before the File all
along. They wanted something more but never articulated it—though supernatural
espionage revealed that they hoped to gain our support in establishing a much
stronger File position. Only they did not dare suggest that themselves before
the witnesses that always exist when negotiations take place in Khang Phi.
The masks faced Sahra’s way. None of the Unknowns responded. You could sense
their exasperation. Lately they had begun to believe, on no creditable evidence,
that they had some power over us. Probably because we had not gotten into the
sort of pissing contest with any of our neighbors that would have demonstrated
the lethal inequalities between their forces and ours. We would devour most of
the local armies.
Sleepy stepped past Santaraksita, took position beside Sahra. In passible local
dialect she said, “I am Captain of the Black Company. I will speak.” Facing a
warlord wearing a mask surmounted by a crane’s head, she continued, “Tran Thi
Kim-Thoa, you are Last Entered of the File.” The warlords stirred. “You are
young. Possibly you know no one whose life and pain would regain meaning if
Maricha Manthara Dhumraksha came back here to atone for his sins. I understand
that. Youth is always impatient with the pasts of its elders—seven when that
past crushes down upon youth’s shoulders.”
She paused.
Seven silk-clad butts shifted nervously, filling an extended silence with soft
rustles. All us Company people grinned, baring our fangs. Exactly like those
rock apes around Outpost, trying to intimidate one another.
Sleepy had named the newest of the Nine. His identity would be no secret to the
other eight. They had chosen him when last there was an opening in their circle.
He would be ignorant of their identities—unless some of the older warlords had
chosen to reveal themselves. Each warlord normally knew only those elected to
the File after themselves. By naming the Last Entered, Sleepy offered another
threat while endangering just the one Unknown.
Sleepy beckoned. “Croaker.” I stepped forward. “This is Croaker. He was Captain
before me and Dictator to All the Taglias. Croaker, before us we have Tran Huu
Dung and six others of the File of Nine.” She did not specify this Tran’s
position in the File. His name caused another stir, though.
She beckoned Swan. “This is Willow Swan, a longtime associate of the Black
Company. Willow, I present Tran Huu Nhan and six others of the File of Nine.
Tran is a common patronym in Hsien. There are a lot of Trans among the Nine,
none of them related by blood.”
The next name she offered, after introducing Willow Swan, was Tran Huu Nhang. I
began to wonder how they 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
along. They wanted something more but never articulated it—though supernatural
espionage revealed that they hoped to gain our support in establishing a much
stronger File position. Only they did not dare suggest that themselves before
the witnesses that always exist when negotiations take place in Khang Phi.
The masks faced Sahra’s way. None of the Unknowns responded. You could sense
their exasperation. Lately they had begun to believe, on no creditable evidence,
that they had some power over us. Probably because we had not gotten into the
sort of pissing contest with any of our neighbors that would have demonstrated
the lethal inequalities between their forces and ours. We would devour most of
the local armies.
Sleepy stepped past Santaraksita, took position beside Sahra. In passible local
dialect she said, “I am Captain of the Black Company. I will speak.” Facing a
warlord wearing a mask surmounted by a crane’s head, she continued, “Tran Thi
Kim-Thoa, you are Last Entered of the File.” The warlords stirred. “You are
young. Possibly you know no one whose life and pain would regain meaning if
Maricha Manthara Dhumraksha came back here to atone for his sins. I understand
that. Youth is always impatient with the pasts of its elders—seven when that
past crushes down upon youth’s shoulders.”
She paused.
Seven silk-clad butts shifted nervously, filling an extended silence with soft
rustles. All us Company people grinned, baring our fangs. Exactly like those
rock apes around Outpost, trying to intimidate one another.
Sleepy had named the newest of the Nine. His identity would be no secret to the
other eight. They had chosen him when last there was an opening in their circle.
He would be ignorant of their identities—unless some of the older warlords had
chosen to reveal themselves. Each warlord normally knew only those elected to
the File after themselves. By naming the Last Entered, Sleepy offered another
threat while endangering just the one Unknown.
Sleepy beckoned. “Croaker.” I stepped forward. “This is Croaker. He was Captain
before me and Dictator to All the Taglias. Croaker, before us we have Tran Huu
Dung and six others of the File of Nine.” She did not specify this Tran’s
position in the File. His name caused another stir, though.
She beckoned Swan. “This is Willow Swan, a longtime associate of the Black
Company. Willow, I present Tran Huu Nhan and six others of the File of Nine.
Tran is a common patronym in Hsien. There are a lot of Trans among the Nine,
none of them related by blood.”
The next name she offered, after introducing Willow Swan, was Tran Huu Nhang. I
began to wonder how they 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
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