent him scooting.

“Croaker.”

I jumped. I had not heard One-Eye coming. “What?”

“Those Nar are the real thing. Tell him, Frogface.” The imp piped away in that
high Goblin voice. The Nar were indeed descendants of our forebrethren. They did
form a separate caste, a warrior cult built around the myths the Company left
behind. They kept their own set of Annals and observed the ancient traditions
better than we did. Then Frogface hit me with the kicker.

Somebody called Eldon the Seer, a famous local wizard, foretold our coming
months ago, about the time we were crossing those shaggy-backed hills headed for
D’loc Aloc. The Nar (a word meaning black) had initiated a series of contests
and trials to select the best man of each hundred to rejoin the father standard
and make the pilgrimage to Khatovar. If we would have them.

Eldon the Seer had deciphered our mission from afar, too.

I do not like it when things are going on that I do not understand. Understand?

Mogaba was chosen commander of the delegation by virtue of being the champion of
the caste.

While the Nar prepared for a holy hadj the lords and merchants of Gea-Xle began
setting up to use us to break through a pirate blockade that had become
impenetrable in recent years.

The great hope from the north. That was us.

“I don’t know what to say,” I told One-Eye.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Croaker. You aren’t going to be able to tell those Nar
guys no.”

I did not have that inclination. These pirates, about whom nobody would say
much, sounded increasingly nasty. Somewhere down the line, without it having
been stated explicitly, I had come on the notion that they had big magic they
could call out when the going got hairy. “Why not?”

“Those guys are serious, Croaker. Religious serious. They’d do something crazy
like throw themselves on their swords because the Captain found them inadequate
to march with the Company.”

“Come on.”

“Really. I mean it. It’s a religious thing with them. You’re always telling
about old ways. When the standard was a tutelary deity and whatnot. They’ve gone
the other direction from what we did. The Company that went north turned into
your basic gang of cutthroats. The kids they left behind turned them into gods.”

“That’s scary.”

“Better believe.”

“They’re going to be disappointed in us. I’m the only one left who takes the
traditions seriously.”

“Horseapples, Croaker. Spit and polish and beating the drum for the olden days
ain’t all there is to it. I got to go find that little geek Goblin and see if he
can stop pouting long enough for us to do a layout on how we work this scow if
it gets hit. Hell. The pirates know everything that’s going on up here. Maybe
our reputation will scare them into letting us slide through.”

“Think so?” It sounded like a nice idea.

“No. Frogface! Get over here. Acts like a damned kid, getting into things.

Frogface, I want you to stick with Croaker. You do what he tells you just like
if he was me. Got it? You don’t and I’ll paddle your butt.”

For all its talents, the imp had the mind of a five-year-old. With an attention
span to match. It told One-Eye it would behave and help me, but I did not expect
that to be easy.

I went down to the wharf and accepted thirty-two recruits into our brotherhood
of arms. Mogaba was so pleased I thought he might hug me.

They were a damned impressive thirty-two men, every one a monster and quick and
lithe as a cat. If they were the mongrel children of the men who had served in
Gea-Xle, what must those old-timers have been like?

First thing after I swore them in, Mogaba asked if it was all right if his caste
brothers did guard duty aboard the other boats. So they could tell their sons
that they had followed the hadj as far as the Third Cataract.

“Sure. Why not?” Mogaba and his boys had my head spinning. For the first time
since I got stiffed with the job, I really felt like I was the Captain.

The gang dispersed to get their gear and to spread the good news.

I noted the master of the barge watching from up forward. He was wearing a big
poo-eating grin.

Things were going just dandy for his crowd. They thought they had us by the
short hairs and broken to the bridle.

“Hey, Croaker. Here comes your prodigal girlfriend.”

“You too, Pup? I ought to toss you in the river.” If I could run the imp down.

He had the energy of a five-year-old, too. I spotted her by the commotion she
caused. Or the lack of it. Where she passed men paused to look and sigh and
shake their heads wistfully. It did not occur to them to whistle, catcall, or
make crude remarks. I looked around and picked a victim. “Murgen!”

Murgen ambled over. “What do you need?”

“When Lady gets here show her her quarters. The attached room is for her
guests.”

“I thought . . . ”

“Don’t think. Just do.” I made myself scarce. I was not yet ready for the
inevitable battle.

Night on the river. A moon splattering the dark mirror of water. A stillness at
times almost supernatural, then the cacophony of a festival in hell: crocodiles
grunting, fifty kinds of frogs singing, birds hooting and squawking, hippos
snorting; the gods only knew what all.

And bugs buzzing. The bugs were almost as bad as they had been in the jungle.

They would get worse once we entered the wetlands farther south. The river was
said to flow imperceptibly through a swamp ten to eighty miles wide and three
hundred miles long. Here the west bank was still tame. The east was
three-quarters wild. The people we saw watching from boats in the mouths of
sloughs and creeks were as poorly tamed as their land.

I was assured that they, living in the shadow of the city, were harmless. When
they came whooping out it was to hawk crocodile hides and parrot-feather cloaks.

On impulse I bought one of the cloaks, the biggest and most outrageously
colorful one available. It must have weighed sixty pounds. Wearing it I became
the very image of a savage chieftain.

Mogaba examined the cloak and pronounced it a wise buy. He told me it would shed
darts and arrows better than armor of steel.

Some of the Nar bought croc hides to toughen their shields.

Goblin got a wild hair and bought him a couple of preserved croc heads. One was
so big it looked like it had been lopped off a dragon. While I was seated up top
contemplating the nighttime river, wondering about crows, he was up forward
mounting his monster purchase as a figurehead. I supposed he had some drama up
his sleeve.

He came to me with the smaller head. “I want to fit you out to wear this.”

“You what?”

“I want to fit you out to wear this. So when the pirates come you can strut
around up here in your feather coat breathing fire like some mythological
beast.”

“That’s a great gimmick. I really like it. In fact, I love it. Why don’t we see
if we can’t get some dope like Big Bucket to try it.”

“But—”

“You don’t think I’m going to stand up there and let people snipe at me, do
you?”

“You’ll have plenty of protection from me and One-Eye.”

“Yeah? Then my prayers are answered at last. For years I’ve wanted nothing more
than protection from you and One-Eye. ‘Preserve me, O sainted fathers of the
Company!’ I’ve cried a thousand times. Yea, ten thousand times have I called—”

Sputtering, he cut me off and changed the subject. He squeaked, “Those people
your girlfriend brought aboard—”

“Next fool who calls Lady my girlfriend gets to throw a saddle on a croc and see
if they can be broken. You get my drift?”

“Yeah. You got your feelings hurt on account of reality is catching up with
you.”

I kept my mouth shut, but just barely.

“Bad news, those two are, Croaker.” He whispered in the no-breath whisper we use
when we are creeping past enemy sentries. “There’s big mojo brewing down in
their cabin.”

He was trying to make himself useful. He had been overshadowed since the
appearance of Frogface. So I did not tell him I was on to that already and had
had me a thought or two about what could be done.

A fish jumped up and skipped across the water to get away from some predator.

For his effort he got his reward: some night bird snagged him on the bounce.

I grunted. Should I let Goblin know how much I knew and suspected? Or should I
just go on looking dumb while setting the moment up? Building a mystique had
become important now that the Company was on the grow. It should work for a
while. The old hands should not suspect me of taking as cynical and pragmatic an
approach to command as I planned.

I listened to Goblin’s outpouring of fact, suspicion, and speculation. Little
that he said was new. What was new only more thoroughly framed the picture I
had. I told him, “I think it’s time you came up with the masterpiece of your
life, Goblin. Something plain, direct, and powerful, that you can cut loose in a
second.”

He turned on the famous Goblin grin. “I’m way ahead of you, Croaker. I’ve got a
couple of things in the works that are going to amaze people when I use them.”

“Good.” I had a feeling One-Eye was in for a shock somewhere down the line.

The journey to the Third Cataract takes a minimum two weeks because the current
does not exceed a slow walk. Adding pirate trouble could make the trip last
forever.

By the end of our fourth day the barge was as defensible as possible. Timber
shields protected the main deck. Their lower ends projected over the water to
make boarding from boats difficult. None of the embrasures in that shielding
were big enough for a man to weasel through. The guys had put together four
ballistae for each side. Thanks to One-Eye’s foresight we had the makings for
firebombs by the score, and ready bombs in well-protected nests atop the
deckhouse. The three brothers from Beryl built us a dolphin, which is a
fish-shaped weight attached to a long chain. It is swung out on a boom and
dropped through the bottoms of boats. My favorite engine, though, was thought up
by Patience, a former caravan guard.

A springboard would slap the base of a cartridge filled with poisonous darts,

throwing a hail of missiles. The poison needed only the tiniest cut to cause
quick paralysis. The engine’s one shortcoming was that it was immobile. You had
to wait for your target to cross your aim.

Once construction was finished I treated everyone to a rich diet of my own pet
peeves from my days as a follower instead of chieftain. Drills and exercises.

And intense language study. I kept One-Eye and his pet in a sweat trying to
establish at least one common tongue among the men. There was plenty of
grumbling. Only the Nar were impressed favorably.

Lady did not appear. She might not have existed for all we could tell.

We entered the wetlands, mostly cypress swamp, early the sixth morning. Everyone
became more alert.

There was no sign of pirates for another two days. When they did come we had
plenty of warning from One-Eye and Goblin.

We were passing through a place where the cypress crowded the channel. The
attackers, in twenty boats, came at us head-on, around a bend. I could bring
only two ballistae to bear. Those stopped just one boat. Arrows from those of us
atop the deckhouse—which ran most of the length and width of the barge—did no
good. The boats had canopies of crocodile hide.

They rushed in alongside. Grapnels on chains not easily cut caught on the top of
the shielding. Pirates began clambering up.

I had them where I wanted them.

The shields were perforated with small holes. Mogaba’s Nar stabbed through those
at legs. The few pirates reaching the top had to balance on a four-inch width of
timber before leaping to the deckhouse roof.

It was a turkey shoot. None survived to make the jump.

Goblin and One-Eye did not lift a sorcerous finger. They amused themselves
throwing firebombs. The pirates had not encountered those before. They fled
sooner than they would have had the boys not gotten into the game.

My guess is the pirates lost fifty to sixty men. Not a small hurt, but smaller
than it could have been, and the good merchants of Gea-Xle hoped we would break
the pirates.

The bargemaster appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost, as the pirates hauled
ass. Neither he nor his crew had been visible during the skirmish. We had been
drifting free, at the whim of the river.

Frogface appeared coincidentally. I used him to give the man nine kinds of hell.

My rage took the edge off the complaining he did about us letting so many
pirates get away.

“You’ll have to fight them again, now. Next time they’ll know what to expect.”

“The way I heard, the first attack is just a probe. What the hell is going on
out there?” The river had begun to foam with underwater excitement. Something
began thumping against the barge’s hull.

“Needleteeth.” The bargemaster shuddered. Even Frogface seemed unsettled. “A
fish as long as your arm. Heads for blood in the water. When there’s a lot they
go mad and attack everything. They can devour a hippo, bones and all, in a
minute.”