‘As I say, manifestly unjust, but then consider your alternatives,’ Teornis told him.
A new voice spoke up, ‘I have an alternative.’ It was Danaen.
Stenwold frowned at her uncertainly for a moment, but decided to follow her lead. ‘My Mantis-kinden would have me give the order to kill you,’ he said. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘Are you suggesting that would solve anything?’ Teornis asked him.
‘It would solve my immediate problem. Perhaps it would send the right kind of message to the Aldanrael. But, no, it is not a course of action I am eager to try. I remember when you and I stood on the same side, Teornis. I never looked for anything but your friendship, but neither can I stand by and let my city fall victim to… pointless acts of brigandage. So what am I to do?’
‘Let me kill him,’ Danaen said promptly.
Teornis curled his lip. ‘Your Mantis makes great presumptions about her capabilities.’
‘This is not helping,’ Stenwold stated. ‘We came to talk, not to fight.’
Danaen spat. ‘I’ve told you, Maker, there’s only one way to deal with Spiders. If you won’t take that step, I will.’
‘You will not!’ Stenwold snapped in return.
Her eyes blazed rebelliously. The Dragonfly-kinden that Teornis had brought were reaching for arrows.
‘Felyen! To me!’ Danaen yelled out. There was a moment’s startled pause and then a half-dozen Mantis- kinden were clambering over the sides of the barge, dripping wet but armed to the teeth. The Dragonflies had their bows bent instantly, and Teornis’s Ants formed up around him, with shields raised.
‘Why, Maker? Why use Mantis-kinden?’ Teornis cried out. ‘Any other race might possibly exercise some self-control, some rational restraint, but Mantis-kinden? You might as well have cut the throat of any chance for peace between us.’
Stenwold was barely listening to him. ‘Danaen, what is this?’ he demanded, aware that Padstock’s people had brought their snapbows up.
‘You do not need to ask, Beetle,’ the Mantis leader told him. Her reinforcements had now spread out across the deck in a loose crescent, ready to descend on Teornis’s guards.
And on Teornis’s ship someone will be watching the sky to ensure nobody comes flying to our aid, Stenwold thought wildly, but they will not be watching the sea. Who would think that they could just swim over?
‘What of Mantis honour,’ he demanded, ‘that commodity you speak so highly of? The Mantis-kinden I have known would not betray me so!’
The look Danaen turned on him was of pure scorn. ‘The Mantis you knew was a blood traitor, a breeder of abomination,’ she hissed at him. ‘Do not think you know us, Beetle. Do not think you know us, at all.’
Stenwold must have missed a signal then: not from the Mantids but from Teornis himself. The next thing he knew was the cold line of a dagger against his throat, and someone holding him tightly from behind. His first thought was that it was one of the Mantids, but then he heard Arianna’s voice whisper, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Everyone still now,’ Teornis commanded. ‘Mantis swords back in Mantis sheaths, and you Beetles can aim those bows down at the floor. If you’re talking about justice, Maker, your people have a poor way of showing it.’
Stenwold stared only at him, because to twist his head to look at Arianna would hurt too much, above and beyond the knife. He expected to see contempt in his opponent’s face, that a man who set himself up as a follower of the Dance should fall for such a transparent trick, but instead he surprised a pinprick of sympathy in the man’s expression.
‘Now, we will talk,’ Teornis declared.
‘You mistake us, Spider,’ Danaen said, with evident relish. ‘Have your traitor gut the fat old man if you wish. What is he to me?’
Teornis’s reserve held. ‘He is the spokesman of your new adopted city, or would you betray that as well?’ he demanded archly.
She sneered. ‘In even considering dealing with the likes of you, he has betrayed all right-thinking people. Kill him, or I shall kill him. I care not which.’
Teornis’s eyes found Stenwold’s gaze again, and his expression seemed to carry the accusation: Your death be on your own head, since you chose to deal with these fanatics.
And it’s true, Stenwold thought, but the Mantis meant nothing to him just then. It was another betrayal that had cut him deeper.
The four Kessen Ants grouped tighter about Teornis, each sharing thoughts with the next, ready to fend off the sudden Mantis strike that must be only seconds away. Stenwold could imagine Padstock and her people on the very edge of doing something unwise to Arianna, whose knife edge was like a razor at his throat. He could hear her ragged breathing and her arm about his neck was trembling slightly. Her regrets are going to kill me at any second, but at least she has them. The Dragonflies had bowstrings drawn back.
‘Any bloodshed here and my ship will move in and rid the world of all of you,’ Teornis declared flatly, ‘Mantis bravado or not, you gain nothing here. The armada will still sail, and if you shed a drop of my blood my kin will… a-’ He stopped speaking, mouth still open, his eyes fixed entirely elsewhere. A ripple of uncertainty ran through the cordon of Mantis-kinden, staying their hands for a precious second or two.
‘Arianna…’ Stenwold got out.
‘Just stay still,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Sten. I really don’t want to hurt you. Please, please call them off.’
‘I don’t think I can…’ he started to say, and she screamed and pushed him away from her.
He assumed she had been shot, but there had been no sudden crack of a snapbow. Then he thought she had sliced him, for pain lashed across his neck, but it was nothing but a shallow nick left by the sudden withdrawal of her knife. Then chaos and devastation were let loose, for Arianna’s scream had set the Mantids in motion.
They made no subtleties about it, simply charging the Ants with savage speed in an attempt to overrun them. They clashed, with the Kessen trusting to their mail and shields, and their constant watch over each other, to turn the many swords away. One of the four Ants went down, Danaen’s narrow blade curving over his shield’s rim to pierce the armour at his throat. Another Mantis was felled and writhing, pinned to the deck by a long arrow, and one more had his face gashed by a Kessen shortsword. Stenwold tugged at his own blade, turning to see To see what Teornis and Arianna had seen, and it stopped him in his tracks, too. It was an eye.
It jutted out from the waves, set into a pointed crest of rubbery flesh tall enough to overlook the barge’s low side: a mottled-yellow eye with a broad slash of black for a pupil, and measuring larger across than a man’s torso.
All around him they were fighting, Teornis’s people and his own. He heard the explosive snap of Padstock’s bow, and her voice calling out, ‘Through the Gate!’ which must have bewildered everyone there save for her own followers. The Dragonflies were aloft, sending down shaft after shaft at any Mantis that offered a clear target.
Teornis went down without warning. Stenwold thought he had been shot, then that a Mantis had got him, for his Kessen bodyguards were being overwhelmed, though they put up a stubborn and furious fight. Then Stenwold saw, and the sight made his stomach lurch.
Something had grabbed Teornis by the leg. Something like a leathery cable had snagged his ankle and was hauling him towards the rail. He had his rapier out, but its narrow blade was ill-suited to cutting, and his people were too busy fighting to hear his cries for aid. The sight was so horrible that Stenwold himself made a move towards him, with no other aim in mind but the rescue of his enemy.
In a flurry of wings, Laszlo landed beside him. ‘I’ll head for the Tidenfree!’ the Fly called out.
‘Laszlo, look!’ But, when Stenwold pointed, the terrible eye was gone. The Fly skipped into the air a moment later, eager to be away, and an arrow zipped past close to where he’d been.
Stenwold turned to find himself not five feet away from Arianna, with his sword to hand. Her knife was still out, his blood decorating the edge. Their eyes met.
Something slapped at his leg and, assuming it was an arrow, he dropped into a crouch, one hand raised uselessly to ward off the next. A moment later he was sprawled on his back, the breath exploding from his body. He kicked out desperately, feeling a tightness about his calf, almost losing hold of his sword.
A sudden contraction hauled him two feet along the deck towards the railing and he realized that it had him.
