Part 2 (1/2)

How is it that I am still here, after all of this? He had a sudden sense, almost like vertigo, of all the people he had sent out to die or get hurt: Salma, Totho, Tynisa, Achaeos, Sperra, Scuto, Tisamon, Nero even the madwoman Felise Mienn. There was no justice in a world that preserved Stenwold Maker after all that loss. He had a sudden sense, almost like vertigo, of all the people he had sent out to die or get hurt: Salma, Totho, Tynisa, Achaeos, Sperra, Scuto, Tisamon, Nero even the madwoman Felise Mienn. There was no justice in a world that preserved Stenwold Maker after all that loss.

But it was worse when he considered the survivors. The a.s.sembly was crawling now with men boasting of their exploits in the war, but Stenwold could not remember seeing any any of them defending the walls at the time. of them defending the walls at the time.

He glanced up, at last, to find no scarlet watcher above. The war had left so many casualties, with so many different wounds that he was powerless to cure.

'Lady Arianna sent word that she would be expecting you at her residence, sir,' his servant informed him. The thought stirred an ember of a smile, but he was so tired that it could be no more than that.

He began the slow clump up the staircase.

There were books all over Cheerwell's room, open, bookmarked or stacked, lying on the bed and at her desk. They looked old and valuable, and he knew she was trading on her family name to extract favours from the librarians. On the other hand, it was not as though the topics she was researching were required reading for College scholars. Most of these tomes had not been opened before during her lifetime, perhaps not even in Stenwold's. The sight of them reinforced his disquiet, reminded him of the scale of the plight they faced.

'How was the a.s.sembly?' she asked him. She sat demurely on her bed but there was a brittle aura about her, as of some fragile thing delicately balanced.

'Tedious as usual.' He racked his mind for something amusing he could recount to her, was forced to accept that nothing amusing had occurred. 'I did my normal job of making friends, so I'm surprised they're not burning my effigy in the square before the Amphiophos.'

He saw her smirk at the quip, a reaction more than the words warranted. 'You have no idea,' Cheerwell told him. 'You should get her ... get Arianna to go to the play with you.' She stumbled a little over the woman's name, but only a little. She was at least trying.

'Play?' he asked blankly.

'Haven't you heard? At the Rover on Sheldon Street?' Her smile was genuine, though a sadness shone through it. 'They call it The Sh.e.l.l Crack'd The Sh.e.l.l Crack'd or something like that. It's about goings on in this city when the siege was under way. It's all people leaping into each other's beds and arguing.' or something like that. It's about goings on in this city when the siege was under way. It's all people leaping into each other's beds and arguing.'

'There's a play about the war and it's a farce farce?' said Stenwold, quite thrown off course from what he was originally going to say.

'Yes, but you're in it too. You're the serious bit in the fourth act, like they always include,' Che told him. 'When you went out to confront the Wasp army and got them to surrender and go away-'

'It wasn't like that-'

'Tell that to the playwrights. Tell that to the audience. You're a hero, Uncle Sten.' Her shoulders shook briefly with mirth, for a moment like the Che he knew from before it all. Then another layer of solemnity enveloped her and she said, 'Your man from Paroxinal came back today.'

'Oh?' and he was serious at that news, too.

'He said he'd report fully to you, for what it was worth, but nothing.'

'He found nothing, or they'd tell him nothing?'

'Nothing either way. Nothing at all. He found no trace of her.'

For a moment they just looked at one another, chained together by an equal guilt, until Stenwold bared his teeth in annoyance and looked away.

'd.a.m.n the girl!' he said. 'Why-?'

'You know why,' Che interrupted him flatly.

'Oh, I know what sparked it, but why go off-?'

'You know why,' she repeated firmly, and he had no answer to that, because he did know.

Feeling weary to his bones he pulled the desk chair out and reversed it, sitting so he could rest his arms on the carved back. He heard it creak at the unaccustomed strain. I'll be as fat as Drillen, one of these days. I'll be as fat as Drillen, one of these days. 'Che, I've had a thought about ... something for you.' 'Che, I've had a thought about ... something for you.'

She sat very still, waiting warily. It was not the first time he had tried to find things for her to do. She knew he meant well, but he did not understand that her current problems could not simply be left behind.

'Che ... you did some good diplomatic work during the war.'

That took her by surprise. 'When?'

'In Myna, for example.'

'Sten, they nearly killed me there as a traitor.'

He smiled slightly at that. 'Same here ... and with death, it's all about the ”nearly”. The way I hear it, you finally got their rebellion inspired to the point where they could throw off the Empire.'

'It wasn't like that,' hearing in her voice an echo of his own words.

'Tell that to my agents. Tell that to the Mynans. Che ...' Staring at his hands as he always did when he sought inspiration. 'You need something to do ...' One hand rose, quickly, to cut off her objection. 'I know know, I know it won't st.i.tch the wound, and it won't make everything better, just to be doing something, but you need time to heal, and at the moment it's just you and the wound, and nothing else. I have a job I need doing, and you need something to do and you're good at it.' When she just stared at him he continued, 'I need an amba.s.sador. An official amba.s.sador representing Collegium, bearing the seal of the a.s.sembly and everything.'

For a moment she continued to stare, then she laughed at him incredulously. 'You can't be serious.'

'Why not? You've already proven your worth: in Myna, in Solarno, in Sarn. This isn't just Uncle Sten finding jobs for his family. You've shown you're more than equal to the task, and-'

'And it would give me something to do,' she finished sourly. 'And where, pray?' A thought struck her. 'The Commonweal?'

'Not the Commonweal,' he said. 'We're being ... very careful there. They're a strange lot, up north. They don't really seem to understand yet why amba.s.sadors are necessary. We may even have to buy into their ”kin-obligate” business, not that we really understand it.' He waved his hand impatiently. 'No, it's a place called Khanaphes.'

She stared at him, which he interpreted, incorrectly, as ignorance.

'The Solarnese know a path to reach it. It's east of the Exalsee, a long way off any Collegiate trade route.' He left the appropriate pause before revealing, 'A Beetle-kinden city, Che.'

Since her return from Tharn she had been deep in the old tomes of the Moth-kinden. She had been immersing herself in the world that the revolution had shattered, in an attempt to find some cure for her own affliction. In the very oldest of the books and scrolls remaining to the College, amid the most impenetrable shreds of ancient history, there had been a city of that name. It was a relic of the forgotten world that the Beetles had shrugged off in order to become what they were now.

'Think about it, please.' Stenwold took her silence for reluctance. He wanted to tell her that it was a golden opportunity, that she should look to her own future, capitalize on the respect she had won in the war. He wanted to tell her, in short, that no mourning could be for ever. He knew better than to say it. 'Just think about it. You are a student of the College after all, and the possibilities for scholars.h.i.+p alone are-'

'I'll think about it,' she said, a little harshly, and he nodded, standing up to go. 'Another thing,' she began, her voice sounding strained. 'You ...' She paused, gathered her courage together. 'Please tell the new man about the doors again. He forgets.'

Stenwold stared at her, a welter of different emotions momentarily at war across his broad face.

'It's not just me ... it's ... I'm thinking about Arianna as well.' Che's voice shook under the sheer humiliation of having to say it.

'Of course I will,' he said. 'Of course. I'll have a word with him when I go back downstairs.'

The expedition was approved by the a.s.sembly, despite anything that Broiler and his supporters could say against it. The Town vote, comprising the merchants and magnates, scoffed at the expense, but the Gown vote of the College masters was mostly for it, and Drillen's promise to secure funding without troubling either College or a.s.sembly coffers sealed the matter neatly. There was no suggestion that the proposal had been stage-managed from the start.

The very night of the a.s.sembly meeting, however, found a clerk working late. Drillen was a rigorous employer who demanded results from the least of his underlings, so candlelight in the late evenings was nothing unusual. This clerk, a young man who had hoped to make more of himself, and had lived beyond his means, was just finis.h.i.+ng his last missive. The letters seemed nonsense, strings of meaningless babble, but an informed eye would have deciphered them as: Urgent. Codeword: 'Yellowjacket'. You told me to keep an eye on all dealings of Stenwold Maker, so this should interest you: the expedition being launched to Canafes (sp?) is not as it seems. JD and SM met twice beforehand re: this matter. Unusual secrecy. Believe JD and SM have their own purposes aside from those stated. Thought you would appreciate knowing.

He folded the note over, and went over to his rack of couriers. Drillen used these various insects as missivecarriers across the city. They rattled and buzzed in their tubes, each tube with its label to show what place the creature was imprinted on. The clerk, whose responsibility these carrier-creatures were, selected one carefully: a fat, furry-bodied moth. It b.u.mbled out of its tube and crouched on his desk, cleaning its antennae irritably as he secured the message to its abdomen. He had no idea where it went, or to whom, save that it would not be the man who had originally recruited him into this double-dealing. He only knew that the insect would be returned safe, along with a purse of money, to his house. This told him two things: that his shadowy benefactors were wealthy, and that they knew where he lived.

The insect whirred angrily off into the night, swooping low over the streetlamps but impelled by an inescapable instinct to return home. Before morning the Rekef operatives in Collegium, placed there with exquisite care after the close of the war, had something new to think about, and other, grander, messengers were soon winging their way east.