assignment
beyond the capacities of the Greys.
Among Soulcatcher’s more frightening characteristics was
her seeming ability to read minds. She could not, really, but never
insisted that she could not. In this instance she found it
convenient to let people believe what they wanted. She told Swan,
“Being Bhodi, he will surrender himself. No search will be
necessary.”
“Hunh?”
“There is a tree, sometimes called the Bhodi Tree, in the
village of Semchi. It is a very old and highly honored tree. The
Bhodi Enlightened One made his reputation loafing in the shade of
this tree. The Bhodi consider it their most holy shrine. Tell them
I will make kindling wood out of the Bhodi Tree unless the man who
rigged that prayer wheel reports to me. Soon.” Soulcatcher
employed the voice of a petty, vindictive old woman.
Murgen made a mental note to send Sahra a suggestion that the
guilty man be prevented from reaching the Protector. Destruction of
a major holy place would create thousands of new enemies for
Soulcatcher.
Willow Swan started to speak but Soulcatcher interrupted.
“I do not care if they hate me, Swan. I care that they do
what I tell them to do when I tell them to do it. The Bhodi will
not raise a fist against me, anyway. That would put a stain on
their kharma.”
A cynical woman, the Protector.
“Get on with it, Swan.”
Swan sighed. “Several more of those smoke shows appeared
tonight. One was much bigger than any seen before. Once again the
Black Company sigil was part of all of them.” He brought
forward another Shadar witness, who told of being stoned by the mob
but did not mention the demon Niassi.
The news was no surprise. It was one of the reasons the Council
had been convened. With no real passion, the Radisha demanded,
“How could that happen? Why can’t you stop it? You have
men on every street corner. Chansdra?” She appealed to the
man who knew just how much it cost to put all those Greys out
there.
Gokhale inclined his head imperially.
As long as the Radisha did the questioning, Swan’s nerve
stood up. She could not hurt him in ways he had not been hurt
before. Not the way the Protector could. He asked, “Have you
been out there? You should disguise yourself and go. Like Saragoz
in the fairy tale. Every street is clogged with people. Thousands
sleep where others have to walk over them. Breezeways and alleyways
are choked with human waste. Sometimes the press is so thick you
could murder somebody ten feet from one of my men and never be
noticed. The people playing these games aren’t stupid. If
they’re really Company survivors, they’re especially
not stupid. They’ve already survived everything ever thrown
at them. They’re using the crowds for cover exactly the way
they’d use the rocks and trees and bushes out in the
countryside. They don’t wear uniforms. They don’t stand
out. They’re not outlanders anymore. If you really want to
nail them, put out a proclamation saying they all have to wear
funny red hats.” Swan’s nerve had peaked high. That was
not directed at the Radisha. Soulcatcher, speaking through her, had
issued several proclamations memorable for their absurdity.
“Being steeped in Company doctrine, they wouldn’t be
anywhere around when the smoke emblems actually formed. So far, we
haven’t even figured out where they come from.”
Soulcatcher unleashed a deep-throated grunt. It said she doubted
that Swan could figure out much of anything. His nerve guttered
like a dying lamp. He began to sweat. He knew he walked a tightrope
with the madwoman. He was tolerated like a naughty pet for reasons
clear only to the sorceress, who sometimes did things for no better
reason than a momentary whim. Which could reverse itself an instant
later.
He could be replaced. Others had been. Soulcatcher did not care
about facts, insurmountable obstacles or mere difficulties. She
cared about results.
Swan offered, “On the plus side there’s no evidence,
even from our most
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