But the digging took another eight days.
Only the monster himself came up out of the earth. But that would have been the case had the digging taken only an hour.
He escaped the darkness of underground into the darkness of night. The trail was not hard to find, It had not rained since the hour of the Limper's perfidy. Ha! Headed north again!
He began to trot. As he loosened up he stretched himself more and more, till he fell into a lupine lope that left a dozen leagues behind him every hour. He did not break stride till he had crossed the bounds of the empire and had come to the place where the Limper had encountered a major obstacle. He stopped. He prowled and sniffed till he understood what had happened.
The Limper had not been welcomed back with tears of joy.
He caught something on the breeze, cast about, spied a distant black rider armed with a flaming spear. The rider flung that blazing dart northward.
Puzzled, Toadkiller Dog resumed his journey.
He came to another place where the Limper had had difficulties. Again he saw a black rider with a fiery spear who hurled his dart to the north.
One more repetition and the monster understood that he was being encouraged to overtake the Limper, that he would be guided to the inevitable confrontation, and that the Limper was being stalled all along his northward journey.
What could he do when he caught up? He was no match for that son of the shadow.
A black rider sat outside the gate of Beryl. He threw a blazing spear to the east. Toadkiller Dog turned. He found the trail quickly.
So. The old doom had been forced to take the long road, around the sea. He loped on, gaining two miles for each three he ran. He swam the River Bigotes and the Hyclades and streaked across the seventy silvery miles of lifeless, mirror-flat salt desert called the Rani Poor. He raced between the countless burial mounds of Barbara to reach the forgotten highways of Laba Larada. He circled the haunted ruins of Khun, passed the pyramids of Katch, which still stood sentinel over the Canyons of the Undead. Warily, he circled the remnants of the temple city of Marsha the Devastator, where the ah- still shimmered with the cries of sacrificies whose hearts had been torn out on the altars of an aloof and disdainful goddess.
The trail grew warmer by the hour.
He came into the province of Karsus, past outposts of the empire where auxiliaries recruited from the Grain tribes guarded the frontier against the depredations of their own kind more ferociously and faithfully than did the imperial legions. A black rider armed with a spear of fire watched him race across the Plain of Dano-Patha, where a hundred armies had contested the right of passage north or south or east and where some legends said the Last Battle of Time would be fought between Light and Darkness.
The Mountains of Sinjian lay beyond, and in their savage defiles he found evidence that the Limper was again being tormented and delayed, again with vicious traps narrowly escaped.
The spoor was heavy and hot and had the taint of newly opened graves.
He came out onto a prominence overlooking the Straits of Angine, where the fresh waters flowed down from the Kiril Lakes to meld with the salty waters of the Sea of Torments. His vantage was not far from that narrowest part of the strait that seafarers called Hell's Gate and overland travelers had dubbed Heaven's Bridge.
Hell was in session down there.
The Limper was on the south shore and wanted to cross over. But on the north shore someone demurred.
Toadkiller Dog settled on his belly, rested his chin on his forepaws, and watched. This was not the place to reveal himself. Maybe at the Tower, if the Limper turned west and sought a vengeance there.
As though they sensed his arrival, those who held the north shore closed up shop and hauled out. The Limper hurled glamorous violences after them. The distance was too great to do them any harm.
The Limper went across immediately. He encountered traps immediately. Toadkiller Dog decided he would hazard a more difficult crossing. After dark.
There was no need to hurry now. He had the quarry in sight. He could bide his time.
He might range ahead and lie in wait. Or he might stalk the enemies of his enemy in order to discover the .nature of their game.
L
We got a break. Raven came rolling in where I was reading a book I borrowed from the guy who owned the place where we was staying. "We got a break. Come on, Case."
I put the book aside, got up. "What's happening?"
"I'll tell you on the way." He stuck his head in the next room, yelled and invoked Darling till one of the Torques joined us. We hit the street. He started talking. "One of those little characters from the Plain hit paydirt. He overheard a man telling his cronies about an incident that almost has to involve the men who stole the spike."
I told him, "Slow down. You're getting the soldiers interested." And he was. He was that eager to get at this first assignment from Darling. "What did the guy say?"
"He and two others were hired to snatch a man and then help question him. Which they did. But someone came along and broke it up. This fellow was the only one who got away. We're going to round him up and let him walk us through his adventure."
Right.
It might be the best lead we'd get but it didn't look that great to me. "This guy is shooting his mouth off about what happened to him we're going to have to get in line to talk to him."
"We heard first. Almost direct. We're ahead of the pack. But that's why I'm in a hurry."
I noticed he was hardly limping. "Your hip finally starting to do right?"
"All this sitting around. Nothing else to do but get healthy."
"Speaking of which. I went out for a beer this afternoon. I heard talk there's cholera down near South Gate."
We walked in silence a while. Then the Torque—I still didn't know any of their real front names—said, "That'll tear it, won't it? Get a cholera outbreak going and the pot will boil over, sure."
Raven grunted.
Maybe this wasn't just our best break but our only one. Maybe we had to make it count.
We went into a place with the dumb name Barnacles. Raven looked around. "There's our man. Right where he's supposed to be." His voice had got hard as jasper. He had changed while we walked, turned into a critter like the Raven that had ridden with the Black Company.
Our man was alone. He was drunk. Fortune was smiling today. Raven told us, "You guys have a beer and keep an eye out. I'll talk to him."
We did, and he did. I don't know what he said but I never got a chance to get even with Torque by having him buy the second round. Raven got up. So did our man. In a minute we were all in the street. It was almost dark out now. Our new friend was not full of small talk. He did not seem pleased to be with us.
Raven told us, "Smiley here figured getting fifty obols for showing us around was a lot better than the alternative."
Smiley took us to an alley. "This is where we grabbed the guy."
Raven had asked questions while we walked. "And you didn't know anything about the guy? Like where he was coming from or where he was headed?"
"I told you. This Abel set it up and gave it to Shorts. Shorts just hired me and Tanker to back him up when he grabbed this guy with only one hand that was supposed to come through here. Maybe Shorts knew what was going on. I didn't."
"Convenient."
"Yeah. The more I think about it the more I figure the only reason they had me and Tanker hang around after we got the guy down to the cellar was they planned on us never leaving if they got what they wanted."
"You're probably right. That's the way those kind work."
"And you guys don't?"