Free Book 2 - She Is The Darkness by Glen Cook Page A

them.
    The soldiers had heard the stories. The sentries would stay
awake tonight.
    The green ball did not dip toward that island. I sighed. Maybe
there was no danger after all.
    The wagon crews loosed another ball at regular intervals. Not a
one dipped toward that island. I regained my confidence. The men
began to relax. Eventually I rolled up in my blankets and lay there
watching fireballs streak across the sky.
    It was a comfort knowing no shadow attack would go
undetected.
    I listened to the wagon crews lay bets on what color fireball
would pop out next. There was no known pattern. They were getting
bored. Soon they would be bitching about getting stuck with the
duty while everybody else got to sleep.
     
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15
    I was having a bizarre dream about Cordy Mather and the Radisha
when somebody poked me. I groaned, cracked an eyelid. I knew I did
not have to stand a watch. I had helped with the cooking. I cursed,
pulled my blankets over my head and tried to get back to the
Palace, where Mather was arguing with the Radisha about her plans
to shaft the Black Company after the Shadowmaster fell. It almost
felt like I was actually there rather than dreaming.
    “Wake up.” Uncle Doj prodded me again.
    I tried to cling to the dream. There was more to it. Something
nebulous but dangerous about the Radisha. Something that had Mather
upset in a major way.
    I thought I might be working out something important ins my
sleep.
    “Wake up, Bone Warrior.”
    That did it. I hated it when Nyueng Bao called me that, never
explaining what they meant. I grunted, “What?”
    “Trouble is coming.”
    Thai Dei stepped out of the darkness. He spoke! “One-Eye
told me to warn you.”
    “What’re you doing up here?” His arm had not
yet healed completely.
    I glanced at the Captain. He was awake. He had a bird perched on
one shoulder, beak moving at his ear. He eyed Thai Dei and Uncle
Doj but said nothing. He clambered to his feet wearily, collected a
couple of bamboo poles and trudged around to where he could see the
lake. I followed him. Uncle Doj tagged along behind me. It amazed
me that a man so short and wide could move so quietly and
gracefully.
    I saw nothing new out there in the darkness. Occasional flecks
of light continued to streak the tapestry of the night. “Like
fireflies.” There were a million stars. The guys who expected
snow were going to be disappointed.
    “Hush,” Croaker said. He was listening to something.
The damned bird on his shoulder?
    Where was the other one?
    A crimson ball zipped away from one wagon just like scores
before it. But when this one neared the island it dipped violently
and swerved to the right, scattering the rippling water with ten
thousand rubies. At water level the ball became a splash of blood
that faded immediately.
    There was no reflection off the water anywhere nearby.
    “Shadows.”
    A half-dozen balls streaked out. They defined a river of
darkness snaking across the lake. Then balls started flying around
over the remnants of the village that had been burning while that
boat sank.
    The discharges there reached panic level quickly. The Captain
ordered, “Swing one of the wagons around. Give them some
support down there. And let’s see if we can’t get a
couple more wagons up here fast.”
    Some individuals were plinking at the village already, for
whatever help that would provide. Croaker told the crew of the
second wagon, “Cut loose on that island. Everything
you’ve got. Murgen. I want everybody awake and up here. The
shit-storm is about to hit.”
    I ran off to tap-dance on a couple of snorers famous for their
bugle calls.
    Both wagons cut loose about the same time. Their trigger cranks
squealed and rattled as they whirled. Bamboo tubes discharged color
in furious series. How many balls could a wagon launch? A
shitload.
    Cavalry tubes carried fifteen charges. Standard infantry and
infantry long carried thirty and forty charges respectively. The
hundreds of tubes on each wagon