kept themselves sorted
out. Maybe by weight. Several of the File carried some surplus
poundage.
When Sleepy named the last of the Trans of the File, Tran
Lan-Anh, their spokesman, the First, interrupted her with a request
for time to confer. Sleepy bowed, offered him no further
provocation. We knew that he was Pham Thi Ly of Ghu Phi, an
excellent general with a good reputation among his troops, a
believer in a unified Hsien, but old enough to have lost his
zest for struggle. By the slightest of nods Sleepy let him know
that his identity was no secret, either.
Sleepy announced, “We have no interest in coming back to
Hsien once we return to the plain.” As though that was some
dear secret we had held clutched close to our hearts forever. Any
spy among us would have reported that we just wanted to go home.
“Like the Nyueng Bao who fled to our world, we came here only
because we had no choice.” Doj would not have accepted her
assessment of Nyueng Bao history, brief as it might be. In his eye
his immigrant ancestors had been a band of adventurers similar to
the forebrethren of the Black Company, who had gone forth from
Khatovar. “We’re strong now. We’re ready to go
home. Our enemies there will cringe, unmanned by the news of our
coming.”
I did not believe that for an instant. Soulcatcher would be
pleased to see us. A good squabble would relieve the tedium of her
daily grind. Being an all-powerful ruler actually takes most of the
fun out of life. In the heyday of her dark empire, my wife had made
that discovery, too. Management trivia consumes you.
Lady hated it enough to walk away. But misses it now.
Sleepy said, “We lack only the knowledge to repair our
shadowgate, so that our world isn’t overrun by the Host of
the Unforgiven Dead.”
Our spokespeople never fail to harp on that point. It remains
central to every statement of our purpose. We would wear the Nine
down. They would give in so they would not have to hear about it
anymore. They were, however, extremely paranoid about the risk of
another otherworld invasion.
If they were hard asses they could try to outstubborn us, hoping
we would give up, go home, and have our shadowgate fall apart
behind us. That would end our threat permanently.
The power of the File lies in the anonymity of its members. When
warlords get together to plot they are restrained by the
possibility that among them is one of the Nine. The File publishes
any schemes it uncovers, thereby focusing the wrath of warlords not
included in the plan. It is a clumsy system but it has kept
conflict limited for generations by making it difficult to forge
alliances.
Sleepy could expose the File. If they were betrayed, chaos would
come baying right behind. Few warlords like having their ambitions
held in check—though restraints had to be imposed on all those
other villains.
The Unknowns did not like being bullied, either. Those whose
names had been betrayed soon grew so angry the elder monk placed
himself between parties as a reminder of where we were.
Being an old soldier, I began a swift inventory of resources
available for a fight if some warlord was dim enough to force one.
I was not reassured. Our greatest asset was missing.
Where did Shiki go? When did she go? Why?
I needed to keep a closer eye on my surroundings. An oversight
this big could turn fatal.
One masked warlord bounded out of his chair. He yipped and
slapped his buttocks. We gaped. Silence fell. The man began to
gather his dignity. A trill of faint high-pitched laughter sparkled
in the silence. Something with humming diamond wings darted about
too fast to be made out clearly. It left the room before anybody
could react.
Sahra observed, “Most of the Hidden Realm will follow us
when we leave. Possibly so much of it that Hsien will no longer be
the Land of Unknown Shadows.”
Master Santaraksita murmured in her ear. That irked the warlords
and the old referee elder, too. The monk was particularly unhappy
because the
out. Maybe by weight. Several of the File carried some surplus
poundage.
When Sleepy named the last of the Trans of the File, Tran
Lan-Anh, their spokesman, the First, interrupted her with a request
for time to confer. Sleepy bowed, offered him no further
provocation. We knew that he was Pham Thi Ly of Ghu Phi, an
excellent general with a good reputation among his troops, a
believer in a unified Hsien, but old enough to have lost his
zest for struggle. By the slightest of nods Sleepy let him know
that his identity was no secret, either.
Sleepy announced, “We have no interest in coming back to
Hsien once we return to the plain.” As though that was some
dear secret we had held clutched close to our hearts forever. Any
spy among us would have reported that we just wanted to go home.
“Like the Nyueng Bao who fled to our world, we came here only
because we had no choice.” Doj would not have accepted her
assessment of Nyueng Bao history, brief as it might be. In his eye
his immigrant ancestors had been a band of adventurers similar to
the forebrethren of the Black Company, who had gone forth from
Khatovar. “We’re strong now. We’re ready to go
home. Our enemies there will cringe, unmanned by the news of our
coming.”
I did not believe that for an instant. Soulcatcher would be
pleased to see us. A good squabble would relieve the tedium of her
daily grind. Being an all-powerful ruler actually takes most of the
fun out of life. In the heyday of her dark empire, my wife had made
that discovery, too. Management trivia consumes you.
Lady hated it enough to walk away. But misses it now.
Sleepy said, “We lack only the knowledge to repair our
shadowgate, so that our world isn’t overrun by the Host of
the Unforgiven Dead.”
Our spokespeople never fail to harp on that point. It remains
central to every statement of our purpose. We would wear the Nine
down. They would give in so they would not have to hear about it
anymore. They were, however, extremely paranoid about the risk of
another otherworld invasion.
If they were hard asses they could try to outstubborn us, hoping
we would give up, go home, and have our shadowgate fall apart
behind us. That would end our threat permanently.
The power of the File lies in the anonymity of its members. When
warlords get together to plot they are restrained by the
possibility that among them is one of the Nine. The File publishes
any schemes it uncovers, thereby focusing the wrath of warlords not
included in the plan. It is a clumsy system but it has kept
conflict limited for generations by making it difficult to forge
alliances.
Sleepy could expose the File. If they were betrayed, chaos would
come baying right behind. Few warlords like having their ambitions
held in check—though restraints had to be imposed on all those
other villains.
The Unknowns did not like being bullied, either. Those whose
names had been betrayed soon grew so angry the elder monk placed
himself between parties as a reminder of where we were.
Being an old soldier, I began a swift inventory of resources
available for a fight if some warlord was dim enough to force one.
I was not reassured. Our greatest asset was missing.
Where did Shiki go? When did she go? Why?
I needed to keep a closer eye on my surroundings. An oversight
this big could turn fatal.
One masked warlord bounded out of his chair. He yipped and
slapped his buttocks. We gaped. Silence fell. The man began to
gather his dignity. A trill of faint high-pitched laughter sparkled
in the silence. Something with humming diamond wings darted about
too fast to be made out clearly. It left the room before anybody
could react.
Sahra observed, “Most of the Hidden Realm will follow us
when we leave. Possibly so much of it that Hsien will no longer be
the Land of Unknown Shadows.”
Master Santaraksita murmured in her ear. That irked the warlords
and the old referee elder, too. The monk was particularly unhappy
because the
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