Adrian Tchaikovsky - Dragonfly Falling

Tisamon nodded shortly. Stenwold glanced from him to Arianna.

‘You’ve come at a good time, Tisamon,’ he said. ‘The Assembly has agreed to work against the Empire. Collegium is going to war. This is Master Gownsman Thadspar, the Speaker.’

‘It’s just as well,’ Tisamon said darkly. ‘Tell them, woman.’

Arianna stood back from Stenwold, not meeting his eyes. ‘The Wasps have sent an embassy to Vek,’ she said quietly. ‘They are encouraging the Vekken to attack Collegium. And it will work, and the Vekken will come.’

Silence fell throughout the room, from the guardsmen hovering in the doorway all the way across to Balkus at the far end of the table.

‘Tisamon, is this-?’ Stenwold started.

‘I found her on the run from her own people,’ Tisamon said derisively. ‘There’s been a falling out, it seems, and right now you’re the only thing keeping her from either assassination or execution. So, yes, I think it may well be true. I don’t know about Collegium going to war, but for certain the war’s coming here.’

To Tisamon it all seemed a colossal waste of time. The War Council of Collegium, it was soon grandly known as, but precious little war seemed to be discussed. There were about forty members of the Assembly present. To the Mantis’s amusement they were using a classroom for their meeting, so only one person at a time could take the stand to talk, while the rest sat on the tiered wooden seating and listened like pupils, or more often talked among themselves.

The first matter of business had been whether, after informing the Empire’s ambassador that they were now at war, the city should send envoys to the Wasps suing for peace, apparently on behalf of all the Lowlands. Almost half of the men and women there had been for that measure, which had only narrowly been defeated in the vote. They were very fond of such voting in Collegium. The Assemblers themselves were elected by a vote of the city, meaning by anyone of age born there, or who could acquire honorary citizenship. The members of the War Council had similarly been voted for from within the Assembly at large, although it seemed that several people were there, and quite vocal, who had simply been interested enough to come, while others thus voted for were absent.

Stenwold had been hoping for whatever few Ant-kinden belonged to the Assembly to be present now. The duelling master, Kymon of Kes, had made an appearance, as well as a Sarnesh woman. The rest of their race were mostly gone from the city, because Ant-kinden loyalties lay strongest with their own kind. The Tarkesh had gone to help their home city-state, and the Kessen, Kymon excepted, to prepare for when their own time came.

Yet here they were, still choosing roles as though the entire business was some grotesquely disorganized theatrical endeavour. Stenwold himself had become some kind of military commander dealing with the walls. Kymon had been given charge of some of the city’s militia. It seemed that anyone who felt himself an expert in war could bag some slice of the city’s defences, and any artificer with an invention that could be put to good use was being given whatever was needed to deploy it.

To Tisamon it seemed an utter shambles, but he was only too aware that these were not his people. They had their own way of doing things, and in that way had built Collegium and made it prosper. Until now, at least.

He fidgeted impatiently. Stenwold had wanted him to witness this, and so Tisamon tried to understand what was going on. There seemed to be far too many interminable speeches and not enough actually being decided or done.

Now the talk had finally arrived at what, in his opinion, should have come first.

‘We must gather our allies,’ Stenwold said firmly, taking his place before the class, ‘not only against Vek but against the Empire. Unity or slavery, as I said before. We must impress upon all the Lowlands that their smaller squabbles must be put aside for now, until the greater threat is over.’

‘Good luck with that,’ someone spoke up, and Stenwold invited the woman to take the podium. She did, looking as though she had not been intending to.

‘What I meant is, your pardon, Masters, but we know our neighbours only too well, do we not?’ She was some kind of merchant, Tisamon guessed, her bulky frame heavily festooned with jewellery. ‘We know them and their prejudices. We of Collegium are broad of mind; can the same be said for many others? The Ants of Kes are no doubt rejoicing to see Tark being invested. The Moth-kinden will not help us because we are Beetles. The Mantids care nothing for anyone save the Spider-kinden, whom they hate. You cannot simply tell these people to stand side by side. It won’t work.’

Stenwold took the podium back. ‘I thank Madam Way-bright for her insight, which has made my point more clearly than I could. The situation of rivalry she describes is the one the Empire is most relying on to win its wars for it. If Vek saw clearly the threat they represented then, as rational human beings, they would not even now be mustering against us.’

There was a rude noise from one of his listeners, and he picked up on it. ‘Not rational , you say? But they are, Masters. They are strict in their duty and their discipline, as Ant-kinden are, but they are human yet. Had we perhaps made more overtures to them, and not crowed instead about the strength of our walls, then they might not be marching against us now. You see? We are by no means blameless.’

He stared down at his hands, balled them into fists, then looked back up at his audience. ‘Let us first speak of those we know will answer our call. No man here can dispute sending messengers to Sarn and Helleron. Helleron especially, for they are closest to the imperial advance.’

There was scattered nodding, and he pressed on.

‘I have agents in Sarn already, seeking their help, but they will not know of the threat from Vek, which requires swifter action. Moreover, my agents in Sarn are attempting contact with the Moth-kinden of Dorax, who I know keep a presence in that city. I myself fought alongside the Moths in Helleron, against the Empire’s schemes there, and I have some hope that, as they profess wisdom, they will be wise enough to forget, for some short space of time, that they have such grievances against us.’

His audience were less enthusiastic about that but, at the same time, he was asking for no commitment from them, merely unveiling his own existing plans. They could hardly turn down help from outside if it was offered.

‘Messengers to Kes, too,’ Stenwold continued. ‘They have never been our enemies, and they have no love for Vek. More, if they can see past their enmities they will realize that they are the next hurdle the Empire must clear. Their seas will not defend them against a massed aerial assault. A messenger to the island of Kes, surely? What do we stand to lose?’

‘The messenger,’ someone suggested, but he still had their attention.

‘And to the Spiderlands-’ he started, but there was a chorus of jeers even at the proposal.

‘The Spiderlands are not of the Lowlands, Stenwold,’ interrupted another of the College masters, a teacher of rhetoric and political history. ‘They will not care and, worse, if we ask for their help they will make us pay for it. If they become involved, they will keep this war going for ever simply for their own amusement. It would suit them well to have us daggers-drawn with our neighbours for generations to come. They would then deal with both sides and only become richer. We cannot invite the Spiderlands to intervene.’

‘And besides,’ said another, a quiet woman who had surprised everyone by turning up, ‘what help could they bring us? Do you think they will field armies for us? They deal in treachery and knives, and we would sully ourselves by inviting that kind of help, even if they could be relied on to turn it solely against the Wasps.’