Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Scarab Path

Corolly Vastern had caught them up, slogging his way on foot up the steps. 'There's not a light on in the Scriptora again,' he remarked. 'It's like they know we're here, and they're trying to ignore us.'

'You think it's a trap?' Sulvec asked him.

'I don't know what to think, but a trap could be the least of it,' the Beetle replied. 'Something got Gram and Dreker last night. If I could make a suggestion, sir?'

'Make it.'

'I'll go first.'

'Why?' Sulvec was instantly suspicious. He felt absolutely on edge here, amongst the statues overlooking the coolly breathing pit. Everything seemed like a threat, a challenge. He tried to calm himself.

'I can see in the dark, with my Art, and I can climb down the walls,' Vastern explained. 'If there's an ambush below, from Thalric and the Vekken, say, then either I'll see their lights, or they won't be able to see me. When I get down, I'll signal if it's safe.'

It was absurd that a man in Sulvec's position should be putting more faith and trust in an inferior kinden than in his own kind, but the other Wasps were clearly not at their best. Marger's expression was openly rebellious, and the rest weren't far off.

I didn't join the Rekef Inlander to make friends , Sulvec reminded himself harshly. 'Do it,' he snapped, and Corolly approached the pit, feeling round the edge and examining the glistening slime left on his gloved fingers.

'Lovely,' the Beetle muttered. He had strung his crossbow in a moment, and now slung it over his shoulder. Then he perched on the pit's edge for a second, hunched forward and, hands clamping to the side, descended head-first down the shaft.

They waited for a long time, hearing barely a scuffle or a clink from him, all crouching in the statues' shadows. The sheer scale of the stone figures was beginning to oppress Sulvec. Standing straight, his head would barely come past their waists, and their faces above him were obscurely intimidating. They made him feel small .

'There, sir!' one of his men called out, and he peered over the edge into the darkness. A tiny spark was dancing there, as the flame of Vastern's steel lighter flickered on and off at intervals. He counted the pattern.

'That's it. We go down.' Sulvec expected to feel once more the clutching grasp of fear, but his decision passed unmarked. His men were all staring at him expectantly, and he knew that, if he did not go next, neither would they.

He stood at the edge and stepped off, letting his wings catch him as he fell down the stone-walled shaft until he felt the sides widen out. The darkness below was almost total, save for what waning light still came from above. One by one the others joined him. Osgan and Marger descended together, landing awkwardly in a tangle of limbs.

'Report, Vastern,' Sulvec said.

'Three passageways running parallel, the centre one blocked off by a stone block the size of a house. There's … a boot sticking out from under the block. Army issue.'

Sulvec heard the uneasy shuffling of his men. 'Any sign of Thalric or the others?'

'No sign of anyone, but the clear passages head off as far as I can see. This place is big.'

'Light a lantern. Keep it low and shuttered.'

He did not have to ask twice. One of his men carried a little gas lamp, and even the faintest glow from it was welcome.

'If Thalric's under that stone, he's gone,' Vastern observed.

'If,' Sulvec replied. Trust the bastard to go and die in a way that we can't check . 'We'll move deeper in. If he survived at all, we should find some trace of him.' None of them liked the suggestion but that wasn't the point. 'Vastern, walk ahead of the lamp, quiet as you can. We'll take the left-hand way first.'

'Right, sir.' Moving surprisingly softly for a bulky Beetle, Corolly Vastern padded off into the darkness with his crossbow levelled. Dark-sight , Sulvec understood. A useful Art, but rare. Perhaps we should try to breed Beetle-kinden for it . The Wasps were creatures of the day, and night attacks had caused havoc among them several times during their war with the Lowlanders.

He gave Vastern a long enough count to get well ahead, then gestured for his men to follow him, using the faint gleam of the lantern to navigate by. It was tempting to turn the flame up, but Thalric and the others could be waiting there in the pitch dark, watching for the faintest glimmer. In which caseVastern will see them before they see him . In the back of his mind ran the litany: Be dead, Thalric. Be dead and let us find your corpse .

Then he spotted the Beetle ahead, waiting for them. 'What is it?' he hissed. 'You've noticed movement?'

'Not movement, but signs.' Vastern gestured at the floor, which showed Sulvec precisely nothing. 'It's hard to see but there's been a disturbance here. That slime, that's everywhere here, it's been disturbed. Looked odd to my sight, and now the lamp really shows it up. Tracks, more than one.'

'Thalric and the Beetle girl?'

'Best guess,' Vastern confirmed.

'Then follow him and find him and kill him,' Sulvec managed to get out. The dark and the weight of stone above were oppressive. 'Or perhaps we'll start cutting his friend up, until he comes to investigate. Either way I want him dead before dawn, and then I want us out of this city.'

'No argument there, sir,' concurred Vastern wholeheartedly.

Che had recoiled with a strangled cry, tumbling into Thalric and nearly knocking him backwards onto the effigy-crowned tomb.

'What, what is it?' he demanded, hand outstretched and directed futilely at nothing he could see.

'I …' Che took a deep breath, a better look. Her heart was still hammering from the shock. For just a moment … 'It's nothing. It's — I just got a bit of a fright, that's all. The throne …'

'The what?'

'At the far end of this hall there's a throne. Only — it's not empty.'

Thalric said nothing, waiting for more. Che took his sleeve and they both took a few steps closer until she was absolutely sure. 'Armour,' she explained. 'There's a suit of armour sitting there. Hammer and tongs, but it gave me a start.'

She edged closer, then closer still, because the scale and the repeating ribs of the hall's buttresses played tricks. 'Look at that,' she breathed.

'I can't,' Thalric pointed out. Che continued to stare, trying to take it in.

'It must be the oldest suit of sentinel plate in the world,' she decided. It was true plate armour, an intricate suit of interlocking pieces that had been posed as if its missing occupant was deep in thought, elbow on knee, with the raised gauntlet supporting the edge of the open-faced helm. It must be wired together , she thought, staring into the cavernous emptiness of the helmet, and then realized: The slime is holding it together, like glue . 'It's absolutely huge,' she said, shaken. 'It would fit a Mole Cricket-kinden, I'd guess.' It was made to fit one of those statues , came the next irresistible thought, but she shook it off. Perhaps that stone coffin held only ashes, or perhaps they had folded up Garmoth Atennar before putting him inside. Perhaps the box was actually the mouth of a pit and they had buried him standing up, or even standing on his head. She didn't know , so there was no reason to get jumpy about it. Garmoth Atennar, Greatest of Warriors, sitting silently upright on his plinth, those dead stone eyes opening at last .

I have to get out of this place. It is not healthy for the mind . 'I have seen workmanship like this before,' she said, 'in drawings in very old books mostly, but once or twice in life, and never a complete suit. It's Mantis work. It's beautiful. I wish I could see it in the light, to look at the colours of the metal.'

'The Masters of Khanaphes were Mantids?' Thalric frowned.