as Ant-kinden are, but they are human yet. Had we perhaps made more overtures to them, and not crowed instead about the strength of our walls, then they might not be marching against us now. You see? We are by no means blameless.’
He stared down at his hands, balled them into fists, then looked back up at his audience. ‘Let us first speak of those we know will answer our call. No man here can dispute sending messengers to Sarn and Helleron. Helleron especially, for they are closest to the imperial advance.’
There was scattered nodding, and he pressed on.
‘I have agents in Sarn already, seeking their help, but they will not know of the threat from Vek, which requires swifter action. Moreover, my agents in Sarn are attempting contact with the Moth-kinden of Dorax, who I know keep a presence in that city. I myself fought alongside the Moths in Helleron, against the Empire’s schemes there, and I have some hope that, as they profess wisdom, they will be wise enough to forget, for some short space of time, that they have such grievances against us.’
His audience were less enthusiastic about that but, at the same time, he was asking for no commitment from them, merely unveiling his own existing plans. They could hardly turn down help from outside if it was offered.
‘Messengers to Kes, too,’ Stenwold continued. ‘They have never been our enemies, and they have no love for Vek. More, if they can see past their enmities they will realize that they are the next hurdle the Empire must clear. Their seas will not defend them against a massed aerial assault. A messenger to the island of Kes, surely? What do we stand to lose?’
‘The messenger,’ someone suggested, but he still had their attention.
‘And to the Spiderlands-’ he started, but there was a chorus of jeers even at the proposal.
‘The Spiderlands are not of the Lowlands, Stenwold,’ interrupted another of the College masters, a teacher of rhetoric and political history. ‘They will not care and, worse, if we ask for their help they will make us pay for it. If they become involved, they will keep this war going for ever simply for their own amusement. It would suit them well to have us daggers-drawn with our neighbours for generations to come. They would then deal with both sides and only become richer. We cannot invite the Spiderlands to intervene.’
‘And besides,’ said another, a quiet woman who had surprised everyone by turning up, ‘what help could they bring us? Do you think they will field armies for us? They deal in treachery and knives, and we would sully ourselves by inviting that kind of help, even if they could be relied on to turn it solely against the Wasps.’
Stenwold recaptured the podium, hands in the air to concede the point. ‘Very well, no embassy to the Spider- lands.’ Then his eyes sought out Tisamon. ‘I. hesitate to ask this. I know the Ants of Sarn have fair relations with their Mantis neighbours, but-’
‘But we folk of Felyal are less approachable, is that it?’ Tisamon suggested.
There was a murmur of amusement from amongst the War Council. ‘Can you deny it?’ Stenwold asked.
‘Nor would I wish to.’ Tisamon strode down the steps until he stood at the front, although he did not seek to take Stenwold’s pride of place. ‘And, yes, I will be your embassy to my own people, although I can promise nothing. Draw a line from Tark to Collegium, though, and the Felyal lies square in the way. I think my people would be even more unapproachable to the Wasps than to you.’
When the debate was over Tisamon sought out Stenwold again. The Beetle was seated in a spare office of the College, three rooms down from where the War Council had been held, with several pyramids of scrolls stacked ready to hand for the scribes to copy.
‘You seem to be keeping them busy,’ the Mantis remarked.
Stenwold raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s on your mind, Tisamon?’
‘You should know that I’m taking Tynisa with me.’
‘Absolutely out of the question,’ Stenwold replied without hesitation.
‘She wants to go.’
‘That’s not the issue.’
‘And you cannot stop her.’
‘Maybe not,’ Stenwold admitted. ‘Tisamon, my past record in keeping members of my family from danger is poor, but just think for a moment. I know they are your people, but they will kill her. They will kill her because they’ll assume she’s Spider-kinden, and if they find out what she
‘There is a way,’ Tisamon said, ‘though her stay will not be pleasant, I’m sure. All you say about my people is correct. but they will not kill her out of hand.’
‘Tisamon, please-’
‘She deserves it, Sten. Her own people, remember. For all they will hate her, and hate me too, no doubt, she deserves to see her father’s tribe, if only to reject it.’
Stenwold grimaced. ‘I can see this means a lot to you.’
Tisamon smiled bleakly. ‘We are not a numerous kin-den. If the Wasp army comes to the Felyal, with its machines and its thousands, my people will fight, you may be sure of that. They will kill ten of the enemy for every one of themselves that falls, and yet there will still be more Wasps in the end.’
‘You. think it will come to that?’
‘If the Wasps attack us, it may. I would say they would pay dearly, if only the Empire did not value its own soldiers so cheaply. I can see the Felyal cut and burned, the holds of my people shattered, and for that reason, if no other, I must warn them of their enemy’s scale and power. And Tynisa must see them as they are, in case, when this is all over, there is nothing left to see.’
Something in Tisamon’s face shocked Stenwold, right then.
‘Yes,’ said Stenwold. ‘If she will go, I have no right at all to say no. But, Tisamon-’
‘Of course,’ Tisamon said, a hand on his arm. ‘What harm I can prevent, I shall. Whatever harm that is in my power to prevent.’
There was an abrupt rap at the door and Stenwold sighed. ‘More war business,’ he said heavily. ‘You’d better make your preparations.’
Tisamon’s hand moved to his friend’s shoulder, exerting a brief pressure. ‘Be safe, Sten. You’ve now got what you’ve been wanting for twenty years. You’ve got them listening to you, so don’t waste your chance.’
Stenwold nodded, opening the door for him, seeing the Beetle woman messenger waiting. He waited until Tisamon had strode out of sight before asking about her business, sure that it was bound to be another burden of the coming conflict.
‘Master Maker,’ the messenger reported, ‘a foreigner, a halfbreed, has come to the city looking for you. She said she has news of Tark.’
‘Of Tark?’ The wheels were already moving in his mind. ‘Her name?’
‘Is Skrill, she says, War Master,’ the messenger told him, and he felt a shock go through him. The blade that had been held over him, for so long he had almost forgotten it, was suddenly dropping.
‘Take me to her,’ he ordered. ‘Now!’
‘And so you left,’ Stenwold said heavily, after Skrill had told him her story, with all its wearisome digressions and diversions.
‘Weren’t my idea. Your man Totho did the plan,’ protested the gangly halfbreed sitting across the table from him. She scowled defensively. ‘What you think I was gonna do?’
‘No, you’re right,’ Stenwold said. ‘It wasn’t your fight. You were hired as a scout, not to fight for Tark.’
‘Straight up,’ Skrill agreed.
‘And so.?’
‘Once I got far out enough, I stuck around. I thought I’d see the big balloons go on fire like the plan was. Only they never did. Next night I weren’t so far off that I couldn’t see the city burning.’
‘And so they failed,’ said Stenwold. He felt physically ill with the strain of it all.
‘Looks that way,’ Skrill agreed, and then added, ‘Sorry,’ a little later.
‘Hammer and tongs, what have I done?’ Stenwold whispered. He heard a sound at the door, the clink of metal, and then Balkus opened it, peering in respectfully.
