And who cares for me? The image of Seda's face came straight to mind. She must feel something to draw him back and back again, but he had no word for that emotion. She had summoned him to her chamber, where he had been bathed and readied by the slaves, dressed in Spider silks and then taken to her bed. He knew there were many who would give everything to swap places with him. He would give anything to oblige.
'So what's new, chief?' Osgan asked, making a cavalier throw of the dice that spilled them off the crate entirely. The bottle was near empty, and Thalric took it up and drained it until it was. The bitter soldier's beer Osgan had purloined tasted of honesty.
'Someone's trying to kill me,' Thalric said.
Osgan made a grotesque mime of surprise. 'News? Since when's that news?' He retrieved the dice. 'Give me a quill and a week, I'll draw you a list of them that want you dead. Lowlanders, Comm'wealers, even your own friends and neighbours. So what?'
'They had a solid try at it outside Tyrshaan.' Thalric frowned. 'Wasp assassins, so not Commonwealers. And the Lowlanders who know me wouldn't send assassins. Not since the Mantis died.' Osgan flinched at that. Thalric grimaced. 'Someone inside the Empire wants me dead,' he finished.
'Everyone wants you dead,' Osgan muttered. 'Everyone but me. And why not? If they hate Herself, then they hate you too. If they like Herself, then they hate you. Some of them probably just hate you anyway.'
Thalric nodded glumly, conceding the point. His position had endeared him to few. 'I would shed this role if I could.'
Osgan was sober enough to grimace at that. 'I know, I know,' he said, almost whispering, 'but don't say it. I don't want to hear it in case they come after me with their hooks to find out what I heard.' He fumbled out another bottle, drew the cork with his teeth.
When Thalric had entered her chambers two nights ago she had been waiting for him, wearing a dress of white silk that hung from one shoulder and followed to her body's every line. There was that happy glow to her that he had learned to recognize, just as he recognized the taste on her lips.
She had offered him a goblet.
Thalric grabbed the bottle from Osgan and took a great swallow, because that taste had suddenly recurred to him.
'I have to get out of here,' he said desperately.
Osgan shrugged. 'Door's right there, chief.'
'You know what I mean.'
'I know, but it's like the army, chief. You don't get out till it's had its full use of you.'
Thalric had looked into the red, red liquid in the jewelled goblet, and he had drunk deep of it, because she would accept nothing else. The taste of salt and rust had coated his throat. She had kissed him, drawn him towards the great bed.
How long can I survive? A lucky man could retire from the army, but there would be no quitting this post. She took me as a prisoner and a traitor. She saw just enough in me to be worth keeping. Now she devours me at her leisure.
She would ask for him again tonight. She always left him a day and a night to recover. He wondered what arrangements she made when he was absent.
The most terrible thing about it was that he thought she did feel something for him, some attraction, even some affection. She was cold, though, and everything new she learned from her select advisers was making her more distant still. She was different. Everything about her appearance suggested simply a young Wasp woman who was little more than a girl. Her beauty almost broke his heart, but only because he knew that under the skin some part of her had been stripped away.
This last time, he had not looked into the antechamber where the detritus of her preparations would still be on display. He did not wish, when sipping from the red cup, to know what vintage she had provided him with.
She will be the death of me. It was no more than the truth.
General Brugan let him stew for a tenday before calling him in. Thalric spent the meantime in standing dutifully beside the Empress with a tight-lipped smile, or in hearing the words of those who courted his own favour. He spent his time in sloping off to talk with Osgan down in the cellars, and dulling the edges of his life with drink. He spent it in Seda's chambers, stepping into her embrace, meeting her red lips as her slender body entwined with his.
Sometimes, as she arched atop him at the very climax of their coupling, he saw something in her eyes: a girl whose childhood had been lived in the shadow of death, and who had seized her only chance to live. The image was despairing, and it called to him for help. He wondered if she saw some similar plea for rescue in his.
He had lived his previous life hoping that a Rekef general would never call for him, but when Brugan's messenger came, it was only a relief.
The office was lined with racks full of scrolls and shelves of books and next to it was housed a coterie of clerks who sifted every word that came into the Empire, searching for the least drachm of significance. It had belonged to Brugan's rival and predecessor, yet he had changed nothing, and Thalric wondered whether this was to celebrate Brugan's victory, or remind him that nobody lasts for ever.
'Ah, Lord Regent,' he said without expression. There was a Wasp-kinden woman sitting in the corner, ready to record whatever was said.
'General,' Thalric was aware of the absurdity, 'you can call me Major, if you want, sir. I think I still own the rank.'
Brugan shrugged. There was no warmth towards Thalric in his expression, but it was not the job of a Rekef general to like people. 'I suppose I am calling on you for information, as I would with any agent,' he said carefully, with a curt gesture for Thalric to sit. 'I am aware you had a many-coloured career in the war.'
Thalric took the one seat before the desk, wondering how many others must have sweated and trembled here. However, he did not rise to the barb.
Brugan's lips twitched slightly. 'That may be of use,' he continued drily, 'now that you are a good son of the Empire once again. You were in a position to see things that sounder agents had no chance for.' His eyes said traitor, but Thalric met them without flinching. For a long time they stared at each other, with neither breaking from the other's gaze.
'Do you consider that you're immortal, Regent?' Brugan asked at last.
'I am sure that if you thought it in the Empire's interest, you'd make an end of me,' replied Thalric. The thought rose in him, If you must, then do it sooner rather than later, and he swallowed it down.
'Apparently someone tried to have you killed,' Brugan went on. 'Outside Tyrshaan, I am informed. The Regent may do as he likes, but perhaps Major Thalric should have made his report before now?'
Thalric looked down, at last. 'You are correct, of course, sir.'
'Well, it is now known to us and we will determine who is responsible,' said Brugan dismissively, as if now bored with the subject. 'Stenwold Maker, you met him, I believe?'
'I did. Several times.' This change of direction threw Thalric temporarily. 'What of him?'
'My agents there say that Collegium believes in peace, but what does Stenwold Maker believe in?'
'He believes that the peace is transitory,' Thalric replied. 'May I speak frankly?'
'Do.'
'He would make a good Wasp. Indeed he would make a good Rekef agent. Perceptive, loyal and selfless, he lives for his people and he sees threats to them very clearly. He foresaw the invasion of the Lowlands an entire decade early and spent all that time laying plans and training agents.'
'You admire him.'
'He has many admirable qualities. It is unfortunate he is our enemy.' The brief time he himself had been Stenwold's agent-captive, and the work he had done for Stenwold's cause, flickered briefly in Thalric's memory.
'He's sending agents out again,' Brugan growled. 'South of the Empire now. To places we will be looking to, once the South-Empire is fully ours. It would make sense for the Lowlands to make our Imperial ambitions there difficult, and they already have allies around the Exalsee.'
Thalric nodded. 'It's a good move for him. I can understand him making it.'
'We are far from r
eady yet for another conflict with the Lowlands,' Brugan said. 'Is he likely to force war upon us?'
'No.'
'So certain?'
'Stenwold will not start a war, not fought by his own people. He may, however, start a war with others' blood, as he did at Solarno.'
Brugan nodded. 'You are well informed.'
'Old habits die hard, sir.' Some emotion had stirred in Thalric's chest. 'Sir, you'll be sending out agents to keep an eye on Maker and his people?'
Brugan studied him with narrowed eyes but remained silent.
'Send me,' Thalric said. Please, send me. Send me away from here. Give me my life back.
'Why?'
'Why not? I am Rekef, still — Regent or not. I was good at my job. I know Stenwold Maker better than any agent you have. Give me a small team, embassy credentials perhaps. Who would be better?'
Brugan stared at him for a long moment, his heavy face expressionless. Rekef thoughts would be scuttling through his head.
'An Imperial embassy to Khanaphes,' he spat out finally. 'Ever heard of it?'
'I could soon learn,' Thalric replied.
Eleven
'The roads are good all the way to Tyrshaan,' said Captain Marger. 'With the insurrection there quelled we should make good time.'
Thalric nodded, eyeing the automotive that Brugan had found for him. It would not be a comfortable journey but he was used to that. The hold, hastily fitted out for passengers, consisted of a metal and wood box slung between the huge-spoked rear wheels, while the driver and his mate would be sitting up front amid the dust. It was a conveyance meant for couriers, travelling fast and without luxury.
'How does it manage off the roads?' Thalric asked.
Marger raised his eyebrows. 'Well enough, if we had to.' Long-faced and sandy-haired, he was about five years Thalric's junior and slight of build for a Wasp. He looked wholly inoffensive, which was the best way for a Rekef man to look. Brugan had chosen an embassy as the ostensible reason for a Wasp team descending on Khanaphes. Thalric would provide the public face, and act as special adviser on the Lowlanders, while Marger would conduct the Rekef Outlander operation proper. It was a delicate balance of power.
'We'll go to Shalk,' Thalric decided. 'Not Tyrshaan.' Let's make it difficult, just in case.
Instead of protesting, Marger digested this proclamation. 'If you want. It shouldn't affect our timing much. With the mining trade the roads are probably better.' His team was loading the automotive now: two more Wasps and a Beetle-kinden strapping crates and rolled-up canvas to the vehicle's sides, before returning to the row of storage sheds for more. 'I'd ask why, though.'
'Why not? Shalk's as good,' Thalric told him, 'besides, I've seen Tyrshaan recently. I'd rather see somewhere else.' Let them think of me as the Regent, not the Rekef Major. He had other good reasons for wanting to go to Shalk, but those were not for sharing.
Marger shrugged, which he did a lot of. 'It's your call,' he said, and went off to help his men. Thalric leant back against one of the rear wheels, feeling the machine rock and jolt as they continued loading it. Marger was opaque: it was impossible to know yet whether he would cause problems. The captain's subordinates gave few clues, either. The Beetle-kinden was an artificer, a paunchy, grey-haired veteran put in just to reassure the locals. The other two Wasps looked like men more comfortable in armour. They showed Thalric a careful deference but otherwise said nothing.
Thalric was making maps in his mind: envisioning the Flykinden warren of Shalk, the quarry mines there, the descent to Forest Alim and the river Jamail. It was all book-learnt stuff, for his travels had never taken him much through the South-Empire and not at all beyond its borders.
I will be happier once the war starts up again, to give me an excuse to return to the Commonweal or the Lowlands, to places I know. Save that would mean crossing swords with Stenwold Maker once more. We cannot afford to let each other live. The next time I will have to remove him, or he me. The thought brought with it an unwelcome stab of conscience, for Stenwold could have had Thalric killed several times already. Instead he had stayed his hand. Though for his own advantage! Still, it did not sit well that Thalric's too often pawned loyalty must await that final twist of the knife.
The Lowlanders have come close to ruining me for a proper agent's work. His outer shell of Good Imperial Servant had taken too many knocks and shakes while in their company.
Marger stepped away from the automotive, a soldier's tension abruptly in his manner. Someone came running unevenly around the storage sheds towards them, and Thalric saw one of Marger's people put down the big crate he was carrying and crouch beside it with hand ready to sting.
'Hold!' Thalric called out, and he went to intercept the newcomer before any damage could be done. 'Osgan,' he exclaimed. 'What are you doing here?'
Osgan had dredged up his old uniform from somewhere: a Consortium factor's greatcoat, quartered in the army colours. There was a shortsword at his belt, the baldric crossing the strap of his satchel. He had even shaved, although he had made a ragged job of it, and his eyes were red-rimmed but his gaze steady.
'I'm coming with you,' he panted, short of breath.
'You aren't,' Thalric snapped. 'What's got into you?'With a firm hand on Osgan's shoulder, he led the man a short distance from the automotive, meanwhile signalling for Marger to carry on.
Osgan looked at him miserably. 'You've found your escape, now. You're going, yes? Going far.'
Thalric nodded and scowled, his last words with the Empress recurring to him. As she had made a public farewell, before the whole court, she had reached up to kiss him and murmured, 'You shall return to me. You shall always return.'
'Let me come with you,' Osgan said. 'Please, Thalric. I'm dying here.'
'You're more likely to die on the road. This is Rekef business, Osgan. Stay here and keep to your cellars.'.
'Each time you find some way of getting out of this place, it gets worse for me,' Osgan complained, almost in a whisper. 'They hate me. They hate me because of you — and because of me. They know I've broken. You'll come back and find me gone, and nobody will even remember my name.'
'You're exaggerating.' Osgan was probably not exaggerating but Thalric couldn't agree to it.
'And what of you, anyway?' Osgan asked. 'You think you'll go back to your old ways, your old trade? You think they'll let you? Them?' Even his jabbing gesture towards the automotive looked crippled, his fingers crooked. 'They won't let you back in, Thalric. They won't forget who you are. What you were.'
Thalric glanced around, despite himself, seeing Marger watching him. The man bore his placid, accepting expression that Thalric had not yet been able to scratch. There had been no sense of complicity between them, no admission that they even lived in the same world. Thalric had wanted to protest, I am a major in the Rekef, but now he realized that he did not even know Marger's true Rekef rank. The 'captain' was army-issue, meaning less than nothing on a covert run like this.
'If you can't keep up with us, I'm not sure I can save you,' he warned. His Imperial conditioning raged at him: What is this? Mercy? Compassion? A strong man did not bow to such emotions. He had no duty to save Osgan from the results of his own dissipation. Better for the Empire that the man just vanished away, making room for someone who would be better at his job.
I am tainted. Thalric had seen too much, done too much. He had been born a true Wasp, but now he'd become some kind of halfbreed of the mind.
He turned back to the waiting automotive. 'Captain Marger,' he announced, 'one more for the journey.'
Marger hesitated over that, taking in the sight of Osgan. 'I wouldn't advise it,' he said. 'We'll be short of space and supplies.'
'Comfort is never a soldier's companion, and there are enough way stations to supply us.' Thalric felt as though he and Marger were facing up to each other in duel, looking for the other's weak points. 'This is Lieutenant Osgan and he's on my staff.'
Still, Marger was unhappy with the idea
. 'This is a Rekef operation and he's no agent.'
'We already know our paths will be diverging, once we reach the city,' Thalric said reasonably. 'It will make more sense for me to have Osgan there with me than to have to call on you for assistance.' He held Marger's gaze, waiting to see if the man would stand firm, or fall back.
The final answer was a shrug, the man's easy acceptance reasserting itself. There had been a gleam in there, of Rekef steel, but this was not a battlefield Marger would choose to fight on.
'Your call,' he said again, then, 'We're just about loaded. Are you and your … staff ready to move out?'
Many Wasps wondered why Fly-kinden, who had the sky as their plaything, chose to live so much of their time underground. On the surface Shalk appeared merely a collection of little huts and mounds almost lost amid the sweep of the surrounding hills, and only anchored by the bulk of an Imperial garrison's barracks. Thalric knew that most of the town lay beneath, in a complex of narrow tunnels and broad chambers that were impossible to navigate unless one was both tiny and airborne. Military tacticians had often speculated on the difficulties of forcing an Imperial presence on the Fly-kinden, in the unlikely event that they decided to resist one. It would certainly be possible, but drastic measures would be called for and Thalric, having heard of the gas-weapon disastrously employed at Szar, thought it a good thing that the Shalken and their ilk were proving so compliant. Nobody would profit from a rebellion here.
Of course the Fly town itself was only half of it. Beyond the hills the land suddenly stopped and dropped, so the anatomy of the earth he stood on was exposed in stratified layers where the ground had simply fallen away as a result of some ancient cataclysm. It had since become the Empire's largest quarry and mining complex, with several thousand slaves working there day in and day out. If the insurrection had allowed these toiling wretches any reprieve, that was well and truly over now.
After they had docked their automotive at the garrison's stables, Thalric took Marger aside.
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