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"This man came up from the south. He gave the proper recognition signs. He
told us that he was bringing you important news about traitors but wouldn't
say anything else."
"He arrived healthy? How did he get this way?"
"Just before we got to camp he stood up in his stirrups and screamed. His
horse reared and threw him. After he hit the ground he shuddered and twitched
and made gurgling noises trying to scream. And then he died."
"Traitors?" No doubt there would be many of those to pay off before this
played out. These situations brought them out from under every rock and bush.
"That's all he said, ma'am."
"Bring him inside. It's possible I can still get a little something out of
him. Be careful where you track your mud." She stepped aside, even held the
flap for the soldiers. Reluctantly, a few found courage enough to bring the
body forward. Soulcatcher's soldiers shared a common opinion that it was not
good to catch the Protector's eye. These stepped carefully, leaving as little
mud and moisture as possible.
In a merry young voice Soulcatcher observed, "You must all have mothers."
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Soulcatcher had the corpse partially stripped, disassembling its apparel
thread by thread, when there was another disturbance outside the tent
entrance. Irked, she responded, hoping this would be the news she had been
awaiting so long: that Goblin had been captured at last.
As she was about to open up she caught motion from the corner of her eye. She
spun. For an instant she thought she glimpsed a tiny man, maybe eight inches
tall, ducking down behind the corpse.
The racket outside remained insistent.
It was not the news she wanted. The soldiers there--they always came in
groups--pushed one of their number forward. "A courier just came in, ma'am.
The enemy is on the move again. Westward."
Mogaba had called it right, then. "When did this start?"
"The courier will be with you in a minute, ma'am. With dispatches. He had some
physical needs he couldn't put off before he could see you. But the command
staff insisted you get the main news immediately."
In a casual tone, Soulcatcher observed, "The drizzle seems to be letting up."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Get that courier here as fast as possible."
"Yes, ma'am."
The reports from the south did indeed have the rested Black Company forces
moving westward but not on the track previously anticipated. Part of their
journey would have to be made without the benefits of roads, over rough
terrain.
Soulcatcher said, "They must be striking for Balichore by the shortest route.
Why? Can anyone tell me what's special about Balichore?" Soulcatcher
controlled a sprawling empire she knew only a little about.
After an extended silence someone tentatively suggested, "That's the farthest
upriver heavy barge traffic travels. Cargos have to be portaged and loaded on
smaller boats or onto wagons."
Someone else recalled, "There's some kind of problem with rocks in the river.
A whatchamacallit. Cataract. The Liberator once ordered a canal built around
it but the project was abandoned... "
A couple of pokes in the ribs were necessary before the speaker recalled who
was responsible for the neglect of public works in recent times.
Soulcatcher did not respond, however. She concentrated on the transport idea.
A large portion of the Company had barged up the Naghir River after fleeing
Taglios five years ago. Could this new Captain be in a rut? Or was she
thinking she could catch Taglios by surprise, from the river side, where there
were no walls and no defensive works and the peoples of those poorer quarters
tended toward nostalgic recollections of the Prahbrindrah Drah, the Radisha
and even the Liberator.
Soulcatcher asked, "Does anyone happen to know how long it takes to get a
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barge down the Naghir, through the delta channels, and upriver to Taglios?"
She knew barges manned by veteran crews traveled day and night, unlike
soldiers afoot or on horseback.
Another disturbance at the entrance arose before anyone produced a reliable
answer.
The drizzle had ended, she discovered. Yet the men demanding attention were
covered with mud. And they had brought her a present.
"For me? And it's not even my birthday."
Goblin was a present who looked way the worse for use. He was bound and
gagged. His head and hands were wrapped in rags as well. His captors had been
determined to take no chances.
Soulcatcher gloated. "He stumbled into one of my traps, didn't he?"
"Yes he did, ma'am."
There were hundreds of those out there, taking many forms. Soulcatcher had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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