and I’m still ashamed of myself . . . But you’re telling the lie my soul wants
to hear. Forget rajadharma, though. That accusation has no power to hurt me
anymore. From outside. I still crucify myself. I know what I did. At the time I
thought it was the right thing. The Protector manipulated me using my sense of
rajadharma. Once we get back there you’ll see us in a different light.”
Rajadharma means the ruler’s obligation to serve the ruled. When the word is
thrown into a ruler’s face, or is used as an epithet, it is a savage accusation
of failure.
The Radisha is a hard, stubborn little woman. Unfortunately, she will have to
get the better of a hard, stubborn, crazy, almost supremely powerful sorceress
if she wants to fulfill her expectations for herself.
I glanced at her brother. The Prince’s expression had not changed but I sensed
that he thought he appreciated the difficulties more fully than his sister did.
Uncle Doj whacked something with a practice sword. The loud crack ended our
chatter. “Your canes, please. On the count, commence the Crane Kada.” He did not
bother to explain what that was to the new guy.
Maybe two decades ago I had observed and briefly joined the Nyueng Bao
exercises. Murgen was Annalist then. He had had Gota, Doj and his wife Sahra’s
brother, Thai Dei, living with him. Doj expected me to remember.
About all I recalled of the Crane Kada was that it constituted the first and
simplest of a dozen slow-motion dances incorporating all the formal steps and
strokes of Doj’s school of fencing. The old priest led from up front, his back
to his pupils. Although he was the eldest of us all, he moved with a precision
and grace that verged on beauty. But when Thai Dei and Tobo joined us briefly,
later, both outshone the old man. It was hard not to stop just to appreciate
Tobo’s mastery.
The boy made me feel clumsy and inept just standing still.
Everything came so easily for him.
He had all the talents and skills he could possibly need. If any question
remained, it concerned his character. A lot of good people had worked hard to
make sure that he became a virtuous and upright man. Which he did appear to be.
But he was a blade not yet tested. True temptation had not yet whispered in his
ear.
I missed a step badly, stumbled. Uncle Doj laid his cane across the seat of my
trousers as vigorously as if I had been an adolescent. His face remained bland
but I suspected that he had wanted to do that for a long time.
I tried to concentrate.
Black Company GS 9 - Soldiers Live
12
Glittering Stone:
Steadfast Guardian
The being on the huge wooden throne in the heart of the fortress at the center
of the stone plain is a construct. Possibly he was created by the gods, who
fought their wars upon that plain. Or perhaps his creators were the builders who
constructed the plain—if they were not gods themselves. Opinions vary. Stories
abound. The demon Shivetya himself is not disposed to be unstinting with the
facts, or is, at best, inconsistent in their distribution. He has shown his
latest chronicler several conflicting versions of ancient events. Old Baladitya
has abandoned all hope of establishing an exact truth and, instead, seeks the
deeper range of meaning underpinning what the golem does reveal. Baladitya
understands that in addition to being foreign territory the past is, as history,
a hall of mirrors that reflect the needs of souls observing from the present.
Absolute fact serves the hungers of only a few disconnected people. Symbol and
faith serve the rest.
Baladitya’s Company career duplicates his prior life. He writes things down.
When he was a copyist at the Taglian Royal Library he wrote things down. Now,
nominally, he is a prisoner of war. Chances are he has forgotten that. In
reality he is freer today to pursue his own interests than ever he was at the
library.
The old scholar lives and works around
to hear. Forget rajadharma, though. That accusation has no power to hurt me
anymore. From outside. I still crucify myself. I know what I did. At the time I
thought it was the right thing. The Protector manipulated me using my sense of
rajadharma. Once we get back there you’ll see us in a different light.”
Rajadharma means the ruler’s obligation to serve the ruled. When the word is
thrown into a ruler’s face, or is used as an epithet, it is a savage accusation
of failure.
The Radisha is a hard, stubborn little woman. Unfortunately, she will have to
get the better of a hard, stubborn, crazy, almost supremely powerful sorceress
if she wants to fulfill her expectations for herself.
I glanced at her brother. The Prince’s expression had not changed but I sensed
that he thought he appreciated the difficulties more fully than his sister did.
Uncle Doj whacked something with a practice sword. The loud crack ended our
chatter. “Your canes, please. On the count, commence the Crane Kada.” He did not
bother to explain what that was to the new guy.
Maybe two decades ago I had observed and briefly joined the Nyueng Bao
exercises. Murgen was Annalist then. He had had Gota, Doj and his wife Sahra’s
brother, Thai Dei, living with him. Doj expected me to remember.
About all I recalled of the Crane Kada was that it constituted the first and
simplest of a dozen slow-motion dances incorporating all the formal steps and
strokes of Doj’s school of fencing. The old priest led from up front, his back
to his pupils. Although he was the eldest of us all, he moved with a precision
and grace that verged on beauty. But when Thai Dei and Tobo joined us briefly,
later, both outshone the old man. It was hard not to stop just to appreciate
Tobo’s mastery.
The boy made me feel clumsy and inept just standing still.
Everything came so easily for him.
He had all the talents and skills he could possibly need. If any question
remained, it concerned his character. A lot of good people had worked hard to
make sure that he became a virtuous and upright man. Which he did appear to be.
But he was a blade not yet tested. True temptation had not yet whispered in his
ear.
I missed a step badly, stumbled. Uncle Doj laid his cane across the seat of my
trousers as vigorously as if I had been an adolescent. His face remained bland
but I suspected that he had wanted to do that for a long time.
I tried to concentrate.
Black Company GS 9 - Soldiers Live
12
Glittering Stone:
Steadfast Guardian
The being on the huge wooden throne in the heart of the fortress at the center
of the stone plain is a construct. Possibly he was created by the gods, who
fought their wars upon that plain. Or perhaps his creators were the builders who
constructed the plain—if they were not gods themselves. Opinions vary. Stories
abound. The demon Shivetya himself is not disposed to be unstinting with the
facts, or is, at best, inconsistent in their distribution. He has shown his
latest chronicler several conflicting versions of ancient events. Old Baladitya
has abandoned all hope of establishing an exact truth and, instead, seeks the
deeper range of meaning underpinning what the golem does reveal. Baladitya
understands that in addition to being foreign territory the past is, as history,
a hall of mirrors that reflect the needs of souls observing from the present.
Absolute fact serves the hungers of only a few disconnected people. Symbol and
faith serve the rest.
Baladitya’s Company career duplicates his prior life. He writes things down.
When he was a copyist at the Taglian Royal Library he wrote things down. Now,
nominally, he is a prisoner of war. Chances are he has forgotten that. In
reality he is freer today to pursue his own interests than ever he was at the
library.
The old scholar lives and works around
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