Adrian Tchaikovsky - Blood of the Mantis (Shadows of the Apt 3)

ALSO BY ADRIAN TCHAIKOVSKY

Empire in Black and Gold

Dragonfly Falling

She had walked into the garrison at Jerez without a word, picking up a guard to escort her as she did so. She looked like any stooped old woman in a dark robe, some emaciated grandmother hobbling with her cane, save that her eyes were red and glistening.

The guard from the gates then passed her on to a watch sergeant, who passed her to a duty sergeant, and she made no introductions or explanations, just latched onto each man in turn like a leech. Eventually they brought her to the man she sought, the man she had already sniffed out through the sloping corridors of the fort.

Lieutenant Brodan, the duty sergeant began.

What is it? Brodan was at his desk, sifting reports dictated by his Skater agents. The sheer volume of fabrication had been wearing on him.

Lieutenant Brodan... The sergeants face went slack. I...

A message? A visitor?

A... visitor, yes. A visitor. The sergeant blinked, made a vague gesture at the robed woman. This is... is...

Whats wrong with you, Sergeant? Brodan snapped. Nothing sir, I... The man reeled slightly. Excuse me, sir, I feel...

Brodan looked from him to the gaunt face of the old woman he escorted and a cold shiver went through him. Excused, Sergeant, he said quietly, and let the man get out of earshot before he inquired, And what was that all in aid of?

Why, in aid of you, Lieutenant Brodan, she said, sitting down. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

And who decided that sending me a hag was the best way to help me?

Her lipless mouth curved mirthlessly. There are those in the capital very interested in your success. They feel sooner is better than later, Lieutenant. So they have sent me to you. If it will help you, my name is Sykore.

Rekef? he thought momentarily, but she was surely not Rekef. This was no Rekef approach or technique. She was something else entirely.

What help can you be? he asked reluctantly.

I can lead you to your enemies, she told him. Do not think that I have been idle here in Jerez.

I see no reason to trust you, Lieutenant Brodan said. Indeed, it was hard to see anything positive about his new acquaintance. She sent a distinct shudder through him, even though he was a Rekef officer, which was not a profession for the squeamish.

Then you must make your choice. I am only offering you, after all, what you are here for, and no more. How easy to turn that down? The creatures hissing voice was getting on his nerves. Pallid and hollow-cheeked she was, and with red, staring eyes like something from a childrens story. I shall take you to your enemies, she repeated. I know exactly where they are.

You mean where they were, Brodan scoffed. And how long ago was that?

Where they are. Where they will be, the creature insisted. Her bony hands twitched in her lap. What can you comprehend? Nothing. So understand only that I know.

And since when did I have enemies? Brodan asked. Everyone likes me.

They are here to take what you seek, and that makes them enemies, his visitor said patiently.

Collectors?

Not collectors but thieves. Thieves from the Lowlands, she hissed. Enemies of your Empire.

I thought you said you were working for the Empire, Brodan said suspiciously.

She curled her thin lips. I am older than your Empire, so what should I care? Only that I am instructed to lead you by the nose until you have acquired this thing you seek, so here I am. If you turn aside my help, and then fail, it shall soon be known.

Brodan grimaced. It was true that the Rekef used some strange folk as agents, although this unidentifiable thing must be the strangest yet.

I shall be watching you, he warned.

Watch all you want. I shall even dance for you, if you wish.

He shivered again. Is this Maxins work then? Where did the general dredge this freak up from?

So take us, he said. Show us these enemies that were supposed to have. Lets sort them out.

She rose. They must be stalked, she said, folding her hands primly before her. Blood will be shed here tonight.

This is Jerez, and blood is shed here every night, Brodan responded, wishing he felt as contemptuous as he sounded. Only ten minutes in a room with this monster, with the evening now drawing on, and he had begun to feel decidedly uneasy.

Gather up your soldiers, she told him, and then her hand went up, her head tilting back as though she had scented something. Gather them quickly. The blood has begun to flow. We must go. We must go now!

*

Achaeos had been suspicious, which Tynisa attributed mostly to his distrust of Beetle-kinden merchant-lords. His own magic had failed to trace the box, though, and so he had at last given in with bad grace.

If things go badly, he had advised, find your way to Nivits home. Gaved is there, watching over Thalric, and I understand that Nivit has people he can call upon to fight for him, insofar as these wretched little creatures ever fight.

What about you? she had asked, seeing they had found him alone. Jons Allanbridge, it seemed, was airborne somewhere, testing out the newly repaired Buoyant Maiden.

I can hide as well as any Skater, said Achaeos. They will not find me. He frowned, studying her closely. There is something more to this?

Oh, no doubt, she said. But theres only one way to find out what exactly, and thats to take up Master Bellowerns invitation.

Now she was hurrying along behind Tisamon, heading for the grounded gondola that Founder lurked in, as evening slowly grew over the sky.

That Beetle is more frightened than he will admit even to himself. I wonder why, Tisamon remarked.

His rivals, no doubt, said Tynisa. Perhaps they have joined forces against him.

The Mantis shook his head. More than that. No man becomes that great unless he can deal with the envy of rivals. It must be the box itself.

Then what about that Spider girl?

Perhaps she knows where it is? Tisamon said. Perhaps he means for us to guard her. He stopped abruptly. Perhaps that girl was Scyla the spy.

Tynisa also paused, unsettled by this new thought. We cant rule it out, she admitted. But, then, we cant rule out that Founder himself is the spy. From what Achaeos said, she can look like anyone.

So this is a trap?

It could be a trap. Do you want to go back?

Tisamon raised an eyebrow at her. Why?

She saw that he would rather that it was indeed a trap, something straightforward to turn his blade on. He was all anticipation.

The rooms inside that thing are going to be low and small, she warned him.

Let that worry them more than us. It negates their numbers, was all he thought of her concern. He set off again, faster, but Tynisa had felt a tickling sensation on her wrist. Inspecting it idly, she saw blood oozing there. Her mysterious scratch had opened up again, although she could have sworn that it was only shallow, a mere nothing.

What is it? Tisamon asked her. She shook her head, wiping her hand with a cloth, while keeping it from view. The scar seemed to have resealed itself rapidly. She had an uneasy moment, just a second of it, as though she was surrounded by a great chasm, yawning all about her, and she was about to topple into it.

Nothing, she replied hurriedly. Nothing at all.

They were admitted without delay into the gondola, heading up along a gangplank that two of Founders men lowered for them. The interior had fewer rooms than Tynisa had guessed, with higher ceilings and more light and space. If not for a faint slant in the outside walls, she would have taken this place for a real house, even a regular house in Collegium. With the windows shuttered and gas lamps flickering on the walls, it could have been the sitting room of any College Master: rugs on the floor, bookshelves and paintings, even a little gilded automaton standing on Founders broad desk, wound down and caught motionless in mid-step.