judged no matter for the regular army. Moreover, by the time you arrive the city may be in some considerable distress, so that your skills may well be tested simply in gaining access. So the Empire calls on you, as freelancers.’
‘Mercenaries,’ said Gaved. ‘Let’s wear no flags we’re not entitled to.’ He was the only Wasp-kinden amongst them and his skill in hunting fugitives had won him an uneasy separation from the Empire, so long as he would always come when they called him. The sting-burn above one eyebrow puckered his expression into a suspicious squint.
‘Whatever,’ te Berro conceded. ‘I have bartered for swift transport to take you to Collegium. The more enterprising gangs of Helleron have realized that the Iron Road is alive and well, so you can be in Collegium in under a tenday.’
‘Takes the fun out of the job, but whatever.’ The speaker, Kori, had a broad face that held a smile easily. He was Fly-kinden like te Berro, but a barrel-chested, wide-shouldered specimen. He was a treasure-hunter, a raider equally of ruins and of collections such as their current target. Like Gaved and the other two he had a reputation, and no qualms about taking imperial coin.
‘Phin?’ te Berro asked, and the Moth-kinden woman nodded sullenly. Her name was Eriphinea and she had been part of the Rekef operation in Helleron for some time, an outcast from her own people. What her crime had been she had never disclosed, but she was an assassin by training and more than happy to kill her own kin.
‘And you?’ te Berro asked of the final hunter. ‘It’s not quite your line, I realize, but I’ve read of your skills and achievements. You’d be an asset.’
The man he addressed was Spider-kinden, middle-aged and lean, with a deeply lined face — or that was what te Berro and the others now saw. His eyes narrowed, considering the proposition.
‘Master Scylis?’ te Berro pressed.
‘It sounds diverting,’ said Scylis — or Scyla, as she truly was. The name was no more genuine than the face she wore for them, but in dealing with the Empire a masculine visage gave her more of an edge. ‘I have some business of my own in that direction, Lieutenant, so while I am there, I may as well help recover your trinket for you.’ Scyla appeared elaborately casual but, inside, her mind was working feverishly because the description of the artefact that te Berro had given her rang bells. She now recalled stories and histories she had read decades back when she was still in training: in training as a spy, in training as a face-shifting magician.
Te Berro looked them over. Stocky, blocky Kori in his hardwearing canvas garb, a grappling hook hanging from his belt as the symbol of his trade; Gaved, scarred and lantern-jawed, leanly muscled beneath his long coat; Phin the Moth in her plain robes, grey-skinned and white-eyed, dark hair bound back; and Scylis, an ageless Spider in nondescript traveller’s clothes with a rapier at his side.
‘For recovery of that box, nine hundred Imperials each, or else the equivalent in Helleron Centrals.’ He saw appreciation of that sum register on all their faces save Scylis’s. ‘I wish you luck,’ he concluded. ‘If it’s worth that much, I suspect you’re going to need it.’
‘Have you ever seen a sight so splendid?’ The speaker was an officer in dark plate-mail, a helmet cupped under her arm, her greying hair stark against skin that gleamed like obsidian. From atop the gatehouse in Vek’s wall it was indeed a remarkable sight. Soldiers in perfect order trooped past in their hundreds, shields gleaming on their backs. They marched proudly as if they could march all day, which they could. Some small detachments of cavalry rode up and down this great column on either side, horsemen in light armour who would scout and run messages beyond the reach of the Ants’ mind-speech.
Thalric watched critically, his keen eyes seeing strengths, but weaknesses as well. The might of an Ant- kinden army was the steel of its infantry. Taken against their peers they were undoubtedly the best soldiers in the world. That infantry comprised seven out of every ten fighting men of their army, where a Wasp force would have had no more than three of ten as heavy fighters. He watched units of scouts in leather armour pass, and he could guess the use of a scout that could report, silently, as soon as he had spotted his target. He saw also a few squads of Fly-kinden, forty or so men and women in all, but they were the only non-locals in the force.
Now the wall shook slightly as the first of the automo-tives went through. A few were war-juggernauts, heavily armoured battle machines armed with firethrowers and other anti-infantry weapons, but most were siege automotives for assaulting Collegium’s walls. With a harsh metal clattering a pair of orthopters rattled overhead, followed by a handful more. Other than that the air above was clear, and that was what seemed so remarkable. When an imperial army was on the march the sky was alive with men, animals and machines.
Out in the bay the Vekken navy was starting to move as well, the vessels coursing lazily out past the wall. There were big supply barges, iron-plated armourclads packed with soldiers, together with a single metal-hulled flagship twice the length of the others and armed with vast trebuchets. The docks of Collegium were hardly protected by the city’s own sea-wall, and so the Vekken hoped for a quick advance by landing their marines on the wharves.
‘It’s magnificent, Tactician,’ Thalric confirmed. Beside him, Daklan nodded appreciatively and added, ‘We’re looking forward to seeing the army in action.’
The old woman gave them an unfriendly look. ‘It has not been decided that you will accompany the army, though Vek thanks you for your assistance and your encouragement.’ Her name was Akalia, and she made no secret of the fact that she looked down on Wasps and indeed anyone else not Ant-kinden and native-born to Vek.
‘But, Tactician. ’ Daklan said hastily, ‘we have our own superiors to satisfy. They will want to know when Collegium has met its deserved fate.’
‘Do you doubt us?’ Akalia asked. ‘Only the armies of Sarn have kept us from crushing that pack of scholars long ago. We have your assurance that your own armies will intervene to ensure Sarn cannot freely aid its allies, so that should be enough for you.’
Daklan exchanged glances with Thalric. A few paces away, Lieutenant Haroc was waiting with his tablet poised to record anything of importance that might be said here. In Thalric’s opinion Akalia was right, and there was no need for him to witness firsthand the death of Collegium. Or perhaps it was just that he did not want to see the waste of such a place in the necessary cause of fulfilling the Emperor’s ambition. Daklan was keen to be present for the culmination of his work here in Vek, though. He was keen for Thalric to see it too, no doubt as a help towards his own commendation.
‘Tactician,’ Daklan pressed again, ‘imagine yourself in our place. I have no doubt that this mighty force can level the walls of Collegium within days, but if I were to present myself to my superior officers and tell them that I had not seen the fact with my own eyes, they would punish me for failing in my duty, and rightly so.’
Akalia considered this, or rather, Thalric realized, she discussed it with other Ant officers across the city. At last she nodded briefly. ‘Very well, your delegation shall accompany us, and it will do your people good to see the Ants of Vek in action.’
Thalric left them then, realizing Daklan would stay to butter up the tactician a little more. It was remarkable how susceptible these people were to the most shallow flattery. He guessed it was because they were used only to absolute sincerity from their own kind. Thalric found himself so easily bored by them, which was an ironic thought. Perhaps he could only feel at ease around those as deceitful as himself.
He came down the stairs within the wall, emerging into its shadow. He was feeling depressed about what must now happen, and he wished that there was some other way, for Collegium was a hard-grown flower that would not flourish again once uprooted. If the Empire could have won its surrender then the world would have been richer.
But he could see how this was needed, for the hotbed of radical ideas in Collegium was just too dangerous to allow to go unchecked.
‘Major.’ A hoarse whisper. He looked about and saw Lorica lurking against the wall. The halfbreed translator beckoned him over, and he went, cautiously.
‘What is it?’ he asked her.
‘You’ve a reputation for being good to your subordinates, Major?’
‘Only if they do as they’re supposed to,’ Thalric told her. ‘Why? What do you want?’
Lorica smiled. ‘I want to give you a warning, Major.’
Thalric felt a familiar feeling rise within him.
‘Lieutenant Haroc, Major.’
