Blood of the Mantis

Fifteen

Taki had used her second chute to rewind her engines, and Che was beginning to wonder how much longer her own machine would keep running. They were currently out over the middle of the Exalsee, a broad and island-studded expanse of sun-dappled water. That was when Taki suddenly pulled back, and Che could see her gesturing wildly, shouting something that could not be heard over rush of wind and the Stormcry’s low growl.

What? I’m clear of the water, was Che’s first thought. Taki was still gesturing, though, swinging closer and then further away to try and convey some urgent message. Che almost thought she could hear her Fly companion’s high voice over the engine’s throb.

Despite herself, she looked down, and felt a chill as she noticed a shape in the water, a great dark ellipse. It was not some fish or water monster, though, but simply a huge shadow.

She looked up to see an airship drifting high above them, shimmering blue and silver and reflecting all the colours of the sky. The words of the Creev came back to her: How are they getting in? But, of course, an airship the same colour as the sky might go many places and not be seen.

At first she thought its pontoons bore four engines, but then she saw them fall away from the main craft, accelerating towards her. Orthopters: four of them.

A moment later she saw a finger-sized hole punched through the fabric of the Stormcry’s wing and realized they were shooting at her.

Taki threw the Esca Volenti round in a tight turn, wings beating furiously. Without thinking, her hands were releasing the catches that engaged the cogs of the rotary piercer mounted in front of her. With a low whine the weapon began to spin.

The sky arced round before her as, in her mind, Taki began working out how long she had left before her engine began to run down.

She could see Che making swift headway in the Stormcry, but two of the Wasp orthopters were stooping on her fast. Even in that moment of crisis, Taki had to admire the steepness of their approach. It looked as though the Empire could muster a few decent aviators, and that would make this contest more interesting. If Che had not been caught in the middle of it she would be enjoying herself already, but Che was no fighting pilot, not one ready to perform the dance of the dragonflies over the waters of the Exalsee. Even now she was dropping lower and lower, casting the Stormcry towards the nearest island in the hope of some kind of cover, but Taki was well aware that she would not be able to win out that way. This was not like land-fighting, and cover was good only for moments at a time during a dragon-fight.

She saw a minute glitter as the lead Wasp orthopter loosed its weapons, and she prepared to dive in on him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she put two and two together and came up with four. Four imperial orthopters had dropped from the airship’s mountings, which meant that the other two were…

She flung the Esca sideways in the air, virtually spinning on a wingtip. One orthopter rushed past her and a bolt of energy flashed from its pilot’s hand, scorching a smouldering line across the wood and canvas of the Esca’s wing. Then the long darts of ballista bolts were slanting past her, and she danced her craft back and forth, ducking the other orthopter’s shots. In her mind a clock was running, calculating just how long Che could hope to last without Taki’s intervention.

The orthopter stayed right behind her, its missiles going wide. The flier had twin repeating ballistae bulking out its bow, alternate-strung so that the release of the one fed into the loading of the other. She got a good look at this arrangement as she backed the Esca’s wings without warning, hanging and then falling out of the air so that the Wasp flier surged above her, and then throwing her wings into a blur to catch up with him. Repeating ballistae: the idea of it amused her. It was heavier and less efficient than her own weapon, but it was getting there. These Wasps were obviously worth watching.

She opened up with the rotary piercer, the firepowder-charged bolts whipping through the air far faster than the torsion-powered shafts of the ballistae, so that, just when he thought he had room to dodge, she punched through his hull with half a dozen separate shots. She had no idea whether the damage she had done was to the pilot or to the craft, but the Wasp orthopter abruptly faltered in the air and then dived dizzyingly out of the sky towards the unforgiving waters below.

Taki looked about wildly, trying to pinpoint Che again.

There! Almost skimming the water, just what her instructor had always told Taki never to do. When you’re that low, where can you go next? But they had forced her down and, though her fixed-wing should have been faster, the two of them kept shooting and shooting, forcing Che to bank and turn in a desperate attempt to throw them off, squandering her speed for the fickle privilege of staying alive.

There was still one more orthopter pursuing Taki, and she felt the Esca shake all about her as she saw a hole ripped through the fabric of one wing. She swung her own craft around but the Wasp pulled out of his dive quickly, still keeping above her. She threw her machine at him and the two of them spiralled higher and higher, neither of them getting a shot in, each of them urging their machine to get above its rival. All this time they were getting further and further away from Che.

Another bolt lashed close past Che, gouging a furrow in the Stormcry’s side and throwing her into an involuntary yaw that nearly put one wingtip into the water. The Exalsee was dashing past so fast beneath her that she could only hope that any waiting monster-fish would be unable to take advantage of this swiftly fleeing meal.

Che craned backwards, trying to see her pursuers, but the rear of her cockpit blotted them out of view. The Stormcry groaned again, and she knew another bolt had slammed into some part of it behind her. She hoped it was nothing too important.

There was a little chain of islands ahead, most of them just jagged rocks jutting bare and grey from the water. Taki, where are you? She hurled the Stormcry forwards, because she presented an open target here, over the water, and one that the Wasps were gleefully making use of.

Past the first island, just a barren spur of stone, and she sent the Stormcry sideways, trying to take advantage of its shadow. The bolts slanted down to her left, though, and she realized that one of the Wasps had gone high to continue lancing down at her, while the other was grimly following whatever paces she flung her machine through.

She had never thought that it might end like this: high-speed death in a flying machine, while fighting for her life. Surely that was a death for heroes and warrior-artificers, not for poor untrained scholars. The thought entered her mind that this was a death Achaeos would not approve of, and she had to clamp down on the hysterical giggle that followed.

Left around another jag of rock, and then right behind a proper island worthy of the name, that had a single stand of trees to screen her. The Stormcry suddenly faltered, a great gash carved into one wing, and she felt the differential drag from left and right. Her machine was not going to last that much longer, even though they had yet to strike anything directly connected with the engine. Or with herself, for that matter.

Something flashed behind her and, craning backwards, she saw smoke being whipped away by the rushing air, and a sputter of flame that extinguished almost immediately. For a second her mind went blank, and then she realized: He shot at me with his sting! How close is he? Frantically she cranked her engine into a new gear, forcing the ailing machine to go faster. There was now a much larger island ahead, an entire hill of green rising from the Exalsee, with some kind of building perched on top. She would make for that.

There was another flash from behind, while ahead-

Che screamed on spotting, almost too late, a vastly long shape in the approaching shallows that was even then surging forwards and upwards. She flung the Stormcry skywards and sideways, nearly losing control entirely, watching the waters break and foam to either side as the monster lunged upwards.

No fish, this, however. She had assumed it was just a similar spitting monster to the last one, but what broke through the waters was the jawed head of an enormous insect, surely three times the size of the Stormcry itself. She had a brief glimpse of an ugly, jointed snout, vast glittering eyes, as the monster lunged further, and its jaws gaped and gaped and gaped, unfolding and unfolding, telescoping outwards until they rose high enough to pincer the Wasp orthopter’s retreating tail. The speed of the flying machine dragged another ten feet of monster out of the water, its delicate legs folding close to its body, and for a second they both hung there, impossibly suspended. Then the jaws snapped closed, recoiling with irresistible strength. In another moment there was only the roiling water, no sign of monster, machine or pilot.

Che’s heart was hammering so hard in her chest that she thought she might die. Then the other orthopter sent a bolt straight through her engine, which promptly exploded.

Taki felt the heat as the Wasp pilot launched his sting at her, but the Esca was moving too fast, and in the brief moment where his concentration was divided, she had flung her machine virtually across his path.

How brave are you? she asked him, as he had jerked his flier out of her way. A moment later she had loosed a single bolt into his machine, which was all that she had the time for. Her turn swept him out of her sight in the next instant, so she had no idea what she had achieved, if anything.

Taki came plummeting back now, looking for Che, letting the Wasp follow her if he dared. The sound of the Esca’s engine was not encouraging, for she was running out of stored power in the springs and had already used both her chutes. At this rate she might not even make it back to Solarno.

Ahead of her now she saw the remaining Wasp orthopter stooping on Che with its ballistae launching. She caught it utterly unawares and just let the rotary shoot, sending bolt after bolt into the orthopter from behind. After the second bolt she knew she was too late, as the Stormcry became obscured by smoke, and then by the brightness of flames. Taki screamed in frustration, seeing the Wasp orthopter virtually disintegrate ahead of her. The plume of smoke that the Stormcry had become was now diving straight towards the large island that she guessed Che had been meaning to slingshot around.

The Esca’s motor was sounding increasingly desperate, pitched higher and higher. That place ahead was…

That was Stokes’ Island, she recognised, and it had a bad reputation. Che could still be alive, though, as the Stormcry was heading for a dry landing. Taki anxiously looked around for other Wasp orthopters, seeing none of them.

I have no time. It was agony, but she could not even land the Esca to go looking for Che, because she would never take off again if she did. With Che’s help she might have been able to wind the motor, but never on her own. Nor could the little Esca carry Che, if she was hurt.

With a sob, she slung the Esca straight over Stokes’ Island, and cast herself towards the northern shore of the great lake, and Solarno.

In the end the Esca did not have quite enough stored tension left in her to keep her wings beating and, 200 yards from the airstrip over Solarno, they stopped.

This was not the first time and, with a great heave, she threw the lever that fixed the wings in place, before resorting to her back-up power source, which was her legs. She felt for the pedals and began working them furiously, gliding in on the Esca’s slightly tattered wings, with only a single small propeller at the back providing her with a touch of extra lift as she ran it as fast as she could. She was not strong, being Fly-kinden and unsuited to this kind of strenuous work, so it took every ounce of effort to keep the orthopter from undershooting the landing strip and just ploughing straight into the city streets below her. But finally she saw the smooth stone of the landing field beneath her, and she hauled back on the stick, putting the breadth of the Esca’s wings against the wind, while kicking the orthopter’s landing legs out ready. Her landing was not graceful, and abused components of the machine made noises that worried her, but for now she had no time to think about maintenance.

Taki hopped out of the cockpit and shouted to the nearest artificer, ‘Get the chutes replaced and her engine wound and ready to go! Now, man! There’s no time to lose!’

As the startled engineer jumped up and ran over to obey, Taki collapsed onto her knees, her legs no longer able to support her.

There was a new clock counting away inside her head. It said: How long can Che survive out there? She kept insisting to herself that Che was still alive. Taki was not even considering the possibility of her friend dying in the air, dying in the crash landing or overshooting the island to plough into the Exalsee. Che might be trapped in the wreckage, though, and would almost certainly be injured. How long, how long?

‘Taki!’

She watched the Dragonfly-kinden Dalre approach, looking exasperated.

‘Where the reaches you been? I been looking all over.’

‘Look right here and you’d have found my Esca was out,’ she snapped at him. ‘Draw your own conclusions.’

‘Domina wants to see you.’

‘It will have to wait.’

Dalre sighed, and dropped down so that he could talk to her face to face. ‘Look, little one, I know you’re her favourite, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to come when she calls. She wants to see you now. In fact she wanted to see you three hours ago. She’s going spare, little one.’

Taki stared at him. ‘That bad? Really?’

‘Oh yes. Stuff is going on.’

‘Very nice. Very specific.’ Taki cast an agonized look back at the Esca. It would take them a little while to rewind her, to replace the chutes. She would have to make it quick, very quick. She would tell Genissa just that.

Leaning on Dalre’s shoulder, she got to her feet. Her legs were still very shaky from all the pedalling.

‘I’ll go to her now. You don’t need to escort me,’ she told the Dragonfly sharply. His doubtful look suggested that he wasn’t sure she could even walk.

‘Hey!’

She looked up and saw the foreigner, Nero, appear at the hangar’s mouth. Her heart sank.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, and then, inevitably, ‘Where’s-?’

‘Come with me,’ she urged him. ‘I may need your help.’

And she did. In fact she had to lean on him while her legs recovered. Meanwhile she told him everything: about the Wasp attack, the possible fate of Che. ‘How strong a flier are you?’

Nero considered. ‘Not strong enough to get out that far,’ he admitted. ‘Not my strong suit, is flight.’

‘And you’re wounded too.’

‘A scratch.’

‘You were lucky to get away with just that.’

‘You know the old Art – our kinden’s trick with danger,’ he told her, and she did. Even as the assassin had drawn back his blade, Nero must have sensed it and known to flick himself out of the way. He was clearly only annoyed that the blade should have cut as deeply as it had. ‘I can look after myself. Che, on the other hand-’

‘I know, and I did my best,’ she said, more heatedly than she had meant.

‘No criticisms. If you want me with you whenever you go out, though-’

‘Can you fly a machine, at least?,’ she interrupted. ‘I’ll need another pilot. From what I saw, the Stormcry’s beyond fixing, and I don’t want to head out there in something that can’t fight off the Wasps off if they attack again.’

‘Yes… the Wasps,’ replied Nero flatly.

‘What is it?’

‘I’m sure Domina Genissa will tell you.’

Everything hurt, as Che woke up. She was aware of that before she opened her eyes or paid any heed to what was going on around her. Everything hurt: her head, her back, her legs, her arms. Her left hand hurt particularly, but it was just a louder voice at the back of a clamouring crowd.

Her mind searched for explanations and she was reminded of one fateful night when she and Totho and Salma, and some girl that Salma had been wooing, had set out on an all-night drinking session. The following morning had hurt about as much as this one.

She had been in the fixed-wing, she recalled… the Wasps had been attacking her. She remembered the steam engine exploding behind her, the wood of the flier catching alight, the poor Stormcry burning. A piece of the fragmenting engine casing had struck the back of her head, after it spent most of its force on the panel it had burst through.

The machine had been dying fast, falling towards the island below. In a mad access of energy, half-dazed and working on automatic, she had torn off her harness and thrust herself out of the cockpit, flaring her wings into being to catch the air.

She had not considered the speed the flier was going, so she had been caught by the wind instantly, buffeted along the entire length of the Stormcry’s anguished hull, seared by the erupting flames and choking in smoke, and then she had been falling end-over-end towards the island, her wings still flickering in and out of sight, catching her for a moment each time and then vanishing, unable to bear the strain. She had fallen thus in fits and starts.

She now opened her eyes.

She was caught in a tree. That was what struck her most. She was wedged in the crook of a tree, which probably accounted for much of the pain. There was smoke in the air, and she was afraid that she knew what that meant. As a Beetle girl properly brought up, what she felt about that was guilt. She had gone and broken their fixed-wing and she hoped that Taki and the Destiavels would not be too angry with her, but there hadn’t seemed much option at the time.

Around the tree that she was snagged in were several others similar, and beyond those, even more trees and the faint suggestion of a grey stone edifice uphill from her. She recalled her view of the island from the air as forested, quite densely. Ideally she should now get herself either to the wreck of the Stormcry or somewhere else where a rescuer might spot her from the air. The ruin that she had seen capping the island would be the most obvious place to head for.

Of course the Wasps might also be looking for her. They could already be searching the island, so she would have to be careful. First, though, she would have to get herself out of this tree.

As she shifted, the branch supporting her gave way almost immediately, which solved that particular problem. Her wings caught her this time, and she landed heavily on the forest floor, but without any further apparent damage.

She stood up, wincing, and began trudging towards the sight of stone through the trees. It was her only landmark, everything else being quite foreign to her. The trees were of a type she had never seen before and she had no idea what else might exist here. It was not an island large enough to support some huge monster, she decided – then she decided that the huge monster might like to go off and swim and eat fish, and therefore could be very big indeed.

She tried to creep forward silently but the forest betrayed her at every step. She was just not physically built for such furtiveness. In the end, between the shifting carpet of leaves and the increasing gradient, she had to barge forward as best she could, and who cared about the noise she made? Then she found herself facing grey stonework.

A building, indeed, but now most definitely a ruin. Catching her breath, one hand on the tumbled stone of a wall, the scholar rose within her. Old, very old, she realized, for there was probably as much of it hidden beneath moss and drifted leaves and soil as there was still exposed. It put her in mind of a fallen tower she had seen some ten miles north of Collegium, beside the Sarnesh rail-line. The architectural style was subtly different, but the age-born devastation very similar. That other tower had been a ruin before the revolution, six centuries ago and more. This building could be just as old, long undisturbed and decaying on this island.

She moved on, trying to get an idea of the original scale. This had been a single building, not a community, and quite expansive, but with a curious outline that only made sense when she matched it with the contours of the hilltop. The stones were large and she thought she detected carving on some of them, but now blurred out of all meaning. Of course she knew nothing of the history of this part of the world, though this did not look like Spider-kinden work, either current or past. More like the style of the Moth architects who had first planned the city that later became Collegium, or built that ancient tower lying to the north of it. Not the work of Moth-kinden hands, exactly, but of a people who had once shared some skills and thoughts with them, before coming to this far-flung place to build, and then to die.

That thought rang a stangely familiar chord in her. Something Achaeos had once said…

She perched on a stone, looking around her. It was certainly a melancholy place. Without evidence, she was convinced that these stones had not succumbed to time alone. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel the ghost of the building as it had once been, invisible now but somehow tangible. One symbol had been repeated often enough on these scattered stones that even the legions of time had not quite defaced it, and it spoke to her from ancient pages and from dissenting histories of how the world had been.

She had been around Achaeos too long.

When she opened her eyes again, she was not alone.

A lean, russet-haired man in a tunic of metal scales, crossed with baldrics loaded with throwing knives, was now leaning against a man-high section of broken wall. His features were so kinless, without reference, that it was the knives she recognised first.

‘I know who you are. You’re Cesta,’ Che declared, because Taki had told her all about this man, or at least those scattered and damning facts that Taki really knew. There was a strange dread within Che now, because she had more sources to draw on than just Taki’s hostile recollections. Knowledge was now coming to her, piece after piece falling neatly into place. ‘How did you get here?’

‘I suppose it would be grand to say that I was waiting for you, all along,’ he replied in his colourless voice. ‘In fact I happened to be on Old Scol, three islands down the chain, when I saw the smoke. A meeting as fortuitous as our last, perhaps?’

‘And it won’t do me any good to ask who’s so interested in me that they employed you that time, either?’ Che said. If she had been feeling less battered, less lost, then she would have left her next words unsaid. ‘I’m told you’re only good for one thing – killing.’

‘More than that. I am not a killer. I am an assassin,’ he said with bleak pride, and the final piece fell, click, into place, and she knew. Not a halfbreed at all, this one, nothing so commonplace.

I must be wrong. But she was not wrong. The sudden knowledge was as certain as it was mysterious. It was as though the stones themselves had told her, whispering it in her ear. Oh, Achaeos, you taught me too much. Yet it was some instinct of her own that had made the connection, knitting the tangled snarls of Moth-kinden history to give a name to his unplaceable features in this fallen stronghold.

‘More than that,’ she echoed, ‘what if I said that I know what you are, and whose hands originally raised these stones?’

She had expected some arrogant sneering, but his entire face fell as slack as if she had stabbed him. He seemed utterly confounded.

‘And how,’ he asked, ‘do you know that?’

‘I am a scholar, a historian,’ she said. ‘And what my own people do not teach me, the Moth-kinden do.’ It had been a fraught time for them, setting her own histories against Achaeos’s, until they had hammered out some view of the world they could both live with. Learning had been part of her life for so long she could not have stood by and let him dismiss it all, whilst his kinden were all scholars, with their own secret lore and traditions that were not used to competition. It had not been the prejudice nor the physical differences, but the sheer clash of knowledges that had been the hardest thing to resolve. His rotes of ancient wars and grievances that her kinden had known nothing of, the lists of his people’s enemies, and a certain symbol – that jagged, angry mark – recorded for bitter posterity in Achaeos’s people’s archives.

‘Moth-kinden?’ he said tiredly. ‘So what tale do they tell?’

‘That long, long ago there existed a clever, bloody-handed people skilled in stealth and deception, disguise and death.’ She recounted the story as Achaeos had told it to her. ‘That this people pitted themselves against the Moth-kinden’s rule of the Lowlands, and turned their knives on the Skryres, who were the Moths’ leaders. But they failed, and they were smashed, their entire people driven away and scattered, hunted down and wiped out, save for some few who fled into the Spiderlands and were never seen again. Or is this not the true story?’

‘It will do.’ His earlier manner, that of the calm and inscrutable killer, had not recovered. ‘I may be the last of them for, aside from my father, I have seen no others of my kin. They did a fine job of dispersing us.’

‘Then you are a halfbreed?’

‘If we tended towards halfbreeds, we would have become diluted beyond all measure, gone beyond even history’s ken, but we breed true, the children born into the kinden of one parent or the other. We dwindle from generation to generation, but we cling on. Or perhaps only I, now. The last dregs of the Assassin Bug-kinden standing in the ruins of their last hall.’

‘Here?’

‘Our monastery once. But your story is incomplete, for the Spider-kinden could still not tolerate us – we who were violent and sly beyond even their ways – and so they came here to the last stronghold of my race, and slaughtered all they found with the help of their slave-soldiers. But some few must have escaped, as I myself am proof of. We are a stubborn stain on the world, one that will not wash out just yet.’

‘And… are you going to…?’ She clenched her fists. ‘Are you going to kill me?’

His sardonic look returned. ‘Are you yet dead? Then you may take the answer as no, for now.’

She put a hand out to him. ‘If I know you, you should know me. I’m Cheerwell Maker from Collegium.’

‘Yes, you are.’ He clasped her wrist in that same warrior’s affectation she had seen Tisamon use. ‘And you’re tougher than you look. And you’re here to fight the Wasps.’

‘To warn people about the Wasps.’

‘That may no longer be necessary,’ Cesta said.

‘Tell me, whose side are you on?’

‘That is one thing I can never tell you, because I have no side save my own and that of whoever pays me.’

‘And if the Wasps conquer Solarno?’

He shrugged, as if blithely unconcerned. ‘And do the Wasps have no need for a killer? Or else those that oppose them? Or I shall go to Princep Exilla – and if that falls there are lands more southerly still. My kind has passed from this world, Bella Cheerwell Maker. With the exception of yourself, and of the Moth-kinden who forget nothing, the world has forgotten us. Besides, we were always good at passing unnoticed. Even within the Spiderlands, no finger shall point at me and cry out what I am.’

‘So you don’t care,’ she said, disappointed. ‘You’re just a killer after all.’

‘Perhaps not even that. I am a shadow that the sun has not, for some reason, dispelled yet. I have sired no children. If I am truly the last, let my kind die with me. I would not wish my cursed blood on any other.’

‘And with your gifts you will do nothing?’

‘Do you mean to recruit me, Bella Cheerwell Maker?’

‘And if I do?’ She knew she was over-bold and put a hand to her mouth, too late to stop the words.

‘You have not the gold to buy me,’ he said softly. ‘Besides, why should I take up arms in your cause? I am no idealist to jump to another’s drum.’

‘Then you must leave Solarno and the Exalsee,’ she warned him, without force, her tired conviction coming from bitter experience. ‘You must go south or east of here, and then keep running, Master Cesta. The Wasps have need of killers but they’ll bring their own, Rekef-branded. I had a word with a Wasp, not so long ago, who tried to make a living as a freelance within sight of the Empire’s borders, and he was not a happy man. The Empire beats a loud drum. You will have to run a long way not to hear it.’

His lips twitched, but he offered no come-back, standing there in the wreckage of his inheritance. A moment later they heard the distant sound of a flier’s engine, far off over the Exalsee, and Che jumped up but then hesitated. Wasps? Or Taki come back for me?

‘Do you want me to find out who?’ Cesta asked her, reading her expression.

‘Why would you help me even in that?’

‘Nothing I have said means that I can’t like you,’ he told her. ‘I would kill you if I was hired for it, but it would still not mean that I cannot like you.’

With that he was gone into the trees, leaving her to work his last words out.

When it was clear that it was the Esca Volenti passing low over the island, Che expected Cesta to simply melt away into the forest, but he was content to stand out on the beach with her as she waved at the repassing orthopter. Taki threw the machine into a tight turn and brought it down for an impeccable water landing. Moments later Che heard the drone of another engine, and a much bulkier machine rumbled down to the water, still managing to touch its surface as gracefully as a falling leaf. She recognized it immediately as the big, armoured fixed-wing belonging to the Solarnese pilot called Scobraan.

Taki put her head up out of the cockpit and was about to call over, when she spotted the assassin. For a second she had nothing to say but then she had hopped out and flitted from the Esca’s wing onto the beach.

‘What in the pits are you doing here?’ she asked the killer, sounding none too friendly.

Cesta’s smile was cold. ‘I’m sorry, Bella te Schola Taki-Amre,’ he said smoothly. ‘Is this your island? Am I not welcome on it?’

‘As far as I’m concerned you’re welcome nowhere near me,’ Taki told him. He might have been almost twice her height, and a feared assassin as well, but she muscled up to him as though she was going to lay him flat. ‘You leave Che alone, you hear me?’

‘Have I done her harm?’ Cesta pointed out.

‘Nothing you do turns out any good. Perhaps you forget that,’ the Fly replied hotly.

Che glanced between them nervously. ‘He hasn’t done anything to me,’ she said. ‘We were just talking-’

‘This isn’t about you,’ Taki said sharply. ‘Just you remember that there are no depths that this bastard won’t stoop to. None. He has no morality, nothing in him to make him care about others.’

In answer to Che’s uncertain glance, Cesta said, ‘True. All of it entirely true. The curse of our blood.’ She was not sure whether he was being genuinely flippant or hiding a deeper hurt.

‘Are you coming or what?’ bellowed Scobraan, his cockpit now open. He was looking up at the skies nervously. ‘Don’t want to get caught on the water if they come back!’

Taki nodded. ‘Are you expecting a lift?’ she asked Cesta drily.

‘I have my own boat,’ he said. ‘No doubt I shall see you in the city, one of these days.’

‘Don’t try to frighten me,’ Taki told him.

‘Oh, come on!’ shouted Scobraan, and Taki nodded, turning away from Cesta and visibly dismissing him from her mind.

‘You’ll travel on the Mayfly Prolonged,’ she said to Che, who recalled this as the name of Scobraan’s craft. ‘Sieur Nero’s there as well, he’s got some bad news.’

‘Why do you hate Cesta so much?’ Che whispered. ‘He’s a murderer.’

‘That’s not it.’

‘Then whatever it is, it isn’t your business,’ Taki told her. ‘I’m just glad to find you safe, Che.’

‘Did he kill… what was it, Amre? Your lover?’

That stopped Taki short, halfway into her seat on the Esca. ‘He was my half-brother, Amre, and the Wasps killed him with their own hands. No, Cesta killed his own lover, for money. She happened to be a friend of mine, too, but that’s not really the point.’

The Mayfly Prolonged had hold-space that just fitted Nero and Che crouching, comfortably enough for him but exceedingly cramped for her.

‘So what’s the bad news?’ she asked.

‘You know that Empire airship you had all the problems with,’ he began.

‘Yes?’

‘Well we reckon it was dropping off,’ said Nero. ‘Because there’s a whole load more Wasp soldiers in Solarno now, enough to get everyone worried. I think it’s starting.’