Cook, Glen - Black Company 08 - Water Sleeps by Cook Glen

Author:Cook, Glen [Cook, Glen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

53

I took my turn on watch. I discovered that I was not the only one with problem

dreams. Everyone slept poorly, including Narayan. Iqbal’s baby never stopped

whimpering. The goats and donkeys, though not allowed inside, also bleated and

snorted and whimpered all night long.

The Grove of Doom is just plain a Bad Place. No way around that. Some things are

black and white.

Morning was not much more pleasant than night had been. And even before

breakfast, Narayan tried to sneak away. Riverwalker showed remarkable restraint

in bringing him back still able to walk.

“You were going to run out on me now?” I demanded. I had a good idea what he

really had in mind but did not want him to suspect I knew what had become of the

friends he had expected to rescue him. “I thought you wanted that book back.”

He shrugged.

“I had a dream last night. And it wasn’t a good dream. It took me places I

didn’t want to go, with beings I didn’t want to see. But it was a true dream. I

came away with the certainty that neither of us has any chance of getting what

we want if we don’t fulfill our ends of our bargain. So I’m here to tell you I’m

playing it straight up, the Book of the Dead for the Key.”

Narayan betrayed a flicker of annoyance at my mention of a dream. No doubt he

had hoped for divine guidance and had failed to receive it last night. “I just

wanted to look for something I left here last time I visited.”

“The Key?”

“No. A personal trinket.” He squatted beside the cook fire, where Mother Gota

and Suruvhija were preparing rice. The Radisha, to the amazement of all, was

trying to help. Or, better put, was trying to learn what was being done so she

could help at another time. Neither woman offered the Princess’s status any

special respect. Gota snarled and complained at the Radisha exactly as she would

have done with the rest of us.

I watched Narayan eat. He used chopsticks. I had not noticed that before.

Paranoid me, I searched my memory, trying to remember if Singh had used the

customary wooden spoon in the past. Uncle Doj, like all Nyueng Bao, used

chopsticks. And he claimed they constituted some of his deadliest weapons.

I was going to go crazy if I did not get Narayan out of my life for a while.

He smiled as though he was reading my mind. I think maybe he put too much faith

in my word on behalf of the Company. “Show me the book, Annalist.”

I looked around. “Doj?”

The man appeared in the temple doorway. What was he up to in there? “Yes?”

“The Master Deceiver wishes to see the Book of the Dead.”

“As you wish.” He descended the leaf-strewn outer steps, rummaged through one of

the donkey packs, came up with the oilskin package we had retrieved from the

Shadowlander tomb. He presented it to the Deceiver with a bow and a flourish,

stepped back and crossed his arms. I noted that in some mystic manner, Ash Wand

had found its way onto his back. I recalled that Doj’s adopted family bore

Narayan Singh and the Strangler cult an abiding grudge.

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