"Cook, Glen - Black Company 06 - Dreams of Steel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cook Glen)

He rose. "If they can eat together they can do anything together, Mistress."

"I know." Each cult sustained an absurd tangle of dietary laws. Thus, this approach. It should undermine prejudice at its most basic level.

These men would not rid themselves of ingrained hatred but would set it aside around those with whom they served. It's easier to hate those you don't know than those you do. When you march with someone and have to trust him with your life it's hard to keep hating irrationally.

I tried to keep the band preoccupied with training. Those who had been through it with the hastily raised legions helped, mainly by getting the others to march in straight lines. Sometimes I despaired. There was just so much I could do. There was only one of me.

I needed a firm power base before I dared the political lists.

Fugitives joined us. Some went away again. Some didn't survive the disciplinary demands. The rest strove to become soldiers.

I was free with punishments and freer with rewards. I tried to nurture pride and, subtly, the conviction that they were better men than any who didn't belong to the band, the conviction that they could trust no one who wasn't of the band.

I didn't spare myself. I slept so little I had no time to dream, or didn't remember that I'd dreamed. Every free moment I spent nagging my talent. I'd need it soon.

It was coming back slowly. Too slowly.

It was like having to learn to walk again after a prolonged illness.



Chapter Nine


Though I wasn't trying to move quickly I outdistanced most of the survivors. For loners and small groups, foraging outweighed speed. Once I slowed to avoid reaching Ghoja, though, more and more caught up. Not many decided to enlist.

Already the band was recognizably alien. It scared outsiders.

I guessed maybe ten thousand men had escaped the debacle. How many would survive to reach Ghoja? If Taglios was fortunate, maybe half. The land had turned hostile.

Forty miles from Ghoja and the Main, just inside territory historically Taglian, I ordered a real camp built with a surrounding ditch. I chose a meadow on the north bank of a clean brook. The south bank was forested. The site was pleasant. I planned to stay, rest, train, till my foragers exhausted the countryside.

For days incoming fugitives had reported enemy light cavalry hunting behind them. An hour after we

began making camp I got a report of smoke south of the wood. I walked the mile to the far side, saw a cloud rising from a village six miles down the road. They were that close.

Trouble? It had to be considered.

An opportunity? Unlikely at this stage.

Narayan came running through the dusk. "Mistress. The Shadowmasters' men. They're making camp on the south side of the woods. They'll catch us tomorrow." His optimism had deserted him.

I thought about it. "Do the men know?"

"The news is spreading."

"Damn. All right. Station reliable men along the ditch. Kill anybody who tries to leave. Put Ram in charge, then come back."