There were tears in Osgan's eyes, amongst the puffiness of the bruising. Marger came over and examined him more closely.

'Waste it, just look at you. What's the point of you? You were a fool to come.'

Oh how true, but Osgan could say nothing. His lips were pressed tight to keep himself from sobbing.

There was an uncomfortable expression on Marger's face, which might have been pity or disgust. 'Call yourself an Imperial soldier?' he asked, shaking his head. 'Curse you, but they did a proper job on you, no mistake not that it'll make much difference in the long run.' Marger was talking too much, hiding some nervousness.

'And ... and you?' Osgan got out. 'How are they treating you? What's it like as a professional betrayer?'

'In the Rekef? Ask your friend Thalric, should you get the chance.' Marger shrugged easily, but it was clear that there was something else on his mind. 'We're going back tonight, you know.'

Osgan felt a moment of freezing horror. 'Back to the ... to the ...'

'To the ziggurat. We've had it watched all day, and n.o.body's come out. That means Thalric's still in there, skulking somewhere about. Maybe he's waiting for darkness too. If so, we'll be ready for him, because we're going in and we're taking you with us.'

'No!' Osgan choked. 'No, you mustn't! You don't understand what's in there!'

'So tell me.'

'It's ... It's Him Him.'

Marger rolled his eyes. 'Don't make me slap you. Just tell me who's him him now?' now?'

'It's ... I saw him ... the man who ... who killed the Emperor.' There, it was said, but Marger just shook his head.

'How long have they left that arm without tending it?' He scowled. 'You better not get so feverish that you stop making sense. Give me a plain answer and I'll get you some more wine. You'd like that, right?'

'I'm serious ...' Osgan started, but saw the man's face turn sour. 'What do you want? What do you want from me?'

'Thalric, ideally. Then we can all get out of this backwater. We'll take you into the pit because Sulvec reckons if we start cutting pieces off you then Thalric might might come running. No guarantees, though, because he might not be such a sentimental b.a.s.t.a.r.d as all that. Unless you've got any better ideas?' come running. No guarantees, though, because he might not be such a sentimental b.a.s.t.a.r.d as all that. Unless you've got any better ideas?'

'Please,' Osgan whispered. 'Kill me here. Kill me now. Kill me slowly. Just don't take me back there. Not with Him Him.'

Marger frowned at him, clearly a little shaken. 'Nothing about this d.a.m.n job makes sense,' he complained. 'Nothing about this d.a.m.n city makes any sense. And that that place.' He shuddered not his customary shrug but a shiver that Osgan could well relate to. 'There's something not right about all of this, so give me answers. Right now, while it's just you and me. Don't make me call the others in here to cut it out of your hide a strip at a time.' place.' He shuddered not his customary shrug but a shiver that Osgan could well relate to. 'There's something not right about all of this, so give me answers. Right now, while it's just you and me. Don't make me call the others in here to cut it out of your hide a strip at a time.'

'What do you want to know?' Osgan asked him fearfully.

Marger took a moment to formulate the question, with a glance at the door that suggested he was not supposed to be conducting this solo interrogation. When he spoke again it took them in a new direction.

'What in the wastes has Thalric done?' he demanded.

'When? What?' Osgan replied weakly. His head was beginning to ache, and the entire room seemed to shift around him as the fever rolled back over him.

'Tell me what the pits is so important,' Marger insisted, his voice now a hushed whisper. He crouched beside Osgan's chair like a conspirator. 'Why do they want him dead so badly?'

'Ask your big Rekef man out there,' Osgan suggested. 'Surely he's told you.'

'Oh, they haven't even told him him,' Marger said. 'But they've told him just how far they intend going just to have him dead. Do you think the Empire really cares two spits about Khanaphes or those Scorpion savages? Oh, maybe the Scorpions would make good Auxillians, but that's not the point point. They're here just for Thalric, all of them. All the thousands of them currently attacking the bridge out there they're here because the Empire wants Thalric dead.'

'I ... don't understand,' stammered Osgan.

'No, I I don't understand,' Marger told him, 'because it makes no cursed sense at all. Someone wants Major Thalric the Regent-General so very dead that they've sent Skater a.s.sa.s.sins and a Rekef team and engineers and leadshotters and a whole desert full of Scorpion-kinden, and they'll see forty thousand Beetles dead so long as his corpse lies somewhere amongst them. I swear they'll kill every living thing within miles of here just to make sure he's dead. That's what it's all for, because the Empire doesn't care a toss about this city. Someone very highly placed within the Empire wants Thalric dead, as dead as he can possibly be and and this is apparently the important thing every trace of don't understand,' Marger told him, 'because it makes no cursed sense at all. Someone wants Major Thalric the Regent-General so very dead that they've sent Skater a.s.sa.s.sins and a Rekef team and engineers and leadshotters and a whole desert full of Scorpion-kinden, and they'll see forty thousand Beetles dead so long as his corpse lies somewhere amongst them. I swear they'll kill every living thing within miles of here just to make sure he's dead. That's what it's all for, because the Empire doesn't care a toss about this city. Someone very highly placed within the Empire wants Thalric dead, as dead as he can possibly be and and this is apparently the important thing every trace of how how it happened buried under the rubble of a dead city so that n.o.body can ever pick up the pieces of what went on or work out who to blame. Now what in the wastes is going on?' it happened buried under the rubble of a dead city so that n.o.body can ever pick up the pieces of what went on or work out who to blame. Now what in the wastes is going on?'

Osgan goggled at him. 'Why are you asking me me?' was all he could say. 'It's nothing to do with me me.'

'Because I hoped you would know,' said Marger, abruptly exhausted by the whole business. 'I really did. Because n.o.body is talking about it but we all know it's mad. Something's gone wrong back home, to have all this happening out here in the sticks. I mean, I don't dislike Thalric as a man. I really don't. But when orders come down from the b.l.o.o.d.y palace palace to see him dead by any means, including exterminating an entire people, then you jump to obey.' to see him dead by any means, including exterminating an entire people, then you jump to obey.'

Someone called out Marger's name from the next room, and the man started guiltily, putting some paces between himself and the prisoner. 'In here,' he said loudly.

One of Sulvec's men put his head around the door. 'Word from the sentries,' he announced. 'There's been some movement at the pyramid. It's dusk anyway, so time to move.'

The Scorpions had not stopped hurling themselves continually at the barricade until the sky began to darken in the east. In the thick of it, loosing snapbow bolts as fast as he could charge the weapon, Totho had wondered whether they might not eventually whittle the horde down to nothing, slaying so many of them that their corpses mounded up against the barricade and fell off the bridge into the river on either side.

There were only five left now of the original thirty Royal Guard who had held the breach, and many of their replacements had fallen also. The Khanaphir losses were far less than the Many's, but the Nem had far more warriors to lose. The Scorpions did not even have to kill them, only to force their way through the breach just the once. They had come close to it several times, but Meyr and Amnon had held the line, in their mail that was proof against axe and crossbow bolt, fighting like murderous automata until the force of the latest Scorpion charge ebbed.

Halmir, he who wooed the widow, had lost half his face to a Nemian halberd and Totho did not know if he lived or not. Dariset had her shoulder laid open by a greatsword, but her armour had saved her, leaving the wound messy but shallow. She still fought on. Old Kham had broken two shields defending Amnon's back at the moment when the Scorpions were closest to breaking through, and he would not let his cousin forget it. Totho had already shot several hundred bolts, and sent to the Iteration Iteration for more. for more.

He had sent new orders for Corcoran too. Having looked out at the west bank and seen the monstrous ma.s.s of fires out there, he had realized that, despite all its losses, the war-host of the Nem had so far been spending only the small change from its pockets. Tomorrow would be worse: Amnon could only trust the Royal Guard to hold the breach, but so many of them had already perished out on the field. Their numbers grew slender, and the archers had taken their losses too, under crossbow bolts, axes, javelins. They could all be replaced, but only by weakening the force that waited, up and down the sh.o.r.e, for any rafts or boats the Scorpions could scrounge together.

There were some fires burning now behind the barricades, a force of soldiers waiting in case of an a.s.sault. Marsh folk were stationed on the wall itself, their eyes better in the darkness. Any creeping force of Scorpions would be rudely surprised by their arrows.

Totho found Amnon fiddling with the straps of his armour, his gauntleted hands clumsy with the buckles.

'Hold still,'Totho said. 'I'll take you out of it.'

'Tighten it,' Amnon told him. 'If they attack tonight, I will be needed.'

'If they attack tomorrow, you will be needed too, and then you will be in need of sleep,' Totho said. 'Meyr and I will quarter the night between us.'

'The three of us will take a third each,' Amnon argued stubbornly.

'As you will, but you sleep now. I'll take first watch, Meyr will take the middle, you the last. Meyr can see in the dark, anyway.'

Amnon sighed. 'Get me out of this, then, but I will sleep here alongside my people.'

Totho stripped off his own gauntlets and stood close to him, finding the buckles from long experience. 'Tomorrow will be ugly. They have enough fresh troops to force the breach,' he observed, his tone neutral.

'I know.'

Totho glanced up, but the firelight revealed no expression on Amnon's face. 'You have a plan?'

'I have some thoughts for delay. It will be only delay. A second barricade at the bridge's foot, supported by every archer who can still draw a bow, deployed from the bank and the rooftops.'

'That will last only until the Scorpions think of bringing a leadshotter to the bridge's peak,' Totho said sadly. 'Then ... no more barricade. We are now at the only point where we can hold without their shot smashing us to sc.r.a.p as soon as they find the range.'

'I'm glad I listened to you regarding that, at least,' Amnon said. 'One less failure that could have been mine.'

'You? You've fought like a hero!'Totho a.s.sured him.

'Yet still I have failed my people. I am First Soldier. Who else should take the blame?' A tremor ran through him, and he tore himself from Totho's ministrations. 'Except you, old man!' he exclaimed.

Totho looked up, taking a moment to see the robed figure of the First Minister. Faced with the weary soldiers, the fires, the vast host of the enemy lit up red along the western bank, Ethmet was looking twenty years older.

'I came to see ...' he began, and his voice trailed off.

'Well, you have seen,' Amnon replied. 'No doubt the Masters have already told you how this will all end. In truth it needs no prophecy, but I would spare my soldiers your words of doom. What do you want here?'

'The Masters ... are considering,' Ethmet almost mumbled. He looked confused, an old man out too late, who has forgotten the way home. 'They ... I wait for them to instruct me.'

'Oh, really?' Amnon said, but there was a catch in his voice, and Totho thought, Still he believes, despite all he says. If these Masters were to rise up now and smite him for his failures, he would not care so long as they saved the city Still he believes, despite all he says. If these Masters were to rise up now and smite him for his failures, he would not care so long as they saved the city.

'Amnon,' Ethmet came close, 'you must tell me.'

'Tell you what?'

'Tell me what will happen. The Masters ... are silent.'

Totho saw different expressions at war in Amnon's face: compa.s.sion and anger in bitter feud.

'We stand firm. We will stand until there is none left to stand, and only then we will fall,' he said. 'I am no seer to tell the future. The Masters have never spoken to me me. All I can do is set an example for my soldiers, as the first into the breach, the last to walk away. And these foreigners are contributing as well, despite the welcome they have received from you. We would be lost already had it not been forTotho and his followers.'

Ethmet blinked rapidly, and Totho realized with horrible embarra.s.sment that the old man was crying, the tears running freely down his lined face. 'I am sorry,' he said, and it was not clear whether he referred to his treatment of Totho or of Amnon. 'I am so sorry.'

There was a whoop from the barricades and Totho heard the creak and tw.a.n.g of the Mantis bows, the shouts of surprise from the Scorpions beyond. He was reaching for his snapbow but, by the time he had a magazine in place, the attack was over, the Scorpions startled into retreat.

Ethmet had clenched his hands together over his chest. 'What can I do?' he whispered. 'What can I do?'

'If this bridge falls then you must lead all you can out of the city,' Amnon told him. 'It does not matter where to. Have them sail out to the sea. Have them flee towards the eastern plains. Anything but stay here within these walls.'

'Leave ... Khanaphes?' Ethmet gaped. 'Leave our city?'

'It will not be our city at that point.'

'But this is the Masters' city,' Ethmet protested. 'They would never let it fall. They would never abandon their people ...'

'If they ever lived at all then they have left us now,' Amnon replied harshly, a man trying to convince himself.

'No, I have heard them ...' And Ethmet's tone was the same.

Amnon shook his head tiredly. 'Go home, First Minister. I have told you what you must do, if the worst comes to the worst, but I cannot make you do it. Go home, and we shall bleed here for as long as we can, and hope that the Scorpions run out of food or bloodl.u.s.t before we ourselves run out of blood.'

Ethmet nodded, still trembling. He nodded and turned and tottered off down the bridge, and even Totho felt a fragment of sympathy for him.

'You go home too,' he told Amnon.

'I'll sleep here-' he began.

'And Praeda? Don't you think she wants to see you tonight?' Totho felt a catch in his throat, but he forced the words out anyway. 'If ... if ... if I could go to Che tonight, and if she would have me, I would. I wouldn't care what happened here. I would go and ... kiss her, and lie with her, if she'd let me.' He was shaking, without warning or precedent, as he unlatched the last of Amnon's buckles. As the greave fell free, he did not rise, but pressed his hands against the stonework of the bridge for strength. 'If ... if I could, that is what I would do.' In that other dream world In that other dream world where things worked out for us, for me ... where some cursed thing in this whole wasted world actually went right for me where things worked out for us, for me ... where some cursed thing in this whole wasted world actually went right for me.

As he stood up, Amnon clapped a hand to his armoured shoulder. The big warrior was Ethmet's reverse, looking suddenly as young as Totho, even younger.

'You are right. I will go to Praeda,' he said. 'I don't know why I need a foreigner about to tell me the obvious things, but you are right.'

Totho arranged Amnon's armour carefully so that it would be easy to don quickly in the morning, and because he was badly in need of something to do just then. Amongst other concerns, Tirado had not been able to find the first sign of Che anywhere in the free half of the city.

Thirty-Eight.

When Che nudged him with her foot, he contracted into a ball and then sat bolt upright, eyes wide and staring in the darkness.

'I wasn't asleep,' he said, automatically. She could see him looking wildly about, fingers clawing at the slick floor. 'Oh,' he said at last, 'here.'

'That's right.' Che stood back. 'For a man who wasn't asleep, you do a good impression.'

'We're still in the trap,' he said bitterly and then frowned. 'Are we?'

'Only because you were sleeping so soundly that I didn't want to wake you.'

'I can hear ... what can I hear? The echo's changed.'

She was impressed by that. 'The echo's changed because one of the doors is open.' It had been a long haul for her to get that far, a seemingly timeless eternity down here beneath the earth. Those carvings were not intended to be read by some Beetle-kinden freak who just happened to be Inapt. Achaeos would have been able to make easy sense of them, but when she most needed his ghostly presence he was gone, lost somewhere far away from her, or hiding deep in her mind. The carvings had been a test, she was sure, and one that she did not deserve to have pa.s.sed. The task had called on something inside her that she had not even realized she possessed something that she surely had not possessed before Achaeos's death, and the catastrophic backlash that had maimed her mind. Or perhaps he was guiding me after all, in ways too subtle for me to tell Or perhaps he was guiding me after all, in ways too subtle for me to tell. It had been like practising Art-enhancing meditation, which she had never been able to manage. Her concentration had not been up to that, but then it had never meant life or death before.

She had sat there in the dark, sealed room and pressed her mind into the places that the builders had left, like picking a lock with a crude, improvised tool. Whilst Thalric slept, she had laboured at it for hours, constantly slipping and faltering, losing her train of thought, succ.u.mbing to distraction, until she had taken hold of her mind with a grip of iron and just done it done it.

Thalric had stood and was now walking forward, hands extended. 'What's out there? What do you see?' he asked. 'Can we get out?'

'It doesn't seem to link up with anywhere we've already been, or not within sight at least,' she told him. 'It ... goes on for a long way. There's a great hall, high-ceilinged and vaulted, with alcoves all along it. I haven't left this room yet, to investigate, so maybe some of them are actually other pa.s.sages. The carvings are everywhere but I haven't gone to look at them.' In case the door closed again and I could not reopen it In case the door closed again and I could not reopen it. She did not say that, but she saw him understand her.

'I suppose we start walking then,' he suggested. 'I shall put a hand on your shoulder, like a blind man, shall I?'

He managed it only after a little clutching at thin air, then touching her injured shoulder first and making her wince. She set out slowly, trying to open her mind to whatever other signs it could apparently now register. There might be more traps, after all.

Their soft footfalls echoed cavernously in the open s.p.a.ce, even m.u.f.fled by the slime: it all seemed vastly too large for them. Che's vision could just reach to the far end of the hall, where there was a dais with something on it. A throne? Down here? A throne? Down here?

'What is this place anyway?'Thalric murmured. 'It seems too grand for sewers. Cool enough to be a storeroom, but ... the air's damp. I can smell mould, a little.'

'I think ...' Her courage failed her for a moment and then she pressed on. 'I think it's a tomb.'

A pause while he digested that, and then said, 'Well, that's a cheery thought.'

'They never spoke of this place, or of the pyramid,' Che remarked. 'It was always right there, in front of the Scriptora, at the very heart of the city, and they just overlooked mentioning it as though it was invisible. Which means that it's important. I think the word the Khanaphir would use is "sacred". They avoid the subject out of respect.'

'Respect for what?' Even hushed, their voices resonated down the length of the hall.