The Books of the South: Tales of the Black Company (Chronicles of the Black Company) by Glen Cook

thousand reservations into his mind.
    That moon climbed the sky. We began to relax with each other. Somehow, there were fewer rags separating us.
    She stiffened. The mist went out of her eyes. She lifted her head and stared past me, face slack.
    If one of those clowns had sneaked up to watch I was going to break his kneecaps. I turned.
    We did not have company. She was watching the flash of a distant storm. “Heat lightning,” I said.
    “You think so? It doesn’t seem much farther off than the Temple. And we never saw a storm the whole time we were crossing that country.”
    Jagged lightning bolts ripped down like a fall of javelins.
    That feeling I had discussed with One-Eye redoubled.
    “I don’t know, Croaker.” She began gathering her clothing. “The pattern seems familiar.”
    I followed her lead, relieved. I am not sure I would have been able to finish what we started. I was distracted now.
    “Another time will be better, I think,” she said, still staring at that lightning. “That is too distracting.”
    We returned to camp to find everyone awake yet totally uninterested in the fact that we had been away together. The view was not as good from below, but flashes could be seen. They did not let up.
    “There’s sorcery out there, Croaker,” One-Eye said.
    Goblin nodded. “The heavy stuff. You can feel the screaming edges of it from here.”
    “How far away?” I asked.
    “About two days. Close to that place we stopped.”
    I shivered. “Can you tell what it’s about?”
    Goblin said nothing. One-Eye shook his head. “All I can tell you is I’m glad I’m here and not there.”
    I agreed, even in my ignorance of what was happening.
    *   *   *
    Murgen blanched. He pointed over the book he was studying, which he held out like a protective fetish. “Did you see that?”
    I was looking at Lady and brooding about my luck. The others could sweat the little stuff, like some bloody sorcerers’ duel fifty miles away. I had troubles of my own.
    “What?” I grumbled, knowing he wanted a response.
    “It looked like a giant bird. I mean, like one with a twenty-mile wingspan. That you could see through.”
    I looked up. Goblin nodded. He had seen it, too. I looked to the north. The lightning ended, but some pretty fierce fires had to be burning up there. “One-Eye. Your new buddies there got any idea what’s going on?”
    The little black man shook his head. He had the brim of his hat pulled forward, cutting his line of sight. That business up there—whatever it was—had him rattled. By his own admission he is the greatest wizard ever produced by his part of the world. With the possible exception of his dead brother, Tom-Tom. Whatever that was out there, it was alien. It did not belong.
    “Times change,” I suggested.
    “Not around here, they don’t. And if they did, these guys would know about it.” Wheezer nodded vigorous agreement although he could not have understood a word. He hawked and spat a brown glob into the fire.
    I had a feeling I was going to have as much fun with him as I did with One-Eye. “What is that crap he’s all the time chewing? It’s disgusting.”
    “Qat,” One-Eye said. “A mild narcotic. Doesn’t do his lungs any good, but when he’s chewing it he doesn’t care how much they hurt him.” He said it lightly, but he meant it.
    I nodded uncomfortably, looked away. “Quieting down up there.”
    No one had anything to say to that.
    “We’re all awake,” I said. “So get packing. I want to move out as soon as we can see to walk.”
    I did not get a bit of argument. Wheezer nodded and spat. Goblin grunted and started getting his things together. The others followed his example, Murgen putting the book away with a care that I approved. The boy might make an Annalist after all. We all kept sneaking looks at the north when we thought our uneasiness would go unnoticed.
    When I was not looking that way, or tormenting myself with glances at Lady, I tried to get an