Adrian Tchaikovsky - The Sea Watch

‘I don’t need proof, Helmess, because I’m not here to arrest you. I’ve known you to be the Empire’s man for years now. It was easier to leave you be than to root out the identity of whoever would replace you. But now I find it’s not just the Empire you’d betray your city to. The Spider-kinden, for example. The Spider-kinden and her people.’ He gestured at Helmess’s companion.

Elytrya bared her teeth. ‘You know nothing of my people!’ she spat.

‘Oh, I know all too much about your crooked-minded people,’ Stenwold replied, still perfectly calm. ‘I know now that you must be a Littoralist spy, and you’re desperate to help your people “reclaim the land”. And you’ve found a willing accomplice in Helmess here because he’s prepared to sell out his own people to any bidder at all, it seems.’

‘This is utter fiction,’ Helmess protested, with great dignity. ‘It’s no secret that you dislike me, Maker, since I’ve always been your political opponent. If you have some concrete accusation to make, rather than all these flights of fancy, then bring it before the Assembly, rather than-’

‘Danaen let your name slip, Helmess,’ Stenwold interrupted.

The other man’s eyes narrowed. ‘The word of a Mantis-kinden… ?’

‘She won’t testify against you. She’s dead.’

Helmess flinched, ever so slightly. ‘Maker, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but-’

‘No formal charges,’ Stenwold informed him. ‘No militia. No Assembly hearing. No courts of law. No proper procedure. My Arianna died as a result of your treachery.’ And, at last, his voice shook a little with the force of the emotion he was holding back, and Helmess shifted uneasily, beginning to comprehend the magnitude of his situation.

Stenwold smiled to see it. ‘But I see you have your own companion. Not quite a Spider-kinden, but almost as decorative. Enough to pay the debt you ran up when you caused Arianna’s death, perhaps.’ Around him the Fly-kinden villains shifted and grinned, their weapons much in evidence.

Helmess’s fleshy face went taut and still, and Stenwold smiled. ‘Ah, good,’ he said, ‘so you do care about her. That will make this easier.’

‘Now, Maker,’ said Helmess hurriedly, ‘don’t do anything you might regret. This is Collegium, after all. You can’t just…’

Stenwold’s smile turned hard. ‘How swift you are to cling to Collegium when it suits you. Well, Helmess, I cannot tell you how much I would like to have you pay for your treacheries, and your sea-kinden spy alongside you.’ The Fly-kinden moved in on cue, surrounding the bed. The black-bearded man hopped up between Helmess and Elytrya in a flurry of wings, brandishing a blade in either hand.

‘On your word, Master Maker,’ he said, plainly enjoying himself immensely.

‘Maker-!’

‘Listen to me,’ Stenwold cut him off sharply. ‘I will give you and your woman one chance only. If you do what I say, then you live, for now. If something should happen to me, though, or any others that I care about, you will suffer for it, and for once I will be as heedless of civilized propriety as your beloved Wasp-kinden. No law and no procedure, Helmess. If you dare cross me then my people will gut you and leave you to die. Understand?’

The other Beetle-kinden met his gaze bleakly. ‘What then, Maker? What is your price?’

Stenwold nodded, and abruptly there was a dagger-blade touching Elytrya’s throat. ‘Madam,’ he said formally, ‘you will now tell me everything of your arrangements with Rosander of the Thousand Spines Train: how your messengers reach him, what words they use. I wish to meet with Rosander. You will compose a message for him immediately, and if he has not arranged to meet with me in a few days’ time, then I will let my followers do what they will with you.’

‘He…’ She was now staring at him, wide-eyed. ‘He will not come to the city, not without his army. He will suspect a trap.’

‘I shall have a boat moored out by the Edge, and he may meet me there. He surely cannot refuse such an invitation. We will tell him I wish to renew my acquaintance with him, so as to save my people from his wrath.’ Stenwold nodded to one of the Flies, a bald, hunched woman, and Helmess recognized her belatedly as one of the Smallclaw Onychoi. ‘Wys here will take the message – once you have briefed her on what to say, and who to say it to. If something happens to her, then something worse will happen to you – for I will keep you close, spy, until Rosander and I have concluded our business.’

‘You will regret this, Maker,’ Helmess growled softly.

‘Oh, I’ll regret letting you live, no doubt,’ Stenwold snapped, ‘but right now the good of my city comes above my own preferences. A novel perspective for you, I’m sure.’ He clicked his fingers abruptly, making Helmess start. ‘There is just one thing more.’

Helmess glared at him mutinously. ‘I sense it would seem rude of me to refuse. What do you want, Maker?’

‘Details of how the Empire is going to exploit the situation.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Wrong!’ Abruptly Stenwold had his sword aimed straight at Helmess’s sagging chins. ‘My crew here have followed you to meetings with Honory Bellowern, and why would you sell us just to two separate factions, when you can throw in the Empire as well? Tell me where they fit into this, or I swear you’ll be signing all your contracts with your left hand from now on.’

Walking away from Broiler’s place, with a hastily clad Elystrya under guard by the Tidenfree crew, Tomasso said, ‘I’ll have the ship made ready then, Master Maker, for this sea-kinden gambit of yours.’

Stenwold shook his head. ‘Not this time,’ he told the Fly. ‘I have a different vessel in mind.’

The four barques rose smoothly from the lightless depths towards the sun, bullying their way up the gradient of gradually lightening water until they broke through the mirrored glitter of the surface, breaching the waves on all sides of the little ship’s dark silhouette.

Three were slender, dart-shaped craft, driven up from the abyss by water forced through their siphons. The last was far broader, a great curved carapace with a dozen busy paddling arms below to flurry it through the water. From this last vessel emerged Rosander.

He had taken the time to dress well for the land-kinden. He wore his armour of pale stone, even down to the helm, so that what now crawled from the barque’s interior looked less like a man and more like a huge, jagged statue. Behind him, his select followers climbed up into the light, shading their eyes: little skittering Smallclaws, hulking Greatclaws in armour of accreated shell, lithe Kerebroi with spears and knives. The smaller vessels began disgorging their crews, too, crawling out to crouch on the rolling hulls and look up at the landsmen’s ship.

It was a little enough thing, that ship, and Rosander knew that the land-people had far greater vessels they could launch. If they wanted to overwhelm him by main force, this little vessel surely could not hold enough land-kinden to accomplish it. Why, I alone could probably overcome their crew, surely. He looked up at the great round sail that bellied up there in the wind, sagging and wrinkled in places. Perhaps they do want to surrender or talk terms, though I cannot think that they will accept such terms as I’m minded to offer.

Rosander grinned to himself. ‘Chenni,’ he said, ‘want to see some land-kinden craftsmanship?’

‘Surely,’ the Smallclaw artificer piped up, and Rosander reached out for the curving hull, ready to jam his spiked gauntlets into the wood to give him purchase for the climb.

‘Wait, wait!’ called a voice from above, and a ladder of cloth was unfurled before his face. He regarded it doubtfully, but the voice explained, ‘It’s silk woven with steel thread. Come on up.’