'Then let's go,' Thalric said. 'Suddenly I have no appointments.'

All the leaden chains of doubt had just clattered to the ground with Osgan's halting words. From the bewildered amba.s.sador he had become the hunted agent in a hostile city. It was a role he felt infinitely more comfortable with.

For as long as she could stave off sleeping, she had not slept. She knew that, in her dreams, the other Khanaphes was waiting for her: Petri Coggen, pa.s.sable scholar, graduate of the Great College, Beetle-kinden student of the past, and fugitive.

She did not run, this fugitive. She hid in the Collegiate emba.s.sy no, in the emba.s.sy they had painted over as Collegiate, although it had the marks of the old Moth tyranny underneath. Being a historian was becoming a curse, now that the acc.u.mulated centuries of Khanaphes, the city where time had died, were rising up to choke her with the dust of ages.

She needed help, so she had gone to Che but Che had her own worries. The other academics regarded Petri with disdain. She could not speak to them more than five words without stammering and shaking. They did not understand They did not understand. They looked at the carvings and the statues and the colonnades, and they thought it was simply the past. They did not understand that it was all still alive alive, the truth of it lurking beneath the surface, glimpsed only from the corner of the eye.

She was seeing a lot from the corner of her eye these days, after nights of resistance to sleep. The world was alive with motion as the ghosts of old Khanaphes whirled about her. Even when the servants came to her with food, she shied away. She could not be sure if they were real or not. The servants of five centuries ago would have looked no different, she knew.

She needed help, but there was n.o.body here who could, and if she ventured out on to the streets ...

She had not left her room in two days. The encroaching taint of history arisen had crept even into the other parts of the emba.s.sy. The net of Khanaphes was closing on her.

Sleep was closing on her ... She p.r.i.c.ked herself with a knife. She stripped the rugs away and sat on the cold floor. She twisted her fingers in turn, searching for pain enough to keep her awake. She considered driving the blunt blade through her foot. She held it poised, quivering, ready to ram it down. She heard her own sobbing breath loud in her ears. was closing on her ... She p.r.i.c.ked herself with a knife. She stripped the rugs away and sat on the cold floor. She twisted her fingers in turn, searching for pain enough to keep her awake. She considered driving the blunt blade through her foot. She held it poised, quivering, ready to ram it down. She heard her own sobbing breath loud in her ears.

She could not do it. She lacked the courage or the resolve or whatever mad quality it was that enabled people to mutilate their own bodies. She let the knife fall clattering to the stone floor.

The claws of sleep rose again for her, eager to hook into her mind, and she had no defences left. None.

In her dream, Petri Coggen was outside, alone in the midnight streets of Khanaphes. It was the same dream, or another segment of the same dream, as it thrust itself slowly upwards from the depths of her unconscious. Each dream was another lurching progression further forward. Each dream took her deeper into the city.

Now she had arrived.

The Scriptora rose behind her, a wall of darkness. She reached back to feel the stone-carved scales on the columns that fronted it. The night was chilly, the moon veiled in ragged cloud. The air was damp with the breath of the river.

In her dream she could feel her awakening fear like the pounding on a distant door. This was the hub of her nightmares. This was what kept her behind the safe walls of the emba.s.sy. Khanaphes was out to get her Khanaphes was out to get her.

In the end, Che had not believed her. Che had not even given much thought to the absent Master Kadro. The amba.s.sador had other matters on her mind. Petri had not even tried confiding in the other academics. She had just been clinging on, day to day, waiting for when they would pack up and set sail for Collegium once again, because surely they could not deny her pa.s.sage then.

And each night the dreams returned, and each night they grew worse, until now.

She turned away from the hulking presence of the Scriptora to face the steps of the pyramid. The pale statues at its summit regarded her with an impartial coldness. She felt her feet begin to climb, taking her with them. It was her her dream, but she had no control of herself. dream, but she had no control of herself. I don't want to see what lies within I don't want to see what lies within. She knew with a pa.s.sion that whatever secret Kadro had unearthed would prove fatal, that a mere glance would seal her doom, would cut her off for ever from the comforting world of Collegium and the Lowlands. Still, her feet kept climbing, step by step by step. She could hear her waking fears wailing, feel them battering at the inside of her mind. In the dream, in her dream-mind, she remained placid, even content, to be taking this journey. In the dream the never-ending carvings almost made sense, and the city around her was rich and vibrant with a life that the waking mind could not see. So it was in the dream, but at the same time she knew it was a lie.

And she stood atop the pyramid, but fought the impulse that would have her look down. The shaft was at her very toes, while either side of her those majestic and inhuman statues kept their eternal watch.

Her head was being drawn down: the dream wanted her to see. She teetered on the edge of waking, the facade of her dream cracking. Don't want to ... I don't want to ... Don't want to ... I don't want to ... Because there was something down there, and it was rising up. Because there was something down there, and it was rising up.

She woke with a sharp start, as though she had been slapped. For a moment the dream still clung to her, its sights, sounds, the very texture of the air confusing her. Where am I? Where am I?

She froze. The air around her was chill and damp, kissed by the Jamail. She was high up, and the cloud-strung moon's light settled on little, but it settled on the pale stone of the statues looming across from her. They had always looked outwards before, but now one was turned towards her and it was smiling slightly as if in amus.e.m.e.nt at her folly.

She screamed, a short and ugly sound, as she felt the sudden rush of air from the pit at her very feet as if something was rising from the depths.

She stumbled backwards, abruptly without sure footing, tripping back towards the descending steps of the pyramid. She reached out for a support, grasped the arm of one of the statues, expecting cold stone. What she touched was slick and slippery, not stone but flesh.

She screamed again and let go.

Part 4

The Voice of the Masters

Twenty-Nine.

On this day, the one hundred and seventy-fifth day of the seven hundred and forty-second year from the founding of the Bounteous City, were the tallies made of all peoples who dwell under the hand of the Masters, happy are we to stand in their shadow ...

Also in this year the harvest was of unexpected richness, so that the stores of the city were increased by three parts in one hundred for the coming years. The word of the Masters has cautioned that our storehouses must remain full, for there are lean years foreseen in the east ...

Also in this year ...

'Bella Cheerwell?'

The words her own name startled her from her reverie. Che blinked, stared at the wall she was crouching before. For a moment the hieroglyphs only marched their incomprehensible procession before her eyes. Then they swam and twisted, as though suddenly viewed through tears. Comprehension came as naturally as breathing, and she saw: Also in this year did the First Soldier of Khanaphes take to the West River Plains so as to turn aside the advances of the Many of Nem ... Also in this year did the First Soldier of Khanaphes take to the West River Plains so as to turn aside the advances of the Many of Nem ...

But what did that remind her of ...?

'Che! What's wrong with you?'

It was an irritation that would not go away. She shook her head and looked up to see a figure standing beside her. Beside her, not over her, though she knelt, for it was Flykinden: a man in a traveller's garb and cloak, with a little snarl of beard at his chin, in the Spider manner. His face seemed familiar to her ...

A tenday of personal history slipped, like a great rock ma.s.s long hanging, and descended on her without mercy, leaving no survivors. Che gasped, flinched back from Trallo so hard that she bounced her head against the wall she had just been studying. Khanaphes the Fir eaters the hunt Thalric Totho the Empire war! Khanaphes the Fir eaters the hunt Thalric Totho the Empire war! It was all so much to fit in place that she nearly choked on it. It was all so much to fit in place that she nearly choked on it.

'Trallo-?' She stared at the Fly wildly, trying to work out precisely where they were. Khanaphes, yes, but she did not recognize this district. Beyond the worried-looking Fly, the shaven-headed people were going about their business in a narrow street, without even a glance for the mad foreign woman. They continued herding their goats and sheep and aphids, carrying jars of water or oil, or baskets of grain.

'Che,' said Trallo patiently, trying to capture her attention. 'I have been looking for you for two days.' He let that sink in before adding, out of sheer exasperation, 'And do you know how difficult it is to stay out of my my sight for two days? People have been worried sick. All sorts of things have been going wrong. You're supposed to be an amba.s.sador and-' sight for two days? People have been worried sick. All sorts of things have been going wrong. You're supposed to be an amba.s.sador and-'

'And whose money paid for all this searching? Which of all your masters?' she snapped back at him, before she could stop herself. She grimaced instantly. 'Trallo, I'm sorry ...'

'No, that was a fair shot,' he said, not seeming at all hurt or even repentant. 'My own house got a little untidy towards the end, but then I wasn't expecting open war between the Iron Glove and your Wasp fellow.' His expression soured. 'I wasn't expecting open war, full stop. Che, I won't pretend that your halfbreed friend hasn't wanted me to track you down, but it's your own people who are going mad right now. After all that's happened, they want to get straight out of town and, to be frank, so do I.'

'All that's happened?' Ah yes Ah yes. 'So ... the rumour ...'

'The Scorpions are coming, and they're going to be here, well, really soon. Really, really really soon. Whether they've had all the Imperial help that the Glove have been claiming, that's unproven for now, but they're coming sure as death and taxes. The Khanaphir are putting their army together as though the point of the whole exercise was just to give them the chance to hold parades. You can't move through most of the streets of this city for soldiers marching about and crowds waving at them.' soon. Whether they've had all the Imperial help that the Glove have been claiming, that's unproven for now, but they're coming sure as death and taxes. The Khanaphir are putting their army together as though the point of the whole exercise was just to give them the chance to hold parades. You can't move through most of the streets of this city for soldiers marching about and crowds waving at them.'

Che stood up, realizing as she did so that her robe was filthy, ingrained with dirt and dust. How long have I ...? How long have I ...? 'I have been researching,' she explained uncertainly. 'I have been researching,' she explained uncertainly.

'Surely you have,' Trallo replied. 'Now let's just ...'

'You don't understand. I have been reading the histories of Khanaphes the true histories.' She waved towards the wall with all its bewildering array of sigils. 'These old walls, they're the ones that matter. It's all there in plain view if you can only read it.'

Trallo was staring at her as one stares at the suddenly mad. 'Surely,' he said again. 'You're a credit to the College. Now, how about you come on back to the emba.s.sy?'

'Who were the Masters of Khanaphes, Trallo?' she asked him abruptly.

'You want my call? There never were any,' he replied in a harsh whisper, with a suspicious look at the natives pa.s.sing behind him. 'Now let's-'

'But there were,' she said simply. What knowledge she had deciphered, during those missing, dream-lost days, was filtering back. 'They write about them all the time, their commands, their wishes, their guidance.'

'Sure, sure and all of it through the Ministers, I'll bet. Now-'

'They speak of them walking through the city, Trallo.'

The Fly took a deep breath. 'Now listen, Bella Cheerwell, things have gone all to the pits since you disappeared, and we've a good way to drop yet. Can we not not just stand here talking about something that's so long ago it matters less to me than a midge's fart, and perhaps just come back to the emba.s.sy where you're supposed to be, perhaps, maybe?' just stand here talking about something that's so long ago it matters less to me than a midge's fart, and perhaps just come back to the emba.s.sy where you're supposed to be, perhaps, maybe?'

'It matters, Trallo,' she told him firmly. 'It's more important than anything.' How did I manage to lose two days? How did I manage to lose two days? she was asking herself, horrified, but something of that calm, that supernatural, overwhelming obsession, still clung to her. she was asking herself, horrified, but something of that calm, that supernatural, overwhelming obsession, still clung to her. It tastes like Fir It tastes like Fir, she thought. But I do not actually need the drug But I do not actually need the drug. She had not even needed to memorize the alphabet in that book that the Khanaphir stonemasons now copied from in mindless rote. Simply being exposed to it had operated some change within her. The magic of ancient Khanaphes The magic of ancient Khanaphes, and then the inevitable thought: The voice of the Masters calling to me from five hundred years ago The voice of the Masters calling to me from five hundred years ago. She still did not know who they had been, those lost Masters, but it was as though, across all the intervening years, they wanted her to find out.

It was their voice that led me away, to come here ...

'Trallo, I can't come with you-' she started, but his face took on an ugly cast.

'Petri's dead, Che.'

She stared at him, wordless.

'Is that immediate enough for you, Bella Cheerwell? Has that got through to you?'

'Dead?'

'They found her on the steps of that pyramid in front of the Scriptora I saw her body, before the locals took possession of it. Broken neck. She'd fallen backwards off it. But I saw her face.' He shook his head, unable to properly describe it.

Petri's dead? Petri Coggen's babbling tirades about this city being out to get her, her delusions, her fears, her pleas to be taken out of Khanaphes. Petri Coggen's babbling tirades about this city being out to get her, her delusions, her fears, her pleas to be taken out of Khanaphes. And she confided in me, and I did nothing And she confided in me, and I did nothing. It was like cold water washing the dust away from her. The last ebbing of the trance was falling from her. 'Poor woman,' she said, hollowly. 'Poor, poor woman.' When she met Trallo's gaze again, her eyes were steady. 'Let's head for the emba.s.sy. We can talk on the way.'

As they approached the side arch leading through to the Place of Foreigners, her thoughts turned inevitably to the maze of diplomacy she saw awaiting her. And what am I going to do with Thalric now? And what am I going to do with Thalric now? 'What's the Imperial reaction been, Trallo?' 'What's the Imperial reaction been, Trallo?'

'Blatant guilt,' he said, from her elbow. She halted, frowning down at him, 'Explain.'

'They've gone, Bella Cheerwell. They've upped and left. If they're still even in the city, they're keeping their heads down.'

'All of them?'

'Every single stripy one of them.'

The news seemed oddly leaden. Trallo was right: it indicated guilt, surely, to leave so suddenly and secretly, once the news was announced. Have they gone to join their fellows amongst the Scorpions? Have they gone to join their fellows amongst the Scorpions? And then: And then: So I will not talk this over with Thalric, then. I suppose he has made his decision, once again So I will not talk this over with Thalric, then. I suppose he has made his decision, once again. It seemed incredible that one man had been given so many choices in life, and made them all so differently.

'What's the feeling among the others?' she asked.

'Manny wants out of Khanaphes yesterday. Our great warrior has decided that war isn't for him, after all,' Trallo said drily. 'They raised the chain on the river, though that big old gate your lot were so interested in? Worked like it was made only last tenday in Solarno. Old Ethmet has said they'll let you out, when you're ready to go. He's very apologetic. And distracted, too, what with suddenly having a war to run.'

'What about Berjek and Praeda?'

'Berjek is being patient, but I get the impression he's about ready to pack his bags as well. As for Bella Rakespear ...' Trallo grimaced. 'Well, that there's gotten complicated.'

They were at the door of the emba.s.sy, as Che gave Trallo a sidelong look. 'Meaning him? him? ' '

'He does appear to have got to her somehow,' Trallo murmured. 'It was all that dancing he did, I reckon.'

Che tried to envisage them: cool, detached Praeda Rakespear with the giant, vital Amnon. They seemed utterly opposite. Then again, at least they're of the same kinden. I'm no one to judge Then again, at least they're of the same kinden. I'm no one to judge.

'So what does she want to do?' she asked the Fly.

'Bella Che, I don't think she knows herself. We were all hoping you could talk her into making a decision.'

The city of Khanaphes resounded to the tread of marching feet.

From atop the wall it was a spectacle, but Totho found that he could no longer appreciate mere spectacle. The regiments of Khanaphir soldiers were still leaving the city, each parading in mighty armed pomp through the streets before a.s.sembling in front of the west gates. Totho was no novice when it came to armies, and his mind afforded plenty of comparisons. In fact I am probably the best-qualified person in the city to say to Amnon what must be said In fact I am probably the best-qualified person in the city to say to Amnon what must be said. Except for some of the fugitive Imperials, perhaps, and they were unlikely to be handing out strategic advice.

It was not a Lowlander army, that much was clear. Correction: it is not a Lowlander army such as has been seen these last three centuries Correction: it is not a Lowlander army such as has been seen these last three centuries. The troops were still arriving by barge from the tributary towns further upriver, but the city itself had mustered a surprising number of soldiers. They were not Ant-kinden here, where every citizen would take up a sword at a moment's unspoken notice, but the Ministers had been able to mobilize a lot of the city's population in the short time they had been given. That would be Amnon's first boast: We are used to fighting off these savages We are used to fighting off these savages.

The sands have finally begun to move in the gla.s.s, though, Totho thought. What you are used to, friend Amnon, is what was, not what is What you are used to, friend Amnon, is what was, not what is. Time, that long-denied guest, was finally marching on Khanaphes.

Amnon leant on the parapet, looking down with a broad smile as his soldiers a.s.sembled. He was dressed in his full armour, the scaled hauberk and the crested helm. He would be better served by what we tried to give him He would be better served by what we tried to give him, Totho knew, but the Ministers had forbidden it, of course. Totho watched another unit of neighbourhood militia leave the gates. The Khanaphir army looked a strange amalgam to his eyes, unwieldy and awkward and lacking in vital parts. The core was Amnon's Royal Guard and some other heavy infantry: scale-armoured shield-and-spearmen backed by armoured archers. They were greatly outnumbered by the light militia, vast expanses of men and women without armour, with only shields and spears or leaf-bladed swords, or archers who could back up their bows with nothing but a dagger. Although they could stand in neat enough rows, Totho doubted they had seen much of a battle before. It is not an army, rather it is a levy. A levy of citizens that the Khanaphir can ill afford to lose It is not an army, rather it is a levy. A levy of citizens that the Khanaphir can ill afford to lose.

There was cavalry on either side of the main force, and Totho was unused to seeing that. The swift, long-legged sand-beetles were ranged in their skittish, twitching ranks, each bearing a lancer and an archer. Smaller beasts were yoked to little two-wheeled carts which carried a pair of archers apiece to keep the driver company. Totho had never seen the like of them.

'The Marsh people have answered our call at last,' Amnon rumbled, pointing them out. A straggling column was heading upriver from the delta, and Totho turned a gla.s.s on them to see them better. They were the silvery-skinned Mantis-kinden from the swamps, perhaps a couple of hundred men and women wearing no armour, but armed with spears and recurved bows and the Art-given barbs of their arms. Mantis-kinden, still Mantis-kinden, still, thought Totho, but he had seen how the Mantids fell at the Battle of the Rails, and he knew he would be seeing it again, if he was fool enough to march alongside Amnon.

And if the Emperor had not died, then this would be a full Imperial army coming. He had not considered that before, but the timing felt right. The expansion of the Empire would have reached this far south by now, had it not been for all the internal squabbling. Perhaps the Khanaphir stood a chance against their age-old Scorpion-kinden enemies, even re-equipped and retrained as they now were, but if it had been the Imperial Eighth Army ...? Twenty or thirty thousand Wasp-kinden and Auxillian soldiers descending on this lumbering ma.s.s of Beetle-kinden and their allies? Even if the Khanaphir and the Many of Nem could have put their differences aside, the Empire would still sweep across them and leave not a man. There would be no room for a battle in amongst all the slaughter.

He looked upon the army of Khanaphes and his artificer's mind cried: Where is their air-power? Where is their mechanized support? Where the engines of war? Where the crossbows and nailbows and snapbows and all the other accoutrements of modern battle? Drephos's heart would break if he saw this Where is their air-power? Where is their mechanized support? Where the engines of war? Where the crossbows and nailbows and snapbows and all the other accoutrements of modern battle? Drephos's heart would break if he saw this. Even the new toys of the Scorpions were merely old war-surplus, by Meyr's reckoning, outdated and obsolete weapons and engines that the Empire was well rid of. It seemed the unmaking of all of the great artificer's work in advancing the science of war. Small consolation that all this, this very way of life, now stood to be unmade in turn.

'Amnon,' he said.

'Speak, at last,' the big man turned to him. 'I have sensed your words unsaid all this time.'

'You have heard the reports of my people,' Totho said.

'The Ministers have heard them,' Amnon replied vaguely.

'I don't care about the Ministers,' Totho snapped, grabbing for the man's attention. 'You yourself have heard. You, the First Soldier of Khanaphes. The man who will lead.'

Amnon regarded him silently.

'You are now going to go and have the same fight you always have with the Scorpions,' Totho continued. 'Or that is what you think. That is what the Ministers have told you. You are going to go and put your shields up, and expect them to charge, and charge again. You see, I've done my research. I'm not just an ignorant foreigner. That's how it's done, yes? The wild Scorpion-kinden descend on you with axes and beasts, and you shoot them with arrows and brace your shields, and eventually they run out of manpower or will-power, and then they go away. They're just the mad desert savages, while you're the solid soldiers of Khanaphes. That's what you're all thinking?'

Still Amnon said nothing. His expression discouraged further pressing, but Totho looked up into his dark gaze without a flinch.

'You haven't understood a word that any of us have said. My people have spent time with the Many, long enough to see that the wind's changed. The Empire has been busy sharpening the sword, and the Scorpions, at least, aren't so attached to their cursed past that they're too proud to change. They have crossbowmen now, Amnon. Hundreds of crossbowmen. At medium range, a heavy crossbow bolt will go through a wooden shield without slowing much, and those Scorpions have the muscle to rec.o.c.k a heavy crossbow without breaking sweat. And you know what I see out there? Half your militia are carrying shields of sh.e.l.l or wicker.'