Adrian Tchaikovsky - Heirs of the Blade

Perhaps Dal saw something of the truth from her face, for he did not press the issue.

There was a rustling above, and immediately all hands went to swords and knife hilts. It was Mordrec, though, squeezing in to take up all the available space, and with a bundle in his arms.

‘Just where we left it,’ the Wasp confirmed, slightly out of breath. ‘Glad we listened to you, now. Never thought we’d be coming back this way, myself.’

He unfurled the oilcloth, spilling out a meagre collection of knives, shortbows and an untidy stack of arrows. None of it looked like good workmanship, but the brigands helped themselves gladly, so that all of them save Mordrec now had a bow and at least a few shafts.

‘Any sign of their scouts?’ Soul asked.

‘How the pits should I know?’ Mordrec hissed back. ‘They can see better than I can. I just concentrated on keeping my head down, all the way.’

Tynisa sighed. ‘I’ll go look.’

They regarded her doubtfully, and at last Dal Arche said, ‘One of us, then?’

‘And not your leader,’ she insisted firmly. ‘I need to get away. You need to get away. I’m willing to bet that they want me more than you.’

That had to be explained for Mordrec’s benefit, and the Wasp goggled at her. ‘Shame you didn’t go report to the old woman before you sprang us,’ he said. ‘Could have wiped out the whole family. Make the Rekef proud.’

She glared at him, but the words hit close to home.

‘What’s the plan, then?’ asked Mordrec, settling down. ‘I reckon we’re a few points off the compass, but that’s just runner’s instinct. You got a plan now, Dala?’

The Dragonfly nodded slowly. ‘I reckon the reason they’ve not caught us already is because most of their people headed south, thinking we’d just repeat our dash for Rhael. As you’ve noticed, we’ve made best time by going due east, instead. Now they’ve got airborne scouts and cavalry, so they’ll catch our trail soon enough, and it’s only a matter of time before they overhaul us. Not many options for us, then. Too few of us to make much of an impression if we stand and fight. We could scatter, each to his own, and some of us would likely remain free, and others would be hunted down like beasts. That has an appeal to it, if only because it puts our enemies to the most trouble. However, I’ve a third way, if you want to hear it.’

‘Speak,’ Soul Je prompted.

‘We just hope to keep out of their reach, as we run east, and then we cross the border. It’s not as far as you might think. Don’t forget how half this Principality ended up on the wrong side of the Imperial lines, at the end.’

Mordrec spat. ‘You know what it’s like in the Wasp Principalities? You think they’re any easier on brigands there?’

‘I reckon they’re not already hunting us as brigands over there, nor as prince-killers either. So I think, right now, we’re better off risking our freedom with the slave-takers than our lives with the Salmae.’ As Mordrec was about to speak again, he added, ‘You sprang me from a Slave Corps cell in Myna, Mord, so it’s not something I’d suggest lightly. Still, by my reckoning we’ve just about outstayed our welcome here. Split off from us tomorrow, anyone that wants, but I’m for the border, and see how bold Salme Elass gets then.’

He met Tynisa’s gaze, and she asked him, ‘You’ve fought all this while against the Commonweal aristocracy? Don’t you think the Empire will be worse?’

‘Oh you’re right,’ Dal replied lazily. ‘We might be enslaved and forced to work their farms and do their will. They might conscript us for their armies. They might execute us for turning our back on their laws. How different is that from the old Commonweal, eh?’ He nodded to Tynisa. ‘You go spotting for their scouts, girl. Put your eyes to good use.’

They kept Che constantly bound, travelling awkwardly on horseback before one of the Salmae’s retainers, or dumped at night alongside the stores and provisions. She managed to pick up little detail, but their search was plainly not progressing well. The initial hopes the pursuers had of overhauling the fugitive band had been dashed and their second-guessing had been found wanting. After that the trackers, Gaved amongst them, had been sent out on winged errands to try and find some other sign of their quarry. A day later they were back, and it was plain that Salme Elass had been leading her avenging force in entirely the wrong direction. The cavalry set off as soon as the news was in, and Che bundled along with them. The miserable conscripted levy were left to follow on foot at their own best pace.

She wondered idly if this was how the Commonwealers had conducted the war, and whether that explained everything. From that reflection, her mind turned to Thalric and her other companions. They were close, she knew: she could feel Thalric’s arrowhead of a mind out there, seeking ways to cut at the knot of her captors and set her free. She dared not let her mind wander too far, or exercise her little-understood powers too much. The Empress was still out there, and who could know how far her feelers might stretch from her nest in the heart of Capitas? Surely she had not forgotten Che, her unwished-for peer and sister. And if the Beetle girl’s consciousness should brush against her, then who knew what new magical attack Seda might unleash? Che had no wish to be banished into the back of her own head once more.

This night, as the advance force camped, the scouts seemed to have more positive information. They had already made up a lot of the lost ground, Che came to understand from the snippets of talk she overheard. Another day, or even less, and they would catch up with the brigands, and Tynisa. And then Salme Elass would have her revenge.

There were perhaps forty or fifty in the cavalry party, and they were the cream of the Commonweal, nobles and their retainers armoured in glittering shell and steel, skilled with bow and sword and lance. Che had glumly concluded that it didn’t matter how much help Tisamon’s ghost could lend to his daughter, Tynisa would not be able to triumph over her enemies this time, not even with a motley collection of brigands at her back. And she would not run for long, Che knew, for Tisamon would not have run. Perhaps Tynisa did not even think of her actions so far as escaping, rather than just escorting and guarding the villains she had freed. The moment she thought that she was running from something, then she would turn and fight. It was what Tisamon himself would have done, and the instinct had surely killed enough Mantis-kinden over the years. Che had a fairly strong conviction that Tisamon’s ghost had only one aim in its damaged mind: that Tynisa would die as a Mantis should die: bloody-handed and in company.

So, the ghost’s play had reached its endgame, and Che’s own had clearly failed. She was in no position to save Tynisa from anything, nor even herself.

She started as someone crouched down next to her, sitting back on his haunches. She recognized him as Isandter, the silver-haired Mantis-kinden. His eyes were wintry and cold, and Che knew well enough the sword-and-circle brooch he wore.

‘What do you want?’ she asked him.

He was studying her with a slight frown. ‘You are a noble of the Lowlands, a woman of importance?’

She almost laughed at that. ‘We don’t have an aristocracy. Bloodline won’t get you far on its own, where I come from. But my uncle Stenwold is a man of note, back in Collegium. I imagine he’ll take it personally if he hears that something bad has happened to me. Not that it’ll do me much good by then, of course.’

Isendter nodded soberly. ‘Maker Stenwold,’ he enunciated carefully. ‘That is the name of the Lowlander who spoke to the Monarch at Prince Felipe’s court.’