Shadows Linger: A Novel of the Black Company (Chronicles of The Black Company) Read Free Page A

now?”
    “We wait,” Candy said aloud, and with signs added, “Do what we were sent to do.”
    “Not much fun, being live bait,” Pawnbroker signed back. He studied the stair nervously. “Set Otto up with a hand,” he suggested.
    I looked at Candy. He nodded. “Why not? Give him about seventeen.” Otto would go down first time around every time if he had less than twenty. It was a good percentage bet.
    I quick figured the cards in my head, and grinned. I could give him seventeen and have enough low cards left to give each of us a hand that would burn him. “Give me those cards.”
    I hurried through the deck, building hands. “There.” Nobody had higher than a five. But Otto’s hand had higher cards than the others.
    Candy grinned. “Yeah.”
    Otto did not come back. Pawnbroker said, “I’m going up to check.”
    “All right,” Candy replied. He went and got himself a beer. I eyed the locals. They were getting ideas. I stared at one and shook my head.
    Pawnbroker and Otto returned a minute later, preceded by the dark man, who returned to his shadow. Pawnbroker and Otto looked relieved. They settled down to play.
    Otto asked, “Who dealt?”
    “Candy did,” I said. “Your go.”
    He went down. “Seventeen.”
    “Heh-heh-heh,” I replied. “Burned you. Fifteen.”
    And Pawnbroker said, “Got you both. Fourteen.”
    And Candy, “Fourteen. You’re hurting, Otto.”
    He just sat there, numbed, for several seconds. Then he caught on. “You bastards! You stacked it! You don’t think I’m going to pay off.…”
    “Settle down. Joke, son,” Candy said. “Joke. It was your deal anyhow.” The cards went around and the darkness came. No more insurgents appeared. The locals grew ever more restless. Some worried about their families, about being late. As everywhere else, most Tallylanders are concerned only with their own lives. They don’t care whether the White Rose or the Lady is ascendant.
    The minority of Rebel sympathizers worried about when the blow might fall. They were afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.
    We pretended ignorance of the situation.
    Candy signed, “Which ones are dangerous?”
    We conferred, selected three men who might become trouble. Candy had Otto bind them to their chairs.
    It dawned on the locals that we knew what to expect, that we were prepared. Not looking forward, but prepared.
    The raiders waited till midnight. They were more cautious than the Rebel we encountered ordinarily. Maybe our reputation was too strong.…
    They burst in in a rush. We discharged our spring tubes and began swinging swords, retreating to a corner away from the fireplace. The tall man watched indifferently.
    There were a lot of Rebels. Far more than we had expected. They kept storming inside, crowding up, getting into one another’s ways, climbing over the corpses of their comrades. “Some trap,” I gasped. “Must be a hundred of them.”
    “Yeah,” Candy said. “It don’t look good.” He kicked at a man’s groin, cut him when he covered up.
    The place was wall-to-wall insurgents, and from the noise there were a hell of a lot more outside. Somebody didn’t want us getting away.
    Well, that was the plan.
    My nostrils flared. There was an odor in the air, just the faintest off-key touch, subtle under the stink of fear and sweat. “Cover up!” I yelled, and whipped a wad of damp wool from my belt pouch. It stunk worse than a squashed skunk. My companions followed suit.
    Somewhere a man screamed. Then another. Voices rose in a hellish chorus. Our enemies surged around, baffled, panicky. Faces twisted in agony. Men fell down in writhing heaps, clawing their noses and throats. I was careful to keep my face in the wool.
    The tall, thin man came out of his shadows. Calmly, he began despatching guerrillas with a fourteen-inch, silvery blade. He spared those customers we had not bound to their chairs.
    He signed, “It’s safe to breathe now.”
    “Watch the door,” Candy told me. He