Dreams of Steel

Chapter Twenty

Crowing and clatter wakened Croaker. He rose and went to the temple entrance. Ghostly dawn light permeated the misty wood.

Soulcatcher had returned. The black stallions were lathered. They had run long and hard. The sorceress was besieged by squawking crows. She cursed them and beat them back, beckoned him. He went out, asked, “Where have you been? Things have been happening.”

“So I gather. I went for your armor.” She indicated the horse she hadn’t ridden.

“You went all the way to Dejagore? For that? Why?”

“We’ll need it. Tell me what happened.”

“How were they? My men.”

“Holding out. Better than I expected. They may hang on for quite a while. Shadowspinner isn’t at his best.” The voice she chose rasped with irritation. When she continued, though, it had become that of

a cajoling child. “Tell me. It’ll take forever to get it out of them. They all try to tell me at once.”

“The Howler came past yesterday.”

She raised that wooden box to eye level, though she didn’t make him look at the face inside. “The Howler? Tell me.”

He did.

“The game grows more interesting. How did Longshadow lure him out of his swamp?”

“I don’t know.”

“I was speaking rhetorically, Croaker. Go inside. I’m tired. I was in a bad mood already.”

He went. He didn’t want to test her temper. Outside, she chattered with a flock of crows so dense she disappeared among them. Somehow she brought confusion out of chaos. Minutes later the temple vibrated to the beat of countless wings. A black cloud flew away south.

Soulcatcher came inside. Croaker kept his distance, kept his mouth shut. Not much intimidated him but he wasn’t one to stick his hand in a cobra’s mouth.

Morning came. Croaker wakened. Soulcatcher appeared to be sleeping soundly. He resisted temptation. It was less than a flutter of a thought, anyway. He wouldn’t catch her off guard that easily. Chances were she wasn’t asleep at all. Resting, yes. Maybe testing him. He couldn’t recall ever having seen her sleep.

He made himself breakfast.

Soulcatcher wakened while he cooked. He didn’t notice. A dramatic pink flash startled him. He whirled. Pinkish smoke swirled beyond the sorceress. A child-sized creature pranced out, flipped the woman a salute, sauntered over to him. “How they hanging, chief? Long time, no see.”

“Want an honest answer or one that will please you, Frogface?”

“Hey! You ain’t surprised to see me.”

“No. I figured you were a plant. One-Eye doesn’t have what it takes to manage a demon.”

“Hey! Hey! Let’s watch our tongue, eh, Cap? I ain’t no demon. I’m an imp.”

“Sorry about the ethnic slur. You did fool me, some. I thought you belonged to Shapeshifter.”

“That lump? What could he offer?”

Croaker shrugged. “You been in Dejagore?” He contained an old anger. The imp, supposedly helping the Black Company, had been absent in the final debacle there. “What’s the news?”

The imp stood only two feet tall though he had the proportions of an adult. He glanced at Soulcatcher, received some intangible permission. “That Mogaba is one bad actor, chief. He’s giving the Shadowmasters’ boys all the trouble they ever wanted. Making them look like fools. Eating them up a nibble at a time. ’Course, it can’t last. He keeps getting into it with your old buddies One-Eye, Goblin, and Murgen. They don’t like the way he operates. He don’t like them all the time telling him about it. You get a split there, or Shadowspinner breaks loose, you got a whole new game.”

Croaker settled with his meal. “Shadowspinner breaks loose?”

“Yeah. He got hurt in the fight, you know. His old buddy from down south, Longshadow, got a whammy in on him while he was down. Keeps him from using his talents. Them Shadowmasters was a lovely bunch, all the time trying to slide around behind each other even when they was up to their asses in alligators. Longshadow, he’s got a notion he can play Shadowspinner just loose enough to let him wipe Dejagore, then squish the clown and make himself king of the world.”

In a voice little more than a whisper the sorceress said, “He has the Howler to consider, now. And me.”

The imp’s grin faded. “You ain’t as secret as you think, boss. They know you’re down here. They all did, from the beginning.”

“Damn!” She paced. “I thought I’d been more careful.”

“Hey! Not to worry. None of them got the faintest where you are now. And maybe when we get done with them they’ll wish they was nicer to you in the old days. Eh? Eh?” He laughed, childlike.

Croaker had encountered Frogface first in Gea-Xle, far to the north. One-Eye, one of the Company wizards, had bought him there. Everyone but One-Eye had doubted the imp’s provenance and loyalty, though Frogface had made himself useful.

Croaker asked Soulcatcher, “You have something planned?”

“Yes. Stand up.” He did. She rested one gloved hand against his chest. “Uhm. You’ve healed enough. And I’m running out of time.”

Nervous excitement flooded him. He knew what she wanted and did not want to do it. “I thought that was why he was here. Do you trust him enough to have him watch me?”

“Hey, chief,” the imp said, “you hurt my feelings. Sure she does. I done hitched my star.”

“One word from me and he spends eternity in torment.” Her voice was a merry little girl’s. She could be chilling in her choices.

“That too,” the imp said, all of a sudden surly. “It’s a hard life, Cap. Nobody don’t never trust me. Don’t never give me no slack. One teensy slipup and it’s roast forever. Or worse. You mortals got it made, man.”

Croaker snorted. “What do you think one slipup will get me?”

“It only hurts for a little while for you.”

Soulcatcher said, “Enough banter. Croaker, calm yourself. Get yourself ready for surgery. The imp and I will ready everything else.”

Nude and headless, the sorceress floated four feet off the floor, shoulders elevated. Her unboxed head sat on a stone table nearby, eyes alert. Croaker scanned the body. It was perfect though pale and waxy. He’d seen only one to compare. Her sister’s.

He glanced at the imp, perched on the head of a stone monster that protruded from the wall. The imp winked. “Show us what you got, Cap.” Croaker was not reassured.

He glanced at his hands. They were steady, a legacy of surgeries performed on a dozen battlefields under terrifying conditions.

He stepped to the table. The sorceress had gathered the best surgical instruments the world had to offer. “This will take a while, imp. If I tell you to do something, you do it now. Understood?”

“Sure, chief. Might help if I knew what you were going to do.”

“I’ll start by removing the scar tissue. That’ll be delicate. You’ll have to help control bleeding.” He didn’t know if there would be bleeding or not. He’d never carved on somebody who should have been dead fifteen years ago. He could not believe this operation was possible. But Catcher being alive was impossible.

How much control would she have? How much would she participate? His would be the least part here, physical preparation for the mating of head and neck. The rest, tying nerve to nerve and blood vessel to blood vessel, would be up to her.

It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t.

He went to work. Soon he was concentrating enough to forget the price of failure.