Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Scarab Path

Che stepped out from the balcony, letting her wings carry her to the ground. She landed in front of Thalric, in the suddenly widening space that had appeared about him.

'I swear,' he protested, 'I know nothing of any attack. There is no attack.' He found his heart racing. They have me believing it now .

Che studied him for a long time, enough to tell him about the distance that had re-opened between them. 'Those are two different things,' she said.

'Yes, yes, they are,' he admitted. 'I must speak with Marger and the others. There has been some mistake.'

'Why would Totho make such a claim, if it were not true?'

'To buy himself time, no doubt. Or perhaps the Scorpions are raiding, for truth, and he wishes to paint them in black and yellow?' Thalric shook his head. 'There is no attack. I will speak with my people-'

'Ambassador Thalric.' Amnon appeared, abruptly looming at his side.

Thalric looked up at him. 'I need to return to my embassy-'

'You must first speak with the Ministers. They require assurances.' There was no hint of a request in Amnon's tone. Thalric cast a desperate look at Che: Trust me . There was no sign of trust in her face, though. And I have given her enough cause to doubt me, over the years .

He let his shoulders sag. 'Lead me,' he told Amnon, and fought down the urge to look back at her, as he went.

Che watched him go, biting at her lip. She felt strangely wretched for Thalric, and on the back of that came the thought: I believe him. For once in his lying life, I actually believe him. He has been out-danced by his own people .

She had to go to the embassy. She had to talk to Berjek and the others, who were even now being ushered back to safety there. This was, of all things, a diplomatic situation, but she had no idea what she, as ambassador, was supposed to do.

Come to us .

She stopped in mid-step. She was aware that, on the balcony above, Totho's people were talking to him, fast and all at once. He was trying to look her way, but he had kicked the wasps' nest, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

Cheerwell Maker, hear us .

It was not words. It was a feeling, an intense feeling washing over her like an unexpected tide. It came from all about her, from beneath her, from the very stones of Khanaphes.

Come to us .

She could not, of course. She had her duties now, whatever they might be. There were the scholars to take care of. There was Totho. There was Thalric.

Come to us, Cheerwell Maker .

She felt herself fading, drifting … the city around her losing focus. Like the Fir . But she had consumed no drug and still she felt the ghosts of ancient Khanaphes all around her. The walls swam, their idiot hieroglyphs abruptly thrusting their meanings at her, shouting at her from every wall, some of them couched in sense, some in gibberish.

Come!

She turned and walked away, but not towards the embassies. She turned and walked away, and was soon lost in the city.

His men had been picked for their ability to fly long and far. They had stopped for a few scant hours since leaving the Scorpion horde, making such time across the desert that the towering column of dust, the great battle-standard of the Many of Nem, had long been lost behind them. Now Sulvec of the Rekef had found Khanaphes.

And what a wretched place I've found . Sulvec was a major in the Rekef Inlander, by definition an ambitious man who fed his ambition any which way. This assignment would be the making of him: he would become Colonel Sulvec on his return, or not return at all. Like so many who climbed the Rekef ladder, his loyalty to the ideals of the Empire at large had been burned away by the duties he had been given. Now his loyalty was to his own advancement, in the sure knowledge that only the Rekef could reward him as he desired, and no other would punish him so hard if he failed.

And General Brugan met with me in person to give me this mission . Sulvec had been startled, at first, but he had long since ceased to question his assignments. It was not his place to act as moral arbiter. He was the hand of the Rekef, and that was all the sense of righteousness he needed.

He spared a thought for bumbling Hrathen, playing barbarian warlord with the Scorpion-kinden. He would do his work well enough, for he had been given the tools and he had just enough rough charisma to keep the savages pointed in the right direction. So much effort for such a little thing , Sulvec considered. There must have been simpler ways . He supposed that the Scorpion assault would serve other purposes, too, that perhaps the Empire might even genuinely want to assess the Many as shock troops, useful Auxillians for the future. We will probably have to kill Hrathen, though: he grows too fond of his role .

His third Rekef assignment had been to spy on a friend, to bring the man in and interrogate him about the Broken Sword cult. He had drunk himself into a stupor for a week, after that. Thenceforth, when the Rekef had sent him out for any task, he had been ready. Thenceforth, the lives of others had been just pieces to be moved or removed, as policy demanded.

He circled over the city, looking for the mark. His men had been ensconced in a farmhouse beyond the walls, sufficiently distant to avoid notice. The sky over Khanaphes was so clear, and he was the only human being in it. Nobody below would be looking up except his compatriots.

He saw the black and yellow flag singling out the roof of a large building. He made his swift descent, coming down on the roof's edge, between two statues of Woodlouse-kinden. Seeing no watchers, he dropped down to the balcony below and slipped inside.

It was a mere two minutes later that he had them assembled: three Wasps and a Beetle-kinden, representing the Rekef Outlander's presence in Khanaphes. A lean Wasp-kinden stepped forward, eyeing him with suspicion. 'I'm Captain Marger. I'm in charge here.'

'Are you indeed?' Sulvec replied, handing over his sealed orders, which Marger accepted reluctantly. There was a moment's pause before the man broke the seal, as though he was feeling out the future through the parchment. His shoulders rose and fell, and then he cracked the paper open. His eyes flicked over the few words there, checked the brief identifying sketch of Sulvec's face, noted the signatory.

'Says here we're at your command, Major,' Marger observed without inflection, handing back the paper. 'You've got commands?'

'I'm calling you out of cover, first,' Sulvec told them. 'From now you are no longer a diplomatic mission. You are soldiers of the Rekef. Now, who should I be giving orders to?'

Marger looked at the others, shrugged again, took a backwards step. The Beetle-kinden pushed forward and saluted. 'Corolly Vastern, Captain-Auxillian,' he rumbled. 'This is Vollen, this is Gram. I'm ranking Rekef Inlander here. What's going on?'

'Where's Major Thalric, first of all?' Sulvec asked.

'Diplomatic duties,' Corolly said. 'There was an attack on this embassy.' One thick thumb indicated the broad bruise across his face. 'He's been in with the natives for hours now, but he got a message out to us, and it made interesting reading.' The Beetle's eyes were suspicious. 'It's being claimed that we're attacking Khanaphes, sir. Using the local Scorpion-kinden.'

And how did that news outreach me? Sulvec already had his suspicions. 'Consider it fact, Captain,' he said. 'We have one official duty left to perform in this building, and after that we resort to stealth procedures. We will soon not be welcome in this city.'

They exchanged glances, none of them happy about it, but none of them about to say so.

'So what's the one duty, sir?' Corolly asked, expressionless.