'I require the opportunity to further examine your sister in closer detail.'

Alvdan smiled. 'Oh, as close as you wish, monster. Of all the things I have to give you, she is least precious by far. I give her to you for whatever you need.'

The Mosquito's answering smile contained a hard edge that promised those words would not be forgotten.

Forty-Two.

Thalric loosed his sting at her even as she came into the room, and Stenwold a.s.sumed it was over then, an absurd anticlimax. The impact rocked her back, but the crackling energy just scattered from her glittering armour, leaving black marks like soot. Then she was on him.

He had the table between them and Stenwold saw him try to get up quickly, and tumble backwards over the chair, face suddenly twisting in agony as his unhealed wound racked him with pain. With a single downward swing Felise cut the table in two, shearing the wood across the grain in a way Stenwold would not have thought possible.

Thalric had lurched to his feet, and his hands spat fire again, but she turned, shielding her face with her pauldron and, although she had to brace herself against it, again the crackling blast just danced off her mail.

If Thalric had been whole and well, he might have stood a chance. He was a resourceful man, but his wounds hobbled him. Even this much exertion had a fresh spot of blood leaking through his tunic. When he raised his arm again the strange sword nearly took the hand from his wrist, instead laying open the skin along the back of it. Thalric hissed, and went for her, and in a moment of cool decision she reversed the sword and smashed him across the face with the pommel.

He fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, dazed, and she thrust the sword into one tilted half of the table, as sickle-claws folded out from her thumbs.

He had his uninjured hand extended at her defensively, but she lanced it through the palm with a lightning jab of one claw and he gasped in pain and withdrew it. For a second she regarded her talons, one b.l.o.o.d.y and one clean.

She placed them, very gently, so that they p.r.i.c.ked him in the hollows beneath his jaw, and began to force him upright. For a moment he seemed about to resist, but then, as they drew blood, he was struggling to his feet, digging at the wall with his elbows for purchase until at last he was standing, face to face with her at last, and so close they might be lovers.

She showed no expression.

Stenwold stood at the doorway with Tisamon watching over his shoulder, but now someone was pushing in on the other side of him. It was Felise's Spider-kinden companion.

'Who are you, anyway?' the Beetle asked him, as Felise held Thalric by the points of her thumbs, staring into his face.

'Destrachis, doctor.' The Spider was watching the woman intently, waiting for something.

Thalric studied the face of his antagonist, pushing his thoughts through the pain in his side, the pain of his hands. 'Before you kill me,' he said, and even that drew some fresh blood as his throat worked against her talons, 'tell me one thing.'

Her face neither denied nor permitted his request.

'What will you do next?' His last gambit, his last chance, and once the words were out he closed his eyes and waited.

Destrachis leaned forward, but Felise made no move. There was no sign that she had even heard the words.

'What is going on here?' Stenwold demanded in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

'This man Thalric has a good mind,' Destrachis said. 'He has got to the heart of it.'

'Next?' came the voice of Felise, uttering the word as though it was wholly unfamiliar to her.

'We took him outside your city, you see,' Destrachis went on. 'But he was near-dead, and so instead of killing him she had me patch him up and send him on ahead. Because revenge on a dying man was not what she was looking for.'

'This is hardly better,' Tisamon observed from behind.

'He fought back this time.' Destrachis shrugged. 'Now we must see if she can bring it to a close.'

'Spider, I should have slain you before,' said Felise, still holding Thalric up on his toes, holding her perfect pose without the slightest tremor. 'What is this Wasp to you?'

'Nothing,' Destrachis said. 'I have never been the Empire's.'

'But you are not mine either,' she said. 'Who is it that pays you, Spider?'

Destrachis pursed his lips. 'Must there be someone?'

'You are no gangster from h.e.l.leron, and it was no mere chance that we met. Do not take me for a fool.'

'Or I will be "next"?' Destrachis wondered aloud. His voice was casual, but Stenwold could see how tight his face had become with controlling his expression. 'But you're right, of course. I spun my way into the fiefdoms of h.e.l.leron. I engineered it so that I would travel with you.'

Stenwold could see Thalric watching with the utter concentration of a man whose life is being extended by every word spoken.

'Mantis warrior,' Felise said. 'If I asked you to slay that Spider there, would you do it?'

'Without hesitation,' Tisamon said, and Destrachis went pale all of a sudden, feeling a subtle change of stance in the man beside him. The claw was abruptly raised to hover over Stenwold's back, the point p.r.i.c.king the nape of the Spider's neck. Stenwold himself had gone very still. He had been about to protest, to remind them that they were in Collegium, in the very Amphiophos but they were not. At least Felise and Tisamon and Destrachis were not. The place they shared was infinitely older, where such things as this were done.

'If he gives me no answer, you may slay him,' Felise decided. She was still staring into Thalric's face, had not once taken her eyes off him. 'Who has hired you to plague me, Destrachis?'

'Arante Destraii, your aunt,' Destrachis said, still holding tenuously on to calm. 'Ask me no more questions, Felise.'

'I do not believe that,' she said. 'Shall I tell the Mantis to kill you? Tell me the truth. Tell it all.'

'Please, Felise, you do not-'

Thalric hissed in pain as her claws dug into him a little, and Felise got out, 'Mantis-'

'Wait!' Destrachis got out. 'You will kill me if I tell you, and have me killed if I do not. Is that justice?'

'Why is it that only the unjust cry for justice?' Tisamon said. His claw twitched, drawing a spot of blood.

Stenwold felt himself trapped in a world he suddenly did not understand. 'What is going on?' he asked.

'Precisely, Beetle-kinden. Explain all, Destrachis.'

'I am hired by your family,' he said quickly, 'and that is no more than the truth. Not your husband's n.o.ble line, for the Wasps made sure no drop of his bloodline remained. Your own family was not great enough to be extinguished, so you were taken alive. Do you remember being a prisoner of the Empire, Felise?'

'I was never a prisoner.'

'Of course you were, and you were to be a slave, but the Arantes rescued you and . . .' He stuttered to silence.

'Speak!' she commanded.

'You were . . . broken.' He waited to see if the words would kill him. 'You were not well, in your mind. So your own family took you into their house and hired doctors to make you well, but we . . . they could not. They tried so many ways, until eventually one used an ancient craft to bring your mind back to the place where it had snapped, and st.i.tch that broken end onto the present day or thus I can best describe it. Shall I go on?'

She remained silent, but Tisamon shifted behind him, and so Destrachis continued. 'It did not go well. It was not well done . . . better not to have meddled, would be my opinion now. But you remembered, at least, the name and face of the man who had done those atrocities to you, and you determined you would have your revenge, whatever the cost. Your family were concerned. They . . .' And he stopped again, and Stenwold was surprised to see the Spider's eyes glitter with tears. 'Felise . . .'

'I remember,' she said slowly. Thalric saw something surface then in her eyes, and she looked at him anew. 'I remember you now. You are the man who slew my children.'

He could not nod, would not speak, but something in his face confirmed it.

'I remember,' she said again. 'What have I done?' She took her hands away abruptly, looking back at the bisected table, at the upright sword, as though they were quite strange to her.

Thalric, shifted, sagging an inch, and faster than Stenwold could follow she whirled back to him, thumb jabbing at his face. It raked a line of blood down his cheek, but that was all.

'Why can I not kill you?' she screamed at him. Her clawed hands hovered right before his face, twitching and shaking, but still she could not strike. In the echo of that cry her onlookers were silent. Stenwold saw, in sidelong glances, the same stricken expression appear on the faces of both Tisamon and Destrachis.

Thalric let out a long, slow breath. 'Because I'm all you've got,' he replied between gritted teeth. 'I wondered that, when you had me before. How many chances do you need? I'm right here now, so why not just do it? If you want me, what better chance can you possibly look for?'

In a voice almost lost, in the utter silence that followed, she whispered, 'Help me.'

Destrachis moved forwards solicitously, but it was Tisamon who pushed past to clasp her by the shoulders. Her claws twitched at him but never reached him, although he made no move to stop her.

'Come,' he said. 'I shall find you some food and drink, then a bed.' He looked back at Thalric. 'This man shall die at your command, I swear it.'

He led her from the room, pausing only to look Destrachis straight in the face. The Mantis made no threats, though, and after a moment looked away.

They did not come for Che the day after that, either, and she was even provided with a scant meal of soup and broken biscuit. The Wasp army camp become slowly a more permanent affair. She heard the sounds of rough carpentry overhead and guessed that the farmhouse was being extended and fortified. She kept her ears open because, if she could somehow later speak to her friends, she wanted to have something to report to them.

General Malkan, she overheard from the guards, was not moving the army onwards. Though hot-blooded, he was no fool. The casualties the Seventh had sustained meant that they would stand little enough chance before the walls of Sarn, even if Sarn stood alone. What she learned hardly raised the spirits, but it did give some small sliver of satisfaction.

And Sarn was unlikely to be standing alone. Malkan and his officers must be concerned enough about that for the news to filter down to the lowest and the most luckless in their army and, through their bitter gossip, to Che.

Collegium was free of the Vekken, she also learned, and could therefore lend aid to Sarn if needed. Moreover there were fearful whispers of the Ant-kinden's newest allies. Word was out about the Ancient League and the soldiers were rife with rumours of some age-old secret society binding all the Inapt of the west together, which the Empire's presence had now brought into the light. Like all Apt races the Wasps had their dark past, when the old kinden had terrorized them with wizardry and nightmares, and some vestige of that remained even now. There was a current of fear running through the Seventh at the thought of having to confront such a thing as the Ancient League.

The more level-headed, however, put the problem as Malkan would see it: if, even with an army at full strength, he pitched against the walls of Sarn, the warriors of Ether-yon and Nethyon could simply swarm down from the north, catching him in a pincer movement. If he attacked them first, the Sarnesh would sally forth from their city. It was not the individual elements, but their combination, that concerned him.

I did this, Che thought to herself. Though she would meet her fate soon enough at the hands of the Empire's minions, she would at least have the satisfaction of knowing that she had accomplished so much. Faced with the resistance she had helped to build, the Seventh was now going nowhere, merely waiting for another army to be freed to aid it and the Fourth in the conquest of the Lowlands.

Yet she had heard more recently that some problem had arisen with the Fourth and that messengers were not arriving as expected.

In lieu of better information or opportunity, the Wasps were knuckling down and waiting, and their energies were now invested in making their camp defensible. For this entire day they had therefore not been able to spare an artificer interrogator to rack poor Cheerwell, or perhaps they were waiting for the right torture machinery to be sent down the rail from h.e.l.leron.

On one occasion a short, dark woman of a kinden Che did not recognize came down and stared at her with hostile eyes for some time, before returning up to the sunlight without uttering a word.

Then the bustle of the camp quieted at last and the conversation she could make out from above was that of sentries only, so she knew it must be night again and she had survived another day.

I will resist. I will fight. I will fly. But she knew she would do none of these things. She had not that kind of strength. But she knew she would do none of these things. She had not that kind of strength.

I wish I could have seen Salma once more. Last time she had been behind bars, he had been there with her, providing her with a source of resilience to draw on, and she was not enough on her own, she realized. Last time she had been behind bars, he had been there with her, providing her with a source of resilience to draw on, and she was not enough on her own, she realized.

There was a rough sound as the hatch opened, but for a long while n.o.body entered. Then she caught the faintest gleam of a shuttered lantern and Totho, still in Wasp uniform, came stomping down the steps. As before, he simply stopped and stared at her.

'I'm still here,' she said unnecessarily.

'Do you want to talk?' he asked. A sharp reply came to her tongue, but she realized that, yes, she did. Another human voice, in whatever circ.u.mstances.

'Please,' she said.

'We've . . . grown up, at last, don't you think?' He seated himself on the lowest step, right across the room from her, but the stone walls carried his voice perfectly.

'Is that what this is?' They had hatched out of the College, with its protective walls, and into a harsher world than they had dreamed of. 'I'm not fond of it.'

'It's about making choices,' he said. 'Or . . . that's how I see it.'

'You've made your choice, clearly' she said, too quickly, and instantly regretted it. She saw a shadow pa.s.s across his face, and for a moment he seemed about to rise and go, but in the end it all washed past him, just as with the Totho she knew of old.

'Do you know where the others are now?' he asked.

'Is this some kind of interrogation?'

His lip curled. 'Do you think the Empire gives a bent cog where a few graduates of the College are?'

'They were all still in Collegium, when I left: I mean Stenwold and Tynisa, and Tisamon. Scuto must be back there by now, though he came to Sarn with us at first.' She was about to name Achaeos too, but decided better of it.

'I'd give a lot to be back there, with none of this having happened.' He frowned. 'But on the other hand . . .'

'What, Totho?' she demanded. 'What do you have here, amongst these monsters?'

'A purpose,' he said, and after a pause, 'Che, back then . . . did you ever . . . could you have, if I had been . . . bolder . . . could you have loved me, ever?'

'I always loved you,' she said simply. 'But not as you mean, not as you wanted. I'm sorry, Totho. I wish I could say something else. I wish I could lie to you about that, but . . . I owe you the truth. You were always my friend, and maybe I took you for granted, but . . . not that.'

He sat for a long time as the minutes of the night pa.s.sed them by, his hands clasped together, without any expression she could interpret, until at last, without a word, he turned and went back up.

She sagged away from the bars, wondering if a lie, even a forced and obvious one, might have bought her something more.

Then he was back, with something slung over his shoulder. He dumped it a sack, she now saw on the cellar floor, and went over to the bars. He looked only at the lock. The Wasps had made a hurried job of these cells, and the door was a section of heavy lattice that could be lifted out, secured by bars merely padlocked into place, nothing too complicated.

He opened the shutters on his lantern and took some rods from his toolstrip, crouching down by the first lock. It had been a matter of constant dismay to the College masters how many of their students learned to pick locks, until no Master's office, private chamber or strongbox was safe from the pranks of their young scholars. Totho had never been the prankish kind, but he made up for that with his understanding.

'The problem is, Master Drephos looks at people and sees meat,' he said, as if to himself. 'Something to test machines on. Life has no value for him, and I could come to appreciate that. See the world like that, and you don't get hurt all the time. I hurt all the time, you see, because I haven't let go. Let go of you.'

The first lock sprang open, and he stood to attend to the second.

'You see,' he went on, 'it doesn't matter what you feel about me. Because I can't seem to shake myself free of you. I don't think any Spider temptress, any cursed charlatan-magician or b.u.t.terfly dancer could have her hooks in as deep as yours are in me. Because I still love you, despite everything, and you came just at the right time to destroy my life one last time.'

And the second lock came free, and he lifted out the lattice with a grunt of effort. Not knowing what to say, she slipped out of her cage.

'Can you get yourself out of the camp?' he asked. 'I can't help you there but in the sack I've put food and water, and a uniform, too. Mostly they'll just see another Auxillian, but you'll have to creep past the sentries, and if they catch you . . . well.'

'I won't reveal who freed me,' she said hurriedly.