Thalric watched the soldiers get closer, wishing he had invested in a telescope. Varmen had already halted the horses and climbed down, instructing his employers to let him do the talking.
‘Is that…?’ Che was squinting up. ‘Do I see Imperial colours?’ Her Art let her see in utter darkness, as Thalric had cause to know, but he was aware that her eyes were less acute than his own in daylight. All the same, he realized that she was right. There was definitely a touch of the black and gold to their welcomers.
But that’s not right, he thought, still trying to discern the details. They’re Dragonflies – they must be. No Wasp flies like that.
There were half a dozen of them landing in a loose arc across their path, and Varmen need not have worried about his companions. Thalric and Che were too busy staring to have anything to say.
They were Dragonflies indeed, the same slender, golden-skinned breed that Thalric remembered well from the Twelve-year War, and that for Che presumably recalled her dead friend, the Commonwealer prince. Four men and two women, they held their bows at the ready, arrows nocked but not drawn back. All had armour of chitin and leather, except for one man who wore most of a full suit of proper Commonweal noble’s maiclass="underline" iridescent plates of insect shell over fine chain.
Each of them was decked out in black and yellow, but instead of the Empire’s uniform stripes, the patterns varied wildly. Only the colouring was the same, dyed or painted on. Even the fletchings of their arrows followed the theme, and the man in fancy armour had half his face tattooed black.
As the Dragonflies inspected the three travellers, their look was not wholly that of suspicious border guards. There was a wariness there that Thalric could not immediately place.
‘Why do you seek to enter the Principalities?’ demanded their leader, he of the painted face.
‘Me?’ Varmen responded casually. ‘Just a guide, me. Don’t want any problems. Just paid to show these two the best roads.’
‘And what’s their business?’ the Dragonfly countered, pointing at Thalric with one end of his bow.
‘Oh, traders,’ was Varmen’s explanation. ‘Merchants, you know.’
Thalric winced, because traders would be travelling with a great deal more baggage than Varmen’s little pack-beetle could accommodate. The Dragonflies seemed to be of the same mind, for they closed in a little, and the arrowheads were wavering upwards along with the level of their suspicions.
‘Traders?’ their leader spat disbelievingly.
‘You know, fresh out of Capitas,’ Varmen continued, for all that Thalric was on the point of telling him to shut up. ‘Long way, you know, from Capitas, but they’re very keen to, you know, trade.’
It was as if there was some mindlink between Varmen and the people out of Solamen, because one by one they clearly leapt to some conclusion that his words alone could not account for. There was a nervous shuffling amongst them.
Fear? Thalric wondered, but there was more than simple fear there.
‘Capitas, is it?’ the leader asked cautiously.
‘Oh, there are plenty of traders out of Capitas who want to know this part of the world better. News of your princes has reached them there, and they see a lot of, you know, profit in making deals over here, if you see what I mean.’
The Dragonflies apparently did see what he meant, for all that Thalric did not.
‘We should…’ one of them began, as their leader actually looked plaintively at Varmen for guidance.
‘Best not to trouble your chief. It’s all a little quiet, you know – trading on the sly, if you see?’ Varmen was studying his dirty fingernails with exaggerated unconcern.
‘I see,’ the Dragonfly chief confirmed. ‘You should pass through swiftly. I’m sure the Colonel would agree.’
At the mention of that Imperial title, Thalric almost choked, but he held it in and kept it there whilst the Dragonflies rose aloft and flew back towards Solamen.
‘Glad you’re with me now?’ Varmen asked them, grinning broadly.
‘What was that?’ Thalric demanded. ‘For that matter, why in the pits were they dressed like that? And a colonel? Has Solamen been taken over by madmen?’
‘Not just Solamen, the whole of the Principalities – all the land the Empire bit out of the Commonweal during the war,’ Varmen explained. ‘You’ve got to think – this was all Imperial until the Alliance cities kicked us out, and the Commonweal never actually took them back.’
‘But why?’ Che demanded. ‘Surely they’re free now?’
‘Oh, free,’ replied Varmen dismissively. ‘Free for what? Free to wait until the Empire comes back? Look, most of the noble families that were lording it over places like this got wiped out, right? Down to the last little snapper among them, is what I heard.’
Thalric nodded, lips pressed together, but Varmen failed to notice his reaction.
‘So who takes over? Some peasant farmer? Who else knows how to run things, ’cept us?’
‘And so they let us through because we were Wasps?’ Thalric demanded. ‘What was all that about merchants?’
‘Well, you know… merchants,’ Varmen echoed, with a peculiar emphasis.
‘Explain,’ Thalric insisted, but at his side Che was laughing. She was doing her best to contain it, but it was leaking out all over: her shoulders shaking, muffled snorting noises from behind her hand.
‘Well, come on,’ Varmen said, ‘what would you think: two people who really, honestly aren’t merchants come in, and they’d come from the capital, and they had, you know, secret business to attend to, all hush-hush, you know?’
‘Oh, you bastard, they thought we were Rekef,’ said Thalric, finding himself momentarily unable to know how he should feel about that.
Varmen shrugged. ‘They know about the Rekef here. They know how the Rekef killed off all their old nobles, and they know they don’t exactly want a new crop coming in from the Commonweal just yet, given how badly the old lot did. So, yeah, Rekef. Why not?’
Thalric gave in, and a moment later, catching Che’s eyes, he gave out a bleak laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
‘All right, all right,’ Varmen said, slightly put off now. ‘It’s not that funny.’
‘Oh, it is,’ Thalric told him. ‘Believe me, it is.’
That night, when they were well past Solamen and after Che had gone to sleep, Varmen said, ‘I’ve got to ask. You and her, what’s going on?’
Thalric stared at him coldly. ‘None of your business, Sergeant.’ He had guessed the man’s rank within minutes of meeting with him in Myna.
Varmen held his closed hands up before him, a gesture of appeasement. ‘It’s just that, I reckoned you were in charge, and she was your woman, you know – or your slave, or maybe a scribe or something. But this is her journey, isn’t it? And you’re tagging along.’
‘Like I said, it’s not your business to worry about. Just get us to the Commonweal.’ Thalric was annoyed at how transparent the situation had become. Perhaps I should put a hand on the rudder of this little trip? As a Wasp-kinden man, he felt that he should be offended that a woman of a lesser kinden was expecting him to trail after her. If he worked at it, he could get up quite a head of self-righteousness, but he did have to work at it. To his surprise, he found that, left to his own devices, he wouldn’t care much.
Of course, I have no idea precisely where we’re going, or why, so a fine fool I’d look by demanding to take the lead and then having to ask the way. Che had decided that she had to save her foster-sister, Tynisa. Save her from what? Thalric had no fond memories of the half-Spider girl who had tried to kill him on two separate occasions. In his opinion, it was not saving that she needed, so much as putting out of her misery like a mad animal. She stabbed Achaeos, after all. Why doesn’t Che want her dead, after that?
Unless the girl’s playing her cards close, and that is what she does want after all…