Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Scarab Path

Ethmet himself had put in a personal appearance, together with at least a dozen of his fellow Ministers. They stood in their simple, one-shouldered robes like a gaggle of clerks, save for the respectful space that everyone else gave them. Behind them was the army, or that was how it looked to Thalric. Amnon had turned out the Royal Guard in their gilded scale mail, with their pointed shields, spears and bows. The big man was looking angry. What had happened here was a personal affront to his authority and, with perhaps a hundred men at his back, his authority was looking more and more sensitive to insult.

Did the halfbreed know what he was asking for when he opened the door on this? Thalric wondered. Looking at the way the Iron Glove had turned their factora into a fortress, he had to conclude that, yes, he had. But why? Is the man so mad for Cheerwell Maker that he will see his entire delegation slaughtered? Beyond the guardsmen were a mass of the ordinary Khanaphir, many holding staves or sickles or slings. Word of the outrage had gone quickly through the streets, no doubt tacitly encouraged by the Ministers.

Any welcome for the Iron Glove has finally expired , Thalric thought with satisfaction.

There was a silence falling on them now, a quiet focused on Ethmet, although he had made no sign. More soldiers were just arriving, who carried, slung between them, a bronze-shod tree-trunk. Appreciating the hush, they lowered it gratefully to the ground. Thalric eyed the reinforced door and decided the ram would burst it open after a dozen or twenty blows. He could see movement behind the metal-latticed windows, and knew the Iron Glove would be ready to defend themselves. There would be two prodigious bloodlettings, in Thalric's professional opinion: one to get the door open, and another inside once the horde of the Khanaphir began tearing every single Iron Glove man apart.

Up on the balcony that extended above the door, a handful of the Iron Glove emerged, bearing snapbows but keeping them low. The archers amongst the Khanaphir already had arrows to the string, just waiting for the command to draw.

Totho came forth next. Although most of those come to cause his ruin would not have recognized him, the sight of his armour, and the way his men deferred to him, singled him out. One of his men passed him a speaking horn, and Thalric felt a wrinkle of contempt for a man without a parade-ground voice.

Cheerwell was pushed out to stand next to him, looking angry and stubborn, and Thalric felt a twitch of relief to see her still alive. He had not expected otherwise, but still …

Totho coughed into the cone, the noise emerging garbled and tinny. 'Is everyone here?' he asked. His voice boomed back across the crowd, echoing from the walls across the street.

'Explain this!' Ethmet demanded, needing nothing but his own lungs. Thalric would not have thought the old man had it in him, but he would have made a fine drill sergeant. 'What is this insurrection? Have you declared war on the Masters of Khanaphes, O merchant? What is this barbarism?'

And not just on Khanaphes , Thalric thought, but the Lowlands and the Empire, all in one. I would not have thought it possible to make so many enemies so swiftly .

'You're owed an explanation,' Totho replied, and his voice, even amplified, was that of an awkward artificer trying to sound forceful. 'I will give it, but I wanted everyone to hear it. What I have to say is important.'

'Release the Collegiate ambassador,' Ethmet snapped back at him. 'We will listen to nothing until she is free.'

'She will be released,' Totho said. 'I won't hold her. I wanted her out of the hands of the Empire, that's all.'

'Do you make your merchant venture a sovereign state now?' Ethmet called. 'How do you dare meddle in the affairs of your betters? Release her!'

'Oh yes, we are ambitious, we in the Iron Glove,' said Totho, and his confidence was already building. 'You may not know, but Che here can fly. She can leave us right now.' He turned from the speaking horn to say something to Che, and Thalric saw her glance at the Iron Glove snapbowmen. Her wings flickered, putting her up on the very rail of the balcony.

'Say what you have to say,' she told Totho, loud enough for many of the crowd below to hear. Thalric saw another figure nip out to join her on the railing, and it took him a moment to recognize the Fly, Trallo. The sight gave him a slight edge of unease. And what has that villain been doing with the Iron Glove? Had they captured him, for information about me?

'Thank you.' Totho had returned to the horn. 'As I say, I owe you an explanation. I beg you to hear me.'

'Explain, and then gather yourselves to leave,' Ethmet told him.

'You have been deceived,' Totho's voice boomed out. 'You are victims of your own generosity, O Ministers. You are betrayed by your very guests.' There was a moment's murmuring before Totho caught up with the crowd's response. 'I don't mean myself . I don't mean this ,' he said. 'This is nothing, a moment's misunderstanding, to be soon forgotten.' He waited, letting the murmur die down. His eyes sought out Thalric.

'There is an army marching on Khanaphes even as we speak,' Totho declared. 'An army of the Scorpion-kinden called the Many of Nem. Your enemies.'

There was a ripple of alarm through the crowd, but Amnon was having none of it. 'So they come again?' he roared out. 'So let them come, and we shall beat them back, as we have before. Totho, we made you welcome here, and what are the Scorpion-kinden compared to the thing you have done?'

'This is no army such as you have ever faced before,' Totho said, forcing sincerity into his words, overstressing them. Thalric realized he must have rehearsed all this, must have written his own script for this confrontation. 'These Scorpion-kinden possess new weapons, terrible weapons the like of which Khanaphes has never seen before. And why? Because they work for new masters. The Many of Nem now march under Imperial officers, and they wield Imperial arms. The Empire has set them upon your city, while their own ambassadors lurk within your walls and speak of peace!'

It was unexpected enough thatThalric ran the words back through his mind before fully grasping them. By that time he realized that everyone was now staring at him, the lone Imperial representative in all that crowd. Che was looking at him, too, and he returned her gaze and shook his head.

'What nonsense!' he said, pitching his voice to carry across the whole crowd. 'There is no Imperial attack on Khanaphes. Why would we? We have no ambitions here.' He heard that old empty promise of the Empire on his lips, betrayed a hundred times. But we have none, for what would we do with Khanaphes anyway? Give us ten years, and perhaps … 'There is no attack or, if there is, then these Scorpions come of their own accord.' He felt slightly unsteady in his stomach, though. And has there not been some piece missing, of all of this, ever since we arrived? Still, it made no sense. There was no attack. He would know if there were. They would tell me …

'Send your scouts west!' Totho demanded. 'Or just wait a day, perhaps two, and you will not need my warnings. Perhaps your hunters and farmers can already see a dustcloud on the horizon. The Empire is nearing with its Scorpion tools, I swear to you — and knowing that, what plans might they have had for the Collegiate ambassador? What could I do but rescue her from their grasp?'

The crowd was in uproar. Some were already hurrying off, perhaps to seek out family or friends. Totho's words would be across all Khanaphes before morning. Ethmet's call for silence might have stilled them, but he did not give it. Instead, he was conferring with his fellow Ministers and then with Amnon. The Royal Guard stood uneasy, looking sidelong at each other, still under their rigid discipline.