Dreams of Steel

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I moved out before dawn. I took every man I could round up-except those who had helped despatch the priests. Those I left as a garrison, with orders to remain in the city a week, then to move to the remote Vehdna-Bota ford across the Main. I did not want them talking to the other men, who did not yet know about the massacre.

There were six thousand men in the force. They were scarcely more than an armed rabble. They were enthusiastic, though. They wanted to relieve Dejagore.

I tried to teach them on the march.

Narayan did not like the move. He brooded. He came to me late the third day of the march. We were twenty miles from Ghoja. “Mistress?”

“You’ve finally decided to talk about it?”

He pretended not to be surprised. He tried to accept everything about me. On the surface. Did he regret his snap decision that I was his Strangler messiah? I am sure he wanted more control. He did not want his Daughter of Night to be independent of his own ambitions and wishful thinking.

“Yes, Mistress. Tomorrow is Etsataya, first day of the Festival. We’re only a few miles from the Holy Grove. It is important that you present yourself to the jamadars.”

I guided him out of the human stream. “I haven’t been trying to duck it. I’ve been preoccupied. You said the first day. I thought this was a one-day holy festival.”

“It’s three days, Mistress. The middle day is the actual high holy day.”

“I can’t afford a three-day delay, Narayan.”

“I know, Mistress.” Funny how the honorifics showed up so much more often when he wanted something. “But we do have men capable of keeping the mob moving. All they have to do is follow the road. With your horses we can overtake them quickly.”

I masked my feelings. This was something I had to do but not something I wanted to do. Narayan’s cult had not been much use yet.

But Narayan himself was a valuable aide. I had to keep him happy. “All right. Get this mob pointed in the right direction and going on its own momentum. I’ll want Ram and my gear.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

We left the column half an hour later.

It was dark when we reached the Stranglers’ holy grove. I did not see much of it but I felt it. Seldom had I encountered a place with a darker aura. Some of Narayan’s brotherhood were there already. We joined them. They watched me sidelong, afraid to look at me directly.

There was nothing to do. I went to sleep early.

The dreams were worse than ever before, unrelenting, continuous. I did not escape till the sun rose, probed through the mist and dark trees. Ten thousand crows bickered and squawked overhead. Narayan and his cronies thought that a hugely favorable omen. The crow was Kina’s favorite bird, her messenger and spy..

Was there a connection with the crows that had followed the Company so long? According to Croaker they had picked us up before we had crossed the Sea of Torments. The Sea lies seven thousand miles north of the grove.

As soon as I wakened I was sick. I vomited as I tried to sit up. Men bustled around, solicitous, unable to do anything helpful. Narayan looked scared to death. He had a lot invested in me. He would be a nothing if he lost me now. “Mistress! Mistress! What’s the matter?”

“I’m puking my guts up!” I snarled. “Get me something.”

There was nothing anyone could do.

The worst passed. After that it was just nausea that worsened drastically if I moved suddenly. I passed on breakfast. After an hour I was able to get up and around without too much discomfort-if I took it slowly.

Being sick was new to me. I had not been, ever before. I did not like it.

There were a hundred men in the grove already, maybe more. They all came for a glimpse at their ragged messiah. I don’t think they were impressed. I would not have been, in their shoes. Nobody could measure up to an anticipation of millennia. Ragged as I was I had to be a double dose of disappointment.

Narayan did a fair job of arguing his case. They did not cut my throat.

They were a mixed bag, all religions, all castes, and as many of them foreigners as Taglians, all sinister in that grove. It reeked of darkness and old blood.

Nobody seemed festive. They seemed to be waiting for something to happen. I isolated Narayan and asked.

“Nothing much happens before nightfall,” he said.

“Most of the men will arrive today. Those who are here already will make preparation. There will be a ceremony tonight, to open the festival and let Kina know that tomorrow is her day. The ceremonies tomorrow are meant to invoke her. Candidates will be presented to her, to accept or reject. After the ceremonies the feast will begin. All during Festival the priests will judge petitions presented. There aren’t many this year. An old dispute between the Ineld and Twana bands is up for judgment, though. That will attract a lot of attention.”

I frowned.

“Bands sometimes come into conflict. The Ineld band is of Vehdna stock, the Twana of Shadar. Each accuses the other of heresy and poaching. It’s an old dispute that grew much worse after the Shadowmasters invaded. In parts of their territories the bands are the only law, which makes for bigger stakes.”

It was a long story, not pretty, too human, serving to illustrate that the Deceivers were more than a lot of deadly fanatics. In some areas they ruled the underworld. The bands in question hailed from populous Hatchpur State, where the Deceivers were relatively strong. Their true feud was a contest of criminal gangs over territories.

“Anyway,” Narayan said, “Iluk of the Ineld band stunned everyone by insisting the conflict be handed to the justice of Kina.”

The way he said it was ominous. Kina’s must be a very final justice. “That’s unusual?”

“Everyone thinks it’s a bluff. Iluk expects Kowran, jamadar of the Twana band, to refuse. That would leave the judgment to the priests, who would take his refusal into account.”

“And if he doesn’t back down?”

“There’s no appeal from the judgment of Kina.”

“I thought so.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Some. I’m still nauseous but I’ve got it under control.”

“Can you eat? You should.”

“A little rice, maybe. Nothing heavily spiced.” They liked their spices in Taglios. Cooking odors could be overwhelming in the city.

He handed me over to Ram. Ram hovered. I kept my composure. Well I did. While I nibbled, letting each bite settle, Narayan brought a parade of priests and jamadars for formal introduction. I memorized names and faces carefully. I noted that few of the jamadars boasted the black rumel. I met only four men who did. I mentioned that to Ram.

“Very few are honored, Mistress. And jamadar Narayan is foremost among those. He’s a living legend. No other man would have dared bring you here.”

Was he warning me? Maybe I had best watch myself. There could be politics here, too. Some band captains might resist me simply because I was associated with Narayan.

Narayan. The living legend.

How had our paths come to cross ? I’m no believer in fate or gods, in the accepted senses, but there are powers that move the world. That I know well. Once I was one.

The sender of my dreams arranged it, no doubt. She, or it, had been interested in me long before I became aware of that interest.

Could it have been she who had struck Croaker down? To rid me of an inconvenient emotional entanglement ?

Maybe. Maybe when the Shadowmasters fell I might turn to another target.

The anger rose in me. I controlled it and rode it, let Ram finish feeding me, went exploring the grove. I went to its heart and examined the temple for the first time.

It barely passed muster. It was so buried in creepers it was barely recognizable. Nobody challenged my presence outside. I did not press my luck by climbing the steps. Instead, I rambled around.

I found a man willing to get Narayan for me. I did not want to enter the holy place uninvited. He came out looking irritated. “Take a walk with me. I have a few questions. First, will anyone get upset if I go inside?”

He thought. “I don’t think so.”

“Anybody saying I can’t be what you claim? Do you have the kind of enemies who will oppose you on everything?”

“No. But there are doubts.”

“I’m sure. I don’t look the part.”

He shrugged.

I’d led him to the area where I wanted him. I suggested, “You’d need a fair hand at woodcraft to survive your summer travels, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Look around.”

He did. He came back perplexed. “Someone kept horses here.”

“Anyone else come on horseback?” “A few. High-caste Deceivers from afar. Yesterday and today.”

“That’s not fresh. Is there a regular guard?” “No one comes here but us. No one dares.” “Somebody did. And it looks like they stayed awhile. That’s a lot of manure for a casual visit.”

“I have to tell the others. This will mean purification rites if the temple was profaned.” As we ascended the steps to the temple, he said, “You noticing will be a point in your favor. No one else did.” “You don’t see what you don’t expect to see.” The temple was poorly lighted inside. Just as well. It was ugly in there. The architects had dreamed some of my dreams, then had recreated them in stone. Narayan collected several jamadars, told them what I had found. They fussed and cussed and grumbled, spread out to see if the infidels had defiled their temple. I wandered.

They found where the invaders had done their cooking. The place had been cleaned but smoke stains are hard to erase. The stains suggested that someone had camped there for a long time.

Narayan sidled up, gave me his grin. “Now would be a good time to impress them, Mistress.”

“Like how?”

“By using your talent to find out something about whoever was here.”

“Sure. Just like that. I’ve maybe got enough skill to find their latrine and garbage pit.”

He eyed me, wondering how I could know they had had one, then reasoned it out. There was no garbage or human waste around. “That could tell us a lot.”

One of the jamadars told us that now they were looking they had found plenty of evidence of an extended occupation. “One man and one woman. The woman slept near the fire. The man stayed near the altar. They don’t appear to have bothered that. Mistress? Would you look?”

“An honor.” I did not immediately understand how they knew a woman had slept near the fire. Then one produced a few strands of long black hair. “Can you tell anything from this, Mistress?”

“Yes. She didn’t have naturally curly hair. If it was a she.” Some Gunni men let their hair grow long. Shadar and Vehdna tended toward curls. Vehdna men wore their hair short. But everyone at this end of the earth had black hair, or very dark brown when it was clean.

Swan was a real curiosity with his golden locks.

My sarcasm did not escape my companions. I said, “Don’t expect me to see the past or future. Yet. Kina comes to me only in dreams.”

That even startled Narayan.

“Let’s see the other place.”

They showed me where the man had slept. Again, they had determined sex by length of hair. They had found one strand three inches long, fine, a medium brown. “Hang onto those hairs, Narayan. They could be useful someday.”

Deceivers scurried around seeking more signs. Narayan suggested, “Let’s find that pit.”

We went out. We wandered. I located the place. Some lowlife candidates to the cult got to open it. I wandered while I waited.

“Mistress. I just found this.” A jamadar offered me a small animal figure someone had made by bending and braiding and twisting strands of grass, the kind of time-killing thing people do when they have nothing to do. But the man looked disturbed.

“It’s just something somebody did for the hell of it. It has no power. But if there are more around I’d like to see them. They might tell us something about whoever made them.”

Less than a minute passed before another turned up. “It was hanging from a twig, Mistress. I guess it’s supposed to be a monkey.”

I had a brainstorm. “Don’t move anything. I want to see them right where they are.”

Over the next few hours we found scores of those things, some made of grass, some twisted from strips of bark. Someone had had a lot of time and nothing to do. I knew a man once who did that with paper and never realized he was doing it.

Most of those things were stick figures, monkeys hanging from twigs, four-legged beasts that could have been anything. But a few of the four-leggers carried riders. The riders always carried twig swords or spears.

I must have made a noise. Narayan said, “Mistress?”

I whispered, “There’s something important about those things. But I’ll be damned if I understand what.” Someone found a whole mob of figures where someone had sat on a rock leaning against a tree making them and maybe daydreaming. It was a little clearing about ten feet across. A stump stood in the middle.

I knew I was onto something the instant I arrived. But what? Whatever, it stayed way down below consciousness. I told Narayan, “If there’s anything to be earned, it’s here.” I whispered again. “Get everybody back to what they’re supposed to be doing.” I perched on the rock. I pulled some grass and started twisting a figure. The men went away. I let my mind drift into the twilight state. Wonder of wonders, dreams did not intrude.

Minutes passed. More and more crows dropped into the trees. My interest must have been too obvious.

Were they watching to see if I found out something? Like maybe something about those who had been staying here? Ah! The birds had more to do with them than with the Deceivers. They were not omens-in the sense the Stranglers hoped. They were messengers and spies.

Crows. Everywhere and always, crows, seldom behaving the way crows should. Tools. Their sudden interest suggested they feared I would learn something I ought not. Which meant there was something.

My mind leaped from stone to stone across a brook of ignorance. If I did discover something I had best not be obvious.

Realization.

The clearing felt familiar because it recalled a place I had lived. If that stump represented the Tower, whence I had ruled my empire, then the scatter of stones might represent the badlands I had created so the Tower could be approached along just one narrow, deadly path.

Patterns emerged. They were almost imperceptible, as though put there by someone who knew he was watched. Someone surrounded by crows? If I let my imagination loose, that scatter of rocks, debris, and twisted figures did make a fair representation of the Tower’s surroundings. In fact, a couple of sticks and a scatter and a boot scuff and a little soil pushed into a mound described a situation that had existed only once in the history of the Tower.

I had trouble pretending calm and indolence.

If the rocks and twigs and such were significant, so must be the creatures of grass and bark. I stood up for a better view.

One thing jumped right out.

A leaf lay at the foot of the stump. A tiny figure sat upon it. A lot of care had gone into creating that figure. More than enough to make the message clear. The Howler, my then master of the flying carpet, was supposed to have been killed by a fall from the heights of the Tower. I had known that was not true for some time now. The message had to be that the Howler was somehow involved in current events.

Whoever set this up knew me and expected me to visit the grove. That should mean that someone knew what I was doing. That someone must have access to what the crows reported but was not their master. Else there was no reason for such an elaborate and iffy means of passing a message. There was more.

Many great sorcerers had been involved in the battle where the Howler was supposed to have died. Most of them were supposed to have been killed. Since then I have discovered that several had fled after faking their deaths. I checked the figures again. Some were identifiable as representing some of those sorcerers. Three had been crushed underfoot. Those known to have been destroyed?

I gave it all the time it needed and still nearly missed the critical message. It was almost dark when I spied the clever little figure carrying what appeared to be a head under its arm. It took a while after that to understand the significance of the figure.

I had told Narayan that we do not see what we do not expect to see.

A lot of things fell into place once I realized that the impossible was not impossible at all. My sister was alive. I saw a whole new picture of what was going on. And I was frightened.

And, frightened, I missed the most important message of all.