'He ran into that statue over there, the Mantis one, and it gave him a bit of a fright,' Thalric explained. One harsh winter during the Twelve-year War, he had crossed a frozen lake on foot, his armour weighing him down too much for flight. He was reminded of that now: just pressing on carefully while waiting for the ice to give way, for everything to fall apart.
'Well, I can understand that.' She sat down with a whoosh of breath, raising the jar to her lips again.
Everyone gets a drink tonight except me, he thought. Now is that fair? 'I don't suppose,' he said, still negotiating the ice, 'there's enough there for a swig?'
She gave him a long look, and in his mind he heard the ominous creaking and cracking, but then she passed it over. He knocked back a gulp, tasted harsh spirits, far stronger than he had expected. He choked, forcing it down, then handed the jar back wordlessly.
Che gave a delighted shout. 'You know, I always thought temperance was one of your lot's virtues. I don't think I ever saw a drunk Wasp before.'
Osgan began to protest about being called drunk, but he slurred the words so much he was incomprehensible.
Thalric felt himself smile. 'Oh, bring three bottles of this gutrot to my room some time, and I'll show you one.' He waited for the final crack, the sudden icy cold, but she laughed out loud, the sound ringing around the Place of Foreigners. What Marger and the rest must have thought, he had no idea.
'I'm not… not that drunk. I'm not that… that drunk,' Osgan muttered, getting one elbow on to a bench and dragging himself into a sitting position. 'That… not that drunk… but… but I saw – it, him…' The words fell off into a choking sob.
Thalric gave Che a look of exasperation but realized she was nodding. 'Oh, the Khanaphir are far too good at statues,' she agreed. 'I had enough of a fright when I saw our door guards.'
Thalric glanced across at the Collegium embassy, not understanding for a moment, then reinterpreting the stone Moth-kinden there. 'Of course,' he added more quietly, 'he is dead.'
'Yes,' Che echoed. 'Yes, he is dead.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Are you really?' And the ice began to give way, just as it had in the Commonweal.
'You forget, I knew him,' Thalric said, in a tone that was quick and clipped. Why do I care what she thinks I think about her dead Moth? 'We went through that mad business in Jerez together. For that matter, I did my best to stop him getting stabbed.'
She was nodding, slowly. Another step taken and he hadn't fallen yet. 'I wasn't there. He wouldn't take me with him.'
'You… wouldn't have been able to change anything,' he declared.
She glared at him. 'Would I not, then?'
He turned away from her to look into the water again, his own expression looking as distant as those of the statues themselves. 'It's just what one says, in these situations, to spare people. To tell the truth there were things happening that night that I will never understand.'
There was a long pause, and he found her studying him, nodding slowly. 'I believe you,' she said, almost too softly for him to catch. 'I believe you, because I understand it a little, now.' He frowned at that and she shook her head, casting around for another topic of conversation. 'What's your friend got against Mantids?'
Osgan gave a hollow laugh. 'You can't know. You weren't there.'
Che frowned at Thalric. 'Where?'
Osgan struggled further up onto the next bench, and lay back on it, gasping like a dying fish.
'He was…' It was not a pleasant tale, would seem even less pleasant to her. Thalric pressed on regardless. 'He was a guest of the Emperor during a celebration to mark the anniversary of the coronation. There was a big blood-fighting match. He had the honour of serving as the Emperor's scribe for the evening. For the Consortium it's a real accolade.'
'Oh, I was doing well, back then. Well, well, well,' Osgan interrupted. 'I was flying high.'
'So what happened?' Che asked. 'Did the Emperor-?'
'Oh, the Emperor nothing,' Thalric said. He waited for Osgan to speak, then filled in the silence. 'It was because of your friend. I wasn't there, but I've heard all about it. Your friend the Mantis.'
'Tisamon.' Che breathed. The very name seemed to make the night more chill, and she shivered under the cloak, leaning closer to him, anxious to hear the rest.
'He was fighting for the Emperor's pleasure, but he got up into the stalls somehow. He went… mad,' Thalric said slowly. 'Tisamon went mad, that's what I heard. There were guards that tried to stop him, but…'
'You… weren't there,' said Osgan clearly. 'You can't know. They tried to stop him. They ran in from in front of the Emperor, and from all sides, and they flew from across the pit. They tried… they had stings and spears and swords, and they were trying to get between him and the Emperor, but he just… killed them.' His voice sounded raw, like an unhealed wound. 'He killed them and he killed them, and they didn't have a chance. They were throwing themselves on to his blade. They – so many – they were… so brave, all of them so brave. They were dying for the Emperor, and the Mantis wouldn't stop killing them. They didn't have a chance.' He choked again, descending back into his misery. 'So brave,' he got out one last time.
Che was looking somewhere beyond Thalric now, while automatically passing the jar back to him. 'She never said,' she murmured. 'Tynisa would never say just how it happened.'
Thalric put a hand to her shoulder, without thinking. All these dead we have in common. She covered it with her own, still peering into her own mind. For a moment, lost in memory and in drink, she had forgotten who he was.
'And the Emperor died, of course,' said Thalric. And from there come all my woes.
She focused her gaze on him again, and instead of the anger he had expected there was only puzzlement there. 'What are you doing here, Thalric?'
'Keeping an eye on you.' He said it before the Rekef in him could prevent it. 'And you?'
'Me? Oh, I'm mastering the art of self-deception. The others, they're here to study – although I don't expect you to believe a word of it. But I myself came here looking for… something else.' She gave a fragile smile. 'Something that isn't here, that never was.' No longer clutched so tight, the cloak had fallen open as she leant closer. Beneath it he saw the thin shift she wore, and under that, the swell of her breast. He felt a stab of arousal, absurdly inappropriate but powerful, and made to remove his hand from the warmth of her shoulder. For a second she held on to it, then let him reclaim it.
'We are such fools, aren't we?' she said. 'Brawling in the streets.'
'To the great amusement of our hosts,' he agreed.
'Well, Thalric, where does this leave us?'
'I don't know,' he said. 'Are we enemies, here and now?'
She met his gaze. 'You made a slave of me.'
'Che-'
'You would have had me raped. You would have tortured me – you would – don't think I've forgotten.'
He had gone cold. The ice had finally cracked and he had forgotten to be ready for it. 'I won't deny it.'
'I didn't think you would. You've never been less than honest.' She shrugged. 'And Uncle Sten thinks there's even hope for the Vekken, so why not you? What are you asking for, Thalric?'
'A truce? Until things degenerate between our factions again. A truce between you and me.' He took that final step across the perilous ice. 'For old times' sake.'
She snorted with laughter, but he was now on firm ground. He grasped her hand when she offered it to him, though he saw the faint flinch, her memory of what Wasp hands could do.
'We are both a long way from home,' she conceded, draining the last dregs from the jar. As she stood up it took her a moment to get her balance. 'We… we run out of old friends, do we not? They die, or they leave.'