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Gunni or Shadar wanted to believe the Daughter
of Night was just a nasty young woman, not a mythic figure. Few
Taglians of those religions would find the courage to interfere
with her.
    “All right,” Swan conceded. “That would mean
real Stranglers. But how did they recognize the Daughter of
Night?”
    Exasperated, Soulcatcher snapped, “She told them who she
was, you ninny! ‘I am the Daughter of Night. I am the Child
of Darkness Forthcoming. Come to my mother or become prey for the
beasts of devastation in the Year of the Skulls.’ Typically
portentous stuff.” Soulcatcher’s voice had become the
mid-range monotone of an educated skeptic. “Not to mention
that she was vampire-white and a prettier duplicate of my sister as
a child.”
    The Daughter of Night feared no one and nothing. She knew that
her spiritual parent, Kina the Destroyer, the Dark Mother, would
shelter her—even though that goddess had stirred not at all for
more than a decade. Rumors about the Daughter of Night had run
through the underside of society for years. A lot of people
believed she was what she claimed. Which only added to her power
over the popular imagination.
    Another rumor, losing currency with time, credited the Black
Company with having forestalled Kina’s Year of the Skulls
back about the time the Taglian state chose to betray its hired
protectors.
    The Deceivers and Company alike had a psychological strength
vastly exceeding their numbers. Being social ghosts made both
groups more frightening.
    What signified most was that the Daughter of Night had come to
Taglios itself. And that she had shown herself publicly. And where
the Daughter of Night went, the chieftain of all Deceivers, the
living legend, the living saint of the Stranglers, Narayan Singh,
surely followed like a faithful jackal and worked his evils,
too.
    Murgen considered aborting his mission to warn Sahra to call
everything off till this news could be assessed. But it would be
too late to stop everything now, whatever else was happening.
    Narayan Singh was the most hated enemy of the Black Company
still standing upright. Not Mogaba, nor even Soulcatcher, who was
an old, old adversary, were as eagerly hunted as was Narayan Singh.
Nor did Singh harbor any love for the Company. He had gotten
himself caught once. And had spent a long time being made
uncomfortable by people overburdened with malice. He had debts he
would love to collect, should it please his goddess to permit
that.
    The Privy Council, as was customary, degenerated into nagging
and finger-pointing soon afterward, with the Purohita and
Inspector-General both maneuvering to get a rung up on one another,
and maybe on Swan. The Purohita could count on the backing of the
three tame priests—unless Soulcatcher had other ideas. The
Inspector-General usually enjoyed the support of the Radisha.
    These squabbles were generally prolonged but trivial, more
symbol than substance. The Protector would let nothing she
disapproved of come out of them.
    As Murgen started to leave, his presence never having been
detected, two Royal Guards rushed into the chamber. They headed for
Willow Swan, though he was not their captain. Perhaps their news
was something they did not care to share with the unpredictable
Protector, their official commander. Swan listened for a moment,
then slammed a fist onto the tabletop. “Damn it! I knew it
had to be more than a nuisance.” He bulled past the Purohita,
giving the man a look of contempt. There was no love lost
there.
    It has started already, Murgen thought. Back to Do Trang’s
warehouse, then. He could prevent nothing already in motion, but he
could get word to those still at headquarters so they could get
after Narayan and the Daughter of Night as soon as possible.
     
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7
    S ahra changed
faces as easily as an actor swaps masks. Sometimes she was the
cruel, cunning, coldly calculating necromancer who conspired with
the Captured. Sometimes she was just the near-widow of