Free Book 1 - Bleak Seasons by Glen Cook Page B

instant screamed into Shadowspinner’s bright
diamond. Sun brilliant flash splashed out of that sorcerous
construct’s far side like suddenly flung barrels of burning
oil.
    Immediately the dark web overhead began to shrink back into the
remnants of the diamond.
    The air vibrated with the Shadowmaster’s anger.
“Goblin! One-Eye! Talk to me, boys. Tell me what the hell
just happened.”
    Goblin couldn’t talk. One-Eye burbled, “I
ain’t got the faintest fucking idea, Kid. But we’re
downwind of one seriously pissed-off Shadowmaster who’s
probably going to blame you and me for his ulcers.”
    A tremor disturbed the night, more psychic than physical. I am
magically deaf and dumb and blind, except for perceived effects,
but I felt it.
    One-Eye was right.
    The pink light was gone. I saw no more sign of those bizarre
riders. Who were they? What? How?
    I didn’t get a chance to ask.
    Little brown fellows carrying torches so they could see where
they were running burst out of the Shadowlander camp. That could
not bode well for me, my pals, or anyone else inside the wall.
    “Poor Spinner,” I cracked. “You got to feel
for the man.”
    “Huh?” Sparkle was the only man close enough to
hear.
    “Don’t you hate it when some no-brain vandalizes a
work of art?”
    Sparkle didn’t get it. He shook his head, grabbed a
javelin and threw it down at a short person with a torch.
    He missed.
    Around where those Shadowlanders had gained a foothold on the
wall, and on the earthen approach ramps, a big racket began to
develop. The Shadowmaster, piqued, had told his boys to get back to
work. And don’t be so damned gentle anymore.
    “Hey, Bubba-do,” I shouted at a soldier,
“who’s got tonight in the pool?”
    There is the Black Company for you. We’ve got a pool on
what night the city will fall. I guess the winner gets to die with
a smile on his ugly mug.
     
----

----

24
    Goblin and One-Eye had chosen to stay close to me. The real
Goblin and One-Eye. I checked every few minutes to make sure. Their
attention was on the hills, not the excitement across town or any
of their own schemes. Strange lights moved out there.
    A band of southerners sent out earlier returned at a gallop,
half their number missing. They flew as though devils worse than
their boss were after them. They dared ride the way they did only
because Stormshadow had been obsessive when she leveled the plain
and because there was light from the city.
    Fires were burning. Only a few so far, but fires.
    Sparkle told me, “They’re pulling out down
below.”
    I leaned over and looked. Nobody tried to pick me off. Maybe
they thought I was another ghost.
    Sure enough, the Shadowlanders were going, leaving us all those
wonderful grapnels without ropes, for us to dump on our
“maybe we can use these someday” pile.
    One-Eye said, “Guess we can put up our swords and go back
to our tonk games now.”
    Overlooking the fact that Dejagore was being invaded elsewhere,
I observed, “This is the second time you’ve come out
with that silliness. What moron is going to play with you?
Can’t be anybody that dumb still alive.” One-Eye cheats
at cards. And he cheats badly. He gets caught every time. Nobody
will play with him.
    “Hey, Murgen. Listen. I’ve reformed. Really. Never
again will I dishonor my talent
to . . . ”
    Why listen? He’s said it all before, countless times. The
first thing we do after we swear a recruit into the Company is warn
him not to play cards with One-Eye.
    A party of Shadowlanders withdrawn from my sector headed for the
hills. They all had torches. It looked like the Shadowmaster
himself might be driving them.
    “Cletus! Longinus! You guys far enough along that you can
drop a barrage on that crowd?” The brothers were repairing
their engines as fast as they could. Two were ready, cocked and
loaded. Not much of a barrage. One-Eye asked, “Why do
that?”
    “Why not? We might get lucky. And can we piss off
Shadowspinner more than