Empire in Black and Gold by Adrian Tchaikovsky Page B

‘How could we believe in civilization if such a monster as you foretell was even possible? And . . .’
    ‘And?’
    Linewright glanced over his shoulder at the Wasps. ‘And just say you were right – I don’t believe it, of course, nobody does – but just suppose you were right . . .’
    He’s terrified , Stenwold realized. Hammer and tongs, he knows I’m right and he’s scared to death.
    ‘Just suppose you’re right,’ Linewright said, his voice suddenly hoarse. ‘What could we do ? Don’t you think it’s still better to befriend them than provoke them?’
    ‘You’re worried I’m going to denounce them openly as monsters and murderers. Believe me, I have no intention of provoking these people, or even speaking with them. Go back and join the festivities,’ Stenwold added with heavy irony. ‘Enjoy yourself.’ Past the man’s shoulder he could see the controversial visitors. Whilst Godran and his Beetle-kinden henchman were clasping hands and speaking homilies, Thalric was staring directly at Stenwold. He felt a shock as their eyes met. Had he seen this man before, as one soldier amongst many? Thalric seemed almost too young to have fought at Myna. The Wasp nodded, though, a private and personal nod for Stenwold alone.
    I know you. That nod spoke volumes. Don’t think that I, that we, don’t know all about you.
    Past midnight, and the windows of Collegium were darkening one by one, leaving the streets picked out in a web of gas lamps. Tynisa and Che were heading for home, bidding Totho good night where he turned away for the Charity Hall where he kept a room. He had spent the entire evening wanting to speak with Che, and she knew it. Now he had on him such a mournful expression that she wished she had not avoided him, but too late for that.
    Salma was not with them, of course. Salma, to Tynisa’s annoyance and derision, had left the party arm in arm with that Mantis-woman athlete from Nethyon. ‘I hope she eats him,’ Tynisa had said dismissively, but she was surprised to find how it rankled. When Salma took his pick of the local girls, adoring Beetle-kinden maids that she knew he felt nothing for, then she did not mind. It was not as though she had not romanced her share of industrialists’ heirs, or young Ant officers away from home for the first time. Some she bedded and some she did not, but all of them gave her gifts and did as she wished. She was a Spider by birth, if not by upbringing. She cultivated her webs as a warrior would practise his swordplay, because it might be needed in earnest, come the time. This Mantis-kinden, though – Salma had bowed low before her, some elaborate ritual from his people, and she, who had seemed bored and alone only a moment before, had bowed back and taken his hand. And Mantis-kinden were not rumoured to be casual about their partner or anything else.
    When they got back inside, Stenwold was waiting for them. They could smell his pipe on the air, so they peered through his study doorway. He was sitting in his favourite chair, ornate Mantis-carved work, and staring into the fire.
    ‘Uncle?’ Che said. ‘I . . . we didn’t think that you would still be up at this time.’
    ‘Come in, both of you,’ Stenwold said, not taking his eyes from the fire. ‘Are the rest of the Majestic with you? No, I see not. Well I’ll speak to you two now, and to them in the morning.’
    ‘This is about the Wasp-kinden, isn’t it?’ Che guessed.
    ‘It is. Tynisa, could you be prepared to leave for Helleron with me tomorrow?’
    ‘And miss the Games?’ Tynisa replied instantly, and then: ‘Well, yes, I could . . .’
    ‘Get together what you need. Travel light and travel armed.’ There was a great purpose in Stenwold’s voice. ‘Years, I’ve waited – and now it’s on me faster than I thought. Some “Dancer” I am.’
    Tynisa understood that, although she didn’t like the sound of it. Dancing was the Spider word for the politics beneath a city’s skin. She