Soldiers Live by Glen Cook Read Free Book Online

the City
     Battalions—no relation: Singh was the most common surname in Taglios—were there
     already. Which meant that Soulcatcher must have been haranguing them about their
     failure to root out enough enemies, again, before the bad news arrived.
    Mogaba exchanged glances with both men. As he believed himself to be, they were
     good men trapped by impossible circumstances. Ghopal had a flair for enforcing
     the law. Aridatha was equally talented at keeping the peace without enraging the
     populace. Both men managed despite Soulcatcher, who loved both chaos and
     despotism and inflicted each with verve and ferocity, driven by the dictates of
     whimsy.
    The woman seemed to materialize suddenly. It was a talent she used to disconcert
     lesser beings. A lesser man than Mogaba might have been numbed by the sight of
     her. The woman had a body the wonders of which seemed highlighted rather than
     concealed by the tight black leather she wore. Nature had blessed her with
     superb raw materials. Her vanity had driven her, over the centuries, to keep
     making improvements through cosmetic sorceries.
    “I’m not happy,” Soulcatcher announced. Her voice was petulant, that of a
     spoiled child. Today her look was younger than usual, as though she wanted to
     spark every young man’s fantasy. Although the preening crow on the tall chair
     back behind her was a distraction once she settled.
    “May I ask why?” Mogaba asked. His voice was calm, untroubled. Life in the
     Palace at Taglios consisted of a disorganized stumble from crisis to crisis. He
     no longer became emotionally involved. Soulcatcher would turn on him someday. He
     had made his peace with that already. He would face it calmly when it came. He
     deserved no better.
    “There is a huge Deceiver festival being celebrated in the Grove of Doom. Right
     now. Tonight.” This voice was cool, calm, rational. Masculine. You got used to
     the changes after a while. Mogaba seldom noticed anymore. Aridatha Singh, only
     recently promoted, still found the unpredictable chorus disconcerting. Singh was
     a sound officer and good soldier. Mogaba hoped he lasted long enough to become
     accustomed to the Protector’s quirks. Aridatha deserved better than he was
     likely to get.
    “That’s definitely not good news,” Mogaba agreed. “Seems I recall you wanting to
     harvest the timber there while obliterating every last trace of the holy place.
    Selvas Gupta talked you out of it. Said it would set a bad precedent.” Gupta had
     had secret encouragement from the Great General, who had not cared to waste
     manpower and time clearing a forest. But Mogaba loathed Selvas Gupta and his
     smugly holy attitude of superiority.
    Gupta was the current Purohita, or official court chaplain and religious
     adviser. Purohita was a post that had been forced upon the Radisha Drah twenty
     years earlier by the priesthoods at a time when the princess had been too weak
     to defy them. Soulcatcher had not yet abolished it. But she had little patience
     with the men who occupied it.
    Selvas Gupta had been Purohita for a year, which incumbency exceeded that of all
     his predecessors since the establishment of the Protectorate.
    Mogaba was confident that slimy little snake Gupta would not last out the week.
    Soulcatcher gave him a look which offered the impression that she was peering
     deep inside him, sorting his secrets and motives. Having paused just long enough
     to suggest that she was not being fooled, she said, “Get me a new Purohita. Kill
     the old one if he argues about it.” She had an ancient custom of being
     unpleasant toward priests who disappointed her. Which ran in the family. Her
     sister had slain hundreds in a single massacre a generation earlier. The
     exemplary demonstrations of both sisters, however, never seemed sufficient to
     convince the survivors that they ought to abandon their scheming. They were
     stubborn. It seemed likely that Taglios would come up short of priests