Adrian Tchaikovsky - Empire in Black and Gold

‘I won’t stop you,’ he said. ‘So go.’

‘Tell me one thing,’ Che said. ‘You said your people had a special way to wake the Art. Does it always work like that?’ Her smile got even broader when his cheeks darkened with embarrassment.

‘Usually. . just the massage.’ Achaeos shrugged his pack on his shoulder, the bow sticking up above one ear. ‘I. .’

He looked so uncertain just then that she hugged him, and he kissed her forehead in return. They were ready to travel now. They had been told that the Skryres were to give their judgment. That word was all they were waiting for.

It came more swiftly than they had hoped. An old Moth, who must have served the Skryres for decades, poled his way over to them, his staff clacking on the stone floor. His expression suggested that it was a crime to have him thus awake in daylight, and that Achaeos was a fool for adopting the patterns of outsiders.

‘The Skryres have made their decision?’ Achaeos asked him.

‘They have,’ the old man said. He took a deep breath. ‘And they have decided to make no decision.’

There was a pause before Che said, ‘They have decided what?’

The old man barely acknowledged her, spoke instead to Achaeos. ‘The emissaries of the Wasp Empire have made many promises, which may yet be fulfilled. You have brought many warnings, which also may yet be fulfilled. The omens have been cast, and the world holds its breath. The Skryres, in their wisdom, will wait, and let the lesser people below us enact their petty plots. They will reach their decision when the omens change, or when fresh knowledge comes to them.’

‘Then what are we two supposed to do?’ Achaeos demanded.

‘What you wish,’ said the old man, sublimely unconcerned. ‘However, if it is fresh information you seek, you could leave Tharn to go and find it, and take’ — a dismissive gesture — ‘your baggage with you.’

Achaeos smiled thinly. ‘Well, I shall find you the fresh knowledge, then. I will find something to prod them into action, shall I? And if not then, one evening, you will look out of the mountain and have the fresh knowledge that a Wasp armada is at the gates of Tharn, and perhaps then the Skryres will decide to act.’

The old man curled his lip and left them.

Che clutched at Achaeos’s sleeve. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘Leave here, as he said. If I can find something to convince them, then so. If not, I’ll do what I can with my own two hands.’ He turned to her. ‘We can leave now freely, you realize.’

‘I. . I’m not sure. I only. . It was only for a little while, last night.’

‘All we have to do is step off the mountain,’ Achaeos told her, ‘and then you open your wings. It’s as simple as that.’

She held to his hand as they took the leap, and he was a far better flier than she could ever be. She lumbered in the air, the curse of her race. Rather than glide down, she simply fell rather more slowly, with him keeping pace with her all the way, pulling her up whenever she faltered.

And then they were at the foot of the mountain, and she could only look back up, at the great slopes, and at all the intervening clouds they had passed through. She had not noticed, in that lurching descent, the chill air grow warm with the approaching land or the great spectacle of Helleron spreading itself out below.

Next time I shall fly properly , she told herself, and she hugged Achaeos fiercely, because he had given her a gift beyond counting — and love as well.

They had come down near where their fires had brought the great moth to them, at the base of the foothills of the Tornos range. Che’s infant power of flight was too weak to take her any further and it was still a walk of some way to get to Helleron. The going was rugged at first, but Che did not care. The mere thought that soon, if she wished, she would be able to rise above this difficult terrain and coast along on her own wings was enough to sustain her. Beside her, Achaeos was in a thoughtful mood, but there was also a faint smile on his face.

He is thinking of me .

And how strange, after all this time, to be thinking this. She had been in Tynisa’s shadow so long, watching every caller’s face turn to eye her beautiful foster-sister, ignoring poor, hardworking Che, who had done everything to follow in her uncle’s footsteps. Now, unbidden, this man had looked on her and found her fair.

And with that thought a hand caught her and dragged her from his side.

‘Achaeos!’ she cried, fumbling for her sword. Whoever it was had his arm around her neck, clutching at her tunic. Achaeos had a hand to his dagger, but it remained undrawn.

‘You keep away from her, you bastard!’ growled a voice in her ear, and it was a voice she recognized. Her hand fell away from her sword hilt.

‘Totho?’

‘Are you all right, Che?’

‘Of course I’m all right. What are you doing?’

‘We’re betrayed, Che,’ Totho said desperately. He had a sword in his other hand. Twisting her head she saw his eyes were fixed on Achaeos furiously. ‘We’re betrayed,’ he said again. ‘Scuto’s place is gone. Most of his people are dead. They knew just where they all were, even the messenger Scuto sent out to this bastard and his people. Who knew, Che? Who was able to set us up?’

‘Totho, he’s been with me. .’ But it was not quite true. There had been time enough when he had been away from her side. I won’t believe it. Her voice shook when she said, ‘Totho, Achaeos is not a traitor. He’s been trying to help-’

Achaeos had strung his bow, as calmly as a man might tie a lace. The string was back, the arrow nocked.

‘Achaeos, don’t! Look, this is a misunderstanding!’ Che said desperately. She felt Totho’s grip tighten on her. He was mostly behind her. That arrow could cut into herself as easily as him.

It could be meant for me.

‘Please!’ she cried out to both of them, and then Achaeos ran forward, and Totho brought his sword back, and at the last moment the Moth kicked off and was in the air above them.

She head the swift, tearing sound of the arrow, the thrum of the string in the same instant, felt the shudder of its impact, deep between Totho’s shoulder and neck. With a startled sound the artificer fell away from her, his grip dragging a moment before it went slack.

‘Captain.’

Thalric turned from his reports. This close to the knife-edge his agents had little to tell him anyway. He knew there were Rekef men who spent their entire lives focused on paperwork, but he had always needed to be where it was happening, ready to put his own hands to the plan and force it into place.

He saluted. ‘Major Godran.’ The salute was a mere formality, for both men knew who was in charge.

‘All quiet last night,’ Godran told him. ‘No move at all.’

He hasn’t worked it out , Thalric mused. He had expected rather more from Stenwold Maker. If he stays blind for long it will be too late for him to stop us anyway. Which will be all for the best, of course.

‘Do you want me to double the guard tonight?’

Thalric considered that. Matters were delicately poised, but he could not risk being heavy-handed. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘If Stenwold’s people see where we’re looking, then we’ll as good as have told them what’s going on. Unless we hear that he’s taking action we’ll remain discreet.’

He regarded Godran. The man was regular army but he had served in the Twelve-Year War alongside the Rekef Outlander. He was reliable.

‘Your men are ready to move in force?’

‘Every one of them,’ Godran confirmed. ‘They’ve been kicking their heels for a while now, and they’re keen to see a fight.’