“For no rational reason I feel confident that our friends will break us out.”
“I must confess that I remain a stranger to that sort of faith. Although I concede the importance of maintaining an optimistic aspect in front of the soldiers.”
Was I going to argue? No. He was more right than I could be.
“So, Standardbearer, how do we survive a protracted siege when most of our food stores are exhausted? How do we recover the standard once we do get out of these straits?”
“I don’t have any answers. Although I think the standard is in friendly hands already.” Why was he interested? Almost every time we talked he asked something about the standard. Did he believe possessing it would legitimize him?
“How so?” He was surprised.
“The Widowmaker that was here the first time carried the real standard.” “You’re sure?” “I know it,” I promised. “Then share your thoughts about food.” “We could try fishing.” Wisecracking was not a good idea with Mogaba. It just made Mogaba angry.
“Ain’t no joke,” Goblin snapped. “That water comes down here from regular rivers. There’s got to be fish.”
The little shit wasn’t as stupid as he acted sometimes.
Mogaba frowned. “Do we have anyone who knows anything about fishing?” he asked Sindawe.
“I doubt it.” They meant among their Taglian soldiers, of course. Nar are warriors, back for a dozen generations. They do not sully themselves doing unheroic work.
I was negligent. I failed to mention that the Nyueng Bao came from country where fishing was, probably, a way of life.
“It’s a thought,” Mogaba told me. “And there is always baked crow.” He glanced back at the window. “But most Taglians won’t eat flesh.”
“A conundrum,” I agreed.
“I will not surrender.”
No reply seemed adequate.
“You have no resources either?”
“Less than you,” I lied. We still had a little rice from the catacombs. But not much. We were stretching ourselves every way possible, in accordance with hints recorded in the Annals. We did not look like famine victims. Not quite yet.
We looked, I noted, less well fed than did the Nar.
“Suggestions for reducing the number of unproductive mouths?”
“I’m letting my worn out Taglians and any locals who want build rafts and go. But I don’t let them take anything with them.”
He controlled his anger again. “That does consume valuable timber. But it is another thought worth consideration.”
I studied Sindawe and Ochiba. They remained jet statues. They were not even breathing, it seemed. They expressed no opinions.
Mogaba glared at me. “I feared this meeting would be this nonproductive. You haven’t even thrown the Annals in my face.”
“The Annals aren’t magic. What they say about sieges is plain commonsense stuff. Be stubborn. Ration. Don’t support the nonproductive. Control the spread of plague. Don’t exhaust your enemy’s patience if there is no hope of outlasting him. If surrender is inevitable do it while your enemy is still amenable to terms.”
“This enemy never offered.”
I wondered about that, although the Shadowmasters did have a tendency to think like gods.
“Thank you, Standardbearer. We will examine our options and keep you informed of what we mean to do.”
Goblin and One-Eye helped me ease my chair back. They settled me into the litter. Mogaba said nothing else and I could think of nothing I wanted to tell him. The other Nar just stood there awkwardly and watched us go.
“What was that in aid of?” I asked once we were clear. “I expected yelling and threats.”
“He wanted to pick your brains,” Goblin said.
“While he made up his mind if he was going to kill you,” One-Eye added cheerfully.
“Oh, that’s real encouraging.”
“He did decide, Murgen. And he didn’t pick the option you want to hear. It’s time to start being real careful.”
We did make it home unharmed.
64
“Don’t bother dragging me up there till we find out what Uncle wants.” Goblin and One-Eye were at the foot of steps leading to the battlements. Doj was up top, looking down.
“I wasn’t planning to carry your dead ass anywhere anyhow anymore,” One-Eye told me. “Far as I’m concerned this exercise was for camouflage.”
Uncle Doj started downward.
I stared at the wall. Tiny beads of sweat covered it, but that was because the stone was cooler than the air, not because water had begun seeping through from outside.
The Shadowmasters were good builders.
“Stone Soldier. You are well?”
“Not bad for a guy with the runs. Ready to dance on your grave, Stubby. We got business?”
“The Speaker wishes to see you. Your excursion was not successful?” He moved his head to indicate my trip outside.
“If you call spending two weeks as a guest of the Shadowmaster a success I tore them up, Uncle. Otherwise, all I did was get sick, lose some weight, then have barely enough sense left to run for it when some Taglians hit Shadowspinner’s camp with a nuisance raid. That’s all right. I can walk that far.” Just don’t let me fall down any rabbit holes.
I could walk to the Speaker’s place easily but why give up the pretense of weakness if it might be useful?
Nothing changed with the Speaker’s crew. Except that this time one smell was absent. I noticed that as soon as I stepped inside. I could not identify the missing odor, though.
The Speaker was ready. Hong Tray was in place. The beautiful one had tea brewing.
Ky Dam smiled. “Thai Dei ran ahead.” He read my curiosity from my glance and flaring nostrils. “Danh has gone to his judgment. At last. A bleak season has ended for this house.”
I could not help myself. I looked at the young woman. I found her looking at me. Her gaze shifted immediately, but not so fast that I did not feel guilty when I returned attention to the Speaker.
The old man missed nothing. Neither did he get excited about something best left ignored. He was wise, was Ky Dam.
I had come to respect that frail oldster a lot.
“The hard times have come, Standardbearer, and will lead to more terrible tomorrows.” He reviewed my discussion with Mogaba well enough to convince me that someone had watched us.
“Why tell me this?”
“To support my claim when I tell you we spy on the black men. After your departure they spoke only their native tongue until they sent messengers to the tribunes of the cohorts and other senior Taglians. They are to gather at suppertime.”
“Sounds big.”
The old man bowed slightly, “I would like you to see something for yourself. You know these men more certainly than do I. You can determine if my suspicions are well-founded.”
“You want me to spy on that meeting?”
“Something of the sort.” The old man did not tell me the whole story. Not then. He wanted me walking into it cold. “Doj will conduct you.”
65
Doj conducted me. The way led through cellars as intricately connected as ours but less care had been used in the tunneling. The people who did this just wanted to be able to sneak away. They had had no intention of hiding. They must have been Jaicuri collaborators in Stormshadow’s administration, acting for her. She would have wanted an emergency exit.
“I’m surprised at you,” I told Uncle Doj. “I wouldn’t think underground would occur to swamp people. I don’t suppose there are a lot of tunnels in the delta.”
“Not many.” He smiled.
My guess is they found the escape route through sheer blind luck, maybe coupled with an informed suspicion about how Stormshadow’s mind worked.
Getting into the citadel, then, was no problem, though it required some crawling. The architects had not been concerned with Stormshadow’s dignity. It was tough for me. I was not yet back to my best.
We came to a small open space beneath a ladder. That rose straight up into infinity, so far as I could see by the light of one feeble candle. I had a feeling the candle was a luxury laid on for me, that the Nyueng Bao made this journey entirely in darkness.