Bleak Seasons Read Online Free PDF Page A

Nyueng Bao men in their prime. Like if they
     smiled, or showed any emotion whatsoever, they would forfeit their souls. Like
     they had cactus plugs up their butts, in Goblin’s words.
    I went on with my work while Ky Dam considered the night. His escort stayed out
     of my way.
    Big Bucket checked in. “All set, boss.”
    And the Shadowmaster’s men sounded like they were ready to play. Their horns
     began calling like bulls in rut. I grumbled, “It won’t be long.” They could put
     it off for another twenty years, though. I wouldn’t mind. I was in no hurry.
    A Taglian messenger stumbled up from the street, fought for breath, croaked out
     word that Mogaba wanted me.
    “On my way. Less than five minutes,” I told him. I scanned the darkness. “Hold
     the fort, Bucket.”
    “Just what this outfit needs. Another comedian.”
    “Oh, I’ll slay them.”
    Ky Dam said something. The swordmaster squinted at the night. For half a
     heartbeat there was a ghostly flicker in the hills. Star? Reflection of a star?
    No. The night was cool, wet and overcast.
    The Speaker said, “There may be more happening than is immediately apparent,
    Bone Warrior.”
    “Perhaps.” Bone Warrior? “But, unlike Nyueng Bao, we are not warriors. We are
     soldiers.”
    The old man got his mind around that quickly. “As you will, Stone Soldier. All
     may not be as it seems.” Was he making these up as he went?
    He did not seem pleased by his speculation. He turned, hastened down the stair.
    His grandsons had trouble keeping up.
    “What was that about?” Bucket asked.
    “I don’t have a clue. I’ve been summoned by His Holiness, the Prince of the
     Company.” As I stepped to the stair I glanced at One-Eye. The little wizard was
     staring toward the hills, about where Ky Dam had done the same. He seemed both
     puzzled and unhappy.
    I didn’t have time to ask. Nor did I have much inclination.
    I had had bad news enough already.

Black Company GS 6 - Black Seasons
    10
    Mogaba stands six feet five. Any fat on him has to be between his ears because
     there isn’t an ounce anywhere else. All bone and muscle, he moves like a cat,
    his slightest twitch pure liquid grace. He works hard to stay hard but not to
     become overly muscled. He is very dark but a deep mahogany more than an ebony.
    He glows with conviction, an unshakable inner strength.
    He has a ready wit but never smiles. When he does show humor it is entirely
     surface, for effect, an illusion spun for his audience. He doesn’t feel it and
     probably doesn’t understand it. He is as focused as any human being who ever
     lived. And that focus is the creation and maintenance of Mogaba, greatest
     warrior who ever lived.
    He is almost as good as he wants to be. He might be as good as he thinks he is.
    I never saw anyone who could match his individual skills.
    The other Nar are almost as good, almost as arrogantly self-confident.
    Mogaba’s self-opinion is his big weakness but I don’t think anyone could get him
     to believe that. He and his reputation stand squarely at the center of his every
     consideration.
    Sadly, self-indulgence and self-admiration aren’t always traits that will
     inspire soldiers to win battles.
    There is no love lost between Mogaba and the rest of us. His rigidity split the
     Company into Old Crew and Nar factions. Mogaba envisions the Black Company as an
     ages old holy crusade. Us Old Crew guys see it as a big unhappy family trying to
     survive in a world that really is out to get us.
    The debate would be much more bitter were Shadowspinner not around to snap up
     the mantle of bigger common enemy.
    Many of Mogaba’s own people are less than thrilled with the way his mind is
     working these days.
    Something Croaker harped about, from the moment he first set quill to paper, is
     what might be called matters of form. It is not good form to bicker with your
     superiors, however wrong they may be and however one-sided their determination
     of their