“Three things, halfwit.” Goblin had arrived, beer breath and all. Presumably all was well at the secret brewery, the arrangements with the cavalry were secure, and he and One-Eye could take time off to help the Black Company defend Dejagore.

Heaven help them if Mogaba discovered what they were doing with grain supposedly set aside for the horses. I wouldn’t have a prayer of saving their butts nor would I offer one.

“What?” One-Eye barked. “Murgen, the man is a walking provocation.”

“Watch, bonehead,” Goblin countered. “It’s already happening.”

One-Eye gasped, suddenly astonished, then frightened. Ignorant in the dark arts, it took me longer to catch it.

Shadows snaked through that blazing dust cloud, thin things little more than suggestions but with something flitting back and forth amongst them. I thought both of a weaver’s shuttle and of spiders. Whichever, web or net, something was forming inside the blazing dust.

They did call him Shadowspinner.

The glimmering cloud grew larger and brighter. The web grew with it.

“Shit,” Goblin muttered. “Now what do we do about this?” “Exactly what I’ve been trying to get out of you two clowns for the last five minutes!” I bellowed.

“Well!”

“Maybe you could pay attention over here if you can’t do anything about that!” Bucket yelled. “Murgen, those fools have gotten so many ropes up that we can’t... Shit!” Another barrage of grapnels fell amongst us. In moments they showed the strain that meant some moron was trying to climb them.

So much for my belief that there was no chance the southerners could scale my wall.

Guys were hard at work with knives and swords and axes. Imaginary people stood around looking fierce. I heard a man grumble that if he had half a brain he would have sharpened his knives. Rudy reminded him, “If you kept your pecker in your pants more you’d have time.”

Some Jaicuri women, naturally, inevitably, did what they had to do to survive.

Doing my part, I hacked on ropes but kept turning to check that light and the webs forming inside it.

Goblin howled, creased by a nearly spent arrow. The cut, on his cheek, was trivial. Arrows have little energy by the time they reach us. He was outraged because fate dared show him the back of her hand at all.

He danced around. Words of power virtually dripped from his mouth in pastel colors. He waved his arms. He foamed at the mouth. He jumped up and down, shrieked, flapped his arms.

His doppelgangers all did the same. It was quite a show.

In all likelihood the gymnastics and yelling had nothing to do with results eventually achieved but I don’t mind showmanship as long as he produces. Croaker was right. Showmanship is the biggest part of the game.

Everything hemp within three hundred yards burst into flame. That was a happy eventuality where our relationship with our attackers was concerned but not something likely to wring cries of joy from anyone else, either. Temporary defense works began to fall apart. Our artillery pieces flared and died. They had included lots of rope. Some guys use rope for belts. Some wear sandals made of rope. Hemp is a commonplace everywhere. Some fools like One-Eye even smoke it.

Cletus bellowed, “Goddamn you, Goblin, I’m gonna chop your ass into cat food.” The rest of us just pulled our pants up and amused ourselves by dropping masonry bits mined from our cellars onto the cursing tangle of limbs wriggling at the foot of the wall.

One-Eye ignored all that, though he took a moment to smirk at the side effects embarrassing Goblin. Then he began to stare at the glow rising from the enemy camp. And began to stutter.

“Come on, shithead,” I growled. “You’ve played with this stuff for ages. What have we got here?” Not that I wanted to know. That web of shadow woven into the light was now obvious to all but the blind.

“Maybe we might ought to head for the cellar,” One-Eye suggested. “I promise you, me and the runt ain’t gonna do nothing with that. Bet you even Longshadow would be bugeyed if he was here to see it. The man put a lot of work in, getting that I ready. It’s going to get real unhealthy around here real soon.” Without investing a quarter of the study time Goblin agreed. “If we seal the doors and use the white candles we can hold out till sunrise.”

“This some kind of shadow magic, then?”

“Some kind,” Goblin agreed. “Don’t ask me to look so close I catch its attention.”

“Heaven forbid you should actually take a risk. Can either of you come up with a more practical suggestion?”

“More practical?” One-Eye sputtered.

“We’re fighting a battle here.”

Goblin said, “We could retire from the soldiering racket. Or we could surrender. Or we could offer to change sides.”

“Maybe we could offer up a half-pint human sacrifice to one of Geek and Freak’s bloodthirsty gods.”

“You know what I really miss about Croaker, Murgen?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”

“Damned straight you are. I miss his sense of humor.”

“Wait a minute. His sense of humor? Are you shitting me? What sense of humor? The man...”

“He knew none of us were going to get out of this world alive, Murgen. He never took himself completely serious.”

“Are you talking about the guy who used to be the Old Man? Croaker? Company Annalist and chief bonesetter in his spare time? Some kind of comedian?”

While we bickered the rest of the world bustled along with its business. Which meant our situation deteriorated by the minute. A human weakness, as old as time, arguing while the house burns down around you.

One-Eye interjected, “You gents go ahead and debate if you want. I’m going to invite the boys downstairs, treat them to a beer and take a turn or two at tonk.” He stabbed a crooked black finger earthward.

The gleaming dust with cruel web inside began to arc up over the city. It just might grow enough to net us all.

A vast stillness set in.

Inside the city and out, friend and foe, people of a dozen races and religions all focused upon that shadow web.

Shadowspinner, of course, was totally involved in creating his deadly artifact.

The Shadowlander assault lost impetus as the Shadowmaster’s soldiers decided to hunker down and let their boss make their jobs easier.

The web of darkness would span all Dejagore soon. “One-Eye. Goblin. You guys have any new ideas?”

“Get religion?” Goblin suggested. “Since you won’t let us go den up?”

One-Eye mused, “You might amble over and see if Mogaba will change his mind about letting us operate his engines.” The Taglian crews were ineffective. “We might be able to distract Spinner.”

“You did take shadows into account when you spelled the entrances to the underground?” I knew. They had. That was always our biggest concern. But I had to reassure myself. You keep checking on Goblin and One-Eye.

Small groups were returning after long, dangerous journeys through the night, searching for rope that had survived.

“Yeah. For what that’s worth. You ready to go down and start starving yet?”

Bad signs followed ill omens. The situation was grim indeed if One-Eye and Goblin could spare no time to quarrel.

A sudden susurrus swept the city and the plain beyond.

A blazing diamond of light rose out of the Shadowlander camp. It spun slowly. A core of darkness centered it. From that, blackness pulsed out into the all spanning web it anchored.

Nobody was looking at the hills when the pinkish light returned. No one noticed until it flared so brilliantly that it rivalled the brightness here at hand.

It burned behind two bizarre mounted figures. It cast their hideous shadows upon the night itself. Crow shadows circled them. Two huge ravens perched upon the shoulders of the larger figure.