But he had Senjak. He had a living library of every power and evil ever conceived by the mind of man. Once he broached that cask nothing on earth could deny him. He would be more powerful than even she had been, the equal of her husband at his zenith. There were things locked in her head she would never use. There had been a core of softness to her at her hardest. He was not soft. He would not discard a tool. He would rule. His empire would dwarf the Domination and the Lady's successor empire. The world would be his. There was no one in it who could stand in his way. No one could match him power for power now, with Howler crippled and under sentence of death.
A random crow fluttered by, behaving as a normal crow should, but its flight brought filth to his lips. He had forgotten, if only for a moment. There was one. She was loose out there somewhere.
The Howler's carpet came wobbling down, Howler's gurgling agony preceding it. It plunged the last dozen feet, collapsed. Longshadow cursed again. Another tool broken. The woman, unconscious, tumbled off. She lay still, snoring. Howler tumbled, too, and did not stop moving when he stopped rolling. His body jerked convulsively. A whine poured from him between attempts to scream.
A cold chill crept Longshadow's spine. Senjak could not have done this. A poisonous sorcery of tremendous potency was gnawing at the little wizard. It was so powerful he could not defeat it alone.
There was something terrible loose in the world.
He knelt. He rested his hands on Howler, forcing down his loathing. He reached inside and fought the poison and pain. It retreated a little. He pushed himself. It retreated farther.
The respite gave Howler strength to join the struggle. Together they fought it till it receded far enough for Howler to regain his reason. The little sorcerer gasped, "The Lance. They have the Lance. I did not sense it. Her bodyguard stabbed me twice."
Longshadow was too shocked to curse.
The Lance was not lost! The enemy had it! He croaked, "Do they know what they have?" They had not before. Only the mad captain in Stormgard knew what it was. If they learned the truth...
"I don't know," Howler squeaked. He started shaking again. "Don't let me die."
The Lance!
Take one weapon away and they found another. Fate was a fickle bitch.
Longshadow said, "I won't let you die." He had meant to until that moment. But they had the Lance.
He would need every tool he could find. He shouted at his servants. "Bring him inside. Hurry. Throw her into the keystone cell. Put shadows in there with her."
He cursed again. It would be a long time before he could tap that cask of knowledge. It would be a long battle saving Howler.
The poison eating Howler was the most potent in this world because it was not of this world, if legends were true.
He glanced southward, at the plain of glittering stone, shimmering in morning's light. Someday...
The Lance had come out of there in ancient times. It was a toy compared to what lay there still, ready to be take up by him who had the will to seize it.
Someday.
Chapter Sixty
I invested six days arranging my own investure of Dejagore. Fewer than six thousand men remained of the three great armies Shadowspinner had gathered. Half those men were substandard for various reasons. I strung them along the shores of the lake. My own men I posted behind them. Then I sent Murgen back to the city.
He did not want to go. I did not blame him. Mogaba might execute him. But somebody had to go to the survivors and let them know they could come out. He was to tell everyone but Mogaba's loyalists.
My own people did not understand. I did not explain. They had no need to know. They needed to carry out orders.
The night after Murgen left, several dozen Taglian soldiers deserted from the city. Their reports were not pleasant. Disease was worse. Mogaba had executed hundreds more natives and a dozen of his own troops. Only the Nar were not grumbling.
Mogaba knew Murgen was back, suspected he had seen me, and was hunting him. He'd had a bitter confrontation with the Company wizards over the standardbearer.
Mutiny was in the offing-unless the desertions absorbed that energy. That would be a first. Nowhere in the Annals was there a record of a mutiny.
Narayan grew more nervous by the hour as he worried about his delayed Festival, frightened I would try to evade it. I kept reassuring him. "There's plenty of time. We have the horses. We'll go as soon as we have this set." Also, I wanted some idea what was happening south of us. I'd sent cavalry to see what effect news of Spinner's fate was having. Little information had come back yet.
The night before Narayan, Ram, and I headed north, six hundred men deserted Mogaba and swam or rafted out of Dejagore. I had them greeted as heroes, with promises of important positions in new formations.
Shadowspinner's head, with the brain removed and destroyed, greeted them at the entrance to my camp. It would be our totem in days to come, in lieu of the missing Company standard.
Six hundred in one night. Mogaba would be livid. His loyalists would make it difficult for that to happen again.
I gathered my captains, such as they were. "Blade, there's something I have to do up north. Narayan and Ram will go with me. I'd hoped to know more about the south before I left but we have to take what we get. I doubt Longshadow will do anything soon. Keep your patrols out and sit tight. I shouldn't be gone but two weeks. Three if I visit Taglios to report our success. You might reorganize now that we have some real veterans joining us. And consider integrating any Shadowlanders interested in enlisting. They could be helpful."
Blade nodded. He had few words to waste even now.
Swan looked at me with a sort of soulful longing. I winked, suggesting his time would come. I'm not sure why. I had no reason to lead him on. I did not mind him remaining attached to the Radisha. Maybe I was attracted. He was the best of the crop, in his way. But I did not want to stumble into that trap again.
The heart is a hostage, the old saw says. Better not to give it up.
Narayan was happier once we rode out. I was not thrilled but I needed his brotherhood. I had plans for them.
Shadowspinner might be dead but the struggle had just begun. Longshadow and Howler had to be faced, and all the armies they could call up. And if those failed at every confrontation in the field there was still Longshadow's fortress at Shadowcatch. Rumor had Overlook tougher than my own Tower at Charm had been and getting tougher every day.
I did not look forward to the struggle. Despite the luck I'd had, Taglios was not ready for that kind of fight.
Maybe luck had bought me time enough to raise my legions and train them, to mount leisurely expeditions, to find capable commanders, to retrain myself in the use of my lost skills.
My immediate goals had been attained. Taglios was in no immediate danger. I had my base. I was in undisputed command and unlikely to have more trouble with the priests or Mogaba. With care I could lock up the Stranglers as an adjunct to my will, an invisible arm able to dispense death anywhere someone defied me. My future looked rosy. The biggest potential nuisance was the wizard Smoke. And he could be handled.
Rosy. Positively rosy. Except for the dreams and the sickness, both of which were getting worse. Except for my beloved sister.
Will, Lady. The Will will reign triumphant. My husband had said that often, confident that nothing could resist his will.
He had believed that right up to the moment I killed him.
Chapter Sixty-One
Croaker trotted his mount into the garrison encampment above Vehdna-Bota ford, which was a minor crossing of the Main used mostly by locals and open only a few months each year. He dismounted, handed his reins to a gaping soldier who had recognized the Prahbrindrah Drah.