Port of Shadows by Glen Cook
She enlisted the Howler’s help. She was a favorite. She pretended to like him back, despite the smell and the creepy screaming.
* * *
The sun snaked fingers through the curtains on the east windows. The Lord Chamberlain shook constantly. He stumbled over his tongue when he spoke. “The idiots who sent your sister down the chute smothered her first. Standard orders, they claim, for dealing with His discards. They had no idea who she was. They were never warned that there would be girls who weren’t to be thrown away. They’re adamant in insisting that they weren’t involved in any scheme to kidnap one of your sisters.”
“Do you believe them?”
“I do, Shining One—though they have come to the point in their questioning where they will shape their stories to show whatever they think we might want to hear.”
“Continue the treatment. I am curious to know what names they will give up once they spin their new tales.”
“As you command, Your Grace.” The Lord Chamberlain began his uncomfortable backward crab crawl.
“Do not be too long, Lord Chamberlain. Eventually someone will inform Him.”
The Lord Chamberlain wet himself. “Oh, mad fool, I! I almost forgot. The guards at the Jade Gate had a coach pass through at the right time. There was a girl in the coach, passed out drunk according to the coachman, who said he was her father. The guards were not suspicious.”
“Have they been arrested?”
“They have not. They were honest and forthcoming. Arresting them would be counterproductive. They did nothing to earn that.”
Someone had to suffer. Better them than she, though she had no more responsibility in this than did they.
The Domination was as absolute an autocracy as ever existed, yet that autocracy, in a sense never recognized by the Dominator, rested on a foundation of soldiers. Soldiers enforced the will of the Dominator. If the soldiers stepped aside the empire would decay swiftly, however mighty the sorceries commanded by its deranged master and the Ten. In less than a lifetime the Domination would shrink to what could be seen from the Dominator’s own Grateful Tower.
“I understand.” She did, better than did her insane master, who saw nothing but Himself as truly real. He believed that He was a living god. This world and all within it were His to do with as He pleased.
His very unchallengeable power would play a key role in His downfall. Bathdek was sure that fall was not far away. History festered with recollections of empires and civilizations whose time ran out.
Any beginning foretold an ending, though it be an age in coming.
Rumors whispered about a developing resistance centered on something called the White Rose. Those always spoke of the Old Forest, the Great Forest.
Thoughts of futures grim haunted Bathdek. She had begun preparing, ever so carefully, to survive the future. She suspected that her sisters were doing the same.
But to survive the darkness rising she would have to survive this crisis first.
6
In Modern Times: Smelling Danger
The Captain was suffering one of his random infatuations with training and order. The Dark Horse was almost empty. Long days left men too tired to come relax. Markeg Zhorab met me, scowling. I showed him a coin. I had an edge on the troops. They were healthy, lately, except for an odd fungus.
Goblin and Otto were playing tonk three-handed with a kid called Sharps. Sharps was one of the recruits whose need for training had set the Captain off. Sharps being in the tavern instead of learning his trade suggested that he would not last.
Zhorab brought my beer. He took my money. I settled into a chair. “I’m in.”
Goblin asked, “You slither out on your belly?” He dealt. And buried me in a pathetic mess of a hand.
“I got nothing to do.”
“You would if you bothered to turn up at the free clinic.”
Otto observed, “There’s always something you can improve.” Making mock of the Captain.
“I see you skating yourself.”
“I’m teaching young Sharps the nuances of urban intelligence work.”
“And your excuse?” I asked Goblin, kissing a fresh hand hopefully.
“I’m like you. I’ve got nothing to do.”
“The standard state of affairs with him,” I told Sharps. “To hear him tell. Goblin. I thought you had an apprentice to train.”
“The Third? The Old Man sent him and One-Eye out for another livestock census.”
Otto said, “The Captain has had a double-hard boner for One-Eye ever since the Limper was here. How’d the little shit piss the Old Man off?”
I said, “You remember. You was there. He pulled a One-Eye. He tried to use the op to scam some cash. If we’d gone along we’d all be taking a dirt nap now, the Captain, too. That’s what he did.”
Goblin said, “Don’t get all hot, Croaker. It came out all right. We ended up looking sweet to your honey.”
I deflected talk from the Lady. “That isn’t the problem. The problem is what it always was. One-Eye won’t learn.”
Goblin used his soothing voice. “Your deal, Croaker.”
I dealt. “This is more like it. I need to be permanent dealer.”
* * *
“Croaker.” Gently over my right shoulder, from a man who fell out of a way-tall ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
“Candy?” How come the number-three man of the Company was in a dive like the Dark Horse?
“The Captain requests the grace of a bit of your precious time.”
I exchanged looks with Goblin. Otto and Sharps had turned away in hopes that they would not be recognized.
For Candy to catch up this quick meant he had started out from the compound before I’d gotten halfway to the Dark Horse myself.
I gathered my winnings, passed the deck to Goblin. Headed for the street, I asked, “What’s up?”
“You’ll find out.” Candy did not speak again.
Native building materials were limited, not counting a plentiful supply of clay-rich dirt that made an excellent mud brick. The compound wall that the Captain wanted heightened and thickened, and every building wall inside, was adobe and beautiful to those who favored brown.
A hot breeze blew strong enough to toss leaves and dust around and kick up spin devils. One baby whirlwind danced in front of the Admin building. I asked Candy, “Does that look natural?”
“Not to me. It was there when I left to get you. But Silent claims it’s harmless.”
The spin devil chose that instant to race off across the parade ground. It fell apart before it got a hundred feet.
The Old Man waited behind the massive, crude table he used for a desk. He gestured at a chair facing him.
I sat. We were alone except for Candy. Candy did a fast fade.
The Captain was a bear of a man, none of him gone to fat. Nobody recalls why he was elected. He was a good captain. He kept most of us alive.
He leaned back in a chair as crude as his table, made a steeple with his fingers in front of his mouth. He stared. All part of the routine.
I asked, “What’s up?”
“Have Goblin and One-Eye seemed odd, lately?”
“How could anyone tell?”
“An excellent point. But the question stands. Think.”
I did. And my answer stood, too. “Unless you count One-Eye developing an honest streak.” The little black wizard had not gotten caught cheating at cards, or indulging in black-market schemes, for weeks.
“I count it. An honest One-Eye is a One-Eye up to something. He doesn’t want to attract attention.”
“Sir?” He had me nervous. Once he takes official notice of something, that means he sees a real problem that needs addressing.
“I’m thinking back to the Limper’s visit. Recall that?”
“I could forget? I’m still trying to get the stains out of my underclothes.”
“You men were clever. You managed that slickly. But the truth found its way bac
“Who would tell him?”
“He has no friends here. That’s true. But that’s not the point. He wouldn’t need to be told. The information was inherent in your plan.”
“Oh.” I knew who had ratted us out. Me. I put everything in these Annals. The Old Man does look in occasionally.
“Focus. Goblin and One-Eye. Limper took them away. They were gone two days. We forget that.”
Not me. Not Goblin, once I proved that part of his life was missing. He had no recollections of those two days, though.
“Watch them, Croaker. Though with the Limper involved it could all be a diversion. Pass the word. I want somebody watching them every second.”
“They’ll figure it out. It’ll piss them off.”
“I don’t care. Maybe they’ll behave. Go on. Get out.”
I got, lost in wonder. That was an epic conversation for the Captain.
What was he up to? Was he really worried about those fools? Or was he trying to ramp up their paranoia, hoping that they would keep their idiotic tendencies reined in?
We had been in Aloe a long time. One-Eye was the sort who might stir shit just because he was bored.
Then I got it. The Old Man had made the point but it had gotten past me then. One-Eye was not behaving like One-Eye, and that started right after the Limper’s flying carpet vanished over the western horizon.
Hagop fell in beside me as I headed back to town. I asked, “You skating out of work?”
“I noticed you never stopped at the infirmary.”
The notion had not occurred to me.
“You might have fifteen guys lined up.”
“To get out of work, maybe.”
“Guys have been complaining about feeling dizzy.”
“Not to me. All I see is purple fungus, crabs, and clap. Only no crabs or clap nowadays. Those temple girls are clean. Anybody does come up with the clap, I’ll just let them squeal when they need to piss.”
“That’s what sets you apart, Croaker. Your boundless empathy.”
* * *
Something was wrong.
Hagop felt it, too. “Is this Aloe? Where is everybody?”
There were few people in the street. The wind was rising, hot, dry, and dirty. A dead weed, uprooted, rolled with it.
I slowed, hand on my knife, thinking wishful thoughts about weapons with a bigger bite. Hagop drifted out to my right, denying the cluster target. He drew his knife, too.
Another weed bounded in from my left, flying up to chest level. I stabbed it twice, then felt stupid. But I did not relax.
The wind died down. The weeds stopped rolling. Spin devils formed, then collapsed.
“I don’t care what Silent says, that’s spooky.”
Hagop grunted. He was fight-ready, not thinking.
I grumbled, “There’s something off. I’m worried.”
“Your problem is, you don’t believe in Aloe.”
Right. Aloe was too damned nice. The people were not out to kill me first chance they got. They were genuinely grateful when I fixed their kids. They appreciated the peace we brought and the justice we enforced. They reported villainy when they discovered it.
The Captain had men helping with agriculture and civil engineering, not to win people over but because busy soldiers get into less mischief.
I confessed, “You’re right. The longer this goes on, and the longer the Lady holds off dropping us in the shit, the more I’m sure the big ugly is crawling up behind me. I’m seeing things out of the corners of my eyes.” I watched a spin devil cross ahead of us, then fall apart.
Hagop paid it no heed. “Fifty yards and you’ll be safe.”
There it was. The Dark Horse. Almost close enough to touch. And us alone outside—though not really. I did see people when I relaxed.
We hit the door to the tavern. Doom would gnaw my bones some other day.
“I need a hobby, Hagop.”
* * *
Neither Goblin nor One-Eye was inside. Our third wizard, Silent, was. He was in the tonk game in my customary spot. Hagop’s buddy Otto had his usual seat. So did Elmo. Several soldiers watched. “Shirking, Sergeant?” I asked Elmo.
“Damned straight. The Old Man is out of his fucking mind lately.”
“Could be this town is getting to him, too.”
“Too?”
Hagop said, “Croaker’s got the heebie-jeebies because Aloe is peaceful and friendly.”
“He is a gift horse mouth–looking kind of guy,” Elmo said.
Corey had the cheat seat usually occupied by One-Eye. “I’m tired of losing. Take my place, Croaker.”
I must have looked troubled. Silent signed his willingness to move.
I confessed, “I’m going nuts thinking something bad has to happen. It’s getting where I’m almost wishing it would.”
Elmo said, “He’s lost it. He’s speaking in tongues.”
Otto said, “You think too fucking much, Croaker.”
Elmo agreed. “It’s all that education. So. What did the Old Man want?”
“He’s worried about Goblin and One-Eye. He thinks the Limper did something to them.”
Elmo asked, “He mention any messages from out west?”
“No.” The Tower would communicate through Goblin in an emergency or by airborne courier if it was routine. We had not seen a flying carpet since the Limper left.
“How about from army headquarters?”
That was closer. Messages came by mounted courier.
“No. No messages. Don’t call something down on us. Let them forget we’re out here.”
Silent gave that sentiment a thumbs-up, then dealt me a hand that would not qualify as a foot.
The deck moved around the table. Pots came and went. There was little table talk.
Elmo said, “If I was the Lady and wanted to get a secret message to the Captain, I wouldn’t send it through Whisper’s camp.”
“You know something?”
“Just brainstorming.”
We all turned to Silent. Not pleased to be on the spot, he signed, “Smelling danger.”
I grumbled, “Why didn’t I figure that?”
“Calm down,” Elmo said. “Sit. It’s your deal.” He tipped a finger toward the door.
Goblin had arrived.
* * *
The little wizard looked more like a toad than ever, crouched between Otto and Elmo. He said, “Big storm coming in from the north.”
Otto said, “Weather coming in might explain why everything feels weird today.”
“North?” Elmo asked. “That don’t sound right. Storms come down from the north, this time of year?”
“About every five years. They’re bad when they do.”
Goblin repeated himself. “Big storm coming. Croaker, I got a sore I need you to check out.”
“Now?” I was trying to drink beer, eat fried chicken, and not mark the cards with greasy fingers.
“I’ll bring it to sick call. I’m letting you know so you’ll show up.”
Elmo and Otto thought that was hilarious.
“I’m the hardest-working man in this outfit.”
“Definitely in the top six hundred and fifty,” Elmo admitted. “How about you stop whining, quit eating, and play?”
The cards goddess spurned me again. “You want my seat, Goblin?”
He made a noncommittal noise. He looked troubled. Was he in pain?
This might not be good.
Goblin was older than stone. He might have something really ugly.
I asked, “You all right?”
“I am now. But there’s a storm coming in from the north.”
Otto told me, “Pick up them cards, Croaker. Let us skin you while the skinning is good.”
* * *
I opened the infirmary after breakfast. The air was heavy, humid, and still. It would be a day when nobody felt good, tempers would be short, and it would be hard to get anything done
Three men showed for sick call, all legit. Two sported patches of purplish velvet on their legs. I saw new cases every day. The men did not know how they got it, it itched, and most reported dizzy spells before the purple developed. A fifty-fifty paste of salt and borax, common locally, cleared the stuff in three treatments.
It was not just a Company problem. The fungus was new to Aloe’s physicians, too. It was not dangerous. There were no reinfections.
Goblin showed when I was about to give up on him. He was not comfortable, which was odd. I had been treating him for years. He had no reason to go maidenly.
“You do something you know better than to do?”
“I don’t know … I think something might’ve been done to me.”
“You said you have a sore.”
He started muttering, in two voices talking about him in the third person. I interrupted. “Runt. Can the silly shit. Get undressed.”
He shut up. He stripped. The pasty, doughy result would bring no maidens running.
The sore was on his paunch to the right of his belly button. It was an inch and a half across, round, suppurating, and stinky, though it did not smell of gangrene. It made a tricolor target. The outer ring was the hot scarlet of blood poisoning. That faded to black. A three-eighths-inch dot in the center was a puddle of pus.
“How long you been letting this slide?”
“A while. It started out like a pimple. I popped it. It came back. Now it’s like this.”
“Might be a spider bite.” There were some nasty fiddlebacks out in the bush. “I’ll clean it out and run a test. You try any sorcery?”
“Slowed it down. Made it stop itching. That’s all.”
“Climb up here.” I stretched him out on a table and got busy with a scalpel. I cleared the pus and dead flesh. I treated the hole with distilled spirits. One ounce for the outside of the man, two for his soul. Goblin yelled a lot. I gave him another two ounces for the inner man, then put sulfur and sulfur acid into the wound. I followed that with a water flush. I was about to stuff the hole with fresh lichen when I spotted a black grain down deep in the meat.
“Hang on. I found something.” I went after it with scalpel and tweezers, sure it was the cause of his trouble.
I finished him up, bandages and all, and added two more ounces of medicinal spirits. “Sit up. Look at this. It was in the sore.”