Adrian Tchaikovsky - Empire in Black and Gold (Shadows of the Apt 1)

I owe a great deal to agreat many people whose inspiration, aid and encouragement have made this bookpossible; more than can reasonably be named in such a short space. However, Iwould like to thank: the support of my family and extended family; twice-yearlymeetings of the Dead-liners writing group in York; swordfights and archerypractice in the wilds of Reading; late-night drinking sessions in the stews ofOxford; and the oldest and best of friends, Wayne, Martin and Shane, becausetheyve been there from the start.

And I would like tothank especially my agent Simon Kavanagh, and to thank Peter Lavery, JonMitchell, Michael Bhaskar, and everyone else at Macmillan who collectively madeall this possible.

Fallen Heroes

Spoils of War

The Dreams of Avaris

Ironclads

Ants

Beetles

Dragonflies

Mantises

Moths

Scorpions

Spiders

Wasps

After Stenwold picked upthe telescope for the ninth time, Marius said, You will know first from thesound.

The burly man stoppedand peered down at him, telescope still half-poised. From their third-storeyretreat the city walls were a mass of black and red, the defenders hurryinginto place atop the ramparts and about the gates.

How do you mean, thesound?

Marius, sitting on thefloor with his back to the wall, looked up at him. What you hear now is menbraving themselves for a fight. When it starts, they will be quiet, just for amoment. They will brace themselves. Then it will be a different kind of noise.It was a long speech for him.

Even from here Stenwoldcould hear a constant murmur from the gates. He lowered the telescopereluctantly. Therell be a great almighty noise when they come in, if all goesaccording to plan.

Marius shrugged. Thenlisten for that.

Below there was a quickpatter of feet as someone ascended the stairs. Stenwold twitched but Mariusremarked simply, Tisamon, and went back to staring at nothing. In the roombeneath them there were nine men and women dressed in the same chain hauberkand helm that Marius wore, and looking enough like him to be family. Stenwoldknew their minds were meshed together, touching each others and touchingMarius too, thoughts passing freely back and forth between them. He could notimagine how it must be, for them.

Tisamon burst in, talland pale, with thunder in his expression. Even as Stenwold opened his mouth hesnapped out, No sign. Shes not come.

Well there are alwaysStenwold started, but the tall man cut him off.

I cannot think of anyreason why she wouldnt come, except one, Tisamon spat. Seldom, so veryseldom, had Stenwold seen this man angry and, whenever he had been, there wasalways blood. Tisamon was Mantis-kinden, whose people had, when time was young,been the most deadly killers of the Lowlands. Even though their time ofgreatness had passed, they were still not to be toyed with. They werematchless, whether in single duel or a skirmish of swords, and Tisamon was amaster, the deadliest fighter Stenwold had ever known.

She has betrayed us,Tisamon stated simply. Abruptly all expression was gone from his angularfeatures but that was only because it had fled inwards.

There are...reasons, Stenwold said, wishing to defend his absent friend and yet not turnthe duellists anger against himself. The mans cold, hating eyes locked on to himeven so. Tisamon had taken up no weapon, but his hands alone, and the spurs ofnaked bone that lanced outward from his forearms, were quite enough to takeStenwold apart, and with time to spare. Tisamon, Stenwold said. You dontknow...

Listen, said Mariussuddenly. And when Stenwold listened, in that very instant there was no moremurmur audible from the gates.

And then it came,reaching them across the rooftops of Myna: the cry of a thousand throats. Theassault had begun.

It was enough to shoutdown even Tisamons wrath. Stenwold fumbled with the telescope, then stumbledto the window, nearly losing the instrument over the sill. When he had theglass back to his eye his hands were shaking so much that he could not keep itsteady. The lenss view danced across the gatehouse and the wall, then finallysettled. He saw the black and red armour of the army of Myna: men aimingcrossbows or winching artillery around. He saw ballista and grapeshot-throwerswheel crazily through the arc of the telescopes eye, discharging theirburdens. There was black and gold now amongst the black and red. The first waveof the Wasp divisions came upon them in a glittering mob: troops in lightarmour bearing the Empires colours skimming over the tops of the walls, theair about their shoulders ashimmer with the dancing of nebulous wings. For asecond Stenwold saw them as the insects they aped, but in reality they werearmoured men, aloft in the air, with wings flickering from their backs andblades in their hands. They swooped on the earthbound defenders with lances andswords, loosing arrows and crossbow bolts and hurling spears. As the defendersturned their crossbows upwards towards them, Stenwold saw the bright crackle asgolden fire flashed from the palms of the attackers hands, the killing Art ofthe Wasp-kinden.

Any moment now,Stenwold whispered, as though the enemy, hundreds of yards away, might overhearhim. From along the wall he heard a steady thump-thump-thump as Mynas hugerock-launchers hurled missile after missile into the ground troops advancingbeyond the wall.

Theyre at the gate.Marius was still staring into space, but Stenwold knew that one of his men waspositioned on a rooftop closer to the action, watching on his behalf.

Then it must be now,Stenwold said. Now. He tried to focus the jitterytelescope on the gates, saw them flex inwards momentarily and heard the boom ofthe battering ram. Now, he said again uselessly, for still nothing happened.All that time he had spent with the artificers of Myna, charging the earth infront of the gates with powder, and nothing .

Perhaps they got itwrong, Marius suggested. Again the ram boomed against the metal-shod gates,and they groaned like a creature in pain before it.

I was practicallylooking over their shoulders, Stenwold said. It was ready to go. How couldthey have... Someone must have...

We are betrayed, saidTisamon softly. By Atryssa, clearly. Who else knew the plan? Or do you thinkthe people of Myna have sold their own to the slavers block?

You... dont know ... But Stenwold felt conviction draining from him. Atryssa, so expected butso absent, and now this...

Spider-kind, Tisamonspat, and then repeated, Spider-kind, with even keener loathing. On the wallsthe vanguard of the Wasp army was already engaged in a hundred littleskirmishes against the shields of the defenders. Tisamon bared his teeth inutter fury. I knew! I knew you could never trust the Spider-kinden. Why did weever let her in? Why did Why did we trust her? He was white knuckled,shaking, eyes staring like a madmans. The spines flexed alarmingly in hisforearms, seeking blood. Stenwold stared into his face but barely heard thewords. Instead he heard what Tisamon had left unsaid, and knew not fear but aterrible pity. Spider-kinden, as Tisamon said. Spider-kinden, as subtle anddevious as all that implied, and still Tisamon, with a thousand years ofrace-hatred between them, had let her into his life and opened the gates of hissoul to her. It was not just that Atryssa had betrayed her friends and betrayedthe people of Myna; it was that she had betrayed Tisamon, and he could not bearthe hurt.