That must have
been one kick-ass nightmare,” Willow Swan told me, kneeling
beside me, having just shaken my shoulder to waken me. “Not
only were you snoring, you were grunting and squeaking and carrying
on a conversation with yourself in three different
languages.”
“I’m a woman of many talents. Everybody says
so.” I shook my head groggily. “What time is it?
It’s still dark.”
“Another talent emerges. I can’t get anything past
the old girl.”
I grumbled, “The priests and the holy books tell us that
God created man in His own image but I’ve read a lot of holy
books—including those of the idolaters—and not once have I found
any other evidence that He had a sense of humor, let alone is the
kind of person who would try to make jokes before the sun even came
up. You’re a sick man, Willow Swan. What’s going
on?”
“Last night you said we’d have to start early. So
Sahra thought you meant we should be ready to go as soon as
there’s light enough to see. So we can get off the plain with
plenty of daylight to spare.”
“Sahra is a wise woman. Wake me up when she’s ready
to go.”
“I think right now would be a good time to get up,
then.”
I raised my hands. It was just light enough to see them.
“Gather ’round, people.” Once a reasonable crowd
had done so I explained that each of us who had stayed behind in
the fortress had been given knowledge that would help us in times
to come. “Shivetya seems very interested in our success. He
tried to give us what he believed would be useful tools. But
he’s very slow and has his own demonic perspectives and
doesn’t know how to explain anything clearly. So it’s
extremely likely that there is a lot we know that we won’t
know we know until something makes us think of it. Be patient with
us. We’ll probably be a little strange for a while. I’m
having trouble getting used to the reeducated me and I live here.
New knowledge pops up every time I turn around. Right now, though,
I just want to get off this plain. Our resources are still limited.
We have to establish ourselves as fast as we can.”
Those faces I could discern revealed fear of the future.
Somewhere the dog whined. Iqbal’s baby whimpered momentarily
as Suruvhija shifted her from one nipple to the other. In my
consideration, that child ought to have been weaned by now but I
knew I had no justification for my opinion. None of my babies have
been born yet. And it is getting a little late to bring them
in.
People waited for me to tell them something informative. The
more thoughtful now wondered what new troubles awaited us since we
had actually made it this far. Swan could be right. It could be
harvest season in the Land of Unknown Shadows. And it could also be
the season for scalping foreigners.
I was troubled myself but had been faced with the unknown so
often that I had calluses on that breed of fear. I knew perfectly
well it would do me no good to fuss and worry when I had no idea
what lay ahead. But worry I would, anyway. Even when knowledge
contracted while I slept assured me that we would not encounter
disasters once we shifted off the plain.
I had planned to offer a rousing speech but quickly discarded
that notion. No one was interested. Not even me. “Is
everybody ready? Then let’s go.”
Getting started took less time than I expected. Most of my
brothers had not stopped to hear me say what they anticipated would
be the same old same old. They had gone on getting ready to roll. I
told Swan, “I guess ‘In those days the
Company . . . ’ works a lot better after
supper and a hard day’s work.”
“Does for me. Works even better when I’ve had
something to drink. And it’s a kick-ass wowser after
I’ve gone to bed.”
I walked with Sahra for a while, renewing our acquaintance,
easing the strain between us. She remained tense, though. It would
not be that long before she had to deal with her husband in the
flesh for the first time in a decade and a half. I did not know how
to make that easier for her.
Then I walked with the Radisha for an hour. She, too, was in an
unsettled mood. It had been even longer since she had had to deal
with her brother in all but the most remote capacities. She was a
realist, however. “There’s nothing I can lose to him,
is there? I’ve lost it all already. First to the Protector,
through my own blindness. Then you stole me away from Taglios and
robbed me of even the hope of reclaiming my place.”
“Bet you something, Princess. Bet you that you’re
already being remembered as the mother of a golden age.” That
actually seemed a reasonable prediction. The past always seems
better when the present consists of clabbered misery. “Even
without the Protector back in the capital yet. Once we’re
established, the first mission I mean to launch will be to get word
back to Taglios that you and your brother are both alive,
you’re really angry, and you’re going to come
back.”
“We all must dream,” the woman told me.
“You don’t want to go back?”
“Do you recall the taunt you laid before me every day?
Rajadharma?”
“Sure.”
“What I may want is of no importance. What my brother
might want does not signify, either. He’s had his adventures.
Now I’ve had mine. Rajadharma constrains us more surely than
could the stoutest chain. Rajadharma will call us back across the
uncounted leagues as long as we continue to breathe, through the
impossible places, past all the deadly perils and improbable
beings. You reminded me again and again of my obligation. Perhaps
by doing so, you created a monster fit to battle the beast who
displaced me. Rajadharma has become my vice, Sleepy. It has become
my irrational compulsion. I continue to follow you only because
reason insists that even though this path leads me farther from
Taglios today, it is the shortest road to my destiny.”
“I’ll help where I can.” I did not commit the
Company, though. I still had the Captain and Lieutenant to waken
and deal with. I started to move on. I wanted to visit with Master
Santaraksita for a while and lose myself, perhaps, in an interplay
of intellectual speculation. The librarian’s horizons were
much broader these days.
“Sleepy.”
“Radisha?”
“Has the Black Company extracted sufficient
revenge?”
We had taken away everything but the love of her
people. And she was not a bad woman. “In my eyes you’re
just one small gesture short of redemption. I want you to apologize
to the Captain once he recovers enough to understand what’s
happening.”
Her lips tightened. She and her brother did not let themselves
be slaves to considerations of station or caste, but still, apology
to a foreign mercenary? “If I must, I must. My options are
limited.”
“Water sleeps, Radisha.” I joined Suvrin and Master
Santaraksita, taking a few minutes to visit with the black stallion
on the way there. It carried One-Eye, who was breathing but
otherwise did not look much better than a corpse. I hoped he was
just sleeping an old man’s sleep. The horse seemed bored. I
suppose it was tired of adventures.
“Master. Suvrin. By some chance do you two suffer any
memories you didn’t have before we came to the
plain?”
They did indeed, Santaraksita more so than Suvrin.
Shivetya’s gifts seemed shaped for each individual. Master
Santaraksita proceeded to relate yet another version of the Kina
myth and of Shivetya’s relationship to the Queen of Death and
Terror. This one assumed the point of view of the demon. It did not
say much that was new, just shifted the relative importance of
various characters and, laterally, blamed Kina for the passing of
the last few builders.
Kina remained a black-hearted villain in this version, while
Shivetya became one of the great unsung heroes, deserving of a much
higher standing in myth. Which could be true. He had no standing at
all. Nobody outside the plain had ever heard of him. I suggested,
“When you get back to Taglios now, Master, you can establish
a mighty reputation by explaining the myths in the words of a being
who lived through their creation.”
Santaraksita smiled sourly. “You know better, Dorabee.
Mythology is one area where nobody wants to know the absolute truth
because time has forged great symbols from raw materials supplied
by ancient events. Prosaic distortions of fact metamorphose into
perceived truths of the soul.”
He had a point. In religion, precise truth has almost no
currency. True believers will kill and destroy to defend their
inaccurate beliefs.
And that is a truth upon which you can rely.
That must have
been one kick-ass nightmare,” Willow Swan told me, kneeling
beside me, having just shaken my shoulder to waken me. “Not
only were you snoring, you were grunting and squeaking and carrying
on a conversation with yourself in three different
languages.”
“I’m a woman of many talents. Everybody says
so.” I shook my head groggily. “What time is it?
It’s still dark.”
“Another talent emerges. I can’t get anything past
the old girl.”
I grumbled, “The priests and the holy books tell us that
God created man in His own image but I’ve read a lot of holy
books—including those of the idolaters—and not once have I found
any other evidence that He had a sense of humor, let alone is the
kind of person who would try to make jokes before the sun even came
up. You’re a sick man, Willow Swan. What’s going
on?”
“Last night you said we’d have to start early. So
Sahra thought you meant we should be ready to go as soon as
there’s light enough to see. So we can get off the plain with
plenty of daylight to spare.”
“Sahra is a wise woman. Wake me up when she’s ready
to go.”
“I think right now would be a good time to get up,
then.”
I raised my hands. It was just light enough to see them.
“Gather ’round, people.” Once a reasonable crowd
had done so I explained that each of us who had stayed behind in
the fortress had been given knowledge that would help us in times
to come. “Shivetya seems very interested in our success. He
tried to give us what he believed would be useful tools. But
he’s very slow and has his own demonic perspectives and
doesn’t know how to explain anything clearly. So it’s
extremely likely that there is a lot we know that we won’t
know we know until something makes us think of it. Be patient with
us. We’ll probably be a little strange for a while. I’m
having trouble getting used to the reeducated me and I live here.
New knowledge pops up every time I turn around. Right now, though,
I just want to get off this plain. Our resources are still limited.
We have to establish ourselves as fast as we can.”
Those faces I could discern revealed fear of the future.
Somewhere the dog whined. Iqbal’s baby whimpered momentarily
as Suruvhija shifted her from one nipple to the other. In my
consideration, that child ought to have been weaned by now but I
knew I had no justification for my opinion. None of my babies have
been born yet. And it is getting a little late to bring them
in.
People waited for me to tell them something informative. The
more thoughtful now wondered what new troubles awaited us since we
had actually made it this far. Swan could be right. It could be
harvest season in the Land of Unknown Shadows. And it could also be
the season for scalping foreigners.
I was troubled myself but had been faced with the unknown so
often that I had calluses on that breed of fear. I knew perfectly
well it would do me no good to fuss and worry when I had no idea
what lay ahead. But worry I would, anyway. Even when knowledge
contracted while I slept assured me that we would not encounter
disasters once we shifted off the plain.
I had planned to offer a rousing speech but quickly discarded
that notion. No one was interested. Not even me. “Is
everybody ready? Then let’s go.”
Getting started took less time than I expected. Most of my
brothers had not stopped to hear me say what they anticipated would
be the same old same old. They had gone on getting ready to roll. I
told Swan, “I guess ‘In those days the
Company . . . ’ works a lot better after
supper and a hard day’s work.”
“Does for me. Works even better when I’ve had
something to drink. And it’s a kick-ass wowser after
I’ve gone to bed.”
I walked with Sahra for a while, renewing our acquaintance,
easing the strain between us. She remained tense, though. It would
not be that long before she had to deal with her husband in the
flesh for the first time in a decade and a half. I did not know how
to make that easier for her.
Then I walked with the Radisha for an hour. She, too, was in an
unsettled mood. It had been even longer since she had had to deal
with her brother in all but the most remote capacities. She was a
realist, however. “There’s nothing I can lose to him,
is there? I’ve lost it all already. First to the Protector,
through my own blindness. Then you stole me away from Taglios and
robbed me of even the hope of reclaiming my place.”
“Bet you something, Princess. Bet you that you’re
already being remembered as the mother of a golden age.” That
actually seemed a reasonable prediction. The past always seems
better when the present consists of clabbered misery. “Even
without the Protector back in the capital yet. Once we’re
established, the first mission I mean to launch will be to get word
back to Taglios that you and your brother are both alive,
you’re really angry, and you’re going to come
back.”
“We all must dream,” the woman told me.
“You don’t want to go back?”
“Do you recall the taunt you laid before me every day?
Rajadharma?”
“Sure.”
“What I may want is of no importance. What my brother
might want does not signify, either. He’s had his adventures.
Now I’ve had mine. Rajadharma constrains us more surely than
could the stoutest chain. Rajadharma will call us back across the
uncounted leagues as long as we continue to breathe, through the
impossible places, past all the deadly perils and improbable
beings. You reminded me again and again of my obligation. Perhaps
by doing so, you created a monster fit to battle the beast who
displaced me. Rajadharma has become my vice, Sleepy. It has become
my irrational compulsion. I continue to follow you only because
reason insists that even though this path leads me farther from
Taglios today, it is the shortest road to my destiny.”
“I’ll help where I can.” I did not commit the
Company, though. I still had the Captain and Lieutenant to waken
and deal with. I started to move on. I wanted to visit with Master
Santaraksita for a while and lose myself, perhaps, in an interplay
of intellectual speculation. The librarian’s horizons were
much broader these days.
“Sleepy.”
“Radisha?”
“Has the Black Company extracted sufficient
revenge?”
We had taken away everything but the love of her
people. And she was not a bad woman. “In my eyes you’re
just one small gesture short of redemption. I want you to apologize
to the Captain once he recovers enough to understand what’s
happening.”
Her lips tightened. She and her brother did not let themselves
be slaves to considerations of station or caste, but still, apology
to a foreign mercenary? “If I must, I must. My options are
limited.”
“Water sleeps, Radisha.” I joined Suvrin and Master
Santaraksita, taking a few minutes to visit with the black stallion
on the way there. It carried One-Eye, who was breathing but
otherwise did not look much better than a corpse. I hoped he was
just sleeping an old man’s sleep. The horse seemed bored. I
suppose it was tired of adventures.
“Master. Suvrin. By some chance do you two suffer any
memories you didn’t have before we came to the
plain?”
They did indeed, Santaraksita more so than Suvrin.
Shivetya’s gifts seemed shaped for each individual. Master
Santaraksita proceeded to relate yet another version of the Kina
myth and of Shivetya’s relationship to the Queen of Death and
Terror. This one assumed the point of view of the demon. It did not
say much that was new, just shifted the relative importance of
various characters and, laterally, blamed Kina for the passing of
the last few builders.
Kina remained a black-hearted villain in this version, while
Shivetya became one of the great unsung heroes, deserving of a much
higher standing in myth. Which could be true. He had no standing at
all. Nobody outside the plain had ever heard of him. I suggested,
“When you get back to Taglios now, Master, you can establish
a mighty reputation by explaining the myths in the words of a being
who lived through their creation.”
Santaraksita smiled sourly. “You know better, Dorabee.
Mythology is one area where nobody wants to know the absolute truth
because time has forged great symbols from raw materials supplied
by ancient events. Prosaic distortions of fact metamorphose into
perceived truths of the soul.”
He had a point. In religion, precise truth has almost no
currency. True believers will kill and destroy to defend their
inaccurate beliefs.
And that is a truth upon which you can rely.