Port of Shadows Read online

  “What?” he demanded. “So maybe I poor-mouth more than what’s the actual case. That a crime?”

  No. We all do that. It is a preemptive strike against all those good buddies who are dry and want to mooch instead of dealing with Pawn.

  Somebody observed, “Lots of guys were flush when we got here. We never got no chance to get rid of our spare change before.”

  Yes. The Black Company was good for Aloe’s economy. Maybe nobody was trying to kill us because we had not yet been fully plucked.

  Elmo said, “I better round up Kingpin before the Lieutenant puts me on the shit list, too. Silent? You want my seat? Shit! Where the hell did he go?”

  I had not noticed our third minor wizard departing. Silent is spookier than ever, these days. He is practically a ghost.

  * * *

  You are with the Company long enough, you develop extra senses. You read cues unconsciously and, suddenly, you are all alert and ready. We call it smelling danger. Then, too, there is precognition having to do with things stirring at the command level. That one warns you that your ass is about to get dumped in the shit.

  Seemed like it took about fourteen electric seconds for all six hundred and some men to realize that something was up. That life was about to change. That I might not make it a hundred days without somebody trying to kill me.

  The cards had stopped moving already when Hagop loped up from the direction of the compound. “Elmo. Croaker. Goblin. One-Eye. The Old Man wants you.”

  One-Eye grumbled, “Goblin had to go open his big goddamn mouth.”

  Two minutes earlier Goblin had muttered, “Something’s up. Something’s in the wind.”

  I kicked in, “Yeah. This is all his fault. Let’s pound his ass if it turns out we have to go flush some Rebels out somewhere again.”

  “Weak, Croaker.” Elmo shoved back from the table. “But I second that motion. I’d almost forgotten how nice it is for garrison troops.” He went on about clean clothing, ample beer, regular meals, and almost unlimited access to a soldier’s favorite way of wasting time and money.

  We headed down the street, leaving the cards to the others, who were already speculating. I said, “Garrison duty is all that. The hardest work I’ve got to do is to weasel One-Eye into using his curative on guys who come in with the clap.”

  One-Eye said, “I like garrison because of the financial opportunities.”

  He would. Put him down anywhere and give him a week, he will be deep into some black-market scam.

  Hagop sidled close, whispered, “I need to talk to you, private.” He slipped me a folded piece of parchment maybe three and a half inches to a side. It was dirty. It smelled awful. One face had a small triangular tear where it had hung up on something. Hagop looked like he might panic when I opened it.

  I stopped walking. The others did, too, wondering what was up. I whispered, “Where did you get this?”

  * * *

  The Company maintained a compound outside the city, on a heath blasted barren back when Whisper arrived to negotiate the treaties by which Aloe gained the perquisites of participation in the Lady’s empire, foremost amongst those being continued existence. The compound was nothing exciting. There was a curtain wall of dried mud brick. Everything inside was adobe, too, lightly plastered to resist the rain.

  The compound was brown. A man with a discerning eye might identify shades, but us barbarians just saw brown. Even so, I had an eye sharp enough to spot a new brown patch before Hagop pointed it out.

  A flying carpet lay tucked into the shade on the eastern side of the headquarters building. My companions had equally discerning eyes but less troubled hearts.

  We were part of a stream, now. Every officer and platoon sergeant had been summoned. Sometimes the Captain gets his butt hairs in a twist and pulls everybody in for an impromptu motivational speech. But there was a critical difference this time.

  There was a flying carpet in the shade beside the HQ.

  At most, six of those existed, and only six entities were able to use them.

  We were blessed with the presence of one of the Taken.

  The happy days were over. Hell had taken a nap but now it was wide awake and raring to go.

  Nobody overlooked the carpet. No shoulder failed to slump.

  I said, “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up. Hagop. Show me.”

  He headed for the shade. For the carpet. “I saw it here. I never seen a carpet up close so I decided to check it out.” He walked me through his experience. One glance at the carpet reaffirmed what I already feared. This unkempt, poorly maintained mess belonged to the Limper.

  “I found that folded thing right here.”

  “Right here” was where the Taken sat while the carpet was aloft. There the carpet was especially frayed, stretched, and loose.

  Hagop’s finger indicated a fold of material torn away from the wooden frame beneath. “It was mostly covered. It was hung up on that brad.”

  A small nail had worked loose three-sixteenths of an inch. A wisp of parchment remained stuck to it. I removed that with my knife, careful to make no personal contact.

  “I picked it up. Before I could even look at it the Captain came out and told me to go get you guys.”

  “All right. Stay out of sight. We’ll talk later.” I was going to be last inside if I did not hustle.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “It could be bad. Scoot on into town. Don’t tell anybody about this.”

  * * *

  The mess hall was the nearest thing to an assembly hall we had. The cooks had been run off. The place reeked of unhappiness. Half the guys lived in town, now, including me. Some had women. A few even had common-law stepchildren they did not mind supporting.

  Those guys would pray the carpet meant that the Lady had sent somebody with the payroll. Only, in Aloe our pay came from gentle taxes on the people we protected. No need to fly it in.

  The Captain did his trained-bear shuffle up onto the half-ass stage. A creepy brown bundle of rags followed. It dragged one leg. The hall filled with a hard silence.

  The Limper. The most absurdly nasty of the Taken. A dedicated enemy of the Black Company. We had screwed him over good back when he tried going against the Lady.

  He was back in favor now. But so were we. He could not have his revenge just yet. But he was patient.

  The Captain rumbled, “The tedium is about to end, gentlemen. We now know why the Lady put us here. We’re supposed to take out a Rebel captain called Tides Elba.”

  I checked the spelling later. It was not a name we knew. He pronounced it, “Teadace Elba.”

  The Captain said that Tides Elba had enjoyed some successes west of us, but none of her victories had been big enough to catch our attention.

  An interesting line of bullshit, some of which might be true.

  The Limper climbed up with the Captain. That was a struggle. He had that bad leg and he was a runt—in stature. In wickedness and talent for sorcery he was the baddest of the bad. A reek of dread surrounded him. So did a reek of reek. On his best day he smelled like he had been in a grave for a long time. He considered us from behind a brown leather mask.

  Folks with weaker stomachs jostled for space in the back.

  The Limper said nothing. He just wanted us know he was around. Important to remember. And something foretelling interesting times.

  The Captain told the company commanders and platoon leaders to tell their men that we might be making movement soon. Pending investigatory work here in Aloe. They should settle their debts and personal issues. Ideally, they should shut down their Aloe lives and return to the compound.

  We might see some desertions.

  Elmo jabbed me in the ribs. “Pay attention.”

  The Old Man dismissed everybody but me and the magic users. He invoked me directly. “Croaker, stay with me.” The wizards he told to stick with the Limper.

  * * *

  The Captain herded me over to Admin. In theory, I owned a c
orner space there where I was supposed to work on these Annals. I did not often take advantage.

  “Sit.” A command, not an invitation. I sat in one of two crude chairs facing the ragged table he used as a bulwark against the world. “Limper is here. He hasn’t said so but we know that means we’re headed into the shit. He hasn’t said much, actually. Which may mean that he doesn’t know anything himself. He’s following orders, too.”

  I nodded.

  “This isn’t good, Croaker. This is the Limper. There’ll be more going on than what we see.”

  There would be. I did my best to look like a bright child awaiting ineluctable wisdom from an honored elder.

  “I’d tell you you’re full of shit but you don’t need the special memo. You know that taste in your mouth.”

  He was going to come down on me for something?

  “You been putting on a show of being as useless as the rest of these dicks. But when you’re supposedly off whoring or getting fucked up you’re usually actually somewhere poking into the local history.”

  “A man needs more than one hobby.”

  “It’s not a hobby if you can’t help yourself.”

  “I’m a bad man. I need to understand the past. It illuminates the present.”

  The Captain nodded. He steepled fingers in front of a square, strong, dimpled chin. “I got some illuminating for you to do.”

  He did know something about what was up.

  “You could maybe fix it so the Company don’t wallow in the usual cesspit.”

  “You sweet talker.”

  “Shut the fuck up. The Lady wants Tides Elba before she turns into an eastern White Rose. Or maybe she is the Rose. I don’t know. Limper wants to go balls to the wall so he can look good to the Lady, hopefully getting us killed in the process.”

  “You’re losing me, boss.”

  “I doubt it. Remember, the Limper has a special hard-on for you.”

  He did. “All right. And?”

  “Limper thinks smashing things is fun. I don’t want to be remembered for wrecking Aloe on a maybe.”

  “Sir, you need to give me a clue. What do you want me to do? I’m not as smart as you think.”

  “Nor am I.”

  The Captain shambled out from behind his table. He paced. Then, “The Lady thinks Tides Elba was born here, has family here, and visits frequently. She wasn’t born Tides Elba. Her family probably don’t know what she is.”

  Of course this Rebel would not have been born Tides Elba. If the Lady got hold of her true name, Tides Elba would be toast before sundown.

  “You’ve been snooping. You know where to look. Help us lay hands on her before the Limper can catch us in a cleft stick.”

  “I can dig. But I can tell you now, all I’ll find is holes.”

  “Holes tell a story, too.”

  They do. “Instead of worrying about this woman, how about we come up with a permanen…”

  He made a chopping motion. I needed to shut up. “Look at you. We could put you in charge of the whole eastern campaign, you’re so smart. Go away. Do what you need to do. And stay away from those moronic cards.”

  * * *

  I thought hard. My conclusion was frightening. There was no place to conspire where the Limper could not eavesdrop if he was so inclined. I scrounged up an extra deck, more venerable than the one usually in play, and headed for the Dark Horse. Along the way, Hagop fell in beside me. “Is it time?”

  “It’s time. If everybody is there.” Everybody being a select few like Elmo and the wizards.

  “What was the big meeting? We going to move out?”

  “They don’t know what they’re going to do. They just want to be ready to do it.”

  “Same old shit.”

  “Pretty much.”

  The usual suspects were there, out front, on the fringe, waiting instead of playing. Only Silent was missing. I asked Goblin with a glance. He shrugged.

  Several guys started to drift over, thinking an entertaining game might break out. I handed my deck to Corey. “You guys get a game going inside.”

  “Quick on the uptake,” Elmo observed as they cleared off. He scooted sideways so Hagop had room to add a chair. We pretended to play a five-man game.

  I asked, “You all sure you want to be here? We’re going to lay our balls on the table and hope nobody hits them with a hammer.”

  Nobody volunteered to disappear.

  I produced the parchment Hagop had found. Folded, it made a square. Opened, it was a third taller than it was wide. I spread it out. “Pass it around. Don’t act like it’s any big deal.”

  “Go teach Granny to suck eggs,” One-Eye grumbled. “I can’t tell anything from this. It’s all chicken tracks.”

  “Those tracks are TelleKurre.” The language of the Domination. Only two native speakers remained alive. “This is an imperial rescript, from the Lady to the Limper. The ideograph in the upper left corner tells us that. But this is a copy. The ideograph top middle tells us that, along with the fact that this is copy number two of two. The ideograph in the upper right corner is the chop of the copyist.”

  “Accountability,” Elmo said.

  “Exactly. She’s big on that since the Battle at Charm.”

  “Uhm. So what does it say?”

  “Not much, directly. But very formally. The Lady orders the Limper to come east to find and capture a woman named Tides Elba. No why, no suggestion how, just do it, then bring her back alive and undamaged.”

  “And there ain’t nothing in there about her being some new phenom rookie Rebel captain?”

  “Not a hint.”

  “The Limper lied.”

  “The Limper lied. And not just to us. He isn’t dedicated to the success of his mission.”

  Elmo asked, “How can you tell?”

  “Limper had to sign both copies, agreeing that he understood his assignment. On his keeper copy, here, he added, ‘Up Yours, Bitch.’”

  “Whoa!” Hagop barked, awed rather than surprised.

  Elmo asked, “Could that be a plant?”

  “You mean, did he leave it so we could find it?”

  “Yeah. To let us set ourselves up.”

  “I’ve been brooding about that. I don’t think so. There are a thousand ways that could go wrong. He’d have no control. We might never notice it. But, more importantly, there’s what he wrote after he signed.”

  They thought. Twice One-Eye started to say something but thought better.

  We focused on clever tricks the Limper might try. Looking for deep strategies and devilish maneuvers. It took the least among us, a simple line soldier, to point out a critical fact.

  Hagop asked, “If he signed it that way won’t he get nervous when he realizes that it’s gone?”

  We all considered him with widening eyes and galloping hearts. Elmo growled, “If the little shit goes bugfuck we’ll know for sure it’s real.”

  “Silver lining.” Goblin grinned but there was sweat on his forehead.

  I pushed the parchment across to One-Eye. “See if that’s tagged so he can trace it. Then see if there’s a way he could tell who’s been handling it.”

  “You going to put it back?”

  “Hell, no! I’m going to bury it somewhere. It could come in handy someday. The Lady wouldn’t be pleased if she saw it. Speaking of forgetting. Goblin, fix it so Hagop has no recollection of the parchment. The Captain saw him hanging around the carpet. Questions might be asked.”

  “I’ll need to work on you, too, then. You were seen there, too.”

  I expect lots of guys took the opportunity for a close-up look. But fear streaked down my spine, reached my toes and cramped them. “Yeah. You’d better.”

  Both wizards started to get out of their seats. Goblin said, “We’ll need to shove those memories down so far that only the Lady’s Eye could find them.”

  I had a thought. “Hang on a minute. Hagop, go get Zhorab.”

  * * *

  Markeg Zhorab was som
ething else before he became a tavern keeper. His face alone recalled several desperate fights. He was a sizable man, often mistaken for the bouncer, whose past had left his courage a bit sketchy.

  He asked me, “You wanted me?”

  “I have something I need done, not traceable to me. I’m willing to pay.”

  “Risky?”

  “Possibly. But probably not if you do exactly what I tell you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I showed him the rescript. “I need an exact copy calligraphed by a professional letter writer who doesn’t know you.”

  “What is it?”

  “A wanted poster. But the less you know, the better. Can you do that?”

  He could once we finished talking money. I did not offer enough to make it seem like I was worried. With all the practical jokes that went on around us, I hoped he thought I was putting another something together. He asked, “How soon do you need this?”

  “Right now would be especially good.”

  * * *

  Zhorab brought my copy. And the original. “Good enough? He couldn’t match the parchment.”

  “It’s fine. I want it obvious that it’s a copy.” I paid the agreed sum. I handed back the copy. “Hold on to this. Later on Goblin will tell you when to give it back. There’ll be another payment then.”

  Elmo grumbled, “If we can ever get the self-righteous asshole into this place.” Playing to the practical-joke angle.

  Puzzled, Zhorab folded the copy and went off to bite his coins.

  Elmo wondered, “Think he had more than one copy made?”

  I said, “I’m counting on it. The more there are, the better. Let’s get to the forgetting.”

  * * *

  I said, “I don’t know. I forget. It must not have been important. Look. I need you guys to help me dig for info on Tides Elba.”

  Grumble, grumble. Chairs pushed back grudgingly.

  I said, “It has to be done.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  I asked, “Hagop, do you read the local language?”

  He shook his head. Once we were a few steps away, Elmo said, “I’m not sure he can read anything.”

  I grunted. “One last beer.”

  Inside, the Dark Horse was swamped in speculation about what might be afoot. A sizable faction did not believe that Tides Elba existed. Old hands, who had been through the long retreat from Oar to Charm, thought that the Limper had made it all up.