Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Scarab Path

I shall find my way home , Malius stated firmly. No matter what, I shall take what you learn there back to our city. Your sacrifice shall be known. I only wish there was some other way .

None suggests itself, none to be achieved with honour . Accius took a deep breath. I fear .

Take strength from me .

I do .

They shall know, back in Vek, that you did your duty . Malius shifted position, eyes still on the pyramid. The sky above was darkening towards dusk, the square empty of life. What words for your comrades?

None but the usual: that through me the city shall prosper, and our enemies fail . Accius stood up slowly, seeking for inner calm. The alien, hostile city all around them seemed to encroach, to loom and threaten.

I shall speak personally to your mate and children , Malius assured him. I know you are fond of them. Is there any specific message?

What more could I want for my children, since they enjoy the greatest gift already? They will be brought up as soldiers of Vek . Accius slung his crossbow. The Wasps will see me as I approach the pyramid .

If they move to attack you, I shall draw their attention , Malius assured him. A death or two should serve. I shall be with you, brother .

Accius nodded, the bond of Art between them more potent than any clasping of hands, and then he was moving at a swift, low run out towards the pyramid and up the steps. Within moments, he was lost amongst the statues.

They had tied Osgan professionally. At least they had tied him in a chair, their rope-work rough about the elegant Khanaphir carvings, his hands bound together behind its back, palm pressed to palm, to stifle his Art.

They had even given him some wine, feeding two bowls of it to him messily, perhaps simply to keep him quiet. It had cleared his head a little, but he still had no real image of what had happened at the moment they caught him.

There had been a sound, a thunderous sound like a leadshotter going off … and screams. Not Thalric's scream, though, for they were not done hunting him. Thalric was one of life's survivors. Even brought to Capitas in chains as a traitor, he had got out of it — though he'd had to marry the Empress to do so.

Osgan shuddered, on recalling the hints Thalric had dropped about that situation, when his tongue had been loosened by drink down in the palace cellars. Terrible things, terrible secrets. Osgan's life contained enough terrible things on its own, without Thalric loading him with any more. Was that the price he must pay for Thalric's unreliable patronage — to be steadily eroded by ghastly secrets that he had no place knowing? He had survived his own moment of horror, while crouching there by the Emperor's side as He , as the avenging monster, had come for them both.

Osgan felt the terrors building in him again, his muscles twitching with them, making the chair creak. He was in some half-stripped room, some abandoned upper storey where the Rekef were hiding out. If he cried out, only the guards would hear, and then they would strike him again. His face was already overwritten with their despite of him.

But He had been there. They did not understand. Even Thalric had not understood. He had followed Osgan to Khanaphes. He had been hovering over the summit of that pyramid. Osgan had not actually seen that cruel face, nor any material form, but he had known it as sure as if the Mantis had stood there in plain view.

It did not matter that he had already seen the man dead, his blood mingling with the Emperor's. It only mattered that he was here , and that he had found Osgan at last.

Osgan whimpered, feeling the shakes build up inside him, and this time he could not control them. He fought against his bonds, wrenching the joints of the chair, while he cried out in fear and frustration. He cried out for help, though in all the world there was not one with the ability and the inclination to help him.

Perhaps it was his mother that he cried for, in the end.

The door kicked open and he flinched, but it was not one of the guards this time. It was Marger, supposedly Thalric's second at the embassy, now revealed as a Rekef double-agent all this time. Not even the senior man, he was a puppet, a mere mouthpiece. Sulvec and the Beetle were both his masters, and Marger was a man dethroned.

'Shut up,' Marger told him, 'or we'll gag you. Don't think you won't get your brain boiled if anyone hears you and comes looking.'

There were tears in Osgan's eyes, amongst the puffiness of the bruising. Marger came over and examined him more closely.

'Waste it, just look at you. What's the point of you? You were a fool to come.'

Oh how true , but Osgan could say nothing. His lips were pressed tight to keep himself from sobbing.

There was an uncomfortable expression on Marger's face, which might have been pity or disgust. 'Call yourself an Imperial soldier?' he asked, shaking his head. 'Curse you, but they did a proper job on you, no mistake — not that it'll make much difference in the long run.' Marger was talking too much, hiding some nervousness.

'And … and you?' Osgan got out. 'How are they treating you? What's it like as a professional betrayer?'

'In the Rekef? Ask your friend Thalric, should you get the chance.' Marger shrugged easily, but it was clear that there was something else on his mind. 'We're going back tonight, you know.'

Osgan felt a moment of freezing horror. 'Back to the … to the …'

'To the ziggurat. We've had it watched all day, and nobody's come out. That means Thalric's still in there, skulking somewhere about. Maybe he's waiting for darkness too. If so, we'll be ready for him, because we're going in and we're taking you with us.'

'No!' Osgan choked. 'No, you mustn't! You don't understand what's in there!'

'So tell me.'

'It's … It's Him .'

Marger rolled his eyes. 'Don't make me slap you. Just tell me who's him now?'

'It's … I saw him … the man who … who killed the Emperor.' There, it was said, but Marger just shook his head.

'How long have they left that arm without tending it?' He scowled. 'You better not get so feverish that you stop making sense. Give me a plain answer and I'll get you some more wine. You'd like that, right?'

'I'm serious …' Osgan started, but saw the man's face turn sour. 'What do you want? What do you want from me?'

'Thalric, ideally. Then we can all get out of this backwater. We'll take you into the pit because Sulvec reckons if we start cutting pieces off you then Thalric might — might — come running. No guarantees, though, because he might not be such a sentimental bastard as all that. Unless you've got any better ideas?'

'Please,' Osgan whispered. 'Kill me here. Kill me now. Kill me slowly. Just don't take me back there. Not with Him .'

Marger frowned at him, clearly a little shaken. 'Nothing about this damn job makes sense,' he complained. 'Nothing about this damn city makes any sense. And that place.' He shuddered — not his customary shrug but a shiver that Osgan could well relate to. 'There's something not right about all of this, so give me answers. Right now, while it's just you and me. Don't make me call the others in here to cut it out of your hide a strip at a time.'

'What do you want to know?' Osgan asked him fearfully.

Marger took a moment to formulate the question, with a glance at the door that suggested he was not supposed to be conducting this solo interrogation. When he spoke again it took them in a new direction.

'What in the wastes has Thalric done?' he demanded.

'When? What?' Osgan replied weakly. His head was beginning to ache, and the entire room seemed to shift around him as the fever rolled back over him.