Blood of the Mantis

‘Not collectors but thieves. Thieves from the Lowlands,’ she hissed. ‘Enemies of your Empire.’

‘I thought you said you were working for the Empire,’ Brodan said suspiciously.

She curled her thin lips. ‘I am older than your Empire, so what should I care? Only that I am instructed to lead you by the nose until you have acquired this thing you seek, so here I am. If you turn aside my help, and then fail, it shall soon be known.’

Brodan grimaced. It was true that the Rekef used some strange folk as agents, although this unidentifiable thing must be the strangest yet.

‘I shall be watching you,’ he warned.

‘Watch all you want. I shall even dance for you, if you wish.’

He shivered again. Is this Maxin’s work then? Where did the general dredge this freak up from?

‘So take us,’ he said. ‘Show us these enemies that we’re supposed to have. Let’s sort them out.’

She rose. ‘They must be stalked,’ she said, folding her hands primly before her. ‘Blood will be shed here tonight.’

‘This is Jerez, and blood is shed here every night,’ Brodan responded, wishing he felt as contemptuous as he sounded. Only ten minutes in a room with this monster, with the evening now drawing on, and he had begun to feel decidedly uneasy.

‘Gather up your soldiers,’ she told him, and then her hand went up, her head tilting back as though she had scented something. ‘Gather them quickly. The blood has begun to flow. We must go. We must go now!’

*

Achaeos had been suspicious, which Tynisa attributed mostly to his distrust of Beetle-kinden merchant-lords. His own magic had failed to trace the box, though, and so he had at last given in with bad grace.

‘If things go badly,’ he had advised, ‘find your way to Nivit’s home. Gaved is there, watching over Thalric, and I understand that Nivit has people he can call upon to fight for him, insofar as these wretched little creatures ever fight.’

‘What about you?’ she had asked, seeing they had found him alone. Jons Allanbridge, it seemed, was airborne somewhere, testing out the newly repaired Buoyant Maiden.

‘I can hide as well as any Skater,’ said Achaeos. ‘They will not find me.’ He frowned, studying her closely. ‘There is something more to this?’

‘Oh, no doubt,’ she said. ‘But there’s only one way to find out what exactly, and that’s to take up Master Bellowern’s invitation.’

Now she was hurrying along behind Tisamon, heading for the grounded gondola that Founder lurked in, as evening slowly grew over the sky.

‘That Beetle is more frightened than he will admit even to himself. I wonder why,’ Tisamon remarked.

‘His rivals, no doubt,’ said Tynisa. ‘Perhaps they have joined forces against him.’

The Mantis shook his head. ‘More than that. No man becomes that great unless he can deal with the envy of rivals. It must be the box itself.’

‘Then what about that Spider girl?’

‘Perhaps she knows where it is?’ Tisamon said. ‘Perhaps he means for us to guard her.’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Perhaps that girl was Scyla the spy.’

Tynisa also paused, unsettled by this new thought. ‘We can’t rule it out,’ she admitted. ‘But, then, we can’t rule out that Founder himself is the spy. From what Achaeos said, she can look like anyone.’

‘So this is a trap?’

‘It could be a trap. Do you want to go back?’

Tisamon raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Why?’

She saw that he would rather that it was indeed a trap, something straightforward to turn his blade on. He was all anticipation.

‘The rooms inside that thing are going to be low and small,’ she warned him.

‘Let that worry them more than us. It negates their numbers,’ was all he thought of her concern. He set off again, faster, but Tynisa had felt a tickling sensation on her wrist. Inspecting it idly, she saw blood oozing there. Her mysterious scratch had opened up again, although she could have sworn that it was only shallow, a mere nothing.

‘What is it?’ Tisamon asked her. She shook her head, wiping her hand with a cloth, while keeping it from view. The scar seemed to have resealed itself rapidly. She had an uneasy moment, just a second of it, as though she was surrounded by a great chasm, yawning all about her, and she was about to topple into it.

‘Nothing,’ she replied hurriedly. ‘Nothing at all.’

They were admitted without delay into the gondola, heading up along a gangplank that two of Founder’s men lowered for them. The interior had fewer rooms than Tynisa had guessed, with higher ceilings and more light and space. If not for a faint slant in the outside walls, she would have taken this place for a real house, even a regular house in Collegium. With the windows shuttered and gas lamps flickering on the walls, it could have been the sitting room of any College Master: rugs on the floor, bookshelves and paintings, even a little gilded automaton standing on Founder’s broad desk, wound down and caught motionless in mid-step.