The Scarab Path

Osgan nodded weakly.

'There isn't a proper doctor in this whole wretched city,' Thalric complained. 'They don't know the first thing about medicine.'

Che thought about that. 'I think you're right, actually.'

He barked a brief laugh. 'The legendary cosmopolitanism of Collegium is rubbing away, is it?'

'Apt medicine and Inapt medicine are very different,' Che reproached him. 'You and I have good cause to remember that.'

It took Thalric a moment to catch the reference, but she saw the understanding dawn in his face. Achaeos, in Collegium, asking to be taken back to his own people — for all the good it did him.

'These Khanaphir are Apt,' Che went on, 'but they're … they're trying to live like the Inapt, for some reason.'

Thalric made a derisive face. 'They're just backward, holed up at the east end of nowhere.'

'It's more than that,' Che argued, the pieces falling into place one by one. 'They trade with the Exalsee ports, and they're close enough to some of your Imperial cities, for that matter. So it's not geography, it's …'

'Wilful ignorance,' Thalric suggested.

'It's something like that, yes. They are fighting tooth and nail to ignore the last five hundred years. It's like with the Moth-kinden, except … except these people are Apt.'

'Imperial doctrine would say that this is why the Empire's intervention is so necessary,' Thalric said drily. 'In this case, I'm not sure I disagree.'

'They're Apt,' Che repeated, trying to catch the fugitive train of thought, 'but they once had masters who were Inapt … whoever they were. And they still remember those masters so keenly, with such reverence, that they refrain from anything that might have offended them back in the Days of Lore. They hold themselves back simply out of respect.'

Thalric regarded her doubtfully. 'Well, now it's come back to sting them blind, frankly. The Scorpions will be all over this city in a tenday, at the most. Half the Khanaphir army's dead in just the first engagement. If it wasn't us out there, I'd be advising the Ministers to seek Imperial protection right now. We'd make better masters than the Many of Nem.'

'Is that the plan?' Che asked him. 'Avenging Empire sweeps in and puts the invaders to flight? Imperial governor gratefully received by the city? I don't think that would work so well, not here.'

'I lose track of the plan,' said Thalric. She saw his face sag, for just a moment showing her how tired he was. 'The plan seems to be to kill me first, the city second. I do not understand why they so badly want me dead.' Seeing her expression, he pressed on before she could speak. 'Oh, I have done things sufficient to warrant my death, but this makes no sense. This is the high Rekef's work, that much seems sure. This is … this stems from someone standing beside the throne, if not the throne itself. It's personal.' He shook himself impatiently. 'Che, you have to go now. You know what you must do.'

'As your agent, yes.' She smiled sourly. 'After I've spoken with the others, I'll find Ethmet or some other senior Minister. I'll warn them that the Imperial force within the city will be looking to sabotage the defence, assassinate their leaders and the like.'

'It's what I'd do,' Thalric confirmed. And then: 'It's what I've done.'

Che went over to the shafts, paused there and looked back. 'Be safe, Thalric. I'll come back for you.'

'Send Trallo with messages, if you can,' Thalric said. 'Che …'

His urgent tone turned her back, as she was about to call upon her wings. He stood regarding her with a calculating expression, as if making his tallies and finding that they did not add up. This was Thalric the spymaster, she realized, the old Thalric — and somehow she was about his business.

'Why are you not just leaving, Che? I don't believe you think your intervention can save Khanaphes from the Scorpions, even if you cared to. What is this place, to you?'

The spectre of Achaeos rose in her mind, and all the frustrations of her Inaptitude. 'Do you need to know?' she asked him. 'Really?'

After a thoughtful pause he shook his head, and she scrambled out of the hatch, heading above and into sight of the river.

She found the embassy unoccupied save for servants. In the moment she entered, the desolate scene fell on her in pieces: the feeling of abandonment, the eerie silence, the men and women industriously cleaning the floor of an unmistakable stain.

'What has happened here?' she demanded hoarsely.

They pointed her towards the Scriptora, and there she found Berjek and Praeda, who had been hurriedly ensconced in guarded rooms. She found them sitting together, looking tense and fearful, whilst one of the Khanaphir ministers hovered nearby.

'Bloody ink and seals!' Berjek swore, as he saw her. 'You're here! We weren't sure you were even alive.'

'What's going on?' Che asked, because the Khanaphir, in their private way, had not told her.

After Berjek had done with his halting narrative, when the borrowed room had been loaded with two absences, one large, one small, Che remained very quiet.

Too slow, Thalric, with your warnings. You must be losing your touch. 'Manny, Trallo and Petri. Was Petri their victim as well?'

'Unlikely.' Berjek shook his head. 'They mentioned her by name, as if expecting to find her at the embassy. Che, if it hadn't been for Amnon and the Vekken-'

'Where are the Vekken?' Che demanded, feeling an uncomfortable twitch at the thought. She was not so blind to the way they had been looking at her. She did not know what conclusions they had come to in their hermetic little asylum of a shared mind, but none of it boded well for her.

'They … would not accept our hosts' hospitality,' Berjek said, with an embarrassed glance at the Khanaphir Minister. 'Certainly not after what happened this morning on the river.' Seeing Che's frown, he hastened to explain. 'The Scorpions are here, Che. They arrived with the dawn, and they're setting up outside the walls.' The old Beetle sighed. 'I was determined to leave today. I came here looking for a ship out of here. That's how I met Tathbir, here. He's the Minister of the Oceans.'

The short, podgy Beetle genuflected briefly, bobbing his shaven head.

'But when the Khanaphir lowered the river gate this morning, the Scorpions were already waiting for them,' Berjek explained. 'They put a leadshot into a fishing boat, sank it with all hands. They see that the river could be used to land a flanking force, is my guess. It doesn't take a tactical genius to see the opening. They've got a pair of leadshotters waiting out there to hole any vessel that comes out. Meanwhile, nobody's going anywhere until that can be dealt with.'

'We have sent messengers to the Marsh people,' Tathbir added. 'They will take this matter into their own hands. Until it is done, though, we cannot lower the Estuarine Gate. We are sorry.'

'The assault on the city has yet to start,' Berjek put in. 'The Scorpions are displaying unusual patience for their kind, I understand. Some small groups have come within bowshot of the walls, to their regret, but the rest are setting their engines to loose upon the city's defences. I know my field enough to know that the walls of Khanaphes were not designed to resist leadshotters.'

It was the suddenly stiffened pose of Tathbir that heralded the new arrival, the frisson of indignation radiating from the man. A shadow fell through the door: a man in dark armour, one whose face Che used to know.

'Are you yet in the city?' the Minister demanded. 'I am sure the First Minister banished you.'

Totho's stare remained intense enough for the stout man to take a step back. With his snapbow slung under his arm, within easy reach, there was something of the pirate about Totho now, a man outside rules. 'I was called here,' he said flatly. 'The First Soldier wishes to consult with me, so how could I say no?' His eyes dismissed the Minister utterly. 'Che, I need to talk with you.'

'I suppose you do.' This was not a conversation she had been looking forward to but, at the same time, she had been expecting it. 'Elsewhere,' she decided. This was not for Berjek and Praeda, or for the Ministers.

She chose the pump room, eventually, out of some perverse need for the appropriate — the secluded room with its primitive vacuum pump that she no longer understood.

'Are you going to start with pointing out how right you were?' she began. He had paused in the doorway as