The huge man regarded him with a slight, polite smile, the thoughts behind it well hidden.
‘Please, sit.’ Stenwold gestured to the table. Of course there were only four places set but, even as he noticed it, Cardless was seamlessly inserting a fourth before drifting back with a tray of fruit-bread.
They settled about the table. It was clear to them all that this was not just another case of a townsman greeting the returned explorers. They eyed each other like veterans who might or might not have fought in the same battles, or even on the same side.
‘What did you actually know, of what you were sending us into, Master Maker?’ Praeda asked him first. ‘Or what did Jodry Drillen know?’
‘What I knew, you knew,’ Stenwold replied. ‘And as for what Drillen knew, who can say? I’ll say that I don’t believe he was trying to stir up trouble anywhere but here in Collegium, but I have no window on his mind.’
‘They say he will be Speaker,’ Berjek murmured. ‘Did we bring that about?’
‘Yes and yes,’ Stenwold confirmed. ‘But there were worse men for the job.’ And am I Drillen’s apologist now? ‘If I had thought he was sending you into danger, if I had thought that he was the kind of man to do so, then I’d have had no part of it.’
‘I believe you,’ Berjek acknowledged, although Praeda looked less certain. ‘I opposed you, you know, when you first started your ravings about the Empire. You were right then, so I’ll advance credit on your opinions now.’
‘Manny was killed,’ Praeda stated. ‘The Wasps killed him.’
‘I’m very sorry.’
She looked to Amnon then, and Stenwold placed his role as lover and not merely a guard. ‘If it hadn’t been…’ she began.
Berjek nodded. ‘And for the Vekken. It was your idea to have them with us, and I won’t say we weren’t ultimately grateful. You’ve spoken with them?’
‘As soon as they arrived. I’d left them time to report to their fellows but… Ant-kinden, of course – the Vekken here knew, as soon as your ship approached the harbour.’ They had told him little else, save that the Empire was there, and involved in an assault on the city, and on the embassy in particular. The interview with the returned Vekken ambassadors had been strange even by their standards. They had left so much out, and he had sensed that it was not just to spite him, but because they lacked adequate words to describe it. Whatever had motivated them to hold to their truce with Collegium, it was not accounted for in the little they had revealed.
‘Master Maker,’ said Gripshod, ‘we know why you’ve asked us here. It’s not merely to welcome the returning explorers and it’s not concerning city politics.’ He extracted a sealed and folded paper from within his robes, and Stenwold caught sight of the handwriting: his own name inscribed in that too familiar, desperately-trying-to-be- neat hand. He reached for it automatically, but Berjek held it back.
‘We need to explain first,’ Praeda said. Stenwold’s gaze flicked between the two of them, sliding past the chest of the huge Khanaphir soldier. ‘Whatever she’s written will be her own account but… it may not be as reliable as you’re used to.’
‘What do you mean?’ Stenwold was already on the defensive for absent Che without thinking.
The two academics exchanged glances. ‘Only that, on reaching Khanaphes, your niece’s behaviour was… erratic. Increasingly so,’ Berjek informed him, a man steeling himself for an unpleasant task. ‘She began acting oddly, absenting herself, avoiding engagements. She disappeared two or three times without warning or excuse. She kept odd company: foreign merchants, the Imperial ambassador.’ He saw Stenwold react to that last information, and nodded grimly. ‘Whatever was preoccupying her mind, it wasn’t official duties, Master Maker.’
‘She was engaged on some expedition of her own,’ Praeda confirmed. ‘We all witnessed it. When the attack on the city began she vanished entirely. Everyone thought the Wasps had ordered her killed… You do know about the Imperial involvement there?’
Stenwold nodded. ‘Word came to me that they were boiling the pot. I’m listed to challenge the Imperial ambassador over it soon, but no doubt he’ll say it was all down to rogue elements, therefore nothing to do with them.’
‘Who can say?’ Berjek said. ‘Frankly, I can’t see what possible advantage the Empire could have gained, even if they’d ground Khanaphes into sand and dust. Rogue elements would make as much sense as anything.’ He drained his bowl and Cardless was immediately at his elbow to refill it. ‘Well, you’re forewarned, Maker. Read it.’ He slid the letter across the tabletop.
Stenwold took a deep breath and broke the seal. That same script greeted him, that had always been a cause of concern for her tutors. The thought came to him of Che diligently practising her letters over and over, a dozen years gone, and he shut his eyes for a moment.
‘We should leave.’ It was the deep voice of Amnon. Stenwold looked up to meet the gaze of a private man who knew a need for privacy in others, unlike the Collegiates who thrived on the doings of their neighbours. He shook his head, aware that he was being remiss as a host.
‘No, no, please, help yourself to my table. I – I won’t be a moment.’ He should leave Che’s letter until they were gone, he knew, but he did not have that kind of strength, not in this.
Dearest Uncle Sten,
I hope this reaches you soon. I am afraid you will not be very happy with me, but there is not much that can be done about that. I am not coming back to Collegium right away.
I cannot explain to you what has happened to me, but it follows from the wounds I took in the war: the losses that I endured. I have healed some of them.
Achaeos is dead.
I can write that now. It is true for me now, though I am still coming to terms with it. He is dead, but he has left me with his gift – the gift of his kind, and of his Days of Lore. We call them the Bad Old Days sometimes, but I am not sure that is just. They were merely different times, when the Inapt races ruled. I know this now.
I must ask you to trust me and I know it will be hard. I have always been the one to follow, to stumble, to make mistakes. I have always leant on you, and trusted you, and been rescued by you. Now you must trust me.
I am travelling to find Tynisa. I know where she has gone and I know she is in great danger. It is time for me to mount a rescue.
I am not travelling alone, but that is another thing you must trust me on. No doubt the messengers have already told you who I journey with, and no doubt you have already mobilized the army and called for the orthopters to start up their wings.
Trust me. I do not say ‘Trust him’, because I cannot ask that of you, but just trust me, in this.
I will come home and, if it is possible, I will come home with Tynisa.
Your disobedient niece,
Cheerwell
He looked up from the letter to meet their eyes and there must have been a thunder in his expression that they had not expected. The two academics flinched, and Amnon squared his shoulders as though ready for an assault.
‘Who?’ was all he asked.
‘Master Maker?’ Praeda frowned at him.
‘Who was she travelling with? She says here, “No doubt the messengers have already told me”. So tell me, Masters, who is with my niece.’
‘I did not think…’ Berjek started, but Praeda’s eyes widened and she interrupted, ‘She must mean the Imperial ambassador.’
Stenwold went quite cold, the letter tearing slightly in his hands. ‘To the Empire? The little fool’s gone to the Empire?’
‘I very much doubt it,’ Praeda said. ‘Has her letter not told you where she was going? She didn’t tell us.’ At Stenwold’s stare she went on: ‘The Empire was trying to kill her, last we heard. I can’t think that she’d just walk into their hands.’
‘Then why is she with-?’
‘He’d gone rogue himself,’ Berjek said quickly. ‘Your niece said his own people were trying to kill him. Another reason the Empire isn’t likely to be their destination… We…?’ For Stenwold had held up a hand. ‘Master
