“Thinks? Swan, you’re gonna think I invented the game if you get into it with me.”
Mather was a nondescript character of average height with ginger hair who stood out only because he was white in a land where nobody but harem girls, kept out of the sun from birth, had fair skin. He asked, “Willow’s mouth running away with him again?”
“Maybe. I’ve made a career of playing tonk. Hell, they boot you out of the Black Company if you don’t make journeyman player.”
Mather shrugged. “Then you’ll twist Willow’s head back around straight for him. Here. Deal. I’ll see if the mighty general Blade wants to sit in.”
Swan grumbled, “That would take him out of sight of Lady.” Sounded like some sour grapes there. Mather showed him a smirk that confirmed my guess.
“What is it about her?” I asked. “Every damned guy that walks on his hind legs gets near her for five minutes, he starts floating around with his tongue hanging down, banging into things. But I’ve been around her for years. I can see she’s got the right stuff in the right places put together about as good as you could want but I don’t think I could get excited even if she didn’t used to be the Lady and she wasn’t married to the Old Man.” Not that that was literally true. They had not even bothered to jump over a sword.
Swan shuffled. “Cut?”
I cut. I always cut. One-Eye taught me that.
Swan asked, “You really don’t feel it? Man, she comes around me and my brain goes south. And she’s a widow now so ...”
“I don’t think so.”
“What?”
“She ain’t no widow. Croaker is still alive.”
“Shit. That’d be my luck, too. You want to stack Cordy a hand, make him think he’s got a winner, then skunk him?” As soon as I shook my head he wanted to know how come I thought Croaker was alive. I evaded a definitive answer for the few moments it took Mather to return.
“Blade’s too busy looking for an angle to use while he’s close to the magic. You load me up again, Willow?No? Bullshit. Let’s just pick them up and deal them over.”
“Ain’t this the story of my life?” I grumbled. “Look here.” I had two aces, a pair of deuces and a trey. An automatic winner, damned near couldn’t be beat. “And that’s a true natural, no help.”
Swan snickered. “Don’t matter. You don’t got anything to do anyway.”
“You got a point. Why don’t you guys come over to Dejagore? I’ll buy you a mug of One-Eye’s home brew.”
“Ha! Competition, huh?” Swan and Mather had gone into the brewing business back when they first came to Taglios. They were out of the racket now, among their reasons the fact that the priests of all the native religions condemned the use of alcohol.
“I doubt it. The only thing good about their brew is it gets you skunked.”
“That was the only good thing about the rat piss we made,” Mather said. “My dear old daddy the brewmaster rolled over every time we tapped another keg.”
“We never laid any beer up,” Swan countered. “Soon as it was ripe we skimmed the scum off and poured it down Taglian throats. And don’t buy that shit about his daddy, neither. Old Man Mather was a tax assessor who was so dumb he didn’t take bribes.”
“Shut up and deal.” Mather snatched up his cards. “He did brew his own beer. And Swan’s old man was a hod carrier.”
“But a handsome one, Cordy. And a lover. I inherited his good looks.”
“You take after your mother. And if you don’t do something about that hair pretty soon you’re going to wind up in somebody’s harem.”
This was a side of these guys I had not seen before. But I had not spent much time loafing with them. They were not Company. I kept my mouth shut and concentrated on my cards and let them tell me about who they used to be before the wander-dust settled on their shoes and set them roving against all odds. “What about you, Murgen?” Swan asked after he noticed that I was winning more than my share of hands. “Where did you come from?”
I told them about growing up on a farm. There wasn’t anything exciting about my life until I decided that farming wasn’t what I wanted to do. I joined one of Lady’s armies, found out I didn’t like the way things were done there, deserted and joined up with the Black Company, which was the only place I could hide with the provost after me.
Mather asked, “You ever regret leaving home?” “Every goddamned day, Mather. Every goddamned day. It was boring raising potatoes but not one time did I ever did have a spud try to stick a knife in me. I was hardly ever hungry and almost never cold and the landlord was all right. He made sure his tenants had enough before he took his share. He didn’t live much better than we did. Oh, and the only magic we ever saw was the kind your wandering conjurers perform at town fairs.” “So why not go home?” “Can’t.”
“If you’re careful and don’t look prosperous and don’t go around pissing people off you can travel almost anywhere safely. We did.”
“I can’t go home because home ain’t there no more. A Rebel army came through a couple years after I left.” The Company passed through later still, marching from somewhere unpleasant to somewhere where we would be unhappy. The whole country had been turned desert in the name of freedom from the tyranny of the Lady’s empire.
61
Lady sent for me after six days. I had shaken the runs and had eaten well enough to regain a few of the pounds I lost in the pen. I still looked like a refugee from hell. And I was. I was indeed.
Lady did not look good. Tired, pale, under severe pressure, apparently still fighting the sickness that had her puking the other day. She wasted no time on small talk. “I’m sending you back to Dejagore, Murgen. We’re getting disturbing reports about Mogaba.”
I nodded. I had heard some of them. Every night more rafts crossed the lake. The deserters and refugees always were astonished to learn that Shadowspinner was dead and Lady controlled his army though that was evaporating through desertion, too.
Lady was a hard one. My guess was she meant to let the problem posed by Mogaba solve itself despite what that would cost Taglios and the Black Company.
“Why?” That was not smart. All those Taglians in there had relatives back home. Many were people of place and substance, for it was that sort who had volunteered to defend Taglios.
“I need you to just go back and be yourself. But write things down. Hone your skills. Keep the Company together. Be prepared for anything.”
I grunted. That wasn’t something I wanted to hear, knowing that the siege could be ended right now.
Lady sensed my reservations. She smiled wanly, made a sudden gesture. “Sleep, Murgen.”
I collapsed on the spot.
She was her nasty old self.
My mind would not clear. The Taglians who had helped me leave Dejagore were like zombies. They did not talk and seemed almost blind. “Down!” I muttered. “Patrol coming.” They did what I said but like men heavily drugged.
Patrols were few by day. It was easy to elude them. It was not their mission to keep people out, anyway. We reached lakeside without any trouble.
“Rest,” I ordered. “Wait for dark.” I was not sure why we had crossed the hills by day. I did not recall starting. “Have I been acting real weird?” I asked.
The taller Taglian shook his head slowly, not quite sure. He was more confused than I was.
I said, “I feel like I walked out of a fog a couple hours ago. I remember getting captured. I remember them keeping us in a nasty pen. I know there was a fight or something. But I don’t remember how we got away.”
“Nor do I, sir,” the shorter soldier said. “I do have a very strong feeling that we need to get back to our comrades quickly. But I don’t know why.”