I raised my head carefully to peer over the edge of the plain at the Land of Unknown Shadows. Willow Swan snaked up on my right. He did the same. Riverwalker copied him on my left. River said, “I’ll be damned.”
I agreed. “No doubt about it. Doj. Gota. Come and look. Will somebody bring One-Eye up?” The little man had started talking about an hour ago. He did appear to be in touch with the real world at least part of the time.
I beckoned the white crow. That darned thing was going to give us away if it kept circling.
“To who?” Swan asked. “I don’t see anybody.” Obviously, I was thinking out loud again. Swan weaseled sideways so Doj could crawl up beside me.
Doj rose up. He froze. After fifteen seconds he harrumphed.
Gota said it. “Is the same place we left. You got us turned around, you fool Stone Soldier.”
At first glimpse it was identical. Only, “Look to the right. There isn’t any Overlook. And never was. And Kiaulune isn’t the New City.” I never saw Kiaulune before it became Shadowcatch but doubted these ruins resembled that old city much, either. “Get Suvrin. He might know.”
I continued to stare. The more I did so, the more differences stood out. Doj said it. “The hand of mankind rested more lightly here. And men went away a long time ago.” It was only the shape of the land that was identical.
“Back about the time of the earthquakes, you suppose?” What would have been hardscrabble farmland in my world here looked like better soil that had been abandoned for twenty years. It was overgrown by brush and brambles and cedars but no truly sizable trees were yet evident except those that grew in orderly rows and those so distant they painted the foothills of the Dandha Presh a deep green that was almost black.
Suvrin arrived. I offered a few questions. He told me, “It does look like they say Kiaulune did before the Shadowmasters came. When my grandparents were children. The city didn’t start growing until Longshadow decided to build Overlook. Only, I don’t see anything down there now but ruins.”
“Look at the shadowgate. It’s in better shape than our own.” But not in good repair by any standard. The quakes had taken their bites. “You can tell where it is.” That was a weight off my shoulders. I had anticipated fighting starvation while we fussed with strings and colored powders in an effort to survey the only safe pathway through.
Several men carried One-Eye up and set him down amongst us. They silhouetted themselves above the skyline doing so. My grumbling did no good. On the other hand, no bloodthirsty hordes materialized below the shadowgate, so it was possible that we were not yet betrayed. “One-Eye. Do you sense anything down there?”
I did not know if he would respond. He seemed to be asleep again. His chin rested on his chest. People gave him room because it was in these moments he began to ply his cane. After a few seconds, though, he lifted his chin, opened his eyes, murmured, “A place where I can rest.” The wind that was always with us on the plain almost stole his words away. “A place where all evil dies an endless death. No wickedness stirs down there, Little Girl.”
One-Eye’s remarks excited everyone who had witnessed his most recent episode. Half a dozen more men exposed their silhouettes to anyone watching from below. Still others seemed to think we ought to trudge right on down there in a big, disorderly mob, right now.
“Kendo!” I called. “Slink! I want you each to take six men out through the gate. Fully armed, including bamboo. Slink, take the right side of the road. You take the left, Kendo. You’ll be covering the rest of us as we come out. River, you’re the reserve. Take ten men and wait just inside the shadowgate. You’ll stay there and become the rear guard if nothing bothers them.”
Training and discipline took over. A superior standard of both are among the Company’s most potent tools. Properly employed, they become our deadliest tools. We try to inculcate discipline from a recruit’s first day, right alongside a healthy distrust of everyone on the outside. We try to pound into his very bones what he needs to do in every situation.
The slope from the edge of the plain to the shadowgate seemed to stretch for miles. I felt bone-naked descending it without the standard. Tobo, carrying the golden pickax, had to take my place. I told him, “Don’t get too fond of the job, kid. It may be all I have if we get the Captain and the Lieutenant back. And I won’t even have that if your dad wants all of his old jobs back.”
Experiment quickly proved no key but the pick was needed to leave the plain. The shadowgate did tickle and tingle, though.
The first thing I noticed outside was a powerful mixture of sagey and piney smells. There had been few odors on the plain. Then I noticed the incredible warmth. This world was much warmer than the plain was. It was early autumn here . . . as promised, Willow. As promised.
Kendo and Slink kept their squads moving, screening our advance. More and more people passed through the gate. I got myself hoisted onto the black stallion so I could see better. Which meant that somebody had to carry One-Eye. I told Sahra, “Let’s head for those ruins.” I was about to add something about shelter being easier to find there when Kendo Cutter shouted.
I looked where he pointed. It took a sharp eye to see them. The old men coming uphill slowly wore robes almost exactly the same color as the road and the earth behind them. There were five of them. They were bent and moved slowly.
“We did give ourselves away up there. And somebody was watching. Doj!”
Waste of breath. The Swordmaster was headed downhill already. Tobo and Gota were right behind him, which did nothing for Sahra’s nerves. I rushed forward, caught the boy. “You stay back.”
“But, Sleepy!”
“You want to debate it with Runmust and Iqbal?” He did not want to argue with the large Shadar gentlemen. I did not want to argue with the Troll. I let her go. She might be more intimidating than Doj, anyway. He was just one old man with a sword. She was a vicious old woman with a virulent tongue.
I checked my battered old shortsword. That was going to perform wonders if they climbed over Uncle Doj. Then I headed downhill myself. Sahra accompanied me.
The old men in brown looked at Doj and Gota. Doj and Gota looked at them. Those five men looked like they had been cast in the same mold, being nearly as wide as they were tall and very long in the tooth.
One of the natives said something rapid in a liquid tongue. The cadence was unusual but the words sounded vaguely familiar. I did catch the phrase “Children of the Dead.” Doj replied at length in Nyueng Bao, which included the formulas “The Land of Unknown Shadows” and “All Evil Dies There an Endless Death.” The old men seemed hugely puzzled by Doj’s accent but recognized those phrases well enough to become visibly agitated. I could not tell if that was a positive sign or not.
Mother Gota began muttering the incantation that included “Calling the Heaven and the Earth and the Day and the Night,” and that excited the old men even more.
Sahra told me, “Evidently the language has changed a great deal since the Children of the Dead ran away.”
It took me a moment to understand that she was translating what Doj had said in an aside to Gota.
There was a stream of chatter from the old men, all apparently in the form of pointed questions that Doj could not answer.
Sahra said, “They seem to be extremely worried about someone they keep calling ‘that devil-dog Merika Montera.’ Also about a pupil of this monster, a supposed future Grandmaster. Apparently the two were driven into exile together.”
“Merika Montera would be Longshadow. We know there was a time when he used the name Maricha Manthara Dhumraksha. He sent an agent named Ashutosh Yaksha to live among the Nyueng Bao in an effort to find and steal the Key that we’ve brought with us. The golden pickax.”
Uncle Doj chided, “Sleepy, these old men don’t speak Taglian or Dejagoran, but there’s still a chance that they might recognize our version of names they fear and hate just a whole hell of a lot. Right now they’re clamoring for answers about one Achoes Tosiak-shah. It sounds like Longshadow and Shadowspinner, before they were exiled, were the last of a race of outsider sorcerers who enslaved these people’s forefathers—through their ability to manipulate killer shadows they summoned from the plain.”
“Wouldn’t you know? They brought their business with them. Tell these guys whatever they need to know. Tell them the truth. Tell them who we are and what we intend to do. And what we’ve already done to their buddies Longshadow and Shadowspinner.”
“We might be wise to find out a little more about them before we become completely candid.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to break any lifetime habits.”
Doj nodded slightly, betraying the slightest smile. He faced the old men and began talking. I found that my Nyueng Bao was improving. I had no trouble isolating “Stone Soldiers” and “Soldiers of Darkness” in his monologue. Native faces kept turning my way, always more surprised.
Sahra told me, “They’re monks of some sort. They’ve been watching for a long time. Watching is what their order does. In case the Shadowmasters try to return. They did not expect anyone to come for real.”
“They especially didn’t expect women, eh?”
“That amazes them. And Swan worries them. Their ancestors’ experiences with white devils were not positive.” Then, of course, the white crow swooped and landed on my shoulder. And the great black stallion, with its prune of a rider, came down to stick its nose in. And as the chatter picked up, still well-seasoned with “Stone Soldier” and “Soldier of Darkness” and “Steadfast Guardian,” the rest of the band drifted forward, impelled by curiosity. First thing I knew, Tobo was right there beside me, along with Runmust, Iqbal and Suruvhija and all their offspring, the dog, and ever-increasing jabber about what should we do with the Captured, where were we going to set up camp . . .
“You hearing these questions?” I asked Doj.
“I hear them. I think we’re going to be granted this whole valley. For the time being. While they send messages to the Court of All Seasons and the File of Nine. We’ll have more important visitors eventually. Until then—as I understand them—we can set down anywhere we want. The dialect is a little tricky, though, so be careful.”
Dozens of veteran eyes scanned the valley for defensible positions. It took no effort to identify them. They were the same as those we recalled from the Kiaulune wars.
I wondered if all the connected worlds would be equally familiar physically.
I indicated my choice. No one demurred. Runmust and the Singhs hurried off to survey the site, accompanied by a dozen men armed for anything. The five old monks did not protest. Mostly they seemed bemused and amazed.
So it was that the Black Company reached the Land of Unknown Shadows instead of fabled Khatovar. There it was that the Company settled and rested and recovered. There it was that I filled book after book with words when I was not planning or leading expeditions to rescue the rest of my captured brothers, and even that devil-dog Merika Montera so he would be available for another, rather less pleasant encounter with justice than the one that had driven him into exile. The grandchildren of his former slaves feared him not at all.
I won him a stay, at Lady’s request, so he could help with Tobo’s schooling. The stay was good for as long as he did that job satisfactorily and not for a moment more. The old monks, as tight of lip as their cousin Doj, agreed that Tobo had to be trained but would not reveal their reasoning even to me.
At one time the Land of the Unknown Shadows had suffered many lean, pale bonesacks just like Longshadow. They were invaders from another world. They had brought no wives with them. Time did not love them.
And thus it was. And thus it was.
Soldiers live. And wonder why.
One-Eye survived another four years, suffering strokes, yet recovering slowly every time. Seldom did he leave the house we built for him and Gota. Mostly he tinkered with his black spear while Gota hovered around and fussed. He fussed right back and never stopped worrying about Tobo’s education.
Once again Tobo was smothered in parents both real and surrogate.
He studied with One-Eye, he studied with Lady, he studied with Longshadow and Master Santaraksita, with the Radisha and the Prahbrindrah Drah, and with the masters of our adoptive world. He studied hard and well and much, much more than he wanted. He was very talented. He was what his great-grandmother Hong Tray had foreseen.
The Captured all returned to us, except for those who died beneath the plain, but even the best of them—Murgen, Lady, the Captain—were strange and deeply changed. Fey. But we were changed as well, by life, so that those of us they remembered at all were almost alien to them.
A new order came into being.
It had to be.
Someday we will cross the plain again.
Water sleeps.
For now, I just rest. And indulge myself in writing, in remembering the fallen, in considering the strange twists life takes, in considering what plan God must have if the good are condemned to die young while the wicked prosper, if righteous men can commit deep evil while bad men demonstrate unexpected streaks of humanity.
Soldiers live. And wonder why.