Book 3 - The White Rose by Glen Cook Page A

meaning.”
    “I do. Go on.”
    “It is believed that there are six new ones, Lord. Sir
Tucker believes they are about to be unleashed. Thus the great
buildup around the Plain. Sir Tucker believes the Lady has made a
competition of our destruction.”
    Tucker. Our most dedicated agent. One of the few survivors of
the long siege of Rust. His hatred knows no bounds.
    Corder had a strange look. A green-around-the-edges look. A look
that said there was more, and all bad. “Well?” I said.
“Spit it out.”
    “The names of the Taken have been enscribed on stellae
raised in their respective demenses. At Rust the army commander is
named Benefice. His stella appeared after a carpet arrived by
night. He has not actually been seen.”
    That bore investigation. Only the Taken can manage a carpet. But
no carpet can reach Rust without crossing the Plain of Fear. The
menhirs have reported no such passage. “Benefice? Interesting
name. The others?”
    “In Thud the Stella bears the name Blister.”
    Chuckles. I said, “I liked it better when the names were
descriptive. Like the Limper, Moonbiter, the Faceless
Man.”
    “At Frost we have one called the Creeper.”
    “That’s better.” Darling gave me a cautionary
look.
    “At Rue there is one called Learned. And at Hull, one
called Scorn.”
    “Scorn. I like that, too.”
    “The western bounds of the Plain are held by Whisper and
Journey, both operating from a village called Spit.”
    Being a natural mathematical phenom, I summed and said,
“That’s five new ones and two old. Where is the other
new one?”
    “I don’t know. The only other is the commander over
all. His stella stands in the military compound outside
Rust.”
    The way he said that abraded my nerves. He was pale. He started
shaking. A premonition gripped me. I knew I would not like what he
said next. But, “Well?”
    “That stella bears the sigil of the Limper.”
    Right. So right. I did not like it at all.
    The feeling was universal.
    “Oh!” Goblin shrieked.
    One-Eye said, “Holy shit,” in a soft awed tone that
was all the more meaningful for its reserve.
    I sat down. Right there. Right in the middle of the floor. I
folded my head in my hands. I wanted to cry.
“Impossible,” I said. “I killed him. With my own
hands.” And saying it, I did not believe it anymore, though I
had had faith in that fact for years. “But how?”
    “Can’t keep a good man down,” Elmo chided.
That he was shaken was evidenced by the smart remark. Elmo says
nothing gratuitously.
    The feud between the Limper and the Company dates to our arrival
north of the Sea of Torments, for it was then that we enlisted
Raven, a mysterious native of Opal, a man of former high estate who
had been done out of his titles and livings by minions of the
Limper. Raven was as tough as they come, and utterly fearless. The
robbery sanctioned by Taken or not, he struck back. He slew the
villains, among them the Limper’s most competent people. Then
our path kept crossing the Limper’s. Each time something
worsened the weather between us . . . 
    In the confusion after Juniper, Limper thought to settle with
us. I engineered an ambush. He charged in. “I would have bet
anything I killed him.” I tell you, at that moment I was as
rattled as ever I have been. I was on the precipice of panic.
    One-Eye noticed. “Don’t get hysterical, Croaker. We
survived him before.”
    “He’s one of the old ones, idiot! One of the real
Taken. From times when they had real wizards. And he’s never
really been allowed to go full speed at us before. And with all
that help.” Eight Taken and five armies to assault the Plain
of Fear. Seldom were there more than seventy of us here in the
Hole.
    My head filled with terrible visions. Those Taken might be
second-rate, but they were so many. Their fury would fire the
Plain. Whisper and the Limper have campaigned here before. They are
not ignorant of the Plain’s perils. In fact, Whisper battled
here both as