Genraki cleared his throat and Angved glanced up.

'What is it?' he asked, speaking above the sound. 'Hrathen wants me?'

'What is this sound, chief?' Genraki asked him. 'n.o.body else can sleep.'

Angved smirked at that. 'A little experiment of mine.'

This close, Genraki thought he could feel his ears shake under it, not particularly loud but terribly insistent. 'Must it go on so long, chief?' The t.i.tle was based on the authority that the Warlord and the Wasp leader gave the old man, for he was clearly a chieftain of his own tribe of artificers.

'Well, that's the whole point. How long have we had so far?'

The other Wasp, also an artificer, checked some small device. 'Three hours fifty-seven minutes.'

'Shut it off at four hours,' Angved decided, to Genraki's relief. If he had retreated from this place without some result the others would not have been pleased with him. Angved was ushering him into the next room.

'Tell me, Genraki,' he said, 'this rock oil your people use, how common is it?'

'Not so common that it is everywhere, but we know all the places to find it. Where it is found, there is much of it. More than all the tribes need.'

Angved digested this. 'It burns for a long time, doesn't it?' he said.

'That is why we use it,' Genraki confirmed.

'It's been running that little makeshift engine for hours,' the artificer mused. 'Your people trade, don't they?'

Genraki shrugged. 'When we have the patience. We would trade oil for more leadshotters and weapons,' he added, with a fanged grin.

'You may just have got yourself a deal.'

Above their conversation, the whining buzz stopped, at long last. Genraki could almost feel the whole camp relax with it. Angved's expression was complex: one he could not entirely read but dominated mainly by greed.

There were swift footsteps on the stairs and one of the other Wasps came up, half running, half flying. 'Captain wants you, Lieutenant,' he told Angved. 'Khanaphir have been busy overnight. Time for us to match them.'

Angved did not rush to attend on Hrathen. As soon as he presented himself, the tide of mundane war would descend on him, and he would have his hands full with jobs more befitting an apprentice than an experienced battle-artificer. Can't we just let the Scorpions get on with it?We've given them half the city, so surely they can take it from here Can't we just let the Scorpions get on with it?We've given them half the city, so surely they can take it from here. But Hrathen was in charge, and it was clear which of his bloodlines the halfbreed had chosen to support. I hear he's sleeping with that hideous Jakal creature I hear he's sleeping with that hideous Jakal creature. Angved shuddered. He himself had never been one to take advantage of the women of lesser peoples. Even if he had, he wouldn't have started with Scorpion-kinden. Only among Thorn-bugs are there any uglier people in the world Only among Thorn-bugs are there any uglier people in the world, he decided, or more dangerous to sleep with. And the Captain definitely gets his looks from the wrong side of the family or more dangerous to sleep with. And the Captain definitely gets his looks from the wrong side of the family. Better, maybe, that the man forced himself on the fanged horrors here rather than good Wasp women back home.

Am I fooling myself about this rock-oil? The Nem was largely unexplored, unexploited. The Empire's internal squabbles had set back its timetable for subjugating the world, or there would have been black and gold all the way to Khanaphes by now, and Jakal's people would have become either Auxillians or history. The Nem was largely unexplored, unexploited. The Empire's internal squabbles had set back its timetable for subjugating the world, or there would have been black and gold all the way to Khanaphes by now, and Jakal's people would have become either Auxillians or history. And maybe I should be grateful that, with all the fuss back home, I'm the first serious artificer to come here and make this discovery And maybe I should be grateful that, with all the fuss back home, I'm the first serious artificer to come here and make this discovery. He was a man growing old for the army, yet still only a lieutenant. If he kept this all to himself, and if it was what he believed it to be, then 'Major Angved' had a nice ring to it. A comfortable retirement position running some research workshop in Sonn, perhaps? He could afford to be pushy, provided his new currency was as pure as he thought.

He had only told one of his crew about his discovery, and already he was considering whether he might have to kill him. Here, among the Scorpions, it would be easy to hide such an act. This is much bigger than I had thought This is much bigger than I had thought. An idle curiosity was giving way to a real fire of ambition.

He found Hrathen at last. 'Reporting for duty,' he said, banishing such thoughts for the moment. The Scorpion woman was nearby, watching them with arms folded. Her expression was sceptical and Angved guessed that she had been expecting more progress. Half the city in just two days, and still she's hungry Half the city in just two days, and still she's hungry.

The halfbreed nodded to him. 'We take the bridge today,' he stated. 'I've decided. Enough of this attrition.'

Angved waited. Empty posing Empty posing, he thought, to impress his woman. Well, let him to impress his woman. Well, let him.

'I want you to get a leadshotter on to the roof of one of these three-storeys,' Hrathen told him, straight-faced.

Angved raised an eyebrow. 'I'm not even sure that's possible.'

'Make it possible. Have some locals haul it up the stairs. Build a hoist, anything. When you've got the right elevation, start making calculations to hit the barricade without damaging the bridge.' it possible. Have some locals haul it up the stairs. Build a hoist, anything. When you've got the right elevation, start making calculations to hit the barricade without damaging the bridge.'

'That will call for a great deal of accuracy,' Angved said.

'Then that's what you'll give me,' Hrathen snapped.

Angved kept his expression carefully neutral, wondering whether it was yesterday's or last night's performance that had shown the man up in front of Jakal.

'We could try using the sc.r.a.p-shot,' the artificer suggested, 'if we can get the range. That way, no danger of weakening the bridge.'

'Whatever you have to do,' Hrathen replied. 'Have the rest of your artificers make grenades. You know the type: clay pots, wax stoppers, fuses. Fill them with oil, or with firepowder and nails.'

'I'm not sure our troops here will be able to use them effectively. Not on the enemy at least.'

'They're not for Scorpions. I'm committing the Slave Corps soldiers as grenadiers. Any fool can drop a pot.'

And usually when you least want them to. 'I'll put my people on it,' Angved agreed. 'We should have a decent stock by mid-morning, after you've warmed people up.'

'Between that and the crossbows, we'll be on the far side before dusk,' Hrathen declared. He was saying it to Jakal, and Agved saw the Scorpion Warlord shrug and turn away. Hrathen's expression, momentarily exposed, was comical. She has him on a leash She has him on a leash, Angved realized. This is why you can never really trust halfbreeds This is why you can never really trust halfbreeds. He supposed he felt sorry for the man, torn between Imperial orders and trying to be a Scorpion savage at the same time. What will they do with him when we're done here?Will he want to stay on and live with the barbarians? Will the Rekef get rid of him? Will the Scorpions, for that matter? What will they do with him when we're done here?Will he want to stay on and live with the barbarians? Will the Rekef get rid of him? Will the Scorpions, for that matter?

Not my problem, the artificer reminded himself. I just need to get out of Khanaphes with my hide intact, and then I can give the Empire a prize that will make all the loot of Khanaphes look like dross I just need to get out of Khanaphes with my hide intact, and then I can give the Empire a prize that will make all the loot of Khanaphes look like dross.

Forty.

Sulvec's hand clenched on the knife hilt and the blade twitched in Osgan's shoulder, making his victim shriek again. The sound echoed cavernously in the underground hall, turning into something truly nightmarish as it baffled its way about the distant vaulted walls.

'Come on, Thalric!' Sulvec shouted, his voice blurring amongst the returning echoes of the scream. 'You went to some lengths to keep this man alive. Don't waste all that effort now!' He was shouting just to keep himself steady: inflicting pain on another provided a reliable mantra for the avoidance of doubt and fear. There were plenty in the Rekef who did not get their own hands dirty, who always had others to do the cutting and slicing for them. Sulvec was made of sterner stuff, or at least that was his self-a.s.sessment. All around him, his men were gathered, Marger and the survivors of the Rekef force that had come into Khanaphes with him, seven agents whose pale faces and strained expressions belied their Rekef training.

Weaklings. Sulvec sneered inwardly, although he could feel what they could feel. It had begun with that wave of fear atop the pyramid, and the hooks of it had never left them. These slimy, hollow halls beneath the earth were no place for honest Wasp-kinden. They were built too huge, vacant yet full of a devouring dark that waited just beyond the reach of the guttering lanterns. When the final cackling echo of Osgan's cry came back, Sulvec could not definitively label it as such. It could just as easily be something vast and mad gibbering to itself somewhere far off within these endless chambers.

And so he inflicted pain, because it made him feel better. I hold the knife, therefore I am in control I hold the knife, therefore I am in control. It was not a deep cut he inflicted, but he was an old hand at this. The knife's tip was carefully inserted between the bones of Osgan's shoulder joint, so that the slightest tremor would be unendurable agony. Osgan was sobbing, shuddering, fighting to keep desperately still. If he tried to bolt for freedom the pain would have shocked him out of consciousness.

'Thalric! I know you're out there!' Sulvec bellowed. Marger and the others were waiting in a circle round him, with lanterns some distance beyond them both ways. They had turned the wicks up high, so that for Thalric to get within sting range, he would be in their light. Still, he could come from anywhere, at any time. Sulvec was putting on the pressure but Thalric was no fool. If he wanted to make a fight of it, then he would undoubtedly take a few of them with him. Which is why I'm here in the middle Which is why I'm here in the middle, Sulvec decided.

He opened his mouth to shout again, but the echoes were getting to him. They made something unpleasant of his voice, as though someone were lampooning him from the darkness. I'm glad the Khanaphir are going to get theirs. n.o.body who builds a monstrosity like this deserves to live I'm glad the Khanaphir are going to get theirs. n.o.body who builds a monstrosity like this deserves to live. Yet at the back of his mind hovered a persistent worry telling him that this did not look much like the rest of Khanaphes above. There was no guarantee precisely what what hands had created this lightless abyss. That started the imagination going, and it did not take much to start him wondering what else might be roused by his calls and Osgan's cries. hands had created this lightless abyss. That started the imagination going, and it did not take much to start him wondering what else might be roused by his calls and Osgan's cries. What if things live down here? What if things live down here?

'Maybe he doesn't care about the man,' said Marger, deliberately quiet to avoid the echo.

'You said that he seemed to,' Sulvec accused.

'He did seem to, but maybe I was wrong.' Marger was uncomfortable with the knife-work, Sulvec could see. Another weakling: to be Rekef is to know no limits Another weakling: to be Rekef is to know no limits. For good measure Sulvec twisted the blade again, holding Osgan down for easier purchase. The prisoner had been a useless babbler ever since they had dragged him down here, going on about some phantom terror that he seemed to connect with the old Emperor's death. Putting the knife in had only vocalized what had been going on in Osgan's head ever since then. It'll do him good to let it out It'll do him good to let it out.

'He's out there, and he's hearing this, and he'll come,' Sulvec snarled. 'And don't think your reluctance hasn't been noted. When Thalric does make an appearance, you'd better impress me with your dedication, Marger. You don't want to fall foul of one of my reports.'

'No, sir,' Marger replied with a sour look.

For the first hundred strides, Thalric had been running, heading out of the hall of tombs and back the way they had come. Even as Che bolted after him, she heard his footsteps stop as he took wing, skimming along into the pitch dark, finding his way by the roiling confusion of sounds ahead of them.

She had never been a runner but she did her best. Her wings flicked and flared, casting her forward in awkward jumps, and when she touched the ground each time she kept pelting along at top speed, still falling behind him but keeping him in sight. Then he had pa.s.sed the last of the blue-flamed fires and was into the utter pitch, slowing to keep his course straight. She kept up her mad dash after him, still moving with all the speed she could muster. She was just about keeping level even as the next shrill scream coursed past them.

Too loud, the thought was irresistible. Too loud in this dead place. It was not a matter of respect but prudence. Too loud in the silence, and Thalric was coursing too fast over all the trampled ages that had lain here for so long. The thought that came to her in the midst of her hopping, awkward flight was, We will wake them We will wake them.

There was light ahead, bright lamplight a hundred times more wholesome than the pallid blue of the braziers. She saw that a ring of Wasps were waiting for them, with two men in the centre, one of them crouching over the other. Thalric had gone high, wings carrying him near to the ceiling. They will spot him at any moment They will spot him at any moment.

Motion caught her eye. She saw another man there, standing beyond the lamplight. He was a stocky Beetle-kinden with a shaved head, but the crossbow in his hands belied any claim to being Khanaphir.

In the dark, she thought, he sees as I do, and Thalric cannot see him he sees as I do, and Thalric cannot see him.

'Thalric, drop!' she yelled at him, with all the breath she had left. She would remember, later, only that he did not hesitate, banishing his wings and falling from the air on to his feet just as the crossbow bolt ripped above him in the dark, to be lost amongst the b.u.t.tresses.

Then: 'Go! Go get Osgan!' she called, even as he hesitated, and she herself was charging the Beetle man, her sword already out of its scabbard. He saw her coming, but had time only to cast the crossbow away.

Thalric lunged into the air and his hands were already wreathed in golden fire as he hit the lamplight. His sting was his strong Art, burning further and fiercer than most. Even though they were waiting for him he still surprised them. In his mind was the one simple thought: They need Osgan alive, to trap me. They will keep him alive, so I have a free hand They need Osgan alive, to trap me. They will keep him alive, so I have a free hand.

The closest man loosed his bolt too early, the fire skittering beneath Thalric as he launched his own. He saw the Wasp thrown from his feet by the force of the impact, his armour melted through and holed, a fist-sized burning mark in his chest. Thalric did not slow, turning quickly and diving in the air just as the others loosed at him. He let fly another two bolts, missing both times, then was past them, diving fast into the darkness again. And how good is their leader now? And how good is their leader now? He heard the words even as he landed again, feet skidding on the slick stonework as he turned himself around. 'After him, you two!' came the order, and Thalric was waiting for them, fingers spread and eyes hunting out their silhouettes. He heard the words even as he landed again, feet skidding on the slick stonework as he turned himself around. 'After him, you two!' came the order, and Thalric was waiting for them, fingers spread and eyes hunting out their silhouettes.

In the darkness, Che drove in with her blade, with no time to think: I am killing another of my people I am killing another of my people. He was Rekef in her eyes, and that removed any trace of kindred. She ran him through without mercy.

Or that was the plan. The Beetle threw himself backwards but one arm was already sweeping for her swordblade. She felt the flat of her sword taken aside by his armoured forearm, and then he punched her with his other hand.

Even though he was moving backwards at the time, the blow hit far harder than it should have done, stopping her short with her head ringing. He followed up, grappling for her sword hand and driving a solid shoulder into her chest, knocking her backwards. She swung at him again but he was too close. The guard of her sword struck him in the face and gashed his cheek, and then he backhanded her hard enough to rattle her teeth. His fists were weighted with gnarls of bone about the knuckles, a Beetle's Art-given weapons.

She tried for distance, hoping to get him at the end of her sword again while ducking aside from his next blow. He did not give her a moment's peace, already grabbing for her wrist to get the sword off her. She cut his fingers once as he misjudged the distance, but even that did not slow him. His expression was implacable, a man performing a difficult but routine job.

I am really not a fighter. I forget that. She broke away sideways, hacking at his head, but he got an arm in the way. The blade bit into the leathers he wore under his Khanaphir clothes, but did not draw blood.

In the darkness of the far side, Thalric's hand flashed fire twice, three times. One of the men barrelling towards him abruptly tumbled out of the air. The other twitched aside at the first flash, and then was on him, faster than either of them was ready for. He had his sword out but Thalric skipped aside from it, and shoved an elbow painfully into the man's jaw. For a moment they were grappling, each trying to find a clear moment for either stab or sting. Then Thalric dragged his opponent down and drove a knee as hard as he could high into the man's ribs, at the point where the armour of the light airborne left off. He heard at least one crack, as the soldier hissed in pain and fell away. Thalric sent a stingbolt after him but it flew wide, the man's wings taking him back into the dark.

Running out of time. Thalric let his own wings lift him, and was scudding back towards the lamplight and towards the diminished enemy. The leader in the centre had a sword out now, Osgan kneeling at his feet. Thalric extended a hand towards him, and swooped in with all the speed he had.

In her own fight, Che stumbled back three paces where she had intended one, catching the man by surprise. For a moment she thought she had him. The Beetle was at her sword's end and she drove forward triumphantly. It had been a feint, though, to draw her out. He was already moving aside, after reading her perfectly. One solid hand smashed down on her wrist, the blade spinning clear of her numbed fingers. The other slammed for her jaw, but hit her shoulder instead, hard enough to take her off her feet.

She landed flat on her back, momentarily unable to suck in breath, one hand scrabbling uselessly across the slimy floor for a sword that was well out of reach. The Beetle dropped on her, planting a knee solidly between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He had his own sword out now, held point down. In a swift, businesslike motion, he raised it to stab her in the throat.

A metal ball bounced and rolled nearby. The Beetle man hurled himself away from it with instinctive fear, whilst Che just stared. Only later did she realize that he must have thought it was a grenade.

The sphere suddenly clicked open, its top half sliding into the underside to reveal the dancing flame of an oil lamp. A quisitor's lamp for exploring caves and ruins A quisitor's lamp for exploring caves and ruins, Che recognized it. It was a common enough toy in the markets of Collegium. But who? But who?

The Beetle man had come to the same realization, as Che thought, Well, we're both lit up like a bonfire now Well, we're both lit up like a bonfire now.

She heard the solid crunch of the crossbow bolt, as it took the man in the small of the back and split two inches out of his chest. His face at last wore an expression, although it was hard to categorize. He dropped.

She cast a moment's glance towards the Wasps, and saw Thalric swoop into the lamplit circle and kill one of the soldiers there with a single blast of his hands. The other Rekef spread out, as if trying to get clear of their leader, but Thalric's palm was now right in line with Sulvec's forehead. They froze, waiting for orders, while Sulvec locked eyes with Thalric. He had one hand on Osgan's collar. The other held the sword directed at his prisoner's neck.

'Let him go.'

'Give it up, Thalric,' Sulvec said. 'Marger, take his sword.'

'Not a move,' Thalric warned, and Marger stopped, his own hands ready to sting.

Sulvec smiled.

Che had stared at them for far too long before going for her own sword. Even as her fingers touched it a boot kicked it down the hall. She found herself looking up into the face of Accius the Vekken.

'What ...?' she said, utterly thrown. There was nothing readable in his expression. With a deft motion he scooped up the quisitor's lamp and flicked it shut.

He grabbed her, finding her in the darkness by simple memory. Even as she recoiled instinctively, he had grasped her sleeve and yanked her towards him, off balance. His arm was about her throat, tight enough to hurt. She pried at it, but it was like iron. Ant-kinden strength Ant-kinden strength. Even putting all of her weight on it there was not an inch of give.

'Thalric!' she got out, a strangled squeak. 'Help!'

But as the cry rang out, it was Osgan that moved. He abruptly lunged upwards, his head striking directly under Sulvec's chin. For a moment he was free. A stingbolt lanced over his shoulder, and Thalric returned the favour with both hands, making the Wasp soldiers scatter and scorching Marger's arm.

Sulvec snarled furiously. His shot at Thalric was close enough to singe his hair. His other hand drove towards his prisoner.

The blade sank into Osgan's gut, all the way to the hilt.

Thalric felt it as though it was plunged in him too, the sudden severing of his hopes. Not after all this! Not after the swamps, after dragging him across the city Not after all this! Not after the swamps, after dragging him across the city, all that thought in a fractured second. Osgan gasped, eyes wide, dropping to his knees with blood welling about the sword-hilt. Thalric had seen wounds like that, had inflicted a few. They were agony, and they meant death in almost every case, and never a quick one.

He bared his teeth, torn. He heard Che cry out again, more distant now. Don't make me choose- Don't make me choose- The stingshots began to burst around him. He made an abortive move towards Osgan, felt one shot sear a line of fire across his leg. His own hands were blazing, aimed he did not care where. The stingshots began to burst around him. He made an abortive move towards Osgan, felt one shot sear a line of fire across his leg. His own hands were blazing, aimed he did not care where.

Che.

He let his wings spring to life and hurl him backwards into the dark, after her. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He was Thalric, loyal to those who served him and obeyed his orders. He did not abandon them. But Che, I can't leave Che But Che, I can't leave Che.

Into the utter dark he went, and heard Sulvec bellow for his men to give chase. The crackle of stingshot was all around him. He risked a look back and saw two men coming for him. To h.e.l.l with the darkness To h.e.l.l with the darkness. He gave his wings their rein, keeping to where he imagined the centre of the hall was, hands outstretched for the walls. The blue fires are ahead, yet not so far ahead, and Che will see me coming. She will see me and warn me The blue fires are ahead, yet not so far ahead, and Che will see me coming. She will see me and warn me.

Marger had darted off after Thalric, as had one of the others. The second soldier crouched by the writhing Osgan, ludicrously looking as though he was checking that the man was all right.

'What are you doing?' Sulvec spat at him, already at the lamplight's edge to follow Marger.

'Putting him out of his misery, sir,' the soldier said.

'Don't,' Sulvec hissed. 'Get after them.' There was sudden movement from behind and he whirled round. It was only one of the soldiers who had followed Thalric, after the man's first lunatic swoop across their torchlit s.p.a.ce. He had an arm about his ribs and was grimacing in pain.

Something moved, everywhere around them. They all felt it save for Osgan, whose world had now contracted to the gash opening his stomach.

Sulvec froze. It was hard to say what had just happened. It was impossible, in fact. He did not have the words or the concepts. There had been a shudder, through the stone and in the air and in his mind, like an earthquake that had not moved a physical thing, but had shaken a sense of threat into their very bones.

'Go ...' Sulvec started, and then he watched blue flames suddenly flash into existence down the hall, way beyond their own lamps. They illuminated no lamp-lighter. He turned round, seeing that the same ghostly braziers had sprung up the other way down the hall, too, leaving only a span of darkness immediately around the Wasps. 'Stay ...' he got out. 'Marger will do it.' His throat was so dry that his voice was just a croak.

'I saw something, sir,' one of his men whispered, pulling closer. At his feet Osgan was whimpering with each new breath he took. The sound gave Sulvec courage.

'That will be Marger, no doubt,' he said, forcing the quaver out of his voice. It had better be Marger It had better be Marger. The three Wasps had now drawn together. Their lamps guttered unnaturally low.