Shadowspinner rose slowly, a man in pain. He slipped a crutch beneath one arm. "Yes. A cripple. With no chance for repairs because my only ally won't lend me help he might regret when he decides I've outlived my usefulness. And I have you to thank." He extended a hand. An almost invisible rope of indigo fire snaked from his fingers to me. He made a pulling gesture. The rope dragged me forward. The pain was intense. I contained my scream, barely.
He wanted me to scream. He wanted me to waken the camp so he could show his incompetents what he had accomplished despite their inattention. He wanted to play cat and mouse.
The wall of the tent behind him exploded inward. Two blades ripped canvas and Ram came flying through. Shadowspinner turned. Ram smashed into him, sent him stumbling toward Narayan.
Narayan and his arm-holders moved like mongooses striking. Narayan had his rumel around the Shadowmaster's throat so fast my eyes insisted it was witchcraft. The arm-holders had the Shadowmaster's limbs extended before he lost momentum.
The purple rope ripped away from me. It lashed one of the arm-holders. The man's eyes grew huge. He stifled a scream and tried to hang on but lost his grip.
Shadowspinner whipped the rope at Narayan.
Narayan's eyes bugged. He lost his grip on his rumel. Shadowspinner turned on the other arm-holder.
Ram grabbed Shadowspinner from behind, by the neck and buttocks, and hoisted him overhead. Shadowspinner lashed at him. He did not seem able to feel pain. He dropped to one knee, smashed the Shadowmaster down on the other.
I heard bones break. The world would have heard an earth-shaking scream if Narayan had not been so good with a rumel. He looped Shadowspinner's neck on the fly, as Ram hurled him down. Falling with Spinner, he had a tight loop on when the cry tried to force its way out.
Ram and Narayan both hung on.
Blade stepped inside the tent, casually drove his blade through Shadowspinner's heart. "I know you people have your ways, but let's not take chances."
There is an incredible vitality in someone like Shadowspinner. Blade was right. Even stabbed several times and thoroughly strangled, back broken, Shadowspinner kept struggling. Ram, Narayan, and both arm-holders hung on. I stepped up and helped Blade cut and stab.
Swan stood outside the gap in the tent and gawked, so rattled he could do nothing but keep watch. Poor Swan. War and violence just were not his thing.
We carved Shadowspinner into a half dozen pieces before he stopped struggling. We stood around the results. All of us were covered with blood. Nobody seemed inclined to do anything but pant and wonder if we'd really succeeded. Narayan, who seldom showed any humor, broke the spell. "Am I a Strangler saint now, Mistress?"
"Three times over. You're immortal. We'd better get out of here. Everybody grab a piece."
Swan made a choked, questioning noise.
I told him, "The only way to make sure is burn him to ash and scatter the ashes. Someone like Longshadow could bring him back even now."
Swan dumped his last meal. Even so, he looked shamed, as though he thought he had contributed nothing.
I picked up Spinner's head. As I passed I winked and gave Swan's hand a squeeze. That should take his mind off his troubles.
The moon was up. It was a day short of full. Barely over the horizon, it was an orange monster. I gestured for the others to hurry, while there were still shadows to mask our going.
We were halfway to the perimeter when a terrible howl rolled down out of the night. Something wobbled across the face of the moon. Another howl tore the night. There was deadly agony in it.
Ram shoved me. "Got to run, Mistress. Got to run."
All around us Shadowlander soldiers rose to see what the racket was.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Croaker glanced at the moon as he entered the city barracks. Not four hours had passed since the attack but already all Taglios knew the Shadowmasters had struck at the Prahbrindrah Drah. The city was united in outrage.
Already the city knew that the Liberator was alive, that he had feigned death in order to lead their enemies into a fatal mistake. The military compound was swamped with men who wanted to rampage through the Shadowlands till not a blade of grass survived.
It would not last. He could do nothing with this illarmed and untrained horde. But for their sakes he ordered them to assemble at the fortress Lady had begun, then move south in forces of five thousand. They could sort themselves out on the road.
He suspected most would change their minds before they reached Ghoja. However strong their rage they did not have the supporting resources to mount a vengeance campaign. But he knew they would not listen, so told them what they wanted to hear and stood aside.
The Prahbrindrah Drah accompanied him. The prince was in a rage himself, but a rage channelled by realism. Croaker discharged his duties to those who wanted him to be larger than life, then found the horses that had pulled the coach. While they were being prepared he stamped around the barracks gathering equipment and supplies. Nobody questioned him. Would-be soldiers stared at him like he was a ghost.
He took a bow and black arrows from hiding. Soulcatcher had brought them out of Dejagore with his armor. "These were a gift a long time ago. Before I was anything but a physician. They've served me well. I save them for special times. Special times are here."
An hour later the two left the city. The prince wondered aloud if he had made the right choice, out-arguing his sister about joining Croaker. Croaker told him, "Turn back if you want. We don't have time to examine our hearts and dither over choices. Before you go, though, tell me where Lady sent those archers."
"Which archers?"
"The ones who killed the priests. I know her. She wouldn't have kept them with her. She would've sent them somewhere out of the way."
"Vehdna-Bota. To guard the ford."
"Then we ride to Vehdna-Bota. Or I do, if you're going home."
"I'm coming with you."
Chapter Fifty-Eight
There was no escape from the Shadowlander camp. We were trapped. And I did not know what to do.
Ram said, "Be Kina." Big, gentle, slow Ram. He thought faster than I did.
It was a task of illusion, only slightly more difficult than making witchfires run over armor. It took just a minute to transform both of us. Meantime, the Shadowlanders closed in, though not with the enthusiasm you would expect of men who had caught their enemies flatfooted.
I raised Shadowspinner's head high. They recognized it. I used an augmentation spell to make my voice carry. "The Shadowmaster is dead. I have no quarrel with you. But you can join him if you insist."
Swan had an impulse. He bellowed, "Kneel, you swine! Kneel to your mistress!"
They looked at him, a foot taller than the tallest of them, pale as snow, golden-maned. A demon in man's form? They looked at Blade, almost as exotic. They looked at me and at Shadowspinner's head.
Ram said, "Kneel to the Daughter of Night." He was so close I could feel him shaking. He was scared to death. "The Child of Kina is among you. Beg for her mercy."
Swan grabbed the nearest Shadowlander, forced him to his knees.
I still do not believe it. The bluff worked. One by one, they knelt. Narayan and his arm-holders started chanting. They chose something basic, repeated mantras, of a sort common in Gunni ceremonials and Shadar services. They differed mainly in including lines like, "Show mercy, O Kina. Bless Thy devoted child, who loves Thee," and, "Come to me, O Mother of Night, while blood is upon my tongue."
"Sing!" Swan bellowed. "Sing, you scum!" Typically Swan, he roared around forcing the slow to kneel and the mute to cry out. His actions were not sane. Sane men do not force enemies who outnumber them a thousand to one. They should have torn us apart. The thought never occurred to them.