Empire in Black and Gold by Adrian Tchaikovsky Page A

the townsmen Assemblers’ mouths watering. Ambassador Godran then put a comradely hand on Bellowern’s shoulder and the two of them shared a rehearsed smile.
    Stenwold watched as other members of the Assembly came up to make their names and businesses known. Not all, it was true: some sat back because they did not deign to meddle in the affairs of outlanders, while others, Stenwold thought, were reticent because they were not overly quick to give their trust. Indeed there was the look in some faces, of men who had over-eaten on a dish they now found slightly bitter. Heads turned in his direction and he sensed a tremor of anxiety there, as all of Stenwold’s dusty warnings began turning over in their minds. Even the greediest of merchants would have seen enough, and heard enough, to know that Stenwold was no mere fantasist when he spoke warningly of the Empire, and now the Empire was here , standing in the Amphiophos itself, smiling and talking. But their eyes were very cold.
    ‘Pray!’ old Thadspar called out, to attract the general attention, and then, ‘Pray, shall we not have . . . refreshment?’ He mugged at his fellows and, at the word, a thing of glittering brass and steel came in from the antechamber. It was formed in the image of a robed Beetle man bearing a tray in its hands, and it resounded hollowly with the sound of gears and levers. Its course took it straight towards the ambassadors and Stenwold was pleased to see them start away from it in alarm. Something your own artificers haven’t done yet, then? He saw Thalric’s hand twitch, not moving to an absent sword, but the fingers flexing, clearing the palm. The Assemblers were laughing a little at the foreigners’ confusion as the construct paused in the centre of the hall with its drinks ready for plucking, and after a moment the visitors awkwardly joined in. Old Thadspar was attempting to take the Wasp Godran gently to one side, now that the first rush of well-wishers had abated, and Stenwold shouldered through the crowd to hear.
    ‘. . . remarkable indeed, Master Godran,’ Thadspar was murmuring as Stenwold drew closer. ‘Your empire’s achievements have been instructive for us all, that you have done so much from such small beginnings, and grown so very prosperous.’ His eyes sought out Stenwold, unexpectedly, just a sideways flicker over Godran’s shoulder. ‘We understand that war can be the fire that forges a great state . . . but war, of course . . .’ The old man smiled apologetically. ‘We value philosophers, here in Collegium. You know how they must always think about everything .’
    Godran’s smile was quick and easy. ‘Oh, Master Thadspar, we have only just torn ourselves free of the Commonweal’s ruinous war. We have a great deal to rebuild and repair. Simply feeding and clothing the Empire is a monumental task. We are like the man who fights all night with his wife, and in the morning does not feel like going off to work.’
    There was a ripple of laughter at that, and Stenwold thought, He even knows Collegiate jokes. Stenwold would have spoken then, perhaps, but one of the College’s other historians was heading towards him, a hand held up to catch his attention. The historian stepped aside to meet him, drawing back out of the Wasps’ earshot.
    ‘Master Maker.’
    ‘Master Linewright.’
    The younger man raised his hands. ‘Master Maker, the Assembly has asked me to relay a request.’
    Stenwold smiled a little. ‘Pray relay, Master Linewright.’
    ‘It is no secret what you think of our new guests,’ said Linewright testily.
    ‘I have done my best to tell it at every opportunity,’ Stenwold said flatly.
    ‘There was talk of banning you from here today, but that we could find no precedent. Maker, this is perhaps the most important embassage to come to Collegium in a generation.’
    ‘No argument from me,’ Stenwold said reasonably.
    ‘The Assembly does not accept your view of these people,’ Linewright snapped.