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allegiance of the majority.
The Prince was quite good with people when we let him run around loose. He
preached his own restoration with an evangelical passion. He won particular
favor amongst old folks nostalgic for the quiet changelessness that had
characterized the world of their youth--before the coming of the Shadowmasters
and the Black Company.
Except for a small memorial pasture where the fighting had been bloodiest, the
battlefield on the north bank, where the Company had won a signal victory in
what seemed like another lifetime, was completely built over. Back then there
had been a hamlet and watchtower on the south bank, beside a ford that could
be crossed only half the year. Now Ghoja threatened to become a city. The
bridge, begun at my suggestion ages ago, was a strategic gem both militarily
and commercially. There were strong forts and big markets on both banks now.
The girl and the Goblin thing should have done more to keep us from crossing
over.
We made camp twelve miles north of the bridge, in rough, bare country still
not claimed by peasants. I doubt that it was good for much but pasture. Which
meant it was a wasteland amongst vegetarians. But had the ground been better I
doubt many farmers would have immigrated. It was too near the high holy place
of the Deceivers, the Grove of Doom.
We left the Prince and his sister at Ghoja, along with many native recruits.
Sleepy thought it was time the royals got a taste of independence. She was
confident that they would not conspire against the Company again. They had
been included in our councils often enough to know that Tobo's hidden folk
would always be close by.
Ten hours after we set camp, in the middle of the night, Sleepy changed her
mind. She wanted to move a little closer to Taglios, to get between the City
and the Grove of Doom.
I was awake when Riverwalker brought the news, writing by lamplight and
keeping an eye on our injured. Some of them had not weathered the journey
well. I was concerned about Soulcatcher in particular.
The change in plan did not irritate me as deeply as it did Lady. She had to be
dragged out of a deep sleep. The way she snarled and threatened great evils
left me wondering if she had not begun having nightmares again.
Riverwalker murmured, whispered. "I'm getting me a head start."
"Run, River, run. You'll need every yard you can get."
Lady gave me a look that made me wonder if I should not yell at him to wait
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up.
We established the new camp near a dense stand of trees which, I learned,
surrounded and masked a sprawling Shadowlander cemetery that hailed from the
first Shadowmaster invasion of the Taglian Territories. From before the
Company's arrival. Almost no one knew about that. I had not, though I had
campaigned in the region. Of the entire host only Suvrin showed any interest.
He thought he might have a relative or two tucked away there.
He would have plenty of opportunity to visit tombs and graves. Sleepy planned
to stay put, recruiting and training and harrying the edge of the Grove of
Doom while Tobo and our other casualties recuperated. The trouble with the
cemetery was, time had vandalized most of the Shadowlanders' slapdash grave
markers.
The Goblin-thing and the Daughter of Night settled down, too, and they really
did nothing but sit. They did not begin transcribing the Books of the Dead
because they had no supplies. They did not consult with Deceivers making
pilgrimages into the holy grove. Those men we left alone, every future step to
be dogged by Unknown Shadows so we could follow their routines once they
returned to their home environments. There were not many Stranglers left
alive. This way we could find out who those few were.
Handy as it is, being able to see whatever you want takes a lot of getting
used to.
The Grove of Doom was always a cruel and wicked place, filled with ancient
darkness. The hidden folk hated it but they endured going in for Tobo's sake.
Their devotion to the boy gets scary when I think about it too much.
Gromovol and Arkana were mending at a pace equaling Tobo's, which was amazing
but not magical. Gromovol's arrogance remained undiminished by misfortune.
Arkana was understandably withdrawn.
Soulcatcher worried me increasingly. Not only did she show no improvement, she
seemed to be growing weaker. She was headed right down the grim trail Sedvod
had blazed.
There was a lot of sentiment favoring letting her slide, and for possibly
easing Gromovol along the same dark path while he was sleeping. The jury
remained out on Arkana even though the hidden folk had exculpated her in all
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