Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Scarab Path

The locals are kept in good order here , Malius noted, almost approving. Everyone had given the soldiers a wide berth. Work had stopped, everywhere labourers putting down their loads and waiting. The Maker woman glanced at her compatriots, had a quick word with the Fly-kinden teamster.

'Put your sword away,' she told Accius. 'What do you think you're doing?'

He regarded her. Your time will come , he silently admonished. Do not think you can command the Vekken . He felt Malius agree with him, but the words rang hollow even in his own mind. This was a show of force: the Khanaphir had arrived with weapons, with soldiers. One met a show of force with a show of force, or one retreated. These Beetles did not understand that.

'It's only an honour guard, a ceremonial display,' the Maker girl hissed. 'Look at them.'

Their spears are real, as are their swords. The gold trimming does not mean that their armour is not functional, you stupid woman . But he simply did not understand. A lot of people were staring at him now. Somehow, despite the fact that their minds were all so obstinately separated, some idea had travelled between them all, excluding his brother and himself. He sheathed his sword, though his training resisted fiercely. As he had so many times before, he wanted to shout at them, to rage at them. They would not hear, though, because they could not. He had spent whole evenings cursing the Maker woman and the others, as loud as he could, with Malius competing with him for the most apposite phrase. It was wasted — more, it was misconceived. She had got them here without any apparent difficulty, and he could not understand how she had managed it.

The aged Khanaphir was stepping forward. He wore a white robe that fell from one shoulder to mid-shin, reminding Accius uncomfortably of the Assemblers of Collegium. He was barefoot, but he wore a considerable amount of jewellery. Like the other locals he was bald, although he wore a thin gold band about his forehead, the ends of it spiralling together above his brow. To Accius's eyes he differed from all the rest only because he was clearly so old, his face lined and wrinkled.

'I give you greetings, ambassadors sent from our distant kinfolk,' he began. His voice was very quiet and yet clear. Everyone, locals and foreigners alike, had fallen completely silent. The sounds of the city beyond were now a distant tide surging behind him. 'The city of Khanaphes is seldom graced with such an honour as to meet more of our long-lost family. My name is Ethmet and I am privileged to be the First Minister of this city. On behalf of my Masters, I extend the full welcome of Khanaphes to you and all your people.'

The Maker woman stepped forward and said some words in response, the usual patter of meaningless pleasantries that Accius had heard before. They said so much that was unnecessary, these Beetles, or so much that defied interpretation to a poor Ant-kinden of Vek.

Ethmet, the First Minister, was making some offer of accommodation, which had apparently been accepted. Local porters were coming forward to take up the Beetles' baggage. Accius felt Malius, on board ship still, reach down to shoulder their own compact belongings. No doubt these local Beetles would understand privacy as little as their Collegiate cousins.

Who are his Masters? Accius wondered.

He felt Malius shrug. More Beetles. No doubt we will meet them in time, instead of this functionary .

And then what?What does the King expect of us, here?

We only observe , Malius replied, but he sounded uncertain. The Collegiates have some purpose in coming here, and it can be no purpose friendly to Vek. Perhaps they seek military supplies or aid . He looked about the crowded dockside, noticing there was a distinctly primitive feel to it. Perhaps they seek expendable soldiers to send against us. They could plan to offset our superior troops with sheer numbers .

It was Accius's turn to shrug. Everyone was now moving on. Malius brought up the rear, keeping watch over him as he forced himself to wade into the rushing torrent of people, seeking to keep pace with the Maker woman.

He reached out, felt Malius's presence. I would go mad. How can they live like this? The business of the docks was picking up again all around them, so many flapping mouths, so much wasted noise. Have we made a mistake in coming here? Is this merely a diversion? Perhaps our comrades in Collegium have been killed by now. There may already be a war .

Malius had no answer for him. Surrounded by his enemies, it was all Accius could do not to draw his blade again.

Everything was going well. Everything was falling apart.

The Empire is here in Khanaphes . Che recited the words to herself in a tone of urgency. That, she insisted, explained the shock she felt still resonating through her. Thalric is in Khanaphes . She did not know what to make of it. When last they had met, over a year ago now, he had been the big man in the Empire, consort of their new ruler. What would such a prominent figure be doing here?

Concentrate on the Empire , she urged herself. Hypothesis one: the Empire is here because we are. Hypothesis two: the Empire has an independent reason for being interested in Khanaphes. Which leads us on to hypothesis three: We are here because the Empire is here, and Uncle Sten didn't trust me with the information. So when was I going to find out?

She knew now that she had to seek out their people in Khanaphes as soon as possible. In light of this new discovery, it made sense that they must be Stenwold's agents as well. She had heard not a whisper that Stenwold had been plying his trade this far out, but then a lifetime in the intelligencing business had made him highly secretive, even with his own niece.

Too cursed secret, Uncle Sten .

But there was nothing she could do about it now. She pushed forward a little to walk alongside Ethmet, very conscious both of the Khanaphir honour guard around them, and the twitchy Vekken following just behind her.

'Excuse me, First Minister.'

'What may I provide you with, O Beautiful Foreigner?' he asked, with an elegant gesture of his spreading hands, from his stomach outwards. The mode of address put her off balance, for all that it was an obvious formality.

'Well … I was wondering, there are some scholars from Collegium in the city already. I was hoping to meet with them soon, just to catch up with their news.'

'Why, this has already been anticipated,' Ethmet replied, with a small smile. 'You shall see as much, when we reach your dwelling.' His manner should probably have reminded her of the magnates of Collegium, but he lacked their vigorous pomp and vanity. There was a quiet, self-contained authority to him, an assurance that put her more in mind of Spider-kinden Aristoi or the seers of the Moths. Here was a man who was absolutely sure of his place in the world.

She fell back until she was close enough to Berjek Gripshod and the others to converse with them. 'Well?' she said.

'Speechless,' Gripshod admitted. 'I mean, look at the place — so much stone and so large. How long did it take to piece all this together?' He shook his head. 'We were right to come here. I've never seen anything like it.'

'But we build in stone,' Che pointed out.

'Not like this,' he insisted. 'New buildings in Collegium are constructed of brick, or perhaps wood and plaster, at least above the first storey. It's only the grand old structures, the College and the Amphiophos, that are entirely of dressed stone. And that's only because they date from before the revolution. Our erstwhile masters preferred stone — and so, clearly, do the Khanaphir. And look — every piece is carved. Every piece.'