Salute the Dark sota-4

by Adrian Tchaikovsky

  Amidst a scatter of larger airships, the Buoyant Maiden seemed makeshift and dowdy. Jons Allanbridge had been more than happy to renew his contract with Stenwold and, based on Tynisa’s recommendation, Stenwold had been more than happy to offer it. Destrachis had been right, they would need to travel by air, and Allanbridge seemed to be a good man for slipping something as large as an airship into places with a minimum of fuss.

  The Spider himself was already at the rail of the gondola, gazing back at Collegium without expression. The Lowlands were full of odd homeless types, hiring out their skills wherever the road took them. Tisamon has rejoined that brotherhood now. Destrachis, too, was on that path, but Stenwold wondered whether he secretly hoped the Commonweal would take him back.

  Standing at the Spider’s shoulder was the cloaked form of Felise Mienn. She had said nothing yet to Stenwold, who did not know what to say to her. The bulk of her shrouded form showed that she wore her armour again. He guessed it provided a protection that was more than the mere physical. She would be a difficult travelling companion, he thought.

  ‘Are we ready for the off?’ Arianna asked, at his elbow.

  He gave her a weak smile. ‘Not you,’ he said.

  She stared at him. ‘Sten-’

  ‘I have done my thinking. I would have argued it out with you before, save that everyone else has claimed my time in other arguments. Not you this time, Arianna.’

  Her look was pure hurt. ‘After all we’ve done, you don’t trust me?’

  ‘No! Hammer and tongs, no! Of course I trust you, Arianna, and I love you. You have brought to me… such joy as no man in my place deserves.’ He gripped her by the arms. ‘And it could have been you, you must have known, that the cursed Sarnesh had stretched out on their rack. You instead of poor Sperra. No, Arianna, you stay here.’

  ‘Oh, Che’s already told me how much you like to keep people safe-’

  ‘Well, this time I’m bloody well going to succeed at it,’ he said.

  ‘And it could have been you on that rack, too,’ she pointed out. ‘And then what would I have done? Sten, you can’t-’

  ‘This is my war,’ he said simply. ‘I was fighting this war when you were – hah, when you were still a child.’

  ‘But you need me.’

  ‘Yes, yes I do.’ The utter sincerity in his voice finally got through to her. ‘Yes, I need you. And because of that you must stay here. You’ll not be idle, either. You’ll be running my agents while I’m away, taking in the intelligence of the Wasp advance, liaising with the Assembly – and I’m sure you’ll charm those old men and women far better than I ever could. But this is a mad journey, and a long one, and I…’ He found he was trembling. ‘I realized at Sarn that if anything happened to you, it would break me, it would destroy me. I do not know the Commonweal. No Lowlander does. This voyage is a necessary madness and I do not want to draw you into it.’

  There were tears in her eyes, tears beyond any Spider pretence. ‘This isn’t fair.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s the only way I can do this. I’m sorry.’

  He held her for a long time, aware and careless of Allanbridge and the others watching and waiting for him.

  But even after Arianna had fled the airfield they would wait longer, for here was Tynisa now with her pack slung over her shoulder. No airship for her, though: she would be making her own way, tracking any news of a lone Mantis duellist whose passage, like enough, would be written in bodies.

  Stenwold started over towards her, and she regarded him cautiously, as though she thought he might suddenly order her to be placed under lock and key just to keep her here. He had ceded that battlefield to her, though. He merely held out his hand, offered like the hand of a soldier, and they clasped as comrades.

  ‘Good luck,’ he said softly. ‘The world around us is about to fall apart at the seams, and I suppose a father is a better reason than many for casting yourself out into the storm.’ In his heart, he had no belief she would ever find Tisamon – or that the Mantis would welcome her if ever she did.

  ‘And good luck to you,’ Tynisa responded. ‘Do you have even a clue what the Commonweal is going to be like?’

  ‘No, but I know who does. If I’m lucky I’ll encounter Salma in time for a recommendation on the way.’

  ‘Give him my love,’ she said, her voice sounding oddly flat. Stenwold knew that she had been fond of the Dragonfly prince once, and that the intervention of Grief in Chains – or whatever the Butterfly-kinden was now calling herself – had thrown her badly. She had been used, at the College, to having her own way in such relationships. And let us hope it is just that, and that she will not take after her father in matters of the heart.

  ‘Maker, we have the wind! Let’s move!’ called the impatient Allanbridge from the rail of the Buoyant Maiden. Stenwold spared Tynisa one last nod, then he was hurrying for the rope-ladder, clambering hand-over-hand up into the air even as Allanbridge cast off. Tynisa watched the nimble airship rise and tack, its engines directing it north, towards the distant Barrier Ridge that marked the Lowlands border with the mysterious Commonweal beyond.

  ‘Well, he’s gone,’ she then called. ‘You can come out now.’

  Che made her way warily on to the airfield, looking up at the diminishing globe of the Maiden’s airbag. ‘I couldn’t face him,’ she said, almost in a whisper. ‘He’d have forbidden it.’

  ‘Che, if I had any say, I’d forbid it, too,’ Tynisa remarked bleakly. She watched as a pair of white-robed College men carried the stretcher towards the clumsy-looking flier that Che had piloted back from Solarno. ‘My offer is still open.’

  ‘You have your own path to follow,’ Che told her firmly. She now looked so very serious, all of her awkward youth burnt off her.

  ‘But this is all my fault…’

  Che shook her head. ‘You just find Tisamon and talk some sense into him. Achaeos needs me. But he needs his people too, so they and I will have to get along as best we can. And, anyway, I won’t be alone.’

  Tynisa made a disgusted noise and, right on cue, the fair-haired, square-jawed Wasp-kinden came to join them, wearing now his own imperial armour, just as if he had never turned his coat.

  ‘Thalric,’ Tynisa acknowledged his arrival coldly.

  The Wasp looked at her, his smile devoid of love or humour. ‘How good of you to see me off.’ He held up a hand to forestall her. ‘Can we take all your oaths of vengeance as already said: if I betray you, if I harm Che, so on and so forth, I’m sure all the venom and vengeance of Spider and Mantis will descend on my head.’

  Tynisa stared at him levelly. ‘Remember those words when we next meet, Thalric,’ but her voice rang hollow, because if he now chose to make Che the latest in his history of betrayals, there would be nothing she could do about it.

  It was a grim flight from Collegium for those on the Buoyant Maiden. Felise was bitter as ice, locked entirely in her own pain. She had nothing to spare for Stenwold and he was grateful for that. He had no way to intrude on her, or to help her, so he left her to herself. Destrachis hung about near her like a shabby ghost, bringing her meals but never venturing to speak. It was plain to Stenwold that the Spider had found the limits of his own expertise and was simply hoping that she would reach out to him.

  Is that what he seeks there in the Commonweal: no more than a familiar landscape to console her? But Stenwold suspected the Commonweal would bring no fond memories for Felise Mienn.

  Stenwold himself spent his time with Jons Allanbridge, occupying his mind with whatever small mechanical tasks the aviator found him fit for. It was almost like being a student again, serving anew as an apprentice. It was oddly comforting to leave their journey in Allanbridge’s hands, and to shoulder none of the responsibility.

  At last they came down beside Sarn. Stenwold had earlier sent a messenger ahead by rail, with no certainty that word would reach Salma in time, or at all. As it turned out, though, there was a blue-grey-skinned Mynan Beetle-kinden wa
iting for them, riding with two others, and a string of horses and riding insects. They had been in Sarn when the message arrived, and so had waited the extra day for Stenwold’s appearance. The Mynan left his mounts in the care of a subordinate, and joined them in the Maiden, directing Allanbridge east away from Sarn. Towards the Wasp army, Stenwold thought. Salma would face his own ordeal, there, and soon.

  They were guided to a camp, and then to another camp, widely spaced, and Stenwold guessed that Salma must be living a mobile life. In the third they finally found him, sitting in a tent and making plans. Whilst the others waited outside, Stenwold himself was allowed in to speak to him.

  Amid the gloom of the tent the Dragonfly prince stood marking notes and arrows on a map he had tacked to a board held in his offhand. It was impossible to know how much attention he was paying to his visitor. ‘It’s been a while, Sten,’ he remarked.

  ‘How is your position?’

  ‘Fluid. So tell me about Che,’ Salma said. ‘How is she?’

  Stenwold watched him. With no more reaction to go on than he could glean from the Dragonfly’s back, he explained Achaeos’ circumstances, described Che sitting distraught at his sickbed.

  Salma nodded. ‘I recently dreamt of her passing into darkness. Of course, to the Moths that would be a dream of good omen.’ Outside the tent there were hundreds of armed men and women busying about. They had none of the uniformity of soldiers, but they were clearly fighters, composed of a dozen kinden and all now engaged in packing up their camp and preparing to move. The Buoyant Maiden had tied up in the midst of this chaos of dissolution.

  ‘And Tynisa?’ Salma asked. He handed the map to a Fly-kinden woman and turned round. As Stenwold recounted Tynisa’s burden and present mission, he re-evaluated the Dragonfly before him.

  Salma looked every part the brigand chief. The armour had changed since Stenwold last saw him, presumably the pick of whatever equipment they had liberated from the Wasps. Now it was a cuirass of layered leather with bronze studs over a suit of silk, all of it meticulous Spider work. The sword at his belt was slender and long-hilted, not true Commonweal but of no manufacture Stenwold could identify. About his forehead he wore a gold-inlaid leather band, complete with cheek-guards.

  ‘You have arrived at a difficult time, Sten,’ Salma said at last, ‘and apparently travelling to see my people, no less.’

  ‘You think they won’t help?’

  ‘I cannot say, save that they will do whatever they do for their own reasons only.’ Salma tacked another blank sheet to his writing board and began to scribe on it. ‘Don’t assume they’ll sit like Beetles and listen to hours of argument. Just ask and then accept whatever answer they give.’

  ‘I’ll remember that.’ Stenwold flinched as something dragged at the side of the tent. A moment later daylight cut in, as the heavy fabric was rolled up around them, a gang of huge men taking the tent apart with care, without effort, even as he and Salma were still inside. He started back from them, for they towered over him, pitch-skinned giants, either with shaved heads or else mops of white hair.

  ‘Mole Crickets,’ he identified them.

  ‘Two score of them,’ Salma agreed. ‘Together with half a hundred Grasshopper-kinden from Sho El, which I understand is somewhere as far east as you can go without leaving the Empire. They are Auxillian deserters.’

  ‘I didn’t think the Imperial Army was that easy to desert from.’

  ‘Normally there are reprisals against their families, back home. Here, though, we make a practice of not leaving any enemy bodies if we can help it. Whole scouting parties have vanished completely, and the Auxillians along with them. The Wasps cannot then know who has died and who has deserted. And of course some Auxillians themselves realize the potential of this practice – and that here, of all places, there is someone who will take them in. Morleyr and his people came to me of their own will.’

  One of the great Mole Cricket-kinden turned and nodded at that, regarding Stenwold suspiciously.

  ‘Go to Suon Ren,’ Salma said, as he unpinned the paper and passed it to Stenwold. ‘Prince Felipe Shah may yet be holding his winter court there. He will remember me still, I hope, so this shall serve as your introduction.’

  ‘Suon Ren,’ Stenwold repeated. In his head he conjured up what he had gleaned of the Commonweal, pinpointing the name as belonging somewhere north of the Moth hold of Dorax, towards the Commonweal’s southern border.

  ‘You should go right now, though,’ Salma informed him. The Mynan warrior had just run up to him, handing over what looked like a scribbled land-plan, with arrows and blocks sketched in. ‘The Wasp Sixth is advancing on our position,’ Salma explained. ‘We’re already blinding their approach, vanishing their scouts, but they’ve put a couple of flying machines in the air just now, and that could cause some problems with your departure.’

  ‘I’ll go now,’ Stenwold confirmed.

  Salma held one hand up. ‘There is one name from the old times that we haven’t yet mentioned, Sten.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘He is…?’

  ‘Totho is with the Wasps still, insofar as I know. He will most likely be with the army now marching on you.’

  ‘Ah.’ Salma looked down for a moment, then reached forward to clasp Stenwold’s arm, wrist to wrist. ‘Good luck, Sten – and fair winds.’

  ‘Good luck to you too,’ Stenwold said, already beginning to back towards the Buoyant Maiden, straining where the wind tugged at it. His last sight of Salma was as the single still point in a camp that was disintegrating into nothing all around him.

  Five

  ‘It can’t really be just because of the girl, can it?’ Teornis asked. The Spider Aristos did not look at Nero as he asked the question, but purely because the artist was intent on a profile sketch of him just then. ‘After all, you didn’t exactly spend much time with her, before she set off on her own.’

  ‘She didn’t exactly spend much time on board ship,’ Nero pointed out.

  Teornis spent a further moment in composition, the chitin-shard pen poised deftly between his fingers, then he scratched a few additional notes to a report he was sending on. He had already played host to two Fly-kinden couriers bringing document packets, and a third was anticipated soon. Their airship was passing over the isle of Kes even now, with the Ants’ metal-gleaming navies mustering below in preparation for war.

  ‘I had thought Fly courtship to be a fairly straightforward affair,’ the Spider said idly.

  ‘I’ve got no idea how they do things in Solarno – probably slap each other with fish or something. All mad in that city. Sure, in the hollows it’s simple enough,’ Nero remarked, meaning Egel and Merro. ‘That’s because it’s mostly arranged. Everything’s run by family there. That’s why I got out, and that’s why you find so many of my people away from home. Easier for us to live anywhere but directly under the noses of our own kind. Why, how’s it work with your people?’

  ‘I’ve no idea how they do things down in the gutter,’ Teornis said, with a dry imitation of the artist’s tone in his voice. ‘Amongst the Aristoi, however, it is a very delicate and intricate business. If a woman wishes a man’s companionship, he is allowed to discover it from some third party, but most often the woman merely waits for suitors, no mere man being considered important enough to attract her attention. Once his affections are engaged, the man is expected to approach the woman carefully, respectfully. There is a chain of social observances that he must perform: questions to be asked of her servants and friends, discreet giving of gifts through intermediaries, the scribing of poetry or the commissioning – as you must know – of artistic works for her.’

  Nero nodded, making connections. ‘I didn’t realize I’d become part of some Spider fellow’s love games.’

  ‘A minor and preliminary part,’ Teornis said. ‘Then there comes the meeting with her closer court, perhaps a duel, a challenge made by some unimportant member of her cadre – the skill of that challenger varying, of
course, in inverse proportion to her favour of the admirer’s suit. Then they will meet by her arrangement, on an occasion unknown in advance to him. She will evaluate him. If he has displayed sufficient wit, beauty, charm, whatever virtues she seeks in him, then he may gain further access to her household, to her chambers, finally to her body. If not, well, if he is lucky he will escape with his life and reputation, but that is not always the case. Wooing a Spider-kinden Arista is a perilous business for the unprepared.’

  ‘And if she’s made it known to him that she wants him, but he doesn’t want her?’ Nero asked, fascinated.

  Teornis chuckled quietly. ‘Little man, his interests are of no importance in this ritual, save to explain why so many of the men of my people are also to be found living in the cities of others.’ In that revealing moment of frank humour, Nero almost liked him.

  There was a respectful knock at the cabin door and, on Teornis’ invitation, one of the crew let a Fly-kinden messenger in. The woman was obviously used to serving Spiders, finding nothing unusual in seeing her target sitting for a portrait, and simply presented him with another wallet of documents. If she had flown herself ragged in meeting up with the airship her manner certainly did not show it.

  ‘Find her some victuals,’ Teornis ordered the crewman who had escorted her in. ‘I shall have returns for her to take away shortly.’

  He unsealed the wallet carefully and stripped out the topmost scroll, reading down what Nero guessed was a summary of the most important points of the enclosed documents. Nothing in his face betrayed any reaction but, when he finally spoke, he announced, ‘It would seem that the diplomatic channels are closing.’

  Nero said nothing, waiting for further exposition.

  ‘We sent ambassadors to the Wasp forces massing at Tark, and to Solarno as well. Now we have the response.’

  Again, Nero waited. Teornis’ smile had become a hard line.

  ‘We have been told that all land north of Seldis is officially the Empire,’ Teornis said, ‘and that, if we interfere, then Seldis itself shall be invested in siege. My own efforts, it seems, have stalled them as far as they are willing to be stalled, and now they set about the business as Wasp-kinden are wont to do: with simple force. The Wasp Second Army has marched from Tark against Merro and Egel, and the Eighth sits in the Ant city still, waiting to strike if we venture outside our walls. Well, we are at war now, so we must expect such treatment.’ He paused a moment, perhaps evaluating how much Nero actually needed to know. ‘Our ambassadors to Solarno were killed, I see. They were seized as spies and executed. I am afraid that you are flying into a tempest, Master Nero. Therefore I hope you and your friend are strong enough to battle your way through.’