around he will make some.
All my life addictions scared the shit out of me. When I see a guy whose pain
has driven him behind the veil of alcohol or any drug I want to flee the same
weakness I fear can be found inside me.
I was becoming addicted to the freedom from pain to be found in the in between.
When I was out there with Smoke the horrors of Dejagore and the agony left
behind by Sarie’s murder became no more than distant, nagging aches. That weak
side of me kept promising that even the faraway aches would fade if Smoke and I
just kept working.
I was both happy and completely miserable at the same time. My in-laws were
little help. Thai Dei, as ever, said almost nothing. Uncle Doj merely urged me
to be strong. “Death and despair are what we endure all our lives. This world is
all one of pain and loss illuminated only briefly by moments of happiness and
wonder. We must live for those times, not bemoan their passing.”
“We must live for revenge,” Mother Gota snapped. “You old fool.” She was
contemptuous as she glared at me. Nor did she spare my feelings. “My mother was
a madwoman in her last days. We will be well rid of this weakling.”
Being a weakling and not much caring for this world anymore, I did not feel
obliged to keep the peace. “I bet that back in the swamp they thank their lucky
stars every night that you decided not to come home.”
Thai Dei became pure stone as I put him in a spot where his obligations had to
butt heads.
Uncle Doj chuckled. He rested a hand on Thai Dei’s arm. “A shaft well sped,
youngster. Gota, I must remind you that we are here on sufferance. The Stone
Soldier accepts us for Sahra’s sake. His master does not.”
Though I have a pretty good handle on Nyueng Bao these days I knew I had missed
some key part of that. I did understand that he was telling her not to piss
Croaker off because he might toss them out. And that was something he could
perfectly well do. He considered them little more than camp followers. And
Croaker hates camp followers. He considers them worse than leeches.
I had to wonder if Uncle Doj was not interested in something more than just
revenge for the murders of Sahra and Thai Dei’s son To Tan.
I am not certain where we were. I think about eighty miles south of Dejagore and
passing over into territories only recently taken into our hands, where our
appearance was endured with the same stoicism as the earthquake. Not much
cleaning up had gotten done because the Shadowmaster’s henchmen had employed the
locals in a vain attempt to blunt our advance. Brave fools. Now there was no one
to bury them.
Total paranoia hit me there.
I was unaware of the fact because I was in the wagon but we were just making
camp. I was out scouting the maneuvers of Mogaba’s cavalry and sitting in on his
planning session for making our lives much more unpleasant at Charandaprash. I
had a sneer in my heart. He would not have a single surprise for us. From having
watched Lady and all the special forces she and Croaker had put together I knew
we would have plenty for Mogaba.
Bright man, he expected that. He got to know Croaker pretty well before he
deserted to the Shadowmaster.
Then the paranoia hit. Smugness evaporated. Had I been in flesh I would have
begun to shake as though suddenly thrown into an icy river. I knew I was not
alone.
I would have panicked except for the dullness of emotion out there. I did do a
sort of sudden spin around on the spirit level.
For a second I thought I saw a face, not directed my way.
It was a face out of a collective nightmare, as big as a cow, the color of ripe
eggplant. Its smile was all fangs. And it was smiling at whatever it saw.
Its eyes were plates of fire that, at the same time, seemed to be pools of
darkness capable of drowning souls.
I withdrew, very carefully at first, but in full flight toward the safety of
reality when the face seemed
All my life addictions scared the shit out of me. When I see a guy whose pain
has driven him behind the veil of alcohol or any drug I want to flee the same
weakness I fear can be found inside me.
I was becoming addicted to the freedom from pain to be found in the in between.
When I was out there with Smoke the horrors of Dejagore and the agony left
behind by Sarie’s murder became no more than distant, nagging aches. That weak
side of me kept promising that even the faraway aches would fade if Smoke and I
just kept working.
I was both happy and completely miserable at the same time. My in-laws were
little help. Thai Dei, as ever, said almost nothing. Uncle Doj merely urged me
to be strong. “Death and despair are what we endure all our lives. This world is
all one of pain and loss illuminated only briefly by moments of happiness and
wonder. We must live for those times, not bemoan their passing.”
“We must live for revenge,” Mother Gota snapped. “You old fool.” She was
contemptuous as she glared at me. Nor did she spare my feelings. “My mother was
a madwoman in her last days. We will be well rid of this weakling.”
Being a weakling and not much caring for this world anymore, I did not feel
obliged to keep the peace. “I bet that back in the swamp they thank their lucky
stars every night that you decided not to come home.”
Thai Dei became pure stone as I put him in a spot where his obligations had to
butt heads.
Uncle Doj chuckled. He rested a hand on Thai Dei’s arm. “A shaft well sped,
youngster. Gota, I must remind you that we are here on sufferance. The Stone
Soldier accepts us for Sahra’s sake. His master does not.”
Though I have a pretty good handle on Nyueng Bao these days I knew I had missed
some key part of that. I did understand that he was telling her not to piss
Croaker off because he might toss them out. And that was something he could
perfectly well do. He considered them little more than camp followers. And
Croaker hates camp followers. He considers them worse than leeches.
I had to wonder if Uncle Doj was not interested in something more than just
revenge for the murders of Sahra and Thai Dei’s son To Tan.
I am not certain where we were. I think about eighty miles south of Dejagore and
passing over into territories only recently taken into our hands, where our
appearance was endured with the same stoicism as the earthquake. Not much
cleaning up had gotten done because the Shadowmaster’s henchmen had employed the
locals in a vain attempt to blunt our advance. Brave fools. Now there was no one
to bury them.
Total paranoia hit me there.
I was unaware of the fact because I was in the wagon but we were just making
camp. I was out scouting the maneuvers of Mogaba’s cavalry and sitting in on his
planning session for making our lives much more unpleasant at Charandaprash. I
had a sneer in my heart. He would not have a single surprise for us. From having
watched Lady and all the special forces she and Croaker had put together I knew
we would have plenty for Mogaba.
Bright man, he expected that. He got to know Croaker pretty well before he
deserted to the Shadowmaster.
Then the paranoia hit. Smugness evaporated. Had I been in flesh I would have
begun to shake as though suddenly thrown into an icy river. I knew I was not
alone.
I would have panicked except for the dullness of emotion out there. I did do a
sort of sudden spin around on the spirit level.
For a second I thought I saw a face, not directed my way.
It was a face out of a collective nightmare, as big as a cow, the color of ripe
eggplant. Its smile was all fangs. And it was smiling at whatever it saw.
Its eyes were plates of fire that, at the same time, seemed to be pools of
darkness capable of drowning souls.
I withdrew, very carefully at first, but in full flight toward the safety of
reality when the face seemed
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