Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Scarab Path

He turned to see a huge Beetle-kinden in Khanaphir armour, a sword in his hand and bloody murder on his face.

Emperor save us! he thought. It's the First Soldier .

Amnon made a wordless sound and charged. Vollen's sting spat its fire, melting a hand-sized section of scale mail but not slowing the giant in the least. Then Amnon's leaf-bladed sword was thrust, effortlessly to the hilt, into his chest.

Vollen fell to his knees, everything around him suddenly more than he could cope with. Amnon had his sword raised again, and the two Vekken were still spoiling for a fight. Two of his men fled out of the windows, the rest were already dead save for one man, who made a feint at Amnon and then plainly decided the big Khanaphir was too much to deal with. He tried to fly away, too, but the Vekken crossbowman picked him off even as he lifted into the space of the entrance hall.

Feeling the world fall from him, Vollen toppled face-first onto the tiles of the Collegiate embassy.

Praeda crouched beside Berjek Gripshod, calling his name and shaking him roughly. At last his lips moved and his eyelids fluttered. Peering up at her from floor level, his gaze was unsteady. 'Uncalled for,' he murmured. 'Quite uncalled for.'

'They killed Trallo,' she got out. 'Oh Berjek, they killed Trallo.'

She looked up, and saw another fallen body. Her hands went to her mouth again, she was feeling ill. 'Oh, Berjek …'

The old man levered himself up, and then saw what she had seen. He struggled to his feet, a hand to his head, and staggered over.

'Gorget! Get up! Manny …'

Praeda saw him stop as he reached the great sprawling form, then drop painfully to his knees. She joined him there tentatively. There was no doubt at all from the outraged expression in those open eyes, or from the char-edged burn-hole in his chest. Mannerly Gorget was dead.

Praeda stared about her, as though, somehow, someone would be able to help. Do magic. Bring back the dead . She saw the two Vekken standing close beside each other, like some trick with mirrors. And we would all be dead, if not for them . Then her eyes found Amnon. His face, though expressionless, was watching her.

Trembling, she put out a hand towards him. Without a moment's thought he swept her up in his arms, clasping her to his broad chest where the armour was still warm from the Wasp's stingshot. There she let herself go, sobbing into his embrace, shuddering over and over until at last she could manage the words.

'You came,' she said. 'You came for me.'

'It should have been sooner,' he said gently. 'But I had a dying friend I could not leave. This has been a night for death. First my Penthet, and now your companions. I am sorry, I should have come sooner.'

'You came,' she said.

Berjek gave a long, sad sigh. 'This is too much,' the old man's voice came to her. 'Too much to bear. War … murder … the time has come to cut our losses, Praeda. We should have left long before, while we all could.'

She felt Amnon's arms tighten slightly and she said to her colleague, 'Go. You must leave. The Khanaphir will find a ship for you, and lower the Estuarine Gate.' Around Amnon's shoulder she met his gaze. 'But I will stay.'

'I suppose I should not be so surprised at that,' he said sadly. 'And, as for Cheerwell, she will not leave, I am sure. Something in this city has its hooks in her.' He glanced up at the Ants. 'And you two?'

'We have a task unfinished here,' replied one of them. Berjek could not guess at the conversation that they were holding, in the space between their heads. 'We may decide to leave with you, but it depends on other factors. Perhaps, if the ambassador leaves with you, she could assist us on the journey back.'

'I've done what I can for your arm,' Che said. It had involved more of her night's work than her earlier talk with Thalric. The wound was infected, and she had cleaned it out and applied whatever salves she had handy to keep it pure and deaden the pain. Osgan was conscious but pale, his forehead shiny with sweat even in the cool of the night.

'Thank you,' he croaked.

'If we were in Collegium …' Che shrugged. 'I can't guarantee that you'll keep the arm, though. I'm sorry. It's not gone rotten yet, but …' Her gesture took in the shabby little room that Thalric had found them, a cellar dug out beneath a drinking house and with one of the walls cluttered with barrels. The first dawn light glimmered through the two wide shafts cut into one wall, where the river-borne goods came in. They were also the way Thalric would escape, if the worst came to the worst.

Osgan nodded weakly.

'There isn't a proper doctor in this whole wretched city,' Thalric complained. 'They don't know the first thing about medicine.'

Che thought about that. 'I think you're right, actually.'

He barked a brief laugh. 'The legendary cosmopolitanism of Collegium is rubbing away, is it?'

'Apt medicine and Inapt medicine are very different,' Che reproached him. 'You and I have good cause to remember that.'

It took Thalric a moment to catch the reference, but she saw the understanding dawn in his face. Achaeos, in Collegium, asking to be taken back to his own people — for all the good it did him .

'These Khanaphir are Apt,' Che went on, 'but they're … they're trying to live like the Inapt, for some reason.'

Thalric made a derisive face. 'They're just backward, holed up at the east end of nowhere.'

'It's more than that,' Che argued, the pieces falling into place one by one. 'They trade with the Exalsee ports, and they're close enough to some of your Imperial cities, for that matter. So it's not geography, it's …'

'Wilful ignorance,' Thalric suggested.

'It's something like that, yes. They are fighting tooth and nail to ignore the last five hundred years. It's like with the Moth-kinden, except … except these people are Apt.'

'Imperial doctrine would say that this is why the Empire's intervention is so necessary,' Thalric said drily. 'In this case, I'm not sure I disagree.'

'They're Apt,' Che repeated, trying to catch the fugitive train of thought, 'but they once had masters who were Inapt … whoever they were. And they still remember those masters so keenly, with such reverence, that they refrain from anything that might have offended them back in the Days of Lore. They hold themselves back simply out of respect.'

Thalric regarded her doubtfully. 'Well, now it's come back to sting them blind, frankly. The Scorpions will be all over this city in a tenday, at the most. Half the Khanaphir army's dead in just the first engagement. If it wasn't us out there, I'd be advising the Ministers to seek Imperial protection right now. We'd make better masters than the Many of Nem.'

'Is that the plan?' Che asked him. 'Avenging Empire sweeps in and puts the invaders to flight? Imperial governor gratefully received by the city? I don't think that would work so well, not here.'

'I lose track of the plan,' said Thalric. She saw his face sag, for just a moment showing her how tired he was. 'The plan seems to be to kill me first, the city second. I do not understand why they so badly want me dead.' Seeing her expression, he pressed on before she could speak. 'Oh, I have done things sufficient to warrant my death, but this makes no sense. This is the high Rekef's work, that much seems sure. This is … this stems from someone standing beside the throne, if not the throne itself. It's personal .' He shook himself impatiently. 'Che, you have to go now. You know what you must do.'

'As your agent, yes.' She smiled sourly. 'After I've spoken with the others, I'll find Ethmet or some other senior Minister. I'll warn them that the Imperial force within the city will be looking to sabotage the defence, assassinate their leaders and the like.'