Adrian Tchaikovsky - Dragonfly Falling

And I would rather be out there with them , but that was not true. I would rather be at home . He did not want to be here in the Amphiophos in his formal robes.

‘Master Maker, can I introduce the Lord-Martial Teornis of the Aldanrael?’ asked Lineo Thadspar, stepping into his view.

Stenwold managed a weary bow to the immaculate Spider-kinden Aristos. This was the one who had commanded the fleet, he realized: the man who had saved Collegium.

The Amphiophos was full of new faces today, but most keenly he felt the lack of so many of the old ones. The Assembly, like the city it governed, was peppered with holes. Where now was Waybright, who had fallen to a crossbow bolt on the east wall? Where was Doctor Nicrephos, and where was the stern old visage of Kymon of Kes?

‘Lord-Martial, I have no words to thank you,’ he said, all too truthfully. ‘I had not thought the Spiderlands would be such a supporter of our city.’

‘The Spiderlands holds no single opinion as one entity, nor takes any single action, War Master,’ replied Teornis drily. ‘However, I myself see sufficient advantage in trade and political futures to go so far on behalf of your city. You must thank another, though, for the invitation.’

Stenwold could see, from Thadspar’s face, that this was something new, and he made a politely enquiring sound.

‘You are acquainted with a most enchanting member of my kind named Tynisa, are you not?’

‘You’ve seen Tynisa?’ gasped Stenwold. ‘Where?’ The world was making no sense to him now. Is it because I am so tired, or it is really all nonsense?

‘The full story I shall tell you when we can find more leisure,’ Teornis promised. ‘It is unfinished as yet, for she and her companion had some small matters to attend to before their own return, or else I would have offered them space on my flagship.’

Stenwold nodded, mind still reeling, and thanked him again before looking for a place to sit down. It was five days since the Vekken army had been defeated and Collegium saved, but people still moved about their city as though there was a war going on. There were a great many foreigners here, and the locals regarded them nervously. If Teornis had wanted Collegium for himself he could have made a serious attempt on her, Stenwold knew, and in their negotiations the day after the battle the Spider had pointedly not quite said as much. Stenwold knew a little of the trade concessions that the Aldanrael family would reap from this, the loans and the technology and the student places at the College, even two Master’s seats that were also seats on the Assembly.

‘Commander Parops,’ Thadspar said, drifting past. The Tarkesh officer was still in his armour, and he shook Sten-wold’s hand heartily. ‘You’re Stenwold Maker!’ he said.

‘I am indeed,’ Stenwold admitted. He still felt that he should sit down, but just now he was supposed to be a diplomat. It was a wrenching change from being a soldier, and after an hour of this he was not sure which he preferred.

‘You know a Fly-kinden, name of Nero,’ Parops informed him.

It was obviously a day for name-dropping. ‘Yes, I do,’ Stenwold said, ‘although it has been a long time since I’ve seen him.’

‘Then I have a lot I can tell you,’ said Parops. Then, seeing Thadspar anxious to introduce him to others, he grimaced and added, ‘Later, though.’

I can see I’ll not have many evenings free for a while. Stenwold allowed himself to lean back against a convenient wall, before he saw another Assembler approaching him, leading a copper-hued man of rangy build.

‘This is Artificer-Commander. ’ the Assembler started, and the name had obviously evaded him.

‘Dariaxes,’ said the copper-coloured, copper-clad man whose eyes were a startling red.

‘Commander Dariaxes is Fire Ant-kinden from Porphyris,’ the Assembler announced excitedly. ‘This is the first-ever formal contact between our cities. Isn’t that remarkable, Master Maker?’

Stenwold tiredly conceded that it was. ‘I am only pleased our first meeting is under such amicable terms, Commander,’ he said. ‘Your men are. mercenaries for the Spiders?’

‘My city is a satrapy of the Spiderlands,’ Dariaxes corrected. It was a word Stenwold was only vaguely familiar with but the context told him more than he was happy with. How different was a satrapy from a city the Wasps had conquered? He supposed that the chief difference would be that the Spider-kinden, who could convince anyone of anything, had probably persuaded the Fire Ants that they were perfectly content with their servitude. They were not the only ones, though, that was clear. The Spider-lands were vast — unmapped as far as any reliable atlas of Collegium went — and the Fire Ants had not come alone. Stenwold had already been introduced to a Dragonfly soldier whose ancestors in the Days of Lore had fled so far from the Commonweal that the Spiders had taken them in.

Sour thoughts were easy to hold, with the scars of the war still so fresh. Dariaxes’s men had died outside the walls to make his city safe, and there had been Spider-kinden amongst the dead too, along with Scorpion mercenaries and a dozen other races.

‘Collegium thanks you,’ he told Dariaxes, whose smile told him he had guessed at some of the thoughts in Stenwold’s mind.

Stenwold glanced around the room, seeking escape, and he picked Balkus out of the crowd — a full head over anyone except the Scorpion captain. The big Ant was, at least, enjoying himself. He had a bandage on his face, still, where a Vekken sword had cut open his cheek, but he was still managing to form a smile around it, and there was a young Beetle-kinden woman, an artificer of the College, hanging adoringly on his arm. Stenwold could not begrudge him that.

There was a touch at his elbow, and he turned to see Arianna, with one hand resting on the sling that marked his own war-wound.

‘Ah,’ he said, with false jollity, ‘you’re here to tell me there’s something urgent I need to attend to.’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said, with such intensity that his stomach lurched.

‘Something’s happened?’ he said, instantly worried. ‘What?’

There was such a serious look on her face that it could be nothing good. ‘You had better come with me,’ she said. ‘Some of the guardsmen outside have picked up someone who came asking for you. You need to see this.’

She led him outside, while he was still trying to figure out who it could be. True, everyone seemed to have learned his name during the war, but he had hoped to return to obscurity as soon as it was over.

‘In here,’ Arianna guided him, tense as a taut wire, her hand seeking her knife-hilt. Stenwold’s mind was full of wild speculation as he looked inside, but none wild enough to prepare him for what he saw.

Sitting at a table, between two men of the city militia, was none other than Major Thalric of the Rekef.

*

Beyond the wide tiered steps of the Amphiophos, where the Assembly of Collegium met, there was a broad plaza where ancient statute forbade any market trader to set up stall. In former times the people of the city had gathered there to hear proclamations from their most respected leaders, but more recently it had been a good vantage point from which to protest, wave banners, shout obscenities and throw things at the Assemblers as they hurried inside.

Now it had been returned to its original purpose. The people of Collegium packed it, wall to wall, shoulder to shoulder, with their children held up high to see too, and Fly-kinden thronging every window-ledge, and the roof-gardens packed with even more, since residents were allowing complete strangers up through their houses to enable them to witness this gem of history being cut and mounted.