Ghopal
Singh’s report was not reassuring. “The graffiti is
everywhere but we just can’t catch anybody doing it.
It’s much worse than it was five years ago. Nowadays, with a
lot of people on our side, you’d think we’d be able to
come up with a clue. All we get is nonsense about ghosts and demons
and things you can see only if you’re not looking for
them.”
Mogaba steepled long fingers under his chin.
“The thing is, Ghopal, I’ve seen both demons and ghosts
with my own eyes. When I had just become part of the Black Company
one of the Company wizards had a pet demon. It later turned out to
be our enemy, but that doesn’t matter. It was a demon. And
during the siege of Dejagore ghosts often came and went. We all saw
them, though hardly anyone ever talked about them.
“Most people blamed Nyueng Bao conjurers.”
Aridatha Singh observed, “The reality of demons and ghosts
doesn’t affect the situation. Whether spooks or clever
agitators are writing these messages, the messages are there. And
enough people can read that the whole population knows what’s
being written.”
“What would you do about it?” Mogaba asked.
“Keep watching for vandals but ignore it otherwise. If the
people believe we’re indifferent to the criticism they
won’t take it seriously either.”
“A notion I hoped to put forward myself,” Ghopal
said. “Because people in the street have no more idea than we
do who’s putting that stuff up. Which makes them just as
nervous as it makes us.”
Mogaba grimaced, “Approved, then. With this caveat. Some
of those slogans don’t fit the traditional mold. ‘Thi
Kim is coming.’ We still don’t know what that
means.”
“The Walking Death is coming,” Ghopal said.
“You have to think that means the Daughter of Night’s
companion.”
“You think it’s Deceiver work, then?”
“That’s my guess.”
“But Thi Kim is Nyueng Bao. I’ve never heard of any
Nyueng Bao Deceivers.”
Ghopal grunted. That had gotten past him.
Aridatha made a joke of it. “We’ll know him when he
gets here. People will start dying.”
“Ha, and one more out of charity, ha,” Mogaba
replied. “In the meantime, we need to make a decision about
our guests. We’ll have a lot of trouble keeping them under
control.
Especially the wizard. Goblin. Who insists on being addressed as
the Khadidas. He did help cow the mob when we had the girl pretend
she was the Protector. But he has no interest in our cause.
He’ll devour us the instant he stops seeing us as valuable to
his cause. Which is bringing on the end of the world.”
Neither of the Singhs responded. Each understood that there was
more to the Great General’s words than he was actually
saying. That something particularly delicate would come up had been
evident from the moment it had become clear that no one else would
participate in the meeting.
“I’m thinking we should get rid of him. Right now.
Before he gets too comfortable and sure of himself.”
“And the Daughter of Night?” Aridatha asked.
“She’s not much threat on her own.” Meaning
the Daughter of Night could be spared. If that was what Aridatha
wanted. “Though my guess is, she’s too set in her ways
to be redeemed.”
Aridatha’s coloring was pale enough to betray his
embarrassment. “That isn’t what I had in
mind.”
Ghopal came to his rescue. Inadvertently, having failed to catch
the unspoken. “How do we get close enough to do anything?
She’ll make us love her so much we’ll want to chop off
our own toes.”
“There must be ways around that.”
“I’d be happy to hear suggestions.”
“Well, it’s obvious she can’t do it all the
time, whenever she wants, or Aridatha couldn’t have caught
her.”
“Unless she wanted to be caught.”
Mogaba feared there might be something to that suggestion.
“And that power doesn’t work on weapons. Or
poisons.”
“Sorcery might be a possibility,” Ghopal suggested.
“You think anyone knows either of their true
names?”
Mogaba shook his head. “I don’t think even our
enemies could do much there. The girl hasn’t had any name but
the
Daughter of Night. The Goblin thing is two creatures in one,
with the Kina side ruling. The man who knew the Goblin side’s
secrets is dead. So we can focus on treachery and poison right
away.”
“I don’t want to harp,” Aridatha said,
“but I do have to remind everybody that the girl’s
parents aren’t that far away. And right now our prospects
don’t look that great.”
Mogaba suspected that to be a subtle invitation to discuss his
plans. He did not accept.
He did not accept because these days he no longer had any grand
plan. He believed his days were numbered, as some of the graffiti
insisted. “All their days are numbered.” But the things
that made him Mogaba, positive and negative, compelled him to
struggle on.
Ghopal
Singh’s report was not reassuring. “The graffiti is
everywhere but we just can’t catch anybody doing it.
It’s much worse than it was five years ago. Nowadays, with a
lot of people on our side, you’d think we’d be able to
come up with a clue. All we get is nonsense about ghosts and demons
and things you can see only if you’re not looking for
them.”
Mogaba steepled long fingers under his chin.
“The thing is, Ghopal, I’ve seen both demons and ghosts
with my own eyes. When I had just become part of the Black Company
one of the Company wizards had a pet demon. It later turned out to
be our enemy, but that doesn’t matter. It was a demon. And
during the siege of Dejagore ghosts often came and went. We all saw
them, though hardly anyone ever talked about them.
“Most people blamed Nyueng Bao conjurers.”
Aridatha Singh observed, “The reality of demons and ghosts
doesn’t affect the situation. Whether spooks or clever
agitators are writing these messages, the messages are there. And
enough people can read that the whole population knows what’s
being written.”
“What would you do about it?” Mogaba asked.
“Keep watching for vandals but ignore it otherwise. If the
people believe we’re indifferent to the criticism they
won’t take it seriously either.”
“A notion I hoped to put forward myself,” Ghopal
said. “Because people in the street have no more idea than we
do who’s putting that stuff up. Which makes them just as
nervous as it makes us.”
Mogaba grimaced, “Approved, then. With this caveat. Some
of those slogans don’t fit the traditional mold. ‘Thi
Kim is coming.’ We still don’t know what that
means.”
“The Walking Death is coming,” Ghopal said.
“You have to think that means the Daughter of Night’s
companion.”
“You think it’s Deceiver work, then?”
“That’s my guess.”
“But Thi Kim is Nyueng Bao. I’ve never heard of any
Nyueng Bao Deceivers.”
Ghopal grunted. That had gotten past him.
Aridatha made a joke of it. “We’ll know him when he
gets here. People will start dying.”
“Ha, and one more out of charity, ha,” Mogaba
replied. “In the meantime, we need to make a decision about
our guests. We’ll have a lot of trouble keeping them under
control.
Especially the wizard. Goblin. Who insists on being addressed as
the Khadidas. He did help cow the mob when we had the girl pretend
she was the Protector. But he has no interest in our cause.
He’ll devour us the instant he stops seeing us as valuable to
his cause. Which is bringing on the end of the world.”
Neither of the Singhs responded. Each understood that there was
more to the Great General’s words than he was actually
saying. That something particularly delicate would come up had been
evident from the moment it had become clear that no one else would
participate in the meeting.
“I’m thinking we should get rid of him. Right now.
Before he gets too comfortable and sure of himself.”
“And the Daughter of Night?” Aridatha asked.
“She’s not much threat on her own.” Meaning
the Daughter of Night could be spared. If that was what Aridatha
wanted. “Though my guess is, she’s too set in her ways
to be redeemed.”
Aridatha’s coloring was pale enough to betray his
embarrassment. “That isn’t what I had in
mind.”
Ghopal came to his rescue. Inadvertently, having failed to catch
the unspoken. “How do we get close enough to do anything?
She’ll make us love her so much we’ll want to chop off
our own toes.”
“There must be ways around that.”
“I’d be happy to hear suggestions.”
“Well, it’s obvious she can’t do it all the
time, whenever she wants, or Aridatha couldn’t have caught
her.”
“Unless she wanted to be caught.”
Mogaba feared there might be something to that suggestion.
“And that power doesn’t work on weapons. Or
poisons.”
“Sorcery might be a possibility,” Ghopal suggested.
“You think anyone knows either of their true
names?”
Mogaba shook his head. “I don’t think even our
enemies could do much there. The girl hasn’t had any name but
the
Daughter of Night. The Goblin thing is two creatures in one,
with the Kina side ruling. The man who knew the Goblin side’s
secrets is dead. So we can focus on treachery and poison right
away.”
“I don’t want to harp,” Aridatha said,
“but I do have to remind everybody that the girl’s
parents aren’t that far away. And right now our prospects
don’t look that great.”
Mogaba suspected that to be a subtle invitation to discuss his
plans. He did not accept.
He did not accept because these days he no longer had any grand
plan. He believed his days were numbered, as some of the graffiti
insisted. “All their days are numbered.” But the things
that made him Mogaba, positive and negative, compelled him to
struggle on.