‘I do not fear you,’ Tisamon informed him, and stepped on until he was just outside the little pavilion. He left enough room around him for fighting unhampered, Tynisa noticed. The legendary Mantis dislike of the other man’s entire race was rigidly evident in every line of his body.
‘My scouts shall be disciplined,’ the Spider said. ‘They told me two Mantids, but I see only one, albeit as much a Mantis as one might wish to encounter, and one remarkable woman. Pray allow me, sweet lady, to have the honour of naming myself.’
He was expecting a response, but she did not know what to offer, and so she shrugged. He took that as satisfactory, and made a remarkably fluid and elegant bow while never quite taking his eyes off her. ‘I present myself as the Lord-Martial Teornis of the Aldanrael, and I offer you the solemn bond of my hospitality.’ He saw the twitch in Tisamon’s face and his smile turned rueful. ‘Ah well, I admit that in certain circles the Aristoi’s iron word bears a trace of rust, but you would accept wine, surely, if I offered it? And some refreshment. If you will not trust my open intent, you may rely on my love of indulging my own luxuries.’
Tynisa smiled at him despite herself. ‘I am Tynisa, and this is Tisamon of Felyal. I will drink and eat with you, Master Spider, on the condition that you do not ask my companion to.’
‘A lady of compromise,’ Teornis observed. ‘Delightful.’ With a gesture he caused a cloth to be laid out on the ground, with silk cushions strewn around, and a low table bearing an assortment of dishes, most of them not immediately familiar. The other Spider-kinden had moved back a little to make space, and were now sitting or lying, watching the two newcomers slyly.
Tynisa knelt at the table, knowing that Tisamon would stand there like a hostile statue until this ritual was done, or until something went wrong. She decided it would be best if she herself spoke for them.
‘This seems an unusual place, and time, for an Aristos of the Spider-kinden to ride out merely for pleasure,’ she remarked. A Fly servant put a goblet in her hand and she sipped, finding wine as rich and potent as any she had ever tasted.
Teornis settled down facing her across the table. His gaze on her was still admiring, though just as certainly she knew that it had been donned with as much care as his shirt or his boots. ‘Pleasure, my lady Tynisa? Why this is a military outing. Surely you won’t deny we make a fearsome spectacle?’
‘Military? To what end? Have the Spiderlands been invaded as well?’
‘Because my curiosity is raging, first please tell me how a Spider-kinden lady comes to be travelling with one of those who have, all unjustly, declared themselves our mortal enemies?’
Best not to put any further weapon in his hand. ‘We are simply old friends, Tisamon and I.’
‘You are rich in your choice of friends, obviously,’ Teornis remarked. His fingers hovered over the spread of food, and he plucked at a mound of candied somethings. ‘Tisamon of Felyal, you say. Is it Felyal you have now come from? I have an ulterior motive in asking, as you see. I seek someone to carry word for me. I fear Felyal would be of little use, since none there would credit a word I have to say.’
‘Surely you have followers enough to bear a message, Lord-Martial?’
At the sound of his title, no expression crossed his face, no pride at her using it. ‘Alas, I am caught in my own nets. These are wicked times, and when word comes from the Spiderlands, who will accept it at face value? Hence I hoped to convince you of my pure heart and true motives, and send you back to your home or your employer with my news, and hopefully your own words to plead my suit for me.’
‘Well then,’ she said. ‘I am come here from Collegium, my home.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Far abroad indeed, and shame on me, I should have marked the accent. I now see how you must have overcome the age-old hatred of my kin to allow this man into your confidence. Collegium? My lady Tynisa, perhaps you may be of use to me, if you would?’
He is very carefully stopping himself from calling Tisamon my servant or slave, or my possession in any way. It had been a long time since she had sat and sparred like this, weighing every word spoken, but the skills came back to her, as much part of her as the lunge of a sword.
While she considered, Tisamon interrupted shortly, ‘What do you want of us?’ His tone made it painfully clear that his trust was far from won.
‘I cannot believe that you’re travelling in these parts and have not heard of the Wasp Empire’s recent actions,’ Teornis explained. Noting their reactions he nodded. ‘More than merely heard, I see. Well then, if you were, in a moment of childish enthusiasm, to climb to the top of the tallest tree in this grove, you would see from there some thirty thousand Wasp-kinden soldiers and their followers, who have been camped for some time, and whose destination is Merro and Egel first, Kes second, and one imagines the world, from then on, in any order they please.’
‘What keeps them there?’ Tisamon growled.
‘You are a Mantis, and therefore a fighting man,’ Teornis observed. ‘Yet I claim a glorious piece of military history for my own kinden, since I have stood their thirty thousand off in open country with just two hundred men – and I still do.’
That breached Tisamon’s reserve, and for a moment he forgot that he was talking to an enemy, a hated deceiver. ‘It can’t be done.’
‘All the same, I have done it. If my kind were remotely impressed by such entertainments I would be taught in the academies. My problem now is simply that I cannot go on doing it for ever. They are currently waiting, I am informed, for word from their leaders. My people are meanwhile doing their best to make sure that word is slow in coming, but come it will, and then they will move.’
‘And you and yours will be swept away like chaff,’ Tisamon finished, sounding unnecessarily satisfied at the prospect.
‘All things are possible,’ Teornis allowed. ‘Have you means of returning to Collegium, my lady Tynisa? Because if you would sail today and inform them of the events transpiring here, I would count myself in your debt.’
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ Tynisa could not have said just what had convinced her, and this could be another elaborate charade, but something had struck true. ‘You’re sitting here feasting on candied nuts and pickled scorpions, even though one day soon they’ll come over that hill. And you need help.’
‘The mysterious Spiderlands, the subtle Spiders,’ he said. ‘Not so mysterious nor subtle that when a vast army of mechanically inclined savages pitches up almost at our borders we do not sweat a little. There is a sizeable force gathering even now at Seldis, soldiers and sailors both. If the Wasps head west, though, I cannot say that they will do anything but still gather there. But if you were to get word to Collegium…’
‘You are apparently short on news, Lord-Martial,’ Tynisa interrupted. ‘By now Collegium is certainly under siege.’
She had him. For the slightest moment his mask dropped and he looked genuinely and utterly surprised. ‘The Wasps?’
‘The Vekken, but the Wasps have put them up to it. Collegium is therefore in no position to answer your call, Lord-Martial.’
‘Ah well.’ His composure was intact again. ‘I will have to think of something else, that’s all. Life is a bouquet of surprises.’
‘I have thought of something,’ Tynisa said. The idea had unfurled full-grown in her mind without her ever guessing that it was cocooned there. ‘But I must consult with Tisamon first. Then I may just have a thought for you to mull over, Lord-Martial.’
The field lying east of Sarn was a mass of well-ordered soldiers and machines, as the might of the Ant-kinden prepared for battle. Walking out through the gates, with Achaeos and Sperra close behind, the sight stopped Che in her tracks. She had never seen such a vast assembly of fighting men and women, and every one of them preparing calmly, no orders, no confusion. They queued for their rations and to have their blades sharpened. They handed quivers full of crossbow bolts down the line, and assembled themselves into square formations of hundreds of soldiers apiece. These were soldiers with dark helms and chainmail hauberks and long rectangular shields, with short stabbing swords and light crossbows. Amongst these greater blocks moved smaller squads of specialists: nailbowmen, heavily armoured sentinels, fast-moving scouts with big sniping crossbows, grenadiers and artificers with powder-charged piercer and waster bows. Spanning all ages from sixteen to fifty, both men and women, in the clear morning light they all looked alike, all of them ready to march without question against an enemy they had never seen.