Dejagore was a nightmare town filled with factions only loosely united in defiance of the besiegers. Mogaba's forces were the strongest. The Jaicuri were most numerous. We Old Crew, with our auxiliaries, were less numerous and less powerful. But boy were we strong in our righteousness.
And then there were the Nyueng Bao. The Nyueng Bao remained an enigma.
43
Ky Dam's family occupied the same dismal, filthy, smoky, pungent hole until the deluge drove them out. The perquisites of power did not appeal to the Speaker. He had a place to get out of the rain. That was enough.
Maybe that was more than he had had back in the swamp.
He did share with a troop of descendants who stopped bickering only when the outsider came around. And then the children restrained themselves only for a while.
On successive afternoons Ky Dam summoned me to consult on trivial matters. We faced each other over tea served by the beautiful granddaughter while the children quickly lost their awe of me and resumed brawling. We traded information on friends and enemies. That fevered character in the shadows moaned and groaned.
I did not like that. He was dying. But he was taking a long, long time getting it done. Every time he cried out the beautiful one went to him. I ached in sympathy. She was so haggard.
Second visit I said something to indicate sympathy, one of those things you toss off without much thought. Ky Dam's wife, whom I now knew to be named Hong Tray, glanced up from her tea, startled. She said three soft words to Ky Dam.
The old man nodded. "Thank you for your concern, Stone Soldier, but it is misplaced. Danh welcomed a devil into his soul. Now he pays the due."
A burst of rapid, liquid Nyueng Bao erupted from the shadows. A squat old woman waddled into the light. She was bow-legged, ugly as a warthog, in a vicious humor. She barked at me. She was Ky Gota, the Speaker's daughter and my shadow Thai Dei's mother. She was a dark legend among her own people. I have no idea what she was on about but I got the feeling that she laid all the ills of the world squarely at my feet.
Ky Dam said something gently. It did not get through. Hong Tray repeated his words, more gently, in a whisper. Silence fell instantly. Ky Gota scurried into the shadows.
The Speaker offered, "In all our lives we enjoy successes and failures. My great sorrow is my daughter Gota. She has within her a cancer of agony she cannot conquer. She insists on sharing it with the rest of us." A tiny smile touched his lips. This was self-deprecating humor, meant to inform me that he was speaking metaphorically. "Her great failure, the wellspring of heartbreak for all of us, was her hasty choice of Sam Danh Qu as the husband for her daughter." He indicated the beautiful flower. The flower betrayed a blush as she knelt to refill our cups. There was no doubt that all these people understood Taglian perfectly.
Ky Dam added, "That is the one great error that Gota cannot deny, a culmination of deficiencies that is like a brand. She was widowed young. She arranged the marriage hoping to enjoy her elder years luxuriating on the wealth of the Sams." The Speaker showed me that little smile again, probably sensing my incredulity. Wealth and Nyueng Bao are contradictory concepts. The old man continued, "Danh was clever. He concealed the fact that he had been disinherited because of his cruelty and wickedness and treachery. Gota was too much in a hurry to investigate harsh rumors. And Danh's evil only grew worse after the nuptials. But that is enough about me and mine. I asked you here because I wish to keep an eye on the character of the leader of the Bone Warriors."
I had to ask. "Why do you call us that? Does it mean anything?"
Ky Dam traded looks with his wife. I sighed. "I get it. It's more of the Black Company claptrap everybody does. You think we're something our predecessors were supposed to have been four hundred years ago, only probably weren't because oral history exaggerates ridiculously. Speaker, listen. The Black Company is just a gang of outcasts. Really. We're plain old mercenary soldiers caught up in circumstances we don't understand and really don't like. We're just passing through. We came this way because our Captain has a bug up his ass about the Company's history. Most of the rest of us couldn't think of anything else we wanted to do more." I told him about Silent and Darling and others who had parted with the brotherhood rather than hazard the long journey south. "I promise you, whatever scares everybody—and I wish somebody would tell me what that is—it would have to involve way more work than I'm willing to put into anything."
The old man eyed, me, glanced at his wife. She said and did nothing but something passed between them. Ky Dam nodded.
Uncle Doj materialized. The Speaker told me, "Perhaps we misjudge you. Even I allow prejudice to guide me at times. There is a chance I will know better when next we speak."
Uncle Doj made a small gesture. Time for me to leave.
44
Goblin caught me hitting the Jaicuri books. "Murgen!" I started. "Huh?"
"About goddamn time."
"What? What're you talking about?"
"I been standing here watching you for ten minutes. You never turned a page. You never blinked an eye. I couldn't tell if you was breathing."
I started to make an excuse.
"Won't sell. I had to yell four times and slap you on the back of the head to get your attention."
"So I was thinking." Only I could not recall even one thought.
"Yeah. Right. Mogaba wants your scrawny ass over to the citadel."
"A lot of southerners have sneaked off to meet this relief column," I told Mogaba. "At first I thought they were trying to trick us. Pull back and hit us when we tried to take advantage. But Goblin and One-Eye promise me they've just kept going. There can't be a relief army, though. Where would the soldiers come from? Who would lead them?" Would Mogaba believe that I had not heard the more interesting rumors? He heard more than I did. And Croaker's survival probably figured in a lot of those.
What would he do if the Old Man turned up alive?
I was pretty sure Mogaba thought about that a lot.
I was thanked and told to return to my people with no other comment. I did not find out why he sent for me.
Mogaba did just what I feared. He launched a recon in force, maybe trying to find new weak spots. He employed only his own most trustworthy men. And I was content to sit atop my part of the wall, watching. And wondering why Mogaba was so sure we would desert if we got outside.
I tend to ignore Mogaba here. He was a much greater part of everyday life than I show. He was misery on the hoof. My dislike makes it impossible to write about the man rationally so I discuss him only when I must.
Of all the Nar, in those days, only Sindawe ever made the effort to be civil.
Anyway, Mogaba thought he had a chance to hurt the Shadowmaster but the planners outside were getting the hang of how his head worked. He did not let a lack of success discourage him. There was that about Mogaba. He never became discouraged. No setback ever shook his conviction that he was invincible. If his plans fizzled he just recalculated.
Mogaba's soldiers began to desert without benefit of escape from the city, coming to hide out with friends among our Taglians. They complained that Mogaba was too profligate with soldiers' lives.
Mogaba responded by ordering special rations and preferential access to prostitutes for his most dedicated men.
We found those sealed jars of grain left over from the Shadowmasters' first siege. Whether to share generated considerable debate. One-Eye insisted that Mogaba would not be satisfied just to share. He would want to know all about our find. He would want to see for himself. Did we want him wandering around our warrens?