The Scarab Path

softly for him to catch. 'I believe you, because I understand it a little, now.' He frowned at that and she shook her head, casting around for another topic of conversation. 'What's your friend got against Mantids?'

Osgan gave a hollow laugh. 'You can't know. You weren't there.'

Che frowned at Thalric. 'Where?'

Osgan struggled further up onto the next bench, and lay back on it, gasping like a dying fish.

'He was …' It was not a pleasant tale, would seem even less pleasant to her. Thalric pressed on regardless. 'He was a guest of the Emperor during a celebration to mark the anniversary of the coronation. There was a big blood-fighting match. He had the honour of serving as the Emperor's scribe for the evening. For the Consortium it's a real accolade.'

'Oh, I was doing well, back then. Well, well, well,' Osgan interrupted. 'I was flying high.'

'So what happened?' Che asked. 'Did the Emperor-?'

'Oh, the Emperor nothing,' Thalric said. He waited for Osgan to speak, then filled in the silence. 'It was because of your friend. I wasn't there, but I've heard all about it. Your friend the Mantis.'

'Tisamon.' Che breathed. The very name seemed to make the night more chill, and she shivered under the cloak, leaning closer to him, anxious to hear the rest.

'He was fighting for the Emperor's pleasure, but he got up into the stalls somehow. He went … mad,' Thalric said slowly. 'Tisamon went mad, that's what I heard. There were guards that tried to stop him, but …'

'You … weren't there,' said Osgan clearly. 'You can't know. They tried to stop him. They ran in from in front of the Emperor, and from all sides, and they flew from across the pit. They tried … they had stings and spears and swords, and they were trying to get between him and the Emperor, but he just … killed them.' His voice sounded raw, like an unhealed wound. 'He killed them and he killed them, and they didn't have a chance. They were throwing themselves on to his blade. They — so many — they were … so brave, all of them so brave. They were dying for the Emperor, and the Mantis wouldn't stop killing them. They didn't have a chance.' He choked again, descending back into his misery. 'So brave,' he got out one last time.

Che was looking somewhere beyond Thalric now, while automatically passing the jar back to him. 'She never said,' she murmured. 'Tynisa would never say just how it happened.'

Thalric put a hand to her shoulder, without thinking. All these dead we have in common. She covered it with her own, still peering into her own mind. For a moment, lost in memory and in drink, she had forgotten who he was.

'And the Emperor died, of course,' said Thalric. And from there come all my woes.

She focused her gaze on him again, and instead of the anger he had expected there was only puzzlement there. 'What are you doing here, Thalric?'

'Keeping an eye on you.' He said it before the Rekef in him could prevent it. 'And you?'

'Me? Oh, I'm mastering the art of self-deception. The others, they're here to study — although I don't expect you to believe a word of it. But I myself came here looking for … something else.' She gave a fragile smile. 'Something that isn't here, that never was.' No longer clutched so tight, the cloak had fallen open as she leant closer. Beneath it he saw the thin shift she wore, and under that, the swell of her breast. He felt a stab of arousal, absurdly inappropriate but powerful, and made to remove his hand from the warmth of her shoulder. For a second she held on to it, then let him reclaim it.

'We are such fools, aren't we?' she said. 'Brawling in the streets.'

'To the great amusement of our hosts,' he agreed.

'Well, Thalric, where does this leave us?'

'I don't know,' he said. 'Are we enemies, here and now?'

She met his gaze. 'You made a slave of me.'

'Che-'

'You would have had me raped. You would have tortured me — you would — don't think I've forgotten.'

He had gone cold. The ice had finally cracked and he had forgotten to be ready for it. 'I won't deny it.'

'I didn't think you would. You've never been less than honest.' She shrugged. 'And Uncle Sten thinks there's even hope for the Vekken, so why not you? What are you asking for, Thalric?'

'A truce? Until things degenerate between our factions again. A truce between you and me.' He took that final step across the perilous ice. 'For old times' sake.'

She snorted with laughter, but he was now on firm ground. He grasped her hand when she offered it to him, though he saw the faint flinch, her memory of what Wasp hands could do.

'We are both a long way from home,' she conceded, draining the last dregs from the jar. As she stood up it took her a moment to get her balance. 'We … we run out of old friends, do we not? They die, or they leave.'

He knew what she was saying: both of them marooned here at the ends of the earth. With whom did they share a past, however bitter, but with each other? He knew she would never have admitted it without the drink, but it was said now, impossible to retract.

'A truce,' she said. 'I know you're no good servant of your Empire, Thalric.' He must have twitched because she said quickly, 'and I'm no better. I came here for my own selfish reasons, however misconceived. A truce until the others start fighting again. Why not?' She squeezed his hand briefly, then released it.

He turned to Osgan and kicked the man's foot, drawing a startled exclamation.

'What-?'

'If you're intending to sleep, at least sleep indoors rather than under the stars like a Roach-kinden,' Thalric reproached him, and half-hauled the man to his feet. He glanced at Che again, and she gave him a fragile smile, a lop-sided shrug.

'Until next time,' she said, and turned for her embassy.

Petri Coggen was wide awake the next day — more awake than Che felt, certainly. Without fatigue to loosen her lips, she was now close-mouthed about the things she had said previously. Instead she eyed her fellow Collegiates cagily. You all think I'm mad, was written plain on her face.

'We will talk later,' Che whispered to her. After all, her great confessions had been disclosed only to Che, who was frankly not ready for further details. Between the disappointment and the drink she was feeling the morning keenly.

'You've lived for a while amongst these Khanaphir,' Berjek remarked. They were sitting together at a magnificently carved table, eating a local breakfast of honey and seedcake. The airy wave of his hand took in the city beyond the window, but ignored the servants that glided past him. 'I confess to seeing here a great deal that has mystified me. Their culture is not at all like ours, and yet we are of the same kinden.'

Petri Coggen nodded gloomily. 'Yes, they are not like us,' she said.

'Technologically, in particular,' Praeda put in. 'Which I think we can take as a valid yardstick of any culture-'

'Oh, nonsense.' The objection of Berjek the historian to Praeda the artificer.

She ignored him. 'These Khanaphir have a marvellous architecture, it's true, and I'm told they have some achievements in basic water-powered or weight-and-lever devices, but … but when Che first saw this place, she even thought they might be Inapt, and I must admit I can see why.'

Oh you can't, Che thought, around her headache. Really, you can't.

'Do you know much of their history?' Praeda asked.

'They do not talk about their history, for the same reason fish don't talk of water,' Petri told them. 'They are swimming in history. So much of this city is ancient, and so much more simply copied from that.'

Manny seemed to be suffering worse than Che, and had been listlessly chewing the same mouthful of seedcake for twenty minutes. Now he swallowed forcibly, and said, 'Maybe they achieved Aptitude more recently than we did.'

The others looked at him quizzically.

'Yes, yes,' he said irritably, 'I am a Master of the Great College. I may not be as respected as either of you two, but I'm a cartographer. I study maps, and I know that sometimes there are maps that I can't read: maps made by the Inapt, who frankly have no concept of how to draw one. But sometimes there are maps that are … trying harder. Those of the Fly-kinden, for instance. Fly-kinden maps dating from a couple of centuries ago are