Blood of the Mantis

It was a time for Rekef men to show themselves loyal. He was well aware that there were changes going on back home, by which he meant Capitas, a place he had never seen. Still, the regular lists of the newly denounced traitors kept filtering down to him, with some names added, and others crossed through with grim finality. He had no wish to find his own name included there, one day. It was that thought that concerned him far more than any hopes of promotion. These days a good Rekef Inlander agent had to keep running at top speed just to stand still.

He shuffled his papers once again, at a loss for a conclusion. The two Spider-kinden nobles had both invited him to drink with them, and each cautioned him against the other in no uncertain terms. One of the Beetle factors was dead. The Dragonfly had fled Jerez, probably on hearing word that Brodan was asking after him – but he would undoubtedly be back. Brodan guessed he and his servants were hiding out somewhere around the lakeside, that they would then fly in at exactly the right time to take part in the bidding. Brodan had men, or at least Skaters, watching for such a return.

One of his men came in, just then, ducking beneath the low ceiling of the little guesthouse room.

‘Sir, there’s an officer to see you.’

‘From the garrison?’

‘No, sir.’

Brodan stared at him, but the soldier was obviously not inclined to be any more informative, simply saluting abruptly and backing out of the room. Brodan hastily rearranged his papers in a face-down stack over to one side of the rickety little desk he had commandeered.

When his visitor arrived he stood up immediately, saluting.

‘Easy, Lieutenant.’ He was a greying, slightly corpulent man, wearing a long overcoat half-concealing the imperial armour beneath it. No insignia of rank, but none were needed.

‘Major Sarvad,’ Brodan said. ‘I hadn’t expected-’

‘Oh, sit down, Lieutenant,’ Sarvad said mildly. Brodan knew him for a long-term Rekef Inlander, a cunning politician who skipped from camp to camp without ever binding himself to anyone. Small wonder he always seemed to survive the culling.

A soldier brought a three-legged stool for him, all the landlord could spare, and Sarvad and Brodan sat down facing each other across the desk.

‘I’ve come from Capitas, Lieutenant,’ Sarvad explained. ‘They’re not encouraged by what they’re hearing from you.’

‘But I haven’t…’ sent a report yet. Brodan cut the words off short, but Sarvad smiled drily.

‘That’s just what concerns them, Lieutenant. Now, I told them, a man like Lieutenant Brodan, he’s a perfectionist. He takes his time but it’s worth it. So they told me, why not go and let him know just how important this matter is. You do know just how important it is, don’t you, Lieutenant.’

‘I – I do, sir. Yes.’

‘Progress, Lieutenant. Where are we, then, and why aren’t you already on your way home with your mission complete?’

‘This area has always been notorious for covert activities, sir.’

‘Excuses, Lieutenant?’

‘Only that it is never easy to find reliable sources of information.’ Brodan swallowed awkwardly. ‘The locals are a pack of lying wastrels, sir. They’re all engaged in something illegal. They’re loath to talk, and even more loath to tell the truth.’

‘I heard you had a man detained at the garrison. One of our own kinden.’

‘He denies all involvement, sir. He has produced references sending him here. I am waiting for authorization to properly interrogate him.’ A ray of hope. ‘I don’t suppose-’

‘I’m not here to do your job for you,’ Sarvad growled, his patience obviously fraying. ‘What else then? You must have more than that.’

Not so much more, Brodan considered. ‘I had contact with a Major Thalric, sir. He’s-

‘I know Major Thalric,’ said Sarvad, his eyes narrowing. ‘What did he want?’

‘I think he’s involved, sir. I have men out hunting for him even now.’

‘Hunting him?’ Sarvad leant over the desk towards him.

‘Yes, sir. He was on the latest list I received, sir. As a traitor…’

Sarvad’s expression gave him no encouragement, and for a moment Brodan wondered whether his lists were in fact accurate. Then Sarvad settled back, his expression becoming more reassuring.

‘I only meant to say, Lieutenant, that if you already had contact with him, I should think that no further hunting was necessary. He escaped you, it would seem.’

‘We will recapture him, sir, and then I’ll need no permission to interrogate him.’

‘I doubt that he knows much,’ Sarvad murmured, half to himself, and then continued, out loud, ‘If he happens to die resisting capture, Lieutenant, or indeed whilst being put to the question, there will be no tears shed. You understand?’

‘Perfectly, sir.’

Sarvad left the dingy little guesthouse and, just a street away, found an excuse to duck into a narrow and shadow-cloaked alley, out of sight of any eyes. Then, although a big, old Wasp major had gone in, it was now a Beetle-kinden merchant who walked out and behind both faces lurked a Spider-kinden spy.