Free The Return of the Black Company by Glen Cook Page B

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 he already is? He’s already vowed to kill us all.”
    The ballistas thumped. The shafts they hurled did not hit the Shadowmaster. Distractedly, he replied with a spear of energy that dissolved several cubic yards of wall far from any of my guys.
    The racket from