Soldiers Live (8 page)

The Land of Unknown Shadows:

Khang Phi
Swan and I stood looking out a window outside the conference hall where we would
engage the File of Nine in negotiations. Eventually. It took them a while to
sneak into Khang Phi, then change their disguises so their identities would
remain unknown. We saw nothing below but mist. Swan did not waste his stone. I
said, “I thought I was back in shape. I was wrong. I ache all over.”

Swan said, “They say some people here go their whole lives without ever moving
more than a floor or two after they finish their apprenticeship and get their
assignments.”

“Kind of people that balance out you and me,” I said. Swan had not traveled as
far as I had but at a world’s remove an extra few thousand miles does not seem
important. I tried to make out the rocky ground we had traversed approaching
Khang Phi. The mist just seemed darker when I looked down.

“Thinking about taking the easy way back down?” Swan asked.

“No. I’m thinking being isolated like this might leave you with a very limited
worldview.” Not to mention the impact of the scarcity of females in Khang Phi.

The few there are belong to an order of celibate nuns who care for the donated
infants, the very old and the very sick. The rest of the population consists of
monks, all of whom were donated and all of whom are sworn to chastity, too. The
more fanatic brothers render themselves physically incapable of yielding to
temptation. Which makes most of my brothers shudder and consider them more
bizarre than Tobo’s shadowy friends. No soldier likes the thought of losing his
best friend and favorite toy.

“A narrow view can be as much a strength as a weakness, Liberator,” a voice
observed from behind us. We turned. Sleepy’s friend, Surendranath Santaraksita,

was joining us. The scholar has gone native, adopting local garb and assuming
the Khang Phi haircut—which is no hair at all—but only a deaf and blind man
would take him for a local monk. His skin is more brown and less translucent
than that of any native and his features are shaped more like mine and Swan’s.

“That mist and their narrowness of vision allows the monks to avoid forming
worldly attachments. Thus their neutrality remains beyond reproach.”

I did not mention Khang Phi’s one-time role as an apologist for and collaborator
with the reign of the Shadowmasters. That embarrassing dab of history was being
expunged by the acids of time and relentless lie.

Santaraksita was happy. He was convinced that in this place learned men did not
have to prostitute themselves to temporal powers in order to remain scholars. He
believed even the File of Nine deferred to the wisdom of the eldest monks. He
was unable to see that if the Nine acquired more power Khang Phi’s relationship
to the File would soon lapse into subservience. Master Santaraksita is brilliant
but naive.

“How’s that?” I asked him.

“These monks are so innocent of the world that they don’t try to impose anything
on it.”

“Yet the File of Nine presume to speak from here.” The File enjoy issuing bulls
which are, more often than not, ignored by the population and warlords.

“They will, yes. The Elders want them to. In hopes that a little wisdom will rub
off before their power becomes more than symbolic.”

I said nothing about leading horses to water. I made no observations concerning
the wisdom of backing a cabal of secret masters in preference to one strongman
or the remnant aristocracy of the Court of All Seasons. I did admit, “It does
look like they’re trying to do what’s best for Hsien. But I don’t trust anybody
who’ll bet their pot on guys who hide behind masks.” No need to tell him the
File have no secrets from us. Little that they do or discuss goes unremarked by
Tobo’s familiars. None of their identities are secrets to us.

We operate on the assumption that both the File and the other warlords have
placed spies among our recruits. Which explains why there is little resistance
to our recruiting amongst the Children of the Dead.

It is not difficult to identify most of the spies. Sleepy shows them what she
wants them to see. Being a spiteful, vengeful little witch, I am sure she plans
to use those spies cruelly at some later time.

She worries me. She has her own old hatreds to redress but their objects escaped
life unpunished a long time ago. But there is always the chance she might choose
somebody else to take the heat, which would not be to the Company’s advantage.

I asked Santaraksita, “What did you want?”

“Nothing special.” His face went coolly neutral. He is Sleepy’s friend. I make
him uncomfortable. He has read my Annals. Despite what Sleepy has dragged him
through he cannot yet come to grips with the cruel realities of our sort of
life. I am sure that he will not go home with us. “I did hope to see Dorabee
again before you went into conference. It could be important.”

“I don’t know what happened to her. Shiki’s missing, too. They were supposed to
meet us here.” Local mores made it impossible for women to share quarters with
men. Even Sahra has to room separately from Murgen, though they are legally
married. And Shikhandini’s presence saddled Sahra with special obligations. She
wanted the holy men distracted but not to the point where they went berserk.

Just enough, maybe, so they would give way on a subtle point or two. Though
distraction would not be Shiki’s principal mission.

Master Santaraksita wrung his hands briefly, then folded his arms. His hands
disappeared into the sleeves of his robe. He was worried. I looked closer. He
knew something. I glanced at Swan. Swan shrugged.

Murgen and Thai Dei puffed into the room. Murgen demanded, “Where are they?”

Thai Dei looked worried but said nothing. He would not. The man seldom says
anything. It was a pity his sister could not learn from his example.

Thai Dei knew something, too.

“Haven’t shown yet,” Swan said.

“The File of Nine will be angry,” I added. “Are Sleepy and Sahra dealing some
kind of game?”

Santaraksita backed away nervously. “The Unknowns aren’t here yet, either.”

My companions were a diverse bunch. Once Sleepy arrived we would include five
races. Six counting Santaraksita as one of us. Sleepy believes our sheer
diversity intimidates the File of Nine.

Sleepy entertains other notions even more strange.

I do not know why she thought cowing them would mean anything. All we needed
from them was their permission to research the knowledge needed to mend and
manipulate shadowgates. The monks of Khang Phi were willing to share that
knowledge. The stronger we grow the more eagerly the monks want us gone. They
are more frightened of the heresies we propagate than they are of any armies we
might bring back later.

The latter dread keeps the warlords awake at night. But they do want us gone,

too, because the stronger we grow here the more real and immediate a threat do
they perceive. And I do not blame them for thinking that way. I would do so
myself, in their boots. The entirety of human experiences argues on behalf of
suspicion of strangers laden with weapons.

The womenfolk made their advent. Willow Swan spread his arms wide and declaimed
dramatically, “Where have you been?” He struck a second pose and tried the line
another way. Then he went with a third. Making fun.

Sahra told Thai Dei, “Your daughter kept flirting with the acolytes we
encountered along the way.”

I glanced at Shiki, frowned. The girl seemed almost ethereal, not at all
vampish. I blinked but the fuzzy quality did not go away. I blamed my damaged
eye. The girl seemed more a distracted ghost than a boy in disguise having fun
with a role.

In Hsien’s eyes Thai Dei passed as Shiki’s father because it was well known that
Sahra had just the one son. Her brother, Thai Dei, has managed to remain so
obscure that even at the Abode of Ravens the locals never raise a question about
the fact that the seldom-seen Shikhandini would have had to have been born while
her father was buried beneath the plain. Nor did anyone seem much inclined to
ask what had become of the girl’s mother. She could be dismissed with a few
vague, angry mutters.

Shiki was always empty-headed, always in minor trouble, always considered a
threat only to the equilibrium of young men’s minds.

Shiki solidified. She pouted. She said, “I wasn’t flirting, Father. I was just
talking.” Her words should have been argumentative but just sounded flat, rote.

“You were told not to speak to the monks. That’s the law here.”

“But Father . . . ”

The act never stopped once it started. There might be watchers. But it was an
act. And a pretty good one, at least to those of us unaccustomed to dealing with
very young women.

Master Santaraksita kept whispering to Sleepy. He must have said something she
wanted to hear because her face lit up like a beacon. She did not bother to
report to the Annalist, though. These Captains are all alike. Always playing
their hands close to their chest. Except for me, of course. I was a paragon of
openness in my time.

Thai Dei and his daughter continued to squabble till he issued some loud diktat
in heated Nyueng Bao that left her sulking and silent.

The Land of Unknown Shadows:

The Secret Masters
An old, old monk opened the door to the meeting chamber. The task was a great
chore for him. He beckoned with one frail hand.

This was my first visit to Khang Phi but I knew him by his robes, which were
dark orange edged with black. They distinguished him as one of the four or five
eldest of Khang Phi. His presence made it clear that Khang Phi’s monks were
deeply interested in this meeting’s outcome. Otherwise some midlevel
sixty-year-old would have handled the door and then would have hung on to manage
the acolytes who were supposed to attend to the comfort of both us and the Nine.

Master Santaraksita smiled. Maybe he had had something to do with this meeting
having been invested with importance.

Sahra approached the old man. She bowed, murmured a few words. He responded.

They knew one another and he did not disdain her for her sex. The monks might be
wiser than I had thought.

We soon learned that she had asked if everyone could reduce the ceremony that
attends all functions of the Children of the Dead. Formalities imbue every
occasion with elaborate ritual. People must not have had much that was practical
to do during the reign of the Shadowmasters.

We barbarians do not know the proper forms. The Children of the Dead hoist their
noses around us—then sigh in relief because uncomfortable business gets handled
quickly when the Black Company is on the far side of the carpet.

Our host scowled at Shikhandini. He was old and bitter and narrow. But! Behold!

Not so old and bitter and narrow that a shimmering smile from a beautiful girl
would not put a momentary twinkle in his eye. Never that old.

From earliest times our enemies have accused us of fighting dirty, of dealing in
trickery and treachery. And they are right. Absolutely right. We are shameless.

And this was about as dirty as we could get, having Tobo vamp these old men.

They knew women only in the most academic fashion. It was easier than plinking
blind men with arrows.

It was all so effortless. Shiki just seemed to float around, not quite all
there, not paying much attention, showing none of the enjoyment I expected of
Tobo. I mean, what man his age does not enjoy making fools of wise old men?

Everything I knew about Tobo suggested he would enjoy that more than most.

I was getting curious. What was going on? Sleepy claimed the kid was along
because she wanted a wizard handy. Just in case. Being paranoid. Having been
made that way by lifetimes of treachery from outside. And Khang Phi law would
keep Tobo out if he came as himself. She wanted me to believe.

There would be more. Much, much more. I understand the sneaky little witch
better than she suspects. And I approve, thoroughly.

“Move,” Sleepy said. She was uncomfortable in Khang Phi. The place is infested
with the trappings of strange religions.

The chamber we entered undoubtedly served some high ceremonial purpose when not
on loan to the File of Nine. That end where the warlords waited could pass for
an altar and its associated clutter. The warlords had seated themselves above
us, in front of the possible altar, where five large stone seats were in place
permanently. Seven of the Nine were on hand. Chairs had been dragged in for the
surplus pair, presumably the junior members of the quorum. All seven wore masks
and disguises, which seems to be customary with secret masters—and here possibly
a legacy of the Shadowmasters who had found masks and disguises very
fashionable. In this case that was a waste of effort. But they did not need to
know that. Not right away.

Lady has a talent for rooting out true names and identities. She learned in a
deadly school. She has taught Tobo some of her tricks. He unearthed the
identities of the members of the File, using his supernatural friends. Knowing
who we might find, in the event we developed a corporate inclination to surprise
somebody, should prove to be a valuable bargaining tool.

Sahra had dealt with the File before. They were accustomed to her impatience
with ceremony. They paid attention when she stepped forward.

Master Santaraksita trailed her by three paces. He would serve as a specialist
translator. Though the Children of the Dead and the Nyueng Bao spoke the same
language in times past, separation and circumstance have conspired to make
misunderstandings common. Santaraksita would have to point out those instances
when the parties were using the same word with different meanings.

Sleepy moved a few steps forward but stayed closer to the rest of us than to the
warlords.

Sleepy started humming. She was determined to appear cheerful despite being
surrounded by unrepentant heathens.

Sahra stepped forward again. She asked, “Are the File ready to stop objecting to
the Company gaining the knowledge we need to repair shadowgates? You have to
understand that we won’t leave Hsien without it. We’re still prepared to turn
over the criminal Dhumraksha.” The same offer had been before the File all
along. They wanted something more but never articulated it—though supernatural
espionage revealed that they hoped to gain our support in establishing a much
stronger File position. Only they did not dare suggest that themselves before
the witnesses that always exist when negotiations take place in Khang Phi.

The masks faced Sahra’s way. None of the Unknowns responded. You could sense
their exasperation. Lately they had begun to believe, on no creditable evidence,

that they had some power over us. Probably because we had not gotten into the
sort of pissing contest with any of our neighbors that would have demonstrated
the lethal inequalities between their forces and ours. We would devour most of
the local armies.

Sleepy stepped past Santaraksita, took position beside Sahra. In passible local
dialect she said, “I am Captain of the Black Company. I will speak.” Facing a
warlord wearing a mask surmounted by a crane’s head, she continued, “Tran Thi
Kim-Thoa, you are Last Entered of the File.” The warlords stirred. “You are
young. Possibly you know no one whose life and pain would regain meaning if
Maricha Manthara Dhumraksha came back here to atone for his sins. I understand
that. Youth is always impatient with the pasts of its elders—seven when that
past crushes down upon youth’s shoulders.”

She paused.

Seven silk-clad butts shifted nervously, filling an extended silence with soft
rustles. All us Company people grinned, baring our fangs. Exactly like those
rock apes around Outpost, trying to intimidate one another.

Sleepy had named the newest of the Nine. His identity would be no secret to the
other eight. They had chosen him when last there was an opening in their circle.

He would be ignorant of their identities—unless some of the older warlords had
chosen to reveal themselves. Each warlord normally knew only those elected to
the File after themselves. By naming the Last Entered, Sleepy offered another
threat while endangering just the one Unknown.

Sleepy beckoned. “Croaker.” I stepped forward. “This is Croaker. He was Captain
before me and Dictator to All the Taglias. Croaker, before us we have Tran Huu
Dung and six others of the File of Nine.” She did not specify this Tran’s
position in the File. His name caused another stir, though.

She beckoned Swan. “This is Willow Swan, a longtime associate of the Black
Company. Willow, I present Tran Huu Nhan and six others of the File of Nine.

Tran is a common patronym in Hsien. There are a lot of Trans among the Nine,

none of them related by blood.”

The next name she offered, after introducing Willow Swan, was Tran Huu Nhang. I
began to wonder how they kept themselves sorted out. Maybe by weight. Several of
the File carried some surplus poundage.

When Sleepy named the last of the Trans of the File, Tran Lan-Anh, their
spokesman, the First, interrupted her with a request for time to confer. Sleepy
bowed, offered him no further provocation. We knew that he was Pham Thi Ly of
Ghu Phi, an excellent general with a good reputation among his troops, a
believer in a unified Hsien, but old enough to have lost his zest for struggle.

By the slightest of nods Sleepy let him know that his identity was no secret,

either.

Sleepy announced, “We have no interest in coming back to Hsien once we return to
the plain.” As though that was some dear secret we had held clutched close to
our hearts forever. Any spy among us would have reported that we just wanted to
go home. “Like the Nyueng Bao who fled to our world, we came here only because
we had no choice.” Doj would not have accepted her assessment of Nyueng Bao
history, brief as it might be. In his eye his immigrant ancestors had been a
band of adventurers similar to the forebrethren of the Black Company, who had
gone forth from Khatovar. “We’re strong now. We’re ready to go home. Our enemies
there will cringe, unmanned by the news of our coming.”

I did not believe that for an instant. Soulcatcher would be pleased to see us. A
good squabble would relieve the tedium of her daily grind. Being an all-powerful
ruler actually takes most of the fun out of life. In the heyday of her dark
empire, my wife had made that discovery, too. Management trivia consumes you.

Lady hated it enough to walk away. But misses it now.

Sleepy said, “We lack only the knowledge to repair our shadowgate, so that our
world isn’t overrun by the Host of the Unforgiven Dead.”

Our spokespeople never fail to harp on that point. It remains central to every
statement of our purpose. We would wear the Nine down. They would give in so
they would not have to hear about it anymore. They were, however, extremely
paranoid about the risk of another otherworld invasion.

If they were hard asses they could try to outstubborn us, hoping we would give
up, go home, and have our shadowgate fall apart behind us. That would end our
threat permanently.

The power of the File lies in the anonymity of its members. When warlords get
together to plot they are restrained by the possibility that among them is one
of the Nine. The File publishes any schemes it uncovers, thereby focusing the
wrath of warlords not included in the plan. It is a clumsy system but it has
kept conflict limited for generations by making it difficult to forge alliances.

Sleepy could expose the File. If they were betrayed, chaos would come baying
right behind. Few warlords like having their ambitions held in check—though
restraints had to be imposed on all those other villains.

The Unknowns did not like being bullied, either. Those whose names had been
betrayed soon grew so angry the elder monk placed himself between parties as a
reminder of where we were.

Being an old soldier, I began a swift inventory of resources available for a
fight if some warlord was dim enough to force one. I was not reassured. Our
greatest asset was missing.

Where did Shiki go? When did she go? Why?

I needed to keep a closer eye on my surroundings. An oversight this big could
turn fatal.

One masked warlord bounded out of his chair. He yipped and slapped his buttocks.

We gaped. Silence fell. The man began to gather his dignity. A trill of faint
high-pitched laughter sparkled in the silence. Something with humming diamond
wings darted about too fast to be made out clearly. It left the room before
anybody could react.

Sahra observed, “Most of the Hidden Realm will follow us when we leave. Possibly
so much of it that Hsien will no longer be the Land of Unknown Shadows.”

Master Santaraksita murmured in her ear. That irked the warlords and the old
referee elder, too. The monk was particularly unhappy because the ladies kept
spinning those implied threats. But he was cautious. The Company was up to
something new. This was frightening. Had the outsiders run out of patience? All
Hsien nurtures some fears of the sleeping tiger of the Abode of Ravens. And we
make a point of encouraging them.

When I looked around again there was Shikhandini. How? . . .

I studied her, expecting to see some deviltry suggested by her stance or
expression. There was nothing there. The kid was stone cold indifferent.

Sahra waved Santaraksita away. He scurried over to Sleepy, murmured some more.

Sleepy nodded but did not do anything else. That left the old scholar looking
like he was about to panic.

Shiki’s disappearance and reappearance made it more obvious than ever that there
was something going on. Obvious to the former Captain, anyway. And the former
Captain had been told nothing beforehand.

The ladies were into one of their schemes. And that would be the real reason
they wanted Shiki along. Shiki brought an awesome array of weapons into the
game.

And they had had me convinced that they just wanted the magic handy in case
somebody suffered an impulse to be unpleasant, which happens all too frequently
when we are around.

The Radisha and the Prahbrindrah Drah still mourn their treacherous impulses.

I told Swan, “This business was a lot more fun when I was the one scheming and
being mysterious.”

The First of the File said, “Will you do us the courtesy of withdrawing for a
moment, Captain? Ambassador? I believe a consensus may be within reach.”

While we waited in the antechamber, Swan asked, “Why did he bother asking us to
leave? After what happened? Does he really think we won’t know what’s going on
in there?” Things moved in the corners of my vision. Strings of shadow snaked
over the walls until I tried to look at them directly. Then, of course, nothing
was visible.

“Possibly he didn’t catch all the implications.” Like the fact that something
would be eavesdropping on every word he spoke until the Black Company left the
Land of Unknown Shadows. At this late date anything he tried to pull together
would be a complete wasted effort.

“Let’s go,” Sleepy said. “Move out. Croaker. Swan. Quit jacking your jaws and
get moving.”