Book 1 - Bleak Seasons Read Free Page B

becoming scarce. Sometimes
you hear the outraged protest of a crow taken by surprise.
    The Nyueng Bao are survivors.
    They are a race possessed of a single impassive face.
    Mogaba does not bother them mainly because when anybody does the
whole bunch gets pissed off. And they consider fighting a really
serious, holy business.
    They stay out of the way when they can but they aren’t
pacifists. A couple of times the Shadowlanders have regretted
trying to push through their part of town.
    The Nyueng Bao generated an amazing amount of carnage both
times.
    Rumor among the Jaicuri says they eat their enemies.
    It is true, human bones showing evidence of butchery and cookery
have been found. Jaicuri are mainly of the Gunni religion. Gunni
are vegetarians.
    I do not believe the Nyueng Bao are responsible, but Ky Dam
refuses to deny even the blackest allegation against his
people.
    Maybe he will accept any canard that makes the Nyueng Bao seem
more dangerous. Maybe he wants that kind of talk so fear will
build.
    Survivors grasp the tools at hand.
    I wish they would talk. I’d bet they could tell stories
that would curl your toes and straighten your hair.
    Ah! Dejagore! Those halcyon days, slouching through hell with a
smile on.
    How long before all the fun goes out of the town?
     
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7
    Bone tired, just as I had been every night for as long as I
could remember, I went to take my turn on the wall. I had no
ambition at all and even less energy. Seated in a crenel, I heaped
aspersions on the ancestors of all my bitty Shadowlander buddies. I
am afraid I lacked creativity but I made up for that with
virulence. They were up to something out there. You could hear
rattlings and mutterings and see torches moving around.
    There were all the harbingers of a night without sleep.
Couldn’t these people be normal and handle their business
during regular hours?
    It didn’t sound like they were more enthusiastic than me.
I caught the occasional sharp remark about me or my foredaddies,
like this mess was all my fault. I guess they were motivated mainly
by their sure knowledge that they would never go home if they
didn’t recapture Stormgard.
    Maybe nobody on either side would get out of this one alive.
    A crow called, mocking us all. I didn’t bother throwing a
rock at it.
    It was misty out. A half-hearted drizzle came and went.
Lightning stalked beyond the hills to the south. It had been hot
and humid all day, then had turned viciously stormy toward evening.
Lakes of water stood in the streets. Stormshadow’s engineers
had not made good drainage a high priority, despite the natural
advantages available.
    It would not be a good night for attacking tall walls. And not
much easier for anyone defending them.
    Still, I almost felt sorry for the little buggers down
below.
    Candles and Red Rudy finished the long climb from the street,
groaning. Each carried a heavy leather sack. Candles grumbled,
“I’m too old for this shit.”
    “If it works out we’ll all get to get
old.”
    Both men leaned on merlons while they caught their wind. Then
they dumped their sacks into the darkness. Somebody down there
swore in a Shadowlander dialect. “Serves you right,
asshole,” Rudy growled back. “Go home. Let me
sleep.”
    All of the Old Crew invested time hauling dirt.
    “I know,” Candles told me. “I know. But what
good is alive if you’re too damned tired to give a
shit?”
    If you read the Annals you know our brothers have said the same
thing since the beginning. I shrugged. I could come up with nothing
inspirational. Mostly you don’t try to justify or motivate,
you just go on.
    Candles grumbled, “Goblin wants you. We’ll cover you
here.”
    In battered Shadowlander Rudy shouted downward, “Yeah, I
know your turkey gobble. Fuck you.”
    I grunted. It was my watch but I could leave if I wanted. Mogaba
didn’t even pretend to try to control the Old Crew anymore.
We did our part. We held our ground. We just would not conform to
his