Book 2 - She Is The Darkness by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

He used it like a throwing
star. The monster bellowed in outrage as the star clipped a couple
tentacles and several legs off its right side. It tried to charge
Goblin, who elected for the better part of valor and hauled
ass.
    The monster sort of dragged itself around in a big circle,
leaving ruts in the golden sand. It lost interest in the men on the
beach. For a while it tried to put its severed limbs back on but
the graft would not take. Finally, it just sort of shuddered
fatalistically and began to dig itself back down into the sand with
the limbs it still had.
    “And another thing,” Goblin complained, “I
hate the whole concept of the Shaded Road.”
    Shaded Road was some secret project kept from me because I had
had no need to know. I had overheard the name mentioned once or
twice.
    “I’m even beginning to wonder how much I like
Croaker. This shit is pure insanity. I hope the son of a bitch gets
to spend his afterlife in a place like this.”
    No more need to check up on Goblin. He was fine. Like any good
soldier, if he was bitching he was perfectly all right.
    I went back to Dejagore.
    I came back into myself inside One-Eye’s wagon. I was
starving and thirsty. Smoke smelled bad. “One-Eye! I have to
get something to eat. Where’s the transients’
mess?”
    The little black man stuck his disgusting hat into the wagon. I
could barely make out his equally ugly face. It must be getting
dark out already.
    “For us it’s in the citadel.”
    “Isn’t that wonderful. Maybe I won’t eat the
meat.” Mogaba and his cronies, still on our side then, had
sat out the siege in the citadel, dining on the occasional hapless
citizen of Jaicur.
    “Pretend it’s chicken, it ain’t so bad,”
One-Eye said, just to turn my stomach. His nose wrinkled.
“Smells in here.”
    “I told you. You’d better get him cleaned
up.”
    He tried out his baleful stare. It did not work. I said,
“You have to live with him.”
     
----

----

10
    I thought Croaker would want to catch up with Lady. They had not
seen one another for a while. But he seemed content to rest at
Dejagore, communing with his dark messengers more and more.
    The crows troubled those of the Old Crew whose duties tied them
to Dejagore. Candles and Wheezer came to me complaining. I told
them, “He’s the boss. I guess he can like crows if he
wants.” I studied Wheezer closely, unable to believe his
disease had not killed him yet. He coughed almost continuously
now.
    “It’s what the natives think about them,”
Candles said. “They’re bad omens to everybody but
Stranglers.”
    “I have a feeling they’ll be really bad omens for
anybody who starts complaining about them. Wheezer, you on
permanent assignment here?”
    The old man hacked his way around an affirmative answer.
    “Good. I don’t think you ought to be in the field at
this time of year.”
    “What good will it do to leave me back here to die
alone?”
    “You’re going to outlive me, you stubborn old
fart.”
    “I’m part of this thing now. You people all the time
tell us about our history and now we got a chance to find the
beginning place . . . I’m going to be
there.”
    I nodded, accepting that. That was his right.
    That made me reflect on how different we were from other
mercenary bands I have seen. There was almost no bullying or
brutality among the men. Historically you would not have gotten in
if you were the sort of shit who made himself feel good by causing
pain to those around you. And if you did chances were you would not
survive long.
    The history and culture and brotherhood stuff is laid on early
and often and if you survive long enough to give it a chance you
usually go for it.
    Croaker, of course, was the ultimate disciple of the Company
thing. And he was able to sell everyone else. Except Mogaba. And
Mogaba’s main problem with the brotherhood was that Mogaba
was not in charge.
    Not really relevant, except to indicate that we are not a band
of misfit brutes. We are a