Glen Cook: The Black Company

Cunning woman. She did not assume the role of maiden in distress. She played it as one equal to another, and that won my sympathy more surely. She knew I knew the Dominator as well as did any mundane now alive. Knew I must fear him far more than her, for who fears a woman more than a man?

“I know you, Annalist. I have opened your soul and peered inside. You fight for me because your company has undertaken a commission it will pursue to the bitter end- because its principal personalities feel its honor was stained in Beryl. And that though most of you think you’re serving Evil.”

“Evil is relative, Annalist. You can’t hang a sign on it. You can’t touch it or taste it or cut it with a sword. Evil depends on where you are standing, pointing your indicting finger. Where you stand now, because of your oath, is opposite the Dominator. For you he is where your Evil lies.”

She paced a moment, perhaps anticipating a response. I made none. She had encapsulated my own philosophy.

“That evil tried to kill you three times, physician. Twice for fear of your knowledge, once for fear of your future.”

That woke me up. “My future?”

“The Taken sometimes glimpse the future. Perhaps this conversation was foreseen.”

She had me baffled. I sat there looking stupid.

.She left the room momentarily, returned carrying a quiver of arrows, spilled them on the table. They were black and heavy, silver-headed, inscribed with almost invisible lettering. While I examined them she took my bow, exchanged it for another of identical weight and pull. It was a gorgeous match for the arrows. Too gorgeous to be used as a weapon.

She told me, “Carry these. Always.”

“I’ll have to use them?”

“It’s possible. Tomorrow will see the end of the matter, one way or the other. The Rebel has been mauled, yet he retains vast manpower reserves. My strategy may not succeed. If I fail, my husband wins. Not the Rebel, not the White Rose, but the nominator, that hideous beast lying restless in his grave...”

I avoided her gaze, eyed the weapons, wondered what I was supposed to say, to not hear, what I was supposed to do with those death tools, and if I could do it when the time came.

She knew my mind. “You’ll know the moment. And you’ll do what you think is right.”

I looked up now, frowning, wishing... Even knowing what she was, wishing. Maybe my idiot brothers were right.

She smiled, reached with one of those too-perfect hands, clasped my fingers...

I lost track. I think. I do not recall anything happening. Yet my mind did fuzz for a second, and when it unfuzzed, she was holding my hand still, smiling, saying, “Time to go, soldier. Rest well.”

I rose zombielike and shambled toward the door. I had a distinct feeling that I had missed something. I did not look back. I couldn’t.

I stepped into the night outside the Tower and immediately knew I had lost time again. The stars had moved across the sky. The comet was low. Rest well? The hours for rest were nearly gone.

It was peaceful out, cool, with crickets chirping. Crickets. Who would believe it? I looked down at the weapon she had given me. When had I strung it? Why was I carrying an arrow across it? I could not recall taking them off the table... For one frightened instant I thought my mind was going. Cricket song brought me back.

I looked up the pyramid. Someone was up top, watching. I raised a hand. He responded. Elmo, by the way he moved. Good old Elmo.

Couple hours till dawn. I could get a little shuteye if I didn’t dawdle.

A quarter way up the ramp I got a funny feeling. Halfway there I realized what it was. One-Eye’s amulet! My wrist was burning... Taken! Danger!

A cloud of darkness reared out of the night, from some imperfection in the side of the pyramid. It spread like the sail of a ship, flat, and moved toward me. I responded the only way I could. With an arrow.

My shaft ripped through that sheet of darkness. And a long wail surrounded me, filled with more surprise than rage, more despair than agony. The sheet of darkness shredded. Something manshaped scuttled across the slope. I watched it go, never thinking of spending another arrow, though I laid another across the bow. Boggled, I resumed my climb.

“What happened?” Elmo asked when I got to the top.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I honestly don’t have the foggiest what the hell happened tonight.”

He gave me the once-over. “You look pretty rocky. Get some rest.”

“I need it,” I admitted. “Pass it to the Captain. She says tomorrow is the day. Win or lose.” Much good the news would do him. But I thought he would like to know.

“Yeah. They do something to you in there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He wanted to talk more, despite his admonition about resting. I pushed him away gently, went into one of my hospital tents and curled up in a tight corner like a wounded animal denning up. I had been touched somehow, even if I could not name it. I needed time to recover. Probably more time than I would be given.

They sent Goblin to waken me. I was my usual charming morning self, threatening blood feud with anyone fool enough to disturb my dreams. Not that they didn’t deserve disturbing. They were foul. I was doing unspeakable things with a couple of girls who could not have been more than twelve, and making them love it. It’s disgusting, the shadows that lurk in the mind.

Revolting as my dreams were, I did not want to get up. My bedroll was toasty warm.

Goblin said, “You want I should play rough? Listen, Croaker. Your girlfriend is coming out. Captain wants you up to meet her.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I grabbed my boots with one hand; parted the tent flap with the other. I growled, “What the hell time is it? Looks like the sun’s been up for hours.”

“It has. Elmo figured you needed the rest. Said you had it rough last night.”

I grunted, hastily put myself together. I considered washing up, but Goblin headed me off. “Get your war gear on. The Rebel is headed this way.”

I heard distant drums. The Rebel had not used drums before. I asked about it.

Goblin shrugged. He was looking pale. I suppose he had heard my message to the Captain. Win or lose. Today. “They’ve elected themselves a new council.” He began to natter, as men will do when frightened, telling me the night’s history of the feud among the Taken, and of how the Rebel had suffered. I heard nothing cheering. He helped me don what armor I possessed. I hadn’t worn anything but a mail shirt since the fighting around Roses. I collected the weapons the Lady had given me and stepped out into one of the most glorious mornings I’d ever seen.

“Hell of a day for dying,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“How soon is she going to be here?” The Captain would want us on station when she arrived. He liked to present a portrait of order and efficiency.

“When she gets here. We just had a message saying she would be out.”

“Uhm.” I surveyed the pyramid top. The men were about their business, preparing for a fight. Nobody seemed in any hurry. “I’m going to wander around.”

Goblin did not say anything. He just followed, pallid face pulled into a concerned frown. His eyes moved constantly, watching everything. From the set of his shoulders and careful way he moved, I realized he had a spell ready for instant use. It was not till he had dogged me a while that I realized he was body guarding.

I was both pleased and distressed. Pleased because people cared enough to look out for me, distressed because my situation had become so bad. I glanced at my hands. Unconsciously, I had strung the bow and laid an arrow across. Part of me was on maximum alert too.

Everyone eyed the weapons, but no one asked. I suspect stories were making the rounds. Strange that my comrades did not corner me to double-check.