Empire in Black and Gold

from death’s doorstep a man that all the real doctors in this town had given up on.’

‘But he barely even touched the wound!’

Stenwold shrugged — then winced. ‘It’s easy, once the lamps are lit, to scoff at shadows,’ was all he said, and then he had retired to bed.

And this morning he was gone already to bustle about the town, but at least he had scribbled Tynisa and Che terse instructions.

The back room of the Taverna Merraia, third hour after dawn. Be packed. And that was all it said.

The girls walked there together, and close together, for there were a lot of foreigners about on the streets during the Games. Some were simply merchants and artisans but others had a darker look. More was bought and sold during the tenday of the games, of all commodities, than in the entire month beforehand. As was their way, Beetles never let such a gathering go to waste. In the simple walk from Stenwold’s villa to the taverna they encountered a band of renegade Vekken mercenaries, all swagger and glower. They saw a Tarkesh slavemaster in conference with two Spider buyers, because whilst one could not own a slave within Collegium’s walls, one could sell them on paper — a neat distinction. There were men who looked like brigands here to tout their loot, Spiderland nobles and their cadres of followers, Mantis-kinden killers-for-hire with their bleak stares. . It was a relief to simply reach the taverna without some new assailant dashing at them from the crowds, and both of them had hands close to sword hilts. Tynisa might have her customary rapier, but this time Che wore a proper shortsword, Helleron made. When the killers next came hunting her, she would provide them with a real fight.

The Taverna Merraia was done up in a half-hearted Fly-kinden style, with low-set doorways they had to stoop through, and an interior walled with packed earth and carved wooden columns on three of its sides, while open shutters extended almost the whole of the fourth. The moment they entered, the miniature owner bustled out to them. ‘Ladies, ladies, pray let us not expose you to all these rude gapers. Come, I have a private room for you, yes?’ He raised a bushy eyebrow, and Che nodded slowly. It seemed that Uncle Stenwold had indeed been busy.

The back room was the real Fly-kinden thing, rather than the basic tat displayed out front for the tourists. The table stood barely more than six inches off the ground, and there were cushions instead of chairs. Most importantly, should they need it, there was an escape hatch in the ceiling that would take them out to a street running behind the taverna. Flies were known for such fallbacks.

‘He must have sent word to the others too,’ Che guessed.

Tynisa merely nodded. She had been oddly quiet today, hardly a word from her since they got up at dawn. Che examined her companion’s face, but the deftly applied make-up hid any clue as to whether the girl had slept well or not.

‘So? Last night?’ she said finally.

Tynisa looked at her, captured her stare. ‘Have you. . you haven’t ever. . killed anyone, have you?’ the Spider-kinden asked quietly.

Che shrugged, trying to look casual. ‘I could have killed that one that cut Uncle Sten. I got him. . a couple of times.’

Tynisa continued to hold her eyes until eventually Che admitted, ‘But no. I haven’t. I just fought, like we do at Prowess Forum. Till then I don’t think I really realized it could be. . for real.’

‘I killed him.’ Tynisa looked down at her hands. ‘He was good, but I killed him.’ With great care she drew the rapier from its slim scabbard, and Che could remember being very jealous when Stenwold had bought it for her. It was a beautiful Spider-forged piece of work. They were not great smiths by and large, but certain skilled crafts held their interest, and sword-crafting was one of them. This one was done as a copy of the Mantis style, the back- curving guard that protected the hand was formed into sharp, curving leaves and the blade was ground to a slightly uneven taper that nonetheless left both edges keen. True Mantis-work was rare and expensive as weapons came, and Stenwold had not been able to find the genuine article for sale. They might be tree-living savages in so many ways, without comprehension of all the great things the revolution had brought to the Lowlands world, but when the Mantis produced a sword, or a bow, or anything else they turned their craft to, they made it with the skill of ages.

‘You had to kill him,’ Che said solemnly, her eyes still on the blade. ‘He would have killed you otherwise. Don’t feel bad.’

‘I felt. .’ Tynisa pursed her lips together. ‘I felt so alive.’

‘Alive?’

‘In that moment, when I was past his guard, it was. . Help me, Che, but it was wonderful. I forgot everything else. At that moment I didn’t care about you, or Sten. I just knew that I had won, and it was good. It was so good.’

Che remembered the girl’s sudden concern after the fight, Tynisa trying to make up for the remorse she should have been feeling. ‘I don’t know, I-’ she started, and just then, blessedly, Totho and Salma were being ushered into the room by the taverna’s owner. Totho was bundled into a shapeless long coat, a canvas bag slung over one shoulder, so it was Salma who must have drawn any looks all the way across Collegium. He was known for dressing well, but understated, always fashionable, never gauche. Now he was hidden somewhere within a hugely elaborate, high-collared robe and the garment was — as the saying went — almost splendid enough to be offered its own department at College. Blue and green and red, iridescent like mother of pearl, its curling hems were lined with plates of gold.

‘What exactly are you got up as?’ Tynisa demanded, recovering her customary cool. ‘Or did Sten’s note actually say you should look like a mad foreigner?’

‘It’s not my fault that nobody in this forsaken backward little town ever dresses properly,’ said Salma. ‘What was I supposed to do with my robe? Leave it behind?’

‘Don’t you have any. . bags?’

Salma opened the robe to reveal an inner garment of simply cut turquoise cloth lined with numerous pockets. There was even a sword scabbard sewn into it containing a short-bladed weapon of odd design.

‘You do realize that someone tried to kill us last night?’ Tynisa told him, although there was no reason he should know. ‘I suppose at least it won’t be me now drawing the arrow-shot.’

‘Tried to kill you?’ Totho asked, shocked.

‘Tried to kill Uncle Sten,’ corrected Che, ‘only we got in the way. The killers, they’re. . dead, both of them.’ She remembered how the city guard had finally been called, and Stenwold had sent them on their way with the bodies and no questions asked, a clink of coin. Everyone, even Stenwold, seemed to be pretending that nothing had happened, and she suspected this was the way of it for those with secrets that too many questions could compromise.

Stenwold came in just then, without ceremony. ‘Good,’ he said, on seeing them all present. He settled himself on the floor across the table from them, making sure he had the door on his right hand and not to his back. ‘Time for some truths,’ he began. ‘Although if you’re half the people I take you for, there’ll be no surprises. Che and Tynisa know the histories I’ve been teaching by heart now, and Salma’s Commonweal has first-hand experience of the Wasp Empire’s ways. And Totho. .’

The artificer swallowed. ‘I listen, sir.’

‘So what is it you want to do?’ Che asked Stenwold. ‘About the Wasps, I mean.’

He nodded. ‘The Lowlands has not changed — its political balance anyway — has not for perhaps five hundred years. It’s incredible to think it, but if you discount the usual jostling rivalry between the Ant city-states it’s much the same as it has been ever since the revolution. Perhaps conditions are better, in some places, but there has been a balance struck that has lasted, and that has had little to do with outside pressures and everything to do with our self-made isolation.’ Try as he might he could not keep the College Master out of his voice. ‘The world beyond our boundaries has contrived to assist us. The Spiderlands beyond Everis have always seen us as a resource, an amusement and an oubliette. The Barrier Ridge cuts us off from the north so well that most Low- landers know little or nothing about Salma’s home except the name “the Commonweal”. Luckily for us, they have never been of a mind to impose their civilization on us. Salma’s people are more inward-looking than we. A fair assessment, Salma?’

‘Both harsh and fair,’ his pupil agreed.

‘And to the east. . Well, most of it’s desert, and what’s not is a patchwork of little cities and hill tribes, and