Heirs of the Blade (72 page)

The enemy fell back, the levy giving way first, and their betters following suit rather than be left exposed.

The next wave, after a pause of almost half an hour, was a throng of armed peasants: a mob of desperate, frightened Dragonflies and Grasshoppers lacking armour save for quilted jackets or the odd cuirass of chitin scales, and armed only with spears. Tynisa steeled herself, and took a lot less joy in staving them off, but the confrontation was a brief one. With no inbound arrows, other bandits had the courage to back her up with bows, and the wretched peasantry broke and fled a minute after they had reached the door. By then the dark had fallen, and she knew that, whilst Dragonfly eyes were as good or better than hers, their Grasshopper levy could not see well at night.

And besides,
she suddenly considered,
how many of them are left?

It was an unexpected thought, but a salient one. After all, how many had Salme Elass been able to muster for her grand campaign against the brigands? And how many remained with her now, of her guests and their retainers, and whatever peasants she had pressed into service along the way? Oh certainly, she would still have a force that greatly outnumbered the defenders, but even so, not vast by the standards that Tynisa was used to thinking of: not the resources of an Ant city-state or a Wasp army, or even a Collegium merchant company. Not enough to waste.

Enough to kill us
, she had to concede, but the odds she faced were simply extremely bad, not actually overwhelming.

That thought made her laugh, startling her fellows, but then her reputation amongst them was for bloody-handed madness, so this did not seem out of character.

Tynisa stood watch, peering into the gathering darkness and waiting for Salme Elass’s next assault. Occasionally she thought she heard wings overhead, but no onslaught came from the trees.

How many of them have we killed, in all?
she wondered. With her blade to aid them, and with the great doomed assault Varmen had made on the enemy camp, the brigands had certainly given far better than they had received. This was helped by Salme Elass’s lust for vengeance, which had made her throw her people pell-mell at them, in whatever numbers could be mustered, rather than conserving her strength. Still, that vengeance would mean the end of the bandits, however long it took. She would keep spending the lives of her own people until nobody was left, and most of all until Tynisa herself was dead.

If I walked out there now and gave myself up . . .
She glanced back at her companions: Che she would die for certainly, Thalric, probably not, and she barely knew Maure. Of the others, they were desperate, violent men, and scarcely worth a grand sacrifice.

She found, though, that she liked and respected them, their leader most of all. She had seen him shepherding his people all the way from Leose to this forsaken place, and decided he was a man to admire. If the Commonweal could have recognized such qualities in a man of common blood he would no doubt have become a war hero, an officer, a tactician. But all that life had granted him was to be a leader of criminals.

Che appeared at her elbow. ‘I’ll take over now.’

‘You get your sleep,’ Tynisa urged her.

Unlike the meek girl she remembered, Che managed a smile with about a hundred years of pain and wisdom in it. ‘And you’re so fresh, after a day running and fighting? We’ll need you tomorrow, so go get something to eat with the others, then sleep. And be thankful the nights are still long.’ When Tynisa opened her mouth to protest, Che added, ‘And I can see in the dark, like a Moth.’

Her tone was almost commanding, imperious, and Tynisa found that her natural reaction was to nod and obey.
But you and I will talk, about what has happened to you.

The bandits had stoked up the embers of a fire, and the walls around them helped a little to confine the heat. They all looked ragged and drained, but they were passing around jerky and grain cakes, and someone had a little pot reluctantly coming to the boil. To her amusement they were making kadith, Soul Je producing a roll of sad little dry bundles to steep in the water.

‘How the other half lives, is it?’ she asked, elbowing herself some room and sitting down.

‘Kadith is an ancient and inviolable ritual,’ Soul Je replied softly, almost reproachfully.

‘And besides, what are we saving it for?’ added Dal Arche. The brigands produced a motley collection of drinking vessels, from clay bowls to tin cups that still bore the stamp of the Imperial army.

Thalric was carefully bandaging Mordrec’s shoulder with torn cloth. The Wasp’s armour, metal plates sewn into cloth, had taken some of the force, but the arrow had still driven in some way.

‘Well,’ he said, after the kadith had been shared out, just a half-cup for each, ‘this will be it then?’

There was sober nodding about the fire.

‘We’ve given them a run, though,’ one of the Dragonflies remarked.

‘We were close, too,’ added the other. ‘They won’t forget us.’

‘Small comfort,’ Thalric muttered.

‘Oh?’ Maure challenged him. ‘And when the next leader comes along to rouse up the underclass, is it no consolation at all that the work of those gathered here will inspire them?’

Thalric gave her a bleak look. ‘Rouse up the underclass? And how did that ever solve anything?’

‘Ask Collegium that question,’ Che called back from the doorway where she sat watching, wrapped up in cloaks and her breath steaming. Tynisa saw Thalric about to argue, but then he stopped and, to her surprise, he tacitly conceded the point. A moment later Che squeaked – there was no other word for it – and then got out, ‘Alarm! I mean someone’s coming! Attack!’

They were up and to the windows instantly, peering into the darkness.

‘I don’t see . . . yes, yes I do,’ Dal started, nocking an arrow. ‘Is there . . . just one?’

‘Wasp-kinden,’ Che replied. ‘Approaching, walking with hands closed – Gaved? It’s Gaved.’

‘And who’s Gaved?’ the bandit leader demanded.

‘He works for the Salmae,’ Tynisa said, and added hurriedly, ‘so they may have sent him with a message. Especially if he’s on his own. He’s no hero.’

‘We see you,’ Dal Arche yelled. ‘What’s your business?’

‘Just to talk,’ came the Wasp’s voice, from the night.

‘Let him talk from out there,’ suggested one of the brigands, but Tynisa shook her head.

‘Let him come in,’ she decided. ‘I know him.’

They looked to Dal questioningly, but the Dragonfly nodded. ‘Any tricks and he’s a dead man, even if he’s your lover or your brother,’ he warned.

‘Approach, Gaved,’ she said, pitching her voice sufficiently to carry out of the window. He did so cautiously, until the faint light of the fire touched him. For a moment he stood just beyond the doorway, plainly debating the wisdom of entering, but then he ducked under the lintel and stepped inside.

‘Salme Elass sent you?’ Tynisa observed. She, Che and Thalric had stayed to talk with him, while the rest of the brigands returned to their fire, save for Dal Arche, who remained by one of the windows, plainly not convinced that this might not be some kind of distraction.

‘She did and she didn’t,’ said Gaved. He looked tired, having no doubt been kept busy trying to track them down across half of Leose Province. ‘She sent out all her scouts, and there are a dozen of us around this place, making sure nobody slips away.’ He shrugged. ‘But I came to say goodbye.’ He looked from face to face, seeing matching frowns. ‘The game’s changed. I’m lighting out, while I can.’

‘But Salme Elass . . .’ Che started uncertainly.

‘Will take it badly, I suspect. She took it poorly enough when I didn’t pitch in against Varmen, as though I could somehow conjure up some kind of Imperial magic to counter him. They want me to
fight
for them. Because I’m a Wasp, they want me to be a soldier.’ His eyes flicked about the ruined tower’s interior. ‘I guessed Varmen didn’t make it, after there was no sign of him yesterday. They don’t know for sure, though. They can’t be certain he’s not going to rise up again. They never found his body.’

‘But what about Sef?’ Che interrupted

‘I sent her to Prince Lowre, he’ll keep her safe enough until I can find her again. I knew, before the start. I knew the deal was going sour.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Tynisa said.

He blinked at her, taken aback. ‘Not your fault, girl. Maybe you stirred the pot, but Salme Elass has had this planned from way back – stir up the brigands, get them marching in strength, put them down, and then swallow up Rhael under cover of keeping her own lands safe. You helped, of course, and certainly the bandits put up a better fight than she’d guessed, but her plan’s still on track right now. Except of course she’s down a son, which might complicate her plans for keeping up the dynasty.’ He sighed wearily. ‘They’re going to come for you soon after dawn,’ Gaved stated flatly. ‘You must know that already. You’ve cut a dent into her numbers, with all your fun and games, but she’s not giving up, not now, not ever.’ He looked over at Dal Arche. ‘You’ve given her a better run than I’d ever have guessed, but it ends here – you must know that.’

‘You say it as though we planned this,’ Dal said dourly.

Again Gaved shrugged. ‘I wish I could do something to help, but right now I’ve got my hands full just helping
me
. I have to go and dodge my fellow scouts now, and most of them can see in the dark.’

‘Luck go with you, Gaved.’ Tynisa put out a hand and he took it cautiously, clasping wrist to wrist. It was, she reflected, a Lowlander gesture, therefore unlikely to see much use amongst Wasps.

After he had gone, and Che had taken up watch again, Dal turned back to his fellows. ‘When they come tomorrow . . . if we can beat them off just once, then we’ll sally out,’ he suggested. ‘Those that can get away, go. Split up and lose them in the trees.’

‘They’ll be overhead and waiting for that,’ said his halfbreed follower.

He shrugged. ‘We’re at the end of the wire now. Maybe someone will get clear. But wait till tomorrow for that talk. Let’s have something more cheerful now. A song, anyone?’

One of the Grasshopper-kinden had a little instrument, a holed gourd small enough to be cupped in one hand, but she played something soulful on it, pleasant in its way but hardly qualifying as cheerful. After that the Spider, Avaris, told them some unlikely story about ghosts and buried treasure, and told it well enough to take their thoughts away from their cramped and grim surroundings. Then the other Grasshopper tried for a song, with a voice that was strong and pleasant at first, but the refrain seemed inexorably to speak of things past, things lost, time’s hand closing the book of days, until a quaver came into the singer’s tone, and he let his words fumble to a halt.

‘Ah, well,’ said Mordrec, into the ensuing quiet. ‘This is it, then. I’m glad we gave them the run in the end, but all we’ve done is move our prison cell eastwards a ways. No last-minute schemes, Dala? You always did have a head for them.’

Dal Arche’s expression suggested not. ‘I’d rather Ygor was with us now. He was always a good man in a scrape.’

Maure took a deep breath. ‘And Varmen, too,’ she said, and there was an odd tremble in her voice as she said it, suggesting something more than mourning.

‘And him,’ Mordrec agreed. ‘Why not? In fact, I’d rather we had about two hundred old friends and relations.’

‘But Varmen . . .’ Maure cast a guilty glance back at Che. ‘Varmen had a way out. Because Varmen was in this place before.’

‘Varmen’s dead,’ Thalric declared, probably more harshly than he meant, but Maure barely flinched.

Dal’s face remained expressionless. ‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded. ‘Explain.’

‘He told me about a time during the war when he and some of his people were penned in by us Commonwealers, no hope of getting out – only of holding on a little longer before the end.’

‘Maure—’ Che started, suddenly understanding, but the magician hurried on with her story.

‘He challenged them to duel of champions. That’s the old way, here in the Commonweal. Before the Empire, that was the way that lords and ladies did it, to spare their people. Of course, the Wasps never saw the need, but Varmen used it to buy time.’

Tynisa saw that every pair of eyes had turned to her, inexorable as the dawn.

‘No, absolutely not,’ she heard Che saying distantly. ‘They have a Weaponsmaster with them. A real killer.’

‘I thought we had one here, too,’ Dal Arche said quietly.

‘But how will it help?’ the Beetle girl demanded.

‘Che, when two Weaponsmasters fight, people watch,’ Maure pointed out. ‘Even in the Commonweal it is a rare thing to see. There will be a chance to escape, win or lose. More of a chance than by staying trapped in here until . . .’ She faced up to Che’s accusing stare and shrugged unhappily. ‘Che, I want to live. I agreed to help you, but not to end like this. I want to
live
.’

‘As do we all,’ Dal Arche agreed.

‘You can’t ask her!’ Che snapped at him.

Dal stood up abruptly, with enough threat in his posture that Thalric intervened, hand extended, getting between him and Che. With that, everyone was on their feet, hands reaching for weapon hilts – everyone save Tynisa and Maure.

‘Hold! All hold!’ Dal snapped. ‘Listen, Beetle,’ he addressed Che, ‘we are due to die on the morrow. I have no illusions about the justice of our cause. We are robbers and killers, and so are those that oppose us, and all the justice in the world won’t tilt those scales an inch. But if there is a chance that any of us could live, then I
can
ask anyone anything. Death is a long road, Beetle girl, and trodden one way only, and those who put honour and principle before life belong in stories, not here in this ruin along with us. A challenge of champions might win us time to scatter and get away. If it means only another half-day of life for one of us, then I
can
ask.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s right regarding the old ways from before the war. They don’t apply to bastards like us, peasants and villains, but if the girl puts herself forward, I’ll wager the Salmae will agree. That way the princess’ll get to see the blood she most wants to.’