native name
for the Company’s base. It is so much more dramatic than
Outpost or Bridgehead and Blade is a dramatic man fond of dramatic
gestures. “The Captain says she expects to acquire the needed
shadowgate knowledge shortly. Something is about to break loose in
Khang Phi. She wants me to get cracking getting more treasure
brought up. She wants you to finish finding everything out.
She’ll be moving soon.”
The copyist grunted. “He’s easily bored, you
know.”
“What?” Blade was startled, then angry. The old man
had not heard a word.
“Our host.” The old man did not lift his eyes from
the page. It would take them too long to readjust.
“He’s easily bored.” Baladitya cared nothing
about the Company’s plans. Baladitya was in paradise.
“You’d think we’d be a change that would
distract him.”
“He’s been distracted by mortals a thousand times
before. He’s still here. None of those people are, except
those remembered in stone.” The plain itself, though older
and vastly slower than Shivetya, might have a mind of its own.
Stone remembers. And stone weeps. “Their very empires have
been forgotten. How much chance is there that this time will be
different?”
Baladitya sounded a little empty. Not unreasonable, Blade
thought, considering the fact that he looked into the time abyss
represented by the demon all the time. Talk about vanity and
chasing after wind!
“Yet he’s helping us. More or less.”
“Only because he believes we’re the last mayflies
he’ll see. Excepting the Children of Night when they raise up
their Dark Mother. He’s convinced that we’re his last
chance to escape.”
“And all we got to do to get his help is skrag the nasty
Goddess, then put his ass away for the long night.” The
demon’s gaze seemed to drill right through him.
“Nothing to it. Piece of cake, as Goblin used to say. Though
the saying doesn’t make any literal sense.” Blade
lifted his fingers to his eyebrow in a salute to the demon. Whose
eyes seemed to be smouldering now.
“God killing. That should be perfect work for
you.”
Blade was unsure if Baladitya had spoken or Shivetya had entered
his mind. He did not like what the observation implied. It echoed
too closely Sleepy’s thinking, which is why his posh job in
Khang Phi is gone and he has charge of operations on the plain,
having abandoned banquets and down mattresses for iron rations and
a bed of cold and silent stone shared only with unhappy, withered
dreams, a crazy scholar, miscellaneous thieves and a house-sized
lunatic demon half as old as time.
All his adult life Blade has been driven by a hatred for
religion. He has an especial abhorrence for its retailers.
Considering his current whereabouts and present occupation it seems
likely that he should have restrained his impulse to share his
opinions.
Blade could have sworn that, for an instant, a smile played
across the demon’s features.
Blade chose not to comment.
He is a man of few words. He believes there is little point to
speech. He believes the golem eavesdrops on his thoughts. Unless it
has become so bored with ephemerals that it no longer pays
attention.
That hint of amusement again. Blade’s speculation is not
valid. He should know better. Shivetya is interested in every
breath every brother of the Black Company takes. Shivetya has
anointed these men as the death-givers.
“You need anything?” Blade asked the old man,
resting a hand on his shoulder briefly. “Before I head down
below?” The contact is entirely contrived. But Baladitya
cares nothing about the touch, genuine or not.
Baladitya lifted his pen from his right hand with his left,
flexed his fingers. “I suppose I should eat something. I
can’t recall when last I put fuel on the fire.”
“I’ll see that you get something.” The
something was sure to be rice and spice and golem manna. If there
was anything Blade regretted about his life, it was having lived
most of it in a part of the
for the Company’s base. It is so much more dramatic than
Outpost or Bridgehead and Blade is a dramatic man fond of dramatic
gestures. “The Captain says she expects to acquire the needed
shadowgate knowledge shortly. Something is about to break loose in
Khang Phi. She wants me to get cracking getting more treasure
brought up. She wants you to finish finding everything out.
She’ll be moving soon.”
The copyist grunted. “He’s easily bored, you
know.”
“What?” Blade was startled, then angry. The old man
had not heard a word.
“Our host.” The old man did not lift his eyes from
the page. It would take them too long to readjust.
“He’s easily bored.” Baladitya cared nothing
about the Company’s plans. Baladitya was in paradise.
“You’d think we’d be a change that would
distract him.”
“He’s been distracted by mortals a thousand times
before. He’s still here. None of those people are, except
those remembered in stone.” The plain itself, though older
and vastly slower than Shivetya, might have a mind of its own.
Stone remembers. And stone weeps. “Their very empires have
been forgotten. How much chance is there that this time will be
different?”
Baladitya sounded a little empty. Not unreasonable, Blade
thought, considering the fact that he looked into the time abyss
represented by the demon all the time. Talk about vanity and
chasing after wind!
“Yet he’s helping us. More or less.”
“Only because he believes we’re the last mayflies
he’ll see. Excepting the Children of Night when they raise up
their Dark Mother. He’s convinced that we’re his last
chance to escape.”
“And all we got to do to get his help is skrag the nasty
Goddess, then put his ass away for the long night.” The
demon’s gaze seemed to drill right through him.
“Nothing to it. Piece of cake, as Goblin used to say. Though
the saying doesn’t make any literal sense.” Blade
lifted his fingers to his eyebrow in a salute to the demon. Whose
eyes seemed to be smouldering now.
“God killing. That should be perfect work for
you.”
Blade was unsure if Baladitya had spoken or Shivetya had entered
his mind. He did not like what the observation implied. It echoed
too closely Sleepy’s thinking, which is why his posh job in
Khang Phi is gone and he has charge of operations on the plain,
having abandoned banquets and down mattresses for iron rations and
a bed of cold and silent stone shared only with unhappy, withered
dreams, a crazy scholar, miscellaneous thieves and a house-sized
lunatic demon half as old as time.
All his adult life Blade has been driven by a hatred for
religion. He has an especial abhorrence for its retailers.
Considering his current whereabouts and present occupation it seems
likely that he should have restrained his impulse to share his
opinions.
Blade could have sworn that, for an instant, a smile played
across the demon’s features.
Blade chose not to comment.
He is a man of few words. He believes there is little point to
speech. He believes the golem eavesdrops on his thoughts. Unless it
has become so bored with ephemerals that it no longer pays
attention.
That hint of amusement again. Blade’s speculation is not
valid. He should know better. Shivetya is interested in every
breath every brother of the Black Company takes. Shivetya has
anointed these men as the death-givers.
“You need anything?” Blade asked the old man,
resting a hand on his shoulder briefly. “Before I head down
below?” The contact is entirely contrived. But Baladitya
cares nothing about the touch, genuine or not.
Baladitya lifted his pen from his right hand with his left,
flexed his fingers. “I suppose I should eat something. I
can’t recall when last I put fuel on the fire.”
“I’ll see that you get something.” The
something was sure to be rice and spice and golem manna. If there
was anything Blade regretted about his life, it was having lived
most of it in a part of the
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