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will put a
     copper on One-Eye. Goblin coming out on top is a sure thing, but this time he
     looked feeble. Goblin did not want to quit. Did not want to play the usual
     rules, either. He snatched a fallen sword and headed for One-Eye. I couldn't
     help grinning. That sword was huge and broken, and Goblin was so small, yet so
     ferocious, that he seemed a caricature. A bloodthirsty caricature. Elmo couldn't
     handle him. I signaled for help. Some quick thinker splashed water on Goblin's
     back. He whirled, cussing, started a deadly spell.
    Trouble for sure. A dozen men jumped in. Somebody threw another bucket of water.
    That cooled Goblin's temper. As we relieved him of the blade, he looked abashed.
    Defiant, but abashed.
    I led him back to the fire and settled beside him. “What's the matter? What
     happened?” I glimpsed the Captain from the corner of my eye. One-Eye stood
     before him, drained by a heavy-duty dressing down.
    “I don't know, Croaker.” Goblin slumped, stared into the fire. “Suddenly
     everything was too much. This ambush tonight. Same old thing. There's always
     another province, always more Rebels. They breed like maggots in a cowpie. I'm
     getting older and older, and I haven't done anything to make a better world. In
     fact, if you backed off to look at it, we've all made it worse.” He shook his
     head. “That isn't right. Not what I want to say. But I don't know how to say it
     any better.”
    “Must be an epidemic.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing. Thinking out loud.” Elmo. Myself. Goblin. A lot of the men, judging by
     their tenor lately. Something was wrong in the Black Company. I had suspicions,
    but wasn't ready to analyze. Too depressing.
    “What we need is a challenge,” I suggested. “We haven't stretched ourselves
     since Charm.” Which was a half-truth. An operation which compelled us to become
     totally involved in staying alive might be a prescription for symptoms, but was
     no remedy for causes. As a physician, I was not fond of treating symptoms alone.
    They could recur indefinitely. The disease itself had to be attacked.
    “What we need,” Goblin said in a voice so soft it almost vanished in the crackle
     of the flames, “is a cause we can believe in.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “That, too.”
    From outside came the startled, outraged cries of prisoners discovering that
     they were to fill the graves they had dug.

Black Company N 2 - Shadows Linger

Chapter Nine:
    JUNIPER: DEATH PAYS
     Shed grew increasingly frightened as the days passed. He had to get some money.
    Krage was spreading the word. He was to be made an example.
    He recognized the tactic. Krage wanted to scare him into signing the Lily over.
    The place wasn't much, but it was damned sure worth more than he owed. Krage
     would resell it for several times his investment. Or turn it into whore cribs.
    And Marron Shed and his mother would be in the streets, with winter's deadly
     laughter howling in their faces.
    Kill somebody, Krage had said. Rob somebody. Shed considered both. He would do
     anything to keep the Lily and protect his mother.
    If he could just get real customers! He got nothing but one-night chiselers and
     scroungers. He needed residential regulars. But he could not get those without
     fixing the place up. And that he couldn't do without money.
    Asa rolled through the doorway. Pale and frightened, he scuttled to the counter.
    “Find a wood supply yet?” Shed asked.
    The little man shook his head, slid two gersh across the counter. “Give me a
     drink.”
    Shed scooped the coins into his box. One did not question money's provenance. It
     had no memory. He poured a full measure. Asa reached eagerly.
    “Oh, no,” Shed said. “Tell me about it.”
    “Come on, Shed. I paid you.”
    “Sure. And I'll deliver when you tell me why you're so rocky.”
    “Where's that Raven?”
    “Upstairs. Sleeping.” Raven had been out all night.
    Asa shook a little more. “Give me that,