The Scarab Path

perhaps your mate?'

The other Scorpions loved that, and Hrathen smiled, too. 'You are right, of course. I shall have words with him.' He turned the smile on Dannec and, as the man opened his mouth to speak, he rammed a thumb-claw as far as the knuckle into the Wasp's throat. Dannec, words abruptly gone, stared at him. With faint interest Hrathen saw his own bloody claw-tip within the man's gaping mouth. He jerked his hand three times, feeling the sharp bone slice flesh and arteries, and then withdrew his thumb with a practised movement. He turned back to Jakal as the Rekef man's body slumped lifeless to the ground, thinking, Thank you, General Brugan. He was perfect for the purpose.

The Scorpions were still laughing, but their tone had changed from mockery to appreciation. Strength again, and a strong leader did not tolerate weakness in his followers.

'Very good,'Jakal said quietly. 'I admire your performance.' Her tone told him that she had seen through the device but still appreciated the effort. The next time the jar came round, she passed it over to him, and he took a great swig of the fierce, fiery liquor.

He let the Scorpions talk amongst themselves for a while, let Jakal watch him and wonder, and then excused himself, wandering off into the dark to relieve his bladder. On the way back, he located the artificer, Angved, leaning on a capless pillar and carefully watching the group at the fire.

'Well?' Hrathen asked him.

'Well, I never liked the man, but even so,' the old man replied. He wore his armour still, even the helm. Field engineers seldom had to fly, and represented years of Imperial training, so they had better mail than anyone else except the sentinel heavy infantry.

'All part of the plan,' Hrathen said. 'Don't tell me you didn't see it coming when I called him to the fire.'

'I know he didn't,' Angved remarked. 'Tell me, sir, when do they descend on us with sword and axe and cut us all into pieces?'

'When we're no longer useful to them,' Hrathen informed him. 'Have you guessed at your duties?'

'Doesn't take much to work that out.' Angved spat. 'Can't see them as quick students.'

'Living out here, you learn anything fast, so don't underestimate them,' Hrathen warned. He assessed the artificer as a level-headed man, someone who could be relied on. Considering the man would suffice, he headed back to the fire.

'So why does the Empire seek out the Many of Nem?' Jakal asked him, as he sat down again. 'I am not such a fool as to believe you fear us. You are far away and strong, so if you are giving gifts to us, it is because you want gifts in return.'

'Tell me about Khanaphes,' Hrathen said, and the Scorpions went quiet again. 'Are the people of Khanaphes your friends?' he persisted. 'Do they pay your warriors tribute? Do they send you gifts?'

Jakal tilted her helmet back. The face she revealed was a hard one, even for a Scorpion. Her eyes were red, and the oil-fire made them shine with a mad light. 'We raid the Khanaphir all along the Jamail,' she replied. 'We strike at their farms, their merchants and tax gatherers. When they are strong they hunt us, but we are fast and they are slow. When we are strong, they fall back to their stone walls that we cannot breach.'

'The Empire wishes an end to Khanaphes,' said Hrathen. The Scorpion laughter was derisory, but Jakal held up a clawed hand to quell it.

'Why?' she demanded. 'What offence has it caused, being so far away?'

'Who can say why?' Hrathen had asked himself the same question. It must be because Brugan wants to see if the Many can be put to work for the Empire, he had decided. Khanaphes is simply the most convenient testing ground. But there was more to it than that, and he guessed that the detachment of Rekef agents he had brought were to be involved in it. 'Perhaps some citizen of Khanaphir has insulted our Empress … It only matters that the Empire wishes it done.'

'And the Empire wishes me to do it,' Jakal said.

'Do you not wish to do it?'

'If the riches of Khanaphes could be mine, I would already have taken them. Do you think I would have stayed my hand?'

'You need stay it no longer, then,' Hrathen told her. 'For the gifts I bring you are weapons. I bring two thousand crossbows and more, supplied with bolts, and the men to teach you in their use.'

'We know of crossbows,' said Jakal coolly, but he could see the interest in her eyes.

'Also, we bring a dozen siege engines — leadshotters, they are called,' he continued. 'The walls of Khanaphes shall stand in your way no more than the walls of this old city here.'

They did not cheer at that. Instead they stared at him avidly, whilst word of what he had said was passed back and back, until the whole usurped city knew it.

Nineteen

'What is this place?' Che asked, feeling as though she had stepped into another world. From the fierce, dry heat of the sun outside they were suddenly plunged into a thick, muggy, sticky humidity. The daylight had dimmed to a coloured gloom as it filtered through tight-stretched canvas, silk and linen. Ahead of them the emaciated Khanaphir had stopped again to wait for them.

'The Marsh Alcaia,' Trallo pronounced. 'Even a city as polite as Khanaphes needs somewhere to break the law. At least when the guard come looking, they know exactly where to go. People will always have vices they need to indulge.'

'But this?' Che took a few steps deeper, beneath the cloth ceiling. It was like walking under water. She felt an almost physical resistance to her intrusion.

'Don't worry about that, worry about why our friend seems so fond of you,' the Fly advised her.

'What do you mean? I sought him out.'

'I mean that he could have run while we were bickering in the open house, and he could still run now, and we'd never find him in here. Think about it.'

She tried to, but here, in the stale heat, it was hard to match the pieces. Their guide was drawing ahead again, making them hurry to catch up with him. All around them were Khanaphir and foreigners intent on their purposeful errands. Amid the fragile aisles lined with people crying their wares, the sounds and smells were overwhelming.

He always stayed just in sight, always paused by each new turning he took, and always looking back at them — at her — with that hollow, hungry gaze. Trallo was right: it was not because she was a foreigner, or anything to do with the money she might carry. Instead, something had sparked inside him, as soon as he had taken a proper look at her.

Is this really what I am looking for? The stifling air was making her feel dizzy, while odd thoughts and feelings kept passing through her mind.

'Wastes, but we're going in deep,' Trallo observed. 'Never been this far into the Marsh Alcaia.' He cast a glance backwards, teeth bared, and Che drew back, suddenly feeling trapped. She opened her mouth to suggest turning back, but then something twisted in her mind and she saw it. There, just beside the skeletal, hurrying figure of their guide, she saw the air seethe and darken: something of the night fighting to be seen, to make itself known to her. She imagined she even saw it pointing after him, urging her onwards. After that she had no choice.

Again, the lean man was waiting for them at the turn, leading into yet another alleyway. Roofed with heavier cloth, it was cooler there, and the air was thick with darkness. Che let her Art cut through it, spying a tent at the far end, with four or five figures seated there.

'This must be it,' she told Trallo. He nodded grimly. She saw that he held his hand near his knife-hilt.

The thin man was now kneeling in front of the tent: a low, ragged structure, patched and filthy, its original colour lost beyond recall. The doorway was hung with charms and lockets, little bits of brass and bronze and tin that dangled and jangled on slender chains. Someone inside was speaking slowly in a low voice, as Che paused before the entrance to reach out for one of the swinging fragments of metal. It had been crudely cut with a symbol that reminded her of the stone carvings to be seen everywhere about the city. Again she felt a stab of anticipation.