Adrian Tchaikovsky - Heirs of the Blade

Her own words did not raise the same great, soundless echoes that theirs did. They raised only sharp, real echoes, that whiplashed across the faces of the Masters, for nobody had ever addressed to them in such a manner since the dawn of time.

‘I am not here to learn,’ she explained, speaking into the ringing silence. ‘I am not here to sit at your feet and be satisfied with whatever pittance you grant me. I am the Empress of the Wasps, and I am no mere subject, not even for the first lords and ladies of mankind. You know what I am here for.’

There were more of them appearing now, their huge figures striding towards her between the pillars. They eyed her impassively, arrogantly, but she stared them down. And do I detect the faintest quiver of doubt?

Then one of the men sighed heavily and said, ‘We are sorry that you have come such a way only for this. To stand before the Masters of Khanaphes and dare to make demands is only foolishness.’ He did not sound angry, though, just disappointed. Even so, she felt a surge of their power building up, inexorable as an earthquake, readying itself to blot her out so utterly that the world would not even remember her name.

‘Such promise,’ one of the women murmured. ‘She could have learned so much of our histories, such as no savage has ever known, and now this… Such a waste…’

‘Majesty.’ Gjegevey’s voice quavered, and Seda realized that he was terrified almost out of his mind. Had he been here alone, he would have thrown himself before the Masters and begged for mercy, but she gave him strength and for her sake, for loyalty’s sake, he clung to his staff and held his ground.

Several of the Masters were already turning away, not even interested enough to witness her being destroyed. The looming tidal wave of their power – a slightest handful of all they had saved up here, and yet still so much, such a vast fist to crush such small flies – was cresting all around them.

‘You have your grand histories,’ Seda conceded, betraying nothing but cool arrogance in her voice and stance. ‘But I have an Empire.’

She could sense their amusement at such a proclamation, and it bought her a little more time – time to educate those who had thought she had come to serve them.

‘At the lightest gesture of my army, half your city was razed. It would take a fraction of the soldiers now under my command to obliterate it from the face of the world. If I do not return safely to them, then that is exactly what I will do. More, they will bring in machines and Mole Cricket-kinden and they will dig. They shall tear apart the earth itself, until they uncover these halls, and then the sun shall become your only ceiling, and for all your power, and however many of my subjects you slay or drive mad, they shall take you eventually, and lead you through the streets of Capitas in chains. And so your histories, all of your histories, shall come to an end. I shall tear up every stone that bears your name or your likeness, and then I shall salt the earth itself so that your power may never revive.’

She sensed the massive hammer of their will poised in delicate balance above her.

‘You cannot think-’ one of them began, but Seda did not let him finish.

‘If you harm me, then this shall come to pass. It shall come to pass even if you simply deny me. I am the Empress of the Wasps, and I am the inheritor of the ancient powers, by blood and by shadow, and there is only one thing I require from you. Grant that one thing, and I shall leave you to your darkness and your stone.’

This was the fulcrum moment on which the future hinged, with their power poised right above her, an invisible, irresistible weight that could crush her mind, send her stark mad, and none of her tricks of magic or statesmanship could withstand it. But we are Wasps, and we do not beg. I shall have this on my terms or not at all, for there is no other path fit for an Empress.

Gjegevey stood very close, almost clinging to her arm, his face sheened with sweat in this unwholesome blue light. She radiated strength, though. Even if, at her greatest, she seemed a mere gnat in the face of their might, she stood straight and defied them, and held firm to her demands.

Had it not been for that other woman, had it not been for those stolen dreams that had visited Seda so long ago, so far away – those dreams of the same echoing halls, the lamps, the solemn faces of the Masters – then she would have sucumbed. True, had it not been for those dreams she would never have come at all, but in that moment of crisis, facing the vast depths of the Masters’ strength, she still held to that one scrap of knowledge. They were defeated before, out-thought, tricked from their prey. The Beetle girl escaped them. Well, I shall go one better.

‘See my Empire,’ she told them, and then filled her own mind with it, all of its artifice and energy, its rapacious hunger, its unending hordes of soldiers, its fierce youthful fire. She summoned up all her own confidence, her belief in her people and in herself, and her unbridled and all-consuming need to control: to control herself, control her people, control the ancient powers, control the world. She did not know it, but she was grinning at them like a monster. She smiled like a tyrant and, just as their ancient power had weighed on her with its demands of Worship us! so she turned her mind on them with all the force of her Imperial will: Submit to me!

The air was full of soundless fury, of invisible fire, so that Gjegevey flinched from every moment of it. But in the physical world a great silence had fallen, and Seda’s grin simply widened, and the Masters were suddenly uncertain. The world of the new and the vital was brought here before them, incomprehensible and threatening.

And, at the very last, an answer: ‘What is it that you want, then?’ said one of the women. ‘Name it.’

‘Validation,’ Seda told them. ‘Confirmation. You, with your great legacy, must accept me as your heir in the modern world. Just a nod, Masters – just the smallest nod. All of us here know how power is defined by such symbols.’ She caught a glimpse of Gjegevey’s face, and he was wide-eyed in horror, but she had come too far now to turn aside. ‘Pass on to me the mantle,’ she insisted.

The Masters of Khanaphes, and there were many more of them now, exchanged slow glances, and Seda knew that thoughts must be passing between them, not by Art or even magic, but by virtue of their having spent so many centuries in each other’s company.

‘You claim to be the heir to the Age of Lore,’ one said at last, and when Seda nodded impatiently, added, ‘You wish us to crown you, to acknowledge you.’

‘You are the first-ever great magicians,’ Seda declared. ‘I will have you name me as your successor.’

‘And are you prepared to share your throne?’ asked another woman there.

Seda’s eyes narrowed. ‘With you?’

There was a murmur of laughter amongst them, more evident in the eyes than from anything she actually heard. ‘You shall never be our peer, little Empress, but perhaps you are fit to be named queen of what scant magic this withered age still owns. With our blessing you might do great things – might even turn back the sands a little and bring back some shadow of the old days. We cannot bless you, though, unless we also bless your sister.’

The Wasp Empress stared at her, and it was a few moments before she could form the words: ‘I have no sister. Maxin killed them all, years ago. I am the last of my blood.’

At her bafflement, the amusement among the Masters spread. ‘She was not born your kin, but she is your sister now. You and she were bloodied by the same thorn. In the instant that you attained your power, she came to hers. And, though her understanding is behind yours, you are yet walking in her footsteps.’