Soldiers Live (46 page)

Taglios:

A New Administration
I’m not ready to take over,” Suvrin argued.

“And I’m too old to come back,” I countered. “And the only other qualified
person is in a coma.” Lady was not, literally, in a coma, but, practically
speaking, the effect was the same. She had nothing to contribute.

Suvrin grumbled under his breath.

“Sleepy picked you. She thought you could handle it. She’s been giving you
opportunities to get a feel for the job.” Sleepy was a big part of the problem.

Her death, so sudden and cruel, had stricken everyone. Most of us were still in
a daze.

I said, “We take too much time here; we’ll give the Children of the Dead too
much time to think. We don’t want them looking at how bad the numbers thing has
gone since they’ve been on our side of the glittering plain.”

A moment of self-loathing followed. That was exactly the sort of thinking I
found repugnant in the Company’s employers.

Suvrin reflected briefly. “We can’t spend time grieving, can we? We have to go
ahead. Or call it off.”

“No decision there. Go ahead. I’ve tried to get messages to Aridatha Singh. He
seems like a good man, willing to put Taglios first. He might be willing to
spare the city some pain.”

“If you can convince him that the Great General isn’t going to eat us alive. The
way Tobo tells it, Mogaba isn’t particularly worried.”

“He will be. Once we get settled in here I just might take the girls general
hunting.”

Suvrin still showed some of that pudgy, baby-fat look he had always had. He
needed to get busy and develop the hardened, piratical look of a Captain.

He yielded to his hidden desires. “All right. I’ll be the Captain. But I reserve
the right to quit.”

“Excellent. I’ll spread the word, then I’ll go smack Mogaba around.” My hatred
for the Great General was no longer virulent, though. It was more like a bad
habit these days.

“I’m the Captain now, right? Completely in charge?”

“Yeah.” Spoken with a twinge of suspicion.

“My first directive as Captain, then, is that you should stop putting yourself
at risk.”

“Huh? What? But . . . ”

“Croaker, you’re the only one left who can keep the Annals. You’re the only one
left who can read most of them. You didn’t finish teaching me and you haven’t
trained anyone else. I don’t intend to lose our connection with our heritage.

Not at this last stage. Therefore, henceforth, you’re not going anywhere that’ll
put you at risk.”

“You sonofabitch. You jobbed me. You can’t do that.”

“I’m the Captain. Sure I can. I just did. I’ll have you restrained if that’s
what it takes.”

“You won’t have to.” Because I buy into the whole Company mystique, like a
religion. Because I cannot defy orders just because I do not like them. Ha-ha.

How long would it take to find a way to weasel around this if I felt a genuine
need? “But I wanted Mogaba.”

“We’ll catch him for you. Then you can skin him or whatever you want.”

I went out and spread the word that we had a new Captain and that the officers
should attend him. Then I looked for Arkana, who was off somewhere wasting a
valuable part of her life sleeping.

As I stumbled around, shivering because things unseen were everywhere in the
night, I realized that Suvrin, unwittingly, had given me orders of critical
importance. If I kept running around, getting into the middle of everything, and
I got myself killed for my trouble, more than the Annals would die with me. So
would the little plan I had worked out for fulfilling our commitment to
Shivetya.

I had not shared that with anyone, and would not unless I was convinced I was
dying.

Words never spoken cannot be overheard by sleeping Goddesses.

Taglios:

Messenger
Guided and masked by the folk of the hidden realm, Arkana penetrated Aridatha
Singh’s headquarters undetected, flying post and all. The general was alone. He
had collapsed of exhaustion an hour earlier. Solicitous subordinates had put him
to bed. They had left sentries outside his door to keep him from being
disturbed.

Arkana got in through an open window, lying flat upon her post. She was not
especially nervous. She was confident that she could manage any trouble that
came her way, at least for the moments it would take her to escape.

She had been instructed to flee at the first sign of trouble. She believed in
those instructions with the fervor of a new convert.

Once inside she dismounted and turned her post so she could get away without any
delay. She kept herself tethered to the post so it could drag her out even if
she was not in the saddle. Even if she was unconscious. Maybe even if three guys
were hanging onto her, trying to keep her from going.

She found a lamp and lit it. Then she awakened Aridatha Singh.

The general did not waken quickly. But he did so quietly and cautiously,

understanding that he was in a dangerous situation. Maybe it was the Unknown
Shadows. The sense of their presence was strong. Because they were all around.

Singh rose into a cross-legged sitting position. He moved slowly, keeping his
hands in sight. He asked his question by expression alone.

Arkana strained to ignore his looks. She had been warned . . . She was not an
idiot like Gromovol. “The Captain wants to know if you received the Annalist’s
messages. The Captain wants to know if you’re ready to spare Taglios the agonies
of further conflict.” She enunciated carefully, having no desire to be
misunderstood.

“Of course I do. But how do I get you people to go away?” He could not tell much
about his visitor because of the Voroshk clothing.

“Here’s an idea. You can have your soldiers lay down their arms.” As one of the
Voroshk that sort of statement directed at an outsider would not have troubled
Arkana at all. But here, tonight, she was just another refugee and freelance.

And a very young one at that, with limited confidence in herself. Maybe
Croaker’s confidence was misplaced.

That clever old man. He had set her up so she would risk her freedom rather than
let him down.

That was a characteristic of old men. All old men in her experience, anyway.

Aridatha said, “There’s little I’d like more than to end this fighting before
even one more person gets hurt. But I have no control when it comes to making
the choice between war and peace. I’ve undertaken obligations. I’ve given my
word. Right now Taglios is in the keeping of the Great General. If he gives the
order to stop fighting I’ll do so instantly.”

And he said no more. That was as clearly as he could speak. Even that much
clarity troubled his conscience.

“That’s your firm response, then?” Arkana’s confidence had begun to swell.

“There is no other position open to me. Your Captain will understand.”

“Your honor could get you killed. And there’d be no one to sing your praises.”

Arkana departed before Singh could figure out what that meant. He thought it
sounded like something foreign that did not translate well.

Aridatha was a little less exhausted than he had been before he collapsed. But
he did not fall asleep again for a long while, and not because of the potent
sense of alien presence still filling his bedroom. He kept hearing the visitor’s
last words and remembering his father. Narayan Singh. A man of high honor,

within his own world. Now without a soul to sing his praises. Unless maybe his
beloved Goddess sang him lullabies within her terrible dreams.

And Narayan’s murderer was still hiding somewhere inside the remains of the
Palace.

Taglios:

Thi Kim Was Always Here
Mogaba did not participate much in the fighting. He told Ghopal, “The spirit is
willing but this body is just too damned old and tired. I’ll just sit here and
tell you what to do.” But mostly he visited with the white crow, which had begun
scouting for him despite the presence of unfriendly ghosts. The bird could see
those ghosts quite clearly, for it warned him regularly when it was time to keep
his mouth shut.

When Mogaba suggested that the unseen things did not seem to be helping the
invaders much the crow told him that the folk of the hidden realm were
completely devoted to making their master happy. What little they did contribute
they did in response to the will of their messiah, Tobo, whom they worshipped
almost as a god. As Thi Kim. Which, in the canonical language of the priests who
had created the Unknown Shadows, meant One Who Walks with the Dead.

Startled, the Great General demanded, “You mean to tell me that Thi Kim isn’t
Nyueng Bao?”

The title came from a language closely akin to the Nyueng Bao of four centuries
ago.

“So Deathwalker is the half-breed kid?”

Not Deathwalker. One Who Walks with the Dead.

Mogaba was too tired to wonder much about the difference. “Go find Aridatha
Singh,” Mogaba said. “I want to know what he’s doing.”

The bird was not pleased about being given orders. But it went.

Mogaba called for Ghopal immediately. He asked, “What’re your feelings toward
this city?” He knew but wanted to hear it from the man’s own mouth.

Ghopal shrugged. “I’m not sure I understand. Like everyone who lives here I love
it and I hate it.”

“Our enemies have reorganized their chain of command. Right now they’re resting.

But they’ll resume their attack while there’s yet darkness enough to conceal
their hidden allies. I’m sure now that our forces will survive the night with
more than enough strength left to be able to counterattack tomorrow. I think
we’ll be able to hurt them badly when we do attack but their damned sorcerers
will save them and when night comes again their allies will finish us.” The
Great General said all this without having seen any proof that the Unknown
Shadows were capable of doing anything lethal. “And I think Taglios will suffer
a great deal more destruction during that time. I believe that, eventually, both
sides will be so weakened that, no matter who wins, neither will be able to
restrain the religious factions, nor be able to contain the ambitions of the
gang lords, priests or anyone else likely to take advantage of a state of
disorder. We might even see rioting between the followers of the different major
religions.”

Ghopal nodded in the darkness, unseen. As chief Grey managing unofficial
ambition had been his task. He had been particularly hard on criminal gangs.

Mogaba had not dug for details but knew that something in Ghopal’s past drove
him to shatter criminal enterprises.

“What’re you trying to say?” Ghopal asked.

“I’m saying that if we continue this war the way we are now, we can
win—probably—but we’ll destroy Taglios in the process. And, even if we do lose,

the results will be anarchy and destruction.”

“And?”

“And our enemies don’t care. They didn’t come here for the city’s benefit. They
came to get you and me. And the Khadidas and the girl. Especially the Daughter
of Night.”

Mogaba felt Ghopal’s growing suspicion.

The white crow would be back soon, too.

“I think we should walk away, Ghopal. And save Taglios the agony. The garrisons
in the eastern provinces are loyal. We can continue the struggle from there.”

Ghopal was not fooled. Neither did he raise the objection that they had little
hope of success against an enemy seated in the capital, armed with a crew of
wizards and well-supplied with funds.

Ghopal had known his commander a long time. The Great General was a stubborn
warlord, imbued with no weakness whatsoever. Unless that was his secret love for
his adopted city, that he had revealed several times lately. Ghopal found he had
no trouble believing that the Great General could walk away rather than let
Taglios be destroyed as a monument to his ego. This Mogaba was not the arrogant
youngster who had held Dejagore against the worst the Shadowmasters had been
able to deliver. “Where would we go?”

“Agra. Or possibly Mukhra in Ajitsthan.”

“Vehdna strongholds, both. A band of heretic Shadar aren’t likely to be
welcomed. Particularly if the strife puts any more strain on religious
tolerance.”

’That could happen,” Mogaba admitted. “Or it might not.”

“Nor have we mentioned families.” Family was extremely important to the Shadar.

“I have only my brothers and cousins. But most of my brothers and cousins have
wives and children.”

Mogaba said, “I suppose they could stay here, cut off their beards and pretend
to be people who haven’t been getting much sun. Ghopal, I’m being completely
unfair. I’m putting this all squarely on your shoulders. Stay and fight? Or go
away and spare the city?”

As if to punctuate his remarks a mushroom of fire rose above the heart of the
city. For an instant it resembled a gigantic, glowing brain. Flying shapes
hurtled across its face.

Mogaba said, “That respite is over.”

Taglios:

Sleeping Beauty
It was driving me crazy, having to hang back over friendly territory, observing
an aerial assault on a cluster of buildings anchoring a defense stubbornly
blocking our advance toward the Palace. We had brought the knowledge of war to
this end of the world and we had taught our students too well. These Taglians
refused to yield even in the face of sorcery and the Unknown Shadows.

Someone had pointed out that the troops of the City Battalions were mainly
Vehdna and Shadar. Both religions assure swift access to rivers of wine and
acres of eager virgins for the man who falls in battle. Though originally that
only meant warriors who perished in the name of God.

I wondered what the Vehdna paradise was like for Sleepy.

We had not yet been able to identify her body. The corpses in that passage had
been burned that badly.

“Why don’t we go around these guys?” I wondered. And the answer was, they would
not let us. They had an interlocking defense nicely laid out. The only way past
was through. Or over.

Over we could do.

Over we did go, twenty insanely courageous Children of the Dead at a time, with
a Tobo so tired he was cross-eyed doing the lifting.

The Unknown Shadows supported their pal from every possible direction, sometimes
so blatantly that I could see them clearly from where I hovered, doing nothing
whatsoever that was useful to the cause.

I had a wife in the camp outside the city. It had been a while since I had gone
to see how she was doing. That might be considered doing something useful.

So I did leave my brethren to go visit my wife. While a fight was going on. A
fight that would, no doubt, be completely unique amongst all the fights ever
fought, so that somebody really should be right there to record every nuance of
its unique ebb and flow.

Lady remained unchanged. She lurked halfway between life and death. She kept
talking to herself in her sleep. What I saw did not inspire me with hope. What I
heard only confused me. Mostly it was incoherent. Such individual words as were
recognizable did not fall together at all sensibly.

A few minutes of that reminded me why I always resisted visiting till I had
forgotten the despair a visit inspired.