It was a wretched place down by the river that Hofi had chosen to meet at, and Arianna liked it not at all. Swathed in a cloak, her hand beneath it wrapped about her dagger hilt, she was aware that she drew curious looks from those others on the street that evening. It was not simply spies that concerned her, for the thought of robbers and other such lowlifes was much on her mind. Collegium was well policed, but where the river ran, before it met the sea, was a much decayed part of the city. Collegium’s goods came in by sea, now, and more by rail, and the warehouses, homes and factories that had been fed by the river trade a generation back had fallen into poverty and disrepair. A quite different neighbourhood had since risen up.
It was a Fly-kinden dive she sought, naturally enough. Arianna looked for the promised name but the legend ‘Egel River Rest’ appeared nowhere on the peeling facade. Still, she had a good head for directions, so this must be the place.
They were mostly Flies inside, little knots of them playing dice or talking in low voices. They all stopped and stared at her as she came in. She ignored them disdainfully, ducking into the low-ceilinged room and making her stooped way over to an old man who seemed to be the proprietor.
He looked her up and down. ‘Reckon I’ve been told t’expect you,’ he said, tweaking his moustache. ‘You’ll be wanting the back room. No trouble, mind. That’s what I tell them and that’s what I tell you.’
She followed the line of his thumb and hunched even lower through a further door. The room beyond was small, but the door on the far side was of a size to let a normal person out in a hurry, or several Fly-kinden at once. Hofi was kneeling on the floor, across from a low table, but Arianna froze when she saw Scadran was there as well.
‘Him?’ she asked.
Hofi gave her a sly look. ‘To tell the truth, he and I weren’t so sure about you,’ he told her. ‘It’s an untrustworthy trade and you’re not exactly the cleanest of us.’
‘Me?’
‘Don’t play games, Arianna. You’re Spider-kinden and treachery’s in your bones, useful and double-edged as it is. Scadran and I are mere amateurs by comparison, I’m sure.’
‘Hofi, I came here because I thought – and correct me if I’m wrong – that we both struck similar chords at the briefing today. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll go straight back out,’ she suggested.
The Fly made a sour smile. ‘It is the curse of our profession, isn’t it, that we can’t quite trust turning our backs on one another. Come in and pull up a floorboard.’
She did so, Scadran watching her without much expression on his heavy face.
‘So, we don’t trust each other but who else can we turn to?’ she remarked. ‘And we’re not happy, not happy at all.’
‘Because the game’s changed,’ Hofi agreed. ‘I suppose we should have seen it coming, but we all of us have been thinking like Lowlanders, when we should have been thinking like Imperial Rekef. Now, are we all speaking the same dialect here?’
Arianna nodded cautiously and Scadran agreed, ‘We are.’
‘Because it’s a very different business, all of a sudden. I’ve been here four years, and the pair of you just a couple each. We’ve been getting into our roles all that time, gathering information to send back. All part of the job. And occasionally some order would come, to find out this or intercept that. We’ve had our little skirmishes with others, people in our trade but under different flags.’
‘Until they stepped it up,’ Scadran grumbled. ‘Then it became all kinds of work.’
‘But all part of the trade, still,’ Hofi emphasized. ‘Gathering the word, getting the goods, making the odd fellow disappear. And I could still turn a profit shaving a cheek or two, and Arianna went off to her College lessons, and you got to haul crates on the docks. And then Major Thalric’ – his voice hushed involuntarily as though the man himself might hear – ‘came along, and there was this business with Stenwold Maker. But it was all in a day’s work.’
Arianna looked down at the table but nodded, not wanting them to see her discomfort.
‘And now we’re to help Thalric gut this city like a fish,’ Scadran finished. ‘Hand it over to the Vekken.’
‘Who won’t treat it kindly,’ Arianna said. ‘I think I’m surprised. You’ve surprised me, both of you.’
‘Why?’ Hofi raised his eyebrows. ‘We’re imperial spies now, servants of the Rekef, but for how long? You know that no one who isn’t a Wasp has any great prospects in the Rekef ranks. They use people like us because it’s necessary, not because they like us. You’ve seen the way that Thalric looks at us. More, you’ve seen the way that Graf looks at us, even, who’s known me for years. When the Lowlands eventually fall to the armies, what happens to us?’ He held up a hand to stop her interrupting. ‘You they’ll have a use for. With the Lowlands in their grasp it will be the Spiderlands next; heading off south past Everis to the richest lands in the world, or so they say.’
‘I will never return to the Spiderlands,’ Arianna said flatly. ‘I can’t.’
‘They won’t give you a choice,’ Hofi said almost cheerfully. ‘They won’t understand, either, about the Spider Dance, and what happens to those who end up out of step. And Scadran here, what about him?’
‘He’s part-Wasp, at least,’ she said and, before he could correct her, ‘And I know that’s worse than none at all. Their superiority adulterated. So Scadran’s worse than out of a job.’
‘Scadran is dead,’ Scadran said heavily. ‘Scadran knows too much about how the Rekef work. So they’ll fix me as soon as the walls come down. Thalric’s probably already got orders.’
‘And then there’s me,’ Hofi said. ‘It may surprise you to know I was born within the Empire, and my kinden get a decent deal there compared to most. We’re good at making ourselves useful. And yet here I am, three years as a citizen of Collegium, and now I’ve been told to watch the door while the Vekken come holding the knife. Shall I level with the pair of you?’ He grimaced at his hands. ‘I like this city. I get treated well in this city. I even got to vote for the Assemblers last year, because I’d bought my citizenship. In the Empire I might do better than either of you, but I’d always be considered something less.’
‘We can’t be claiming that we’ve come all this way for the Empire and yet not known what it stands for,’ Arianna argued.
‘Perhaps we never quite did. We’ve all done well enough from it. And when it was just a matter of protecting imperial interests in the Lowlands, my conscience was clear enough. But now it comes to this…’
‘I do not want to see this city fall,’ Scadran said. ‘I have been nowhere else where I have not been treated as an outcast, a half-caste. Here they care less about all that.’
‘But you realize what we’re saying, both of you,’ Arianna told them. ‘You’re saying we have to… deal with Thalric.’
‘Kill Thalric,’ Hofi corrected. ‘Let’s not fool ourselves. We must kill him tomorrow evening, before he leaves for Vek.’
‘Graf too,’ Scadran said.
Hofi nodded unhappily. ‘I’ve known the man, so I’d – No, you’re right. He’s a Wasp, and so he gobbles up everything the Empire tells him. We have to kill Graf, too. And the best of Graf’s bully-boys are already dead, now. Maker’s friends saw to that, so now is our absolute best chance.’
The Assembly had heard Stenwold out. That was the best he could say. Then they had heard Master Bellowern, professional diplomat, spout honey and sugar at them, making them chuckle at his jokes, nod at his sagacity. The Assembly of Collegium, the great hope of the world, had been nothing but fair. It had let both of them speak until their words ran dry.
They were now in closed session, debating what should be done about Stenwold’s motion. Also debating what should be done with him, if need be. The next he heard of it could be a warrant for his arrest. Still, he would wait for it patiently, sitting here at his table with a bowl of wine untouched before him, his two bodyguards beside him.
‘You don’t have to stay here,’ Stenwold insisted.
‘I do. I really do,’ Tynisa told him. ‘And you know why.’
‘I’ve spoken before the Assembly now.’
‘Wasps’ll not hesitate to kill you because you’re their enemy, Master Maker,’ said Balkus, from the other side of Stenwold’s parlour. ‘Doesn’t make any difference where you’ve been opening your mouth.’
‘I shouldn’t be like a prisoner in my own home!’ Stenwold grumbled. ‘Waiting for the Assembly’s response is bad enough, but now I’m kept under lock and key, virtually, by my own ward!’
‘And what else would you do?’ Tynisa asked him. ‘Where would you go?’
‘I don’t know, but I’d like the freedom to do it. Tynisa, I’m not such an old man. I’m capable of looking after myself.’
‘Listen to me, Sten.’ Tynisa suddenly gripped him by the shoulders. ‘Nobody is saying that you can’t hold a sword or use it, but nobody lives for ever. I’m worried about Tisamon, right now, and he’s as good as they come. But if he dies,’ he saw her lips tighten, ‘or if I die, or Balkus here, then it will still not matter so much as if you die because, if the Assembly ever does see sense, they will need you.’
‘Besides, if they don’t,’ Balkus added, ‘then there could be a squad of their fellows coming after you. You said how they were talking about putting the irons on you.’
Stenwold clenched his fists impotently, and Tynisa slowly released him. ‘Is this about… her?’ she asked gently.
‘No,’ he said, too quickly, and she gave him a sidelong look before moving away to speak quietly to Balkus.
Thwarted, Stenwold sat and stared at his hands. These have mended machines, he thought, and taken lives. They were strong hands still, but not young ones. Such a painful admission of something so obvious.
I was young at Myna, that first time. When had the change come? He had retreated to here, to Collegium, to spin his awkward webs of intrigue and to lecture at the College. Then, years on, the call had come for action. He had gone to that chest in which he stored his youth and found that, like some armour long unworn, it had rusted away.
He tried to tell himself that this was not like the grumbling of any other man who finds the prime of his life behind him. I need my youth and strength now, as never before. A shame that one could not husband time until one needed it. All his thoughts rang hollow. He was past his best and that was the thorn that would not be plucked from his side. He was no different from any tradesman or scholar who, during a life of indolence, pauses partway up the stairs to think, This was not so hard, yesterday.
The aches and the bruises of the last night’s action, when he had thrown his baggy body across the warehouse floor to escape Thalric’s men, would they not have faded by now, not so long ago? He still hurt and yet they had not actually laid a finger on him.
Not for want of trying! he tried to crow, but he knew it was false bravado. He had simply been staving off the inevitable until Tynisa arrived.
It was all the worse because Tisamon was his age, too, and yet time had done nothing but hone him where Stenwold had rusted. Still, Mantis-kinden lived longer, aged slower and died, almost inevitably, in violence. And besides, was he so sure that Tisamon did not pause on that same stair, once in a while? The other man would never admit it. He would take greater and greater risks to prove himself, until time caught him in the act.
Mantids did live longer, Stenwold reflected. But I will outlive him, I fear.
All this inward looking and brooding, it was because of her. Tisamon had emphasized the same word to talk of Atryssa, Tynisa’s mother, who he thought had betrayed him. Now Stenwold had found a genuine Spider-kinden traitress to apply it to. Like a man who walks blithely from a fight only to find blood on his clothes, he found she had cut him after all.
What an old fool am I.
But she had made him feel young just for a little while, and however false the intention behind it, it had been a great gift to him at the time.
And now Tisamon was going to kill her, as he had every right to do.