'Who are they?' she asked.
The Fly turned to see where she was pointing and made a dismissive grunt. 'Can't seem to go anywhere without seeing them these days. All over the Exalsee, they are. Iron Glove Cartel. New boys out of Chasme, but they fix up some good stuff.'
'What do they make?'
'Weapons,' said their quiet Dragonfly unexpectedly. 'Armour. Things of war.' He lapsed into silence again.
Che regarded the two Iron Glove men, who wore armour of studded leather all over, even visored helms. They made her feel uncomfortable at some deep level, and for no obvious reason. With a little shiver she turned back to the Fly-kinden.
They haggled over money a little. She knew in the end that he had got her to agree to more than his services were worth, but it was Drillen's money and she had no emotional attachment to it. Anyway, she reckoned that she could probably keep tapping the Fly for information by riding on the guilt of his good fortune.
'I'm Cheerwell Maker of Collegium, by the way,' she informed him. 'What do I call you?'
He leant across the table to clasp her hand with his much smaller one. 'You may call me te Rallo Alla-Maani, Bella Cheerwell,' he said proudly.
'That's your name,' she acknowledged, 'but what do I really call you?' She saw the surprise in his face, at a foreigner knowing this much. The Solarnese woman snorted.
'He's just Trallo,' she said. 'Nothing more than Trallo. And you'd better watch him, Bella. He's a rogue.'
Trallo's easy smile neither confirmed nor denied it.
When Che returned to their lodgings that night, she found Praeda out on the balcony, a silent figure against the raucous background noise of Mannerly Gorget and at least two Solarnese strumpets. The Collegiate woman could almost have been one of the Vekken, and engaged in their silent communion. They had not sufficient funds for a view of the lake, and so Praeda was staring blankly at the buildings just across the street. Che would have gone straight to her own bed and tried for some sleep, save that there was something uncharacteristic about the way Praeda was standing there.
'What are you doing out here, Miss Rakespear?' she asked, joining the woman in the open air. Fly-kinden buzzed overhead, either messengers or just late in going home.
'Not stabbing Manny,' Praeda said flatly, keeping her face turned away from Che.
'He didn't-?'
'He decided to subject me to another broadside of his affection,' Praeda snapped. 'And I do mean broadside.'
'Drunk, I suppose…' said Che and then caught herself. 'Meaning no reflection on you, save that he always seems to be.'
Praeda's shoulders shook, just briefly, hunching forward about her feelings. Che suddenly felt horribly awkward.
'I know what they say,' the other woman said. 'Don't think I haven't heard. I'd hoped to get away from… that kind of talk, save that wretched Gorget has brought it with him. Che…' But she killed the thought, the reaching hand snatched away. 'I apologize, Miss Maker. I will soon be myself again.'
'Cheerwell, please. In fact, I'd prefer Che,' Che told her. 'And can I-?'
'Praeda, please,' Praeda confirmed. 'Thank you.' She turned, valiantly, and Che could see the redness round her eyes. 'It's been a long journey and I'm tired,' she said with dignity, at which Che could only nod.
*
'It's a three-stage business, the road to Khanaphes,' Trallo explained. Despite the warnings about him, he had been working hard for his money in making arrangements. 'We may as well fly to Ostrander. There's a regular run of airships making the jaunt there. From Ostrander we'll fall in with a larger caravan, hiring pack animals and porters. There's always a pool of villains there waiting for work. We go overland to Porta Rabi, almost the longest part of the journey.' He had taken Che to a Fly-kinden chocolate house overlooking the water, and ostentatiously insisted on paying for everything. She was not sure whether this was business as usual for a Solarnese caravan master or whether he was trying to impress her.
'Why not fly straight to this Porta Rabi?' she asked.
Trallo laughed unkindly. 'You're a foreigner, so perhaps you don't know about our neighbours in Princep Exilla.'
'The Dragonflies – you mean air pirates?'
'Any airship near Princep is fair game. So we go overland, and in company, since it's not the safest of roads. From Porta Rabi we find a ship heading for Khanaphes: there'll be one every few tendays.' He shook his head. He had met Master Gripshod and the rest earlier that day and not seemed much impressed. 'They don't like questions in Khanaphes, Bella Cheerwell, so I hope you know what you're doing.'
'So do I.' Here in Solarno, such a long way from home, all of Stenwold's plans and Drillen's ambitions seemed weak and hazy.
'Tell your boffins that we'll take ship in three days,' Trallo continued. He had not met the Vekken yet, which was probably for the best.
'They'll be ready. They're keen to investigate new ground. Solarno has been the talk of Collegium for months.' She hoped that was true for all of them, since Manny had shown a particular liking for the seamier side of this city.
Trallo stood up with a flick of his wings, then changed his mind and sat down again, abruptly waving to a servant for another bowl of chocolate.
'I don't know this place you come from,' he said. 'So I asked around – what's this College place like, I ask them. Nice, they tell me. Busy, hard-working. A bit fond of the pomp and gravitas. They don't tell me about the politics.' His voice had lowered.
'Politics?' Che felt something uncomfortable stir inside her.
'People here are taking an interest. Nobody's been so crass as to offer me money yet, but I'm almost waiting for it. You're being watched, and it's not just cos you're new in town. Anything particular I should know, is there?'
She shook her head slowly. 'I don't think that can be from back home. It's too far, surely. Who…?' She stared at him for a long time. 'Tell me, does the Wasp Empire keep any… people in Solarno?'
'Oh there's an embassy, an ambassador,' he replied lightly, but he was looking straight into her eyes and nodding. 'I don't mind, but it may cost extra, and it's only right I should know.'
She shook her head. 'It must just be because of the war. They probably still keep tabs on every Lowlander in Solarno.' He was looking doubtful, though, and she hardly believed it herself.
'Change the arrangements at the last minute,' she suggested. 'Make it two days, not three. I'll pay for any inconvenience. If someone's interested, let's surprise them.'
Trallo nodded, already making the changes in his head. 'Wise,' he muttered. 'Very wise.' Across the mirror of the Exalsee, the glitter and dance of an aerial duel was takng place. Che leant on the rail, fascinated. She could just make out the combatants. The match was something peculiar to this region, uniquely uneven: a dragonfly-rider from Princep Exilla was flying against a mechanical orthopter. The insect was vastly nimbler in the air, hovering and darting in circles about the machine. Its rider had only a bow and throwing spears. Barring the luckiest shot, he would merely waste his arrows. If the orthopter's rotating piercers found their prey then it would be over in a moment but the machine, sleek and deadly as it was, seemed to lumber through the air. Eventually it would run short of fuel and the pilot would have to break off from the contest. The Dragonfly would count that as a win.
Trallo joined her, stretching theatrically. Their current transport was a more utilitarian beast than Captain Parrols's piece of luxury. The Fighting Craidhen ran passengers and light cargo in short, quick hops around the Exalsee. Aside from the impressive engines, which stank of a mineral oil that made Che feel queasy, there was no spare weight or needless decoration in the airship's design.