Part 40 (1/2)

'He told me about a time during the war when he and some of his people were penned in by us Commonwealers, no hope of getting out only of holding on a little longer before the end.'

'Maure-' Che started, suddenly understanding, but the magician hurried on with her story.

'He challenged them to duel of champions. That's the old way, here in the Commonweal. Before the Empire, that was the way that lords and ladies did it, to spare their people. Of course, the Wasps never saw the need, but Varmen used it to buy time.'

Tynisa saw that every pair of eyes had turned to her, inexorable as the dawn.

'No, absolutely not,' she heard Che saying distantly. 'They have a Weaponsmaster with them. A real killer.'

'I thought we had one here, too,' Dal Arche said quietly.

'But how will it help?' the Beetle girl demanded.

'Che, when two Weaponsmasters fight, people watch,' Maure pointed out. 'Even in the Commonweal it is a rare thing to see. There will be a chance to escape, win or lose. More of a chance than by staying trapped in here until . . .' She faced up to Che's accusing stare and shrugged unhappily. 'Che, I want to live. I agreed to help you, but not to end like this. I want to live.'

'As do we all,' Dal Arche agreed.

'You can't ask her!' Che snapped at him.

Dal stood up abruptly, with enough threat in his posture that Thalric intervened, hand extended, getting between him and Che. With that, everyone was on their feet, hands reaching for weapon hilts everyone save Tynisa and Maure.

'Hold! All hold!' Dal snapped. 'Listen, Beetle,' he addressed Che, 'we are due to die on the morrow. I have no illusions about the justice of our cause. We are robbers and killers, and so are those that oppose us, and all the justice in the world won't tilt those scales an inch. But if there is a chance that any of us could live, then I can ask anyone anything. Death is a long road, Beetle girl, and trodden one way only, and those who put honour and principle before life belong in stories, not here in this ruin along with us. A challenge of champions might win us time to scatter and get away. If it means only another half-day of life for one of us, then I can ask.' He shook his head. 'She's right regarding the old ways from before the war. They don't apply to b.a.s.t.a.r.ds like us, peasants and villains, but if the girl puts herself forward, I'll wager the Salmae will agree. That way the princess'll get to see the blood she most wants to.'

'How can you even-' Che started, but Tynisa just said, 'Che.' Not spoken loudly, but the word brought silence in its wake.

'It's a good idea,' she continued. 'I'll do it.' And when Che started protesting again, 'I've seen the man fight, so who knows how matters might fall out? And, besides, I'd rather die at the hands of another Weaponsmaster I can respect, than fall to some chance spear or arrow.'

And in her head she heard the echo of the words, With me, you can win any battle, and they were followed by hollow, bitter laughter.

I could ask him back, even now, and he would come, but she knew bleakly that she would not. I will live or die according to my own merits, in the final a.n.a.lysis. The real man that my father was would appreciate that.

Forty-Four.

After that it had simply remained for them to choose who should deliver the challenge.

In the grey light of a mist-laden dawn, Thalric emerged from the tumbled tower, pa.s.sing Dal Arche, who had watched out the last hours of the night.

'Good luck,' the Dragonfly wished him.

Thalric gave the man a sour look. This was, he was fully aware, a stupid idea, and he had no faith in it, whatever the late Varmen might have said. Still, it was marginally less stupid than sitting in the tower until the Salmae finally cracked their defences.

All I need to do is get Che out, he decided. Win or lose, he would manufacture the opportunity somehow.

And they take this seriously? This clash of champions? Now that it had been mentioned, he did find an old memory surfacing from the earliest years of the war. Imperial generals being called out, gorgeously armoured Dragonfly-kinden Weaponsmasters standing before the automotives and the ma.s.sed infantry, and then pointing a levelled sword, trying to face down the future.

He frowned. There was a great deal of idealism in the Commonweal back in those days amongst the n.o.bility, at least, who didn't need to worry about where their next meal was coming from. Storybook lives, princes and castles, dances and hunts and mock tourneys. Then the Empire had come and burned away centuries of acc.u.mulated romance inside the engines of its war machine. So where did that leave Salme Ela.s.s? Was she still the honour-bound idealist?

Emperor's b.a.l.l.s she is, Thalric decided. He would rely on two things: that there would be empty-headed idle n.o.bles among her retinue by whom this nonsense would be taken seriously and that Salme Ela.s.s knew what she herself wanted.

He spotted their picket line even as he entered the trees, mostly because it recoiled from him at a distance of twenty feet, the scouts flitting back towards the safety of the camp. He guessed that they had spread themselves thin, a cordon about the tower with plenty of airborne keeping watch for attempts at an escape to the sky. But, then, they know Tynisa, therefore they know she cannot fly.

'I am an emissary with a message for your princess,' he called out. 'You will take me to her.'

After a pause, a handful of them approached him, cl.u.s.tered together for shared courage, as though they were stepping between the jaws of a beast. Thalric regarded them coldly, facing down the spearheads trained on him. They were a handful of peasant levy, he realized, and terrified of him. Varmen did some good work, then.

'I come under truce,' he informed them, raising one hand. A red flag was apparently the truce sign in the Commonweal another gap in the Empire's knowledge, as far as he was aware, though he guessed that wouldn't have made much difference to the course of the war. Oddly, none of the brigands had been carrying one, back there in the tower, but eventually it had been discovered that Avaris was wearing three s.h.i.+rts, one of which was something close to russet. It had then been pressed into service, tied about Thalric's wrist so as to leave both hands free.

One of the soldiers, a Gra.s.shopper-kinden with short greying hair, stepped forward and took a deep breath. When Thalric failed to strike him dead, he bowed slightly. 'Come with me,' he beckoned.

Word had clearly outstripped his arrival because some semblance of a court had already a.s.sembled, with Salme Ela.s.s, partly armoured, at its heart. Thalric regarded the Dragonfly matriarch speculatively: whatever rage she harboured for the death of her son was kept deep within her. Her glance towards him was merely imperious. Even so, there were a great many spears directed his way, some arrows too, and he saw plenty of sidelong glances and people shuffling a few inches back as he pa.s.sed by. It was as though death by Empire was something that could be caught merely by proximity.

If I cried 'Boo!' now, I'd make half of them c.r.a.p themselves. And I'd get shot, too, about nineteen times, so over all not worth it.

'Emissary!' He held up the rag tied to his wrist. 'Sent from Dal Arche of Rhael to Salme Ela.s.s of Leose.' He only hoped he had the province names the right way round. And no wonder his people had renamed most of the places they conquered. The place was easy enough to get lost in, as it was, without all their baffling and oddly p.r.o.nounced towns and villages.

'”Dal Arche of Rhael”?' echoed Salme Ela.s.s archly. 'The villain styles himself thus, does he?'

'I'd a.s.sumed this was the heart of your disagreement,' Thalric replied easily, as though he was not the focus of such utter fear and hatred. 'You'll forgive me, but these Commonweal customs are unfamiliar to me. I merely bring you the message.'

She gave him a calculating look. 'So this is not the Empire's fight, then?' and it was plain that the subtraction of one Wasp-kinden from the equation was greatly to be desired, most especially if that Wasp might then just walk away. 'What is your name, emissary?'

'Thalric,' he stated simply, for the momentary luxury of having an audience to whom it would mean nothing. Then, because he had a reputation to keep up as a figure of terror and nightmare, 'Major Thalric.'

Salme Ela.s.s affected to look bored. 'Every Wasp lordling from across the border is a colonel at least.'

'Whereas I come from the Empire itself, and not your lost princ.i.p.alities, and so am only a major,' he replied equably. 'But you're right: this isn't the Empire's fight, nor mine.' He had to bite his tongue to keep it at that, because the idea of the Empire even noticing this petty little brawl was ludicrous. This was not war. It was barely civil disobedience.

And yet people have died, and will die. It remains to ensure that Che and I are not amongst them.

'What is your message, emissary?' Ela.s.s snapped.

'I am sent to invoke an old Commonweal practice, as I understand it. We challenge you.'

An expanding ripple of silence followed his words. When Salme Ela.s.s's only response was to stare at him, he added, 'Dal Arche challenges Salme Ela.s.s or, as tradition will have it, his champion shall meet yours.'

'And what victory does your bandit-prince offer me, should I lower myself to accept this challenge?' she hissed.

'Himself and his followers, with no further loss of life amongst your servants,' Thalric elaborated. 'If he wins, he and his are pardoned, absolved, let loose to leave your lands unmolested. I think that's what they have in mind.'

'He and his half-dozen are now trapped inside a pile of stones, just waiting for my spears to pry him out, like a snail from its sh.e.l.l,' she pointed out with a slight smile. 'Is this the only way he could think of improving his odds? He is no prince, therefore I need accept no challenge. Why should I?'

Even as she said it, Thalric sensed a s.h.i.+fting and a frowning from some quarters, most especially those he had identified as n.o.bles. Dal Arche was indeed beneath a princess's notice, unfit to clean her boots, let alone challenge her, but, even so, the refusal did not sit well. Perhaps there are simply those who value their followers' lives more than she does.

'Why should you?' Thalric echoed. 'I'd thought you wanted to see Tynisa's blood, Princess. How better than if your own Weaponsmaster whittles her down for you? I understand he knows his trade.' He looked around, spotting the pale-haired old Mantis not far off, and instantly recognizable. 'Having her spear-riddled corpse dragged before you over a carpet of your own dead soldiers would be less satisfying to you? It would be to me, certainly.'

'A strange way to speak of your champion,' she remarked drily.