‘Sounds risky for the men,’ Salma said, studying the tents, making out what he could with his keen eyes.

‘A good few of the incomers got squashed, no doubt, but nobody seemed to care on either side,’ Parops confirmed. ‘They were frothing mad, attacking everything along the length of the wall itself, or just charging off into the city in bands of eight or ten. Shields and a chitin cuirass was all they had, most of them, and javelins, and that fiery thing they do with their hands. They didn’t seem like proper soldiers, to be honest – more like a rabble.’

‘A rabble is what they were,’ Salma confirmed. ‘The Wasps call them Hornets, but they’re just Wasps really. We saw a lot of them in the Twelve-Year War when they invaded my own people’s lands. They’re from the north-Empire, nothing but hill-savages. Your average Wasp is a touchy fellow at the best of times, but the Hornets are downright excitable.’

‘And clearly expendable,’ Nero added.

‘Right,’ confirmed Salma. ‘So what happened?’

‘Well, we had crossbowmen on the walls, and line soldiers defending the artillery,’ Parops explained. ‘Their first charge, coming with all that rock and lead, took its toll, but we knew they were a flying kinden, so we had ranks of crossbowmen stationed beyond the walls as well. Any that lingered on the battlements or tried to press into the city were picked off. We think the toll was about four hundred of them, in all, and just thirty-seven of ours. Most of those fell to their artillery and first charge, too. After that we were well dug in.’

‘And are you calling it a victory?’ Salma asked him.

‘Opinion is divided,’ Parops admitted. ‘Some who fought on the walls say it was, but I, who was just watching from inside here, say not. They had their tacticians out, carefully seeing how it went, so I’m suggesting to my superiors that they’ll do better next time.’

‘Wise man, good advice,’ the Dragonfly told him.

‘So what are we supposed to do in the meantime?’ Totho asked. ‘We can’t just sit here. We have to get word to Stenwold.’

‘The city is sealed,’ Parops said sadly. ‘That’s the one thing we and the Wasps seem to agree on, as we’re not letting anyone out, and neither are they. If you left without permission from the Royal Court you’d be shot by our crossbows, and even if you weren’t, they have flying patrols on the lookout all the time.’

‘They’ll try to recover the broken engines after dark,’ Totho said suddenly. ‘They’ll send slaves to do it, probably.’ He had taken Salma’s place at the slit window. ‘Your artillerists should keep the ranges, and keep watch.’

‘Night artillery’s always a challenge,’ Parops said. ‘I’ve said it, though. Let us hope they take it up.’

Totho frowned at that ‘I’ve said it,’ and then realized what the man meant, remembering the mindlink that the Ancestor Art gave to all Ants. It united them within their own walls and equally divided them from their brothers in other cities.

Skrill finished another mouthful of bread, and took a swig of beer from the nearby jug. ‘I ain’t fighting no siege,’ she said.

‘They wouldn’t have you anyway,’ Nero told her.

‘Now I ain’t good enough for your siege?’

‘We fight together, as one,’ Parops explained. ‘Foreigners on the walls would only get in the way. No offence, but that’s how it is.’

Skrill shrugged.

‘On the other hand,’ Nero said, ‘if the walls do come down, then we’re all invited.’

‘Did their engines break through anywhere, when they turned them on the walls?’ Totho asked. He closely examined the arrowslit, seeing how its flared socket was set into a wall three feet thick at least.

‘A few stone-scars but nothing structural,’ Parops said. ‘They’re going to need a bigger stick to get through these walls. Nero tells me my kinden aren’t renowned for having new thoughts, but one reason for that is that the old ones have always served us pretty well. We know how to build a wall that won’t come down.’

‘And of course, this is another thing their… tacticians out there will have noted. That they will need more…’ Totho mused. ‘What are their artificers like, Salma?’

‘I’m no judge,’ the Dragonfly admitted. ‘They’re like people who put big metal things together. That’s about my limit.’

‘It’s an odd thing,’ said Nero, ‘but the best imperial artificers, in my experience, are Auxillians: slave-soldiers or experts from the subject-races. True Wasps always prefer to be proper warriors, which is more about the fighting and less the tinkering around. I’ve had a good look out there and a lot of the big toys are in hands other than the Wasps’.’

‘Can they be turned?’ Totho asked immediately. ‘They’re slaves, after all. If they turn on their masters, with our help, they could escape into the Lowlands-’

Salma was shaking his head and Nero chuckled. ‘You’d assume, with all their experience as slave-owners, that the Wasps would have spotted that one, boy. Which is exactly why they have. Any funny business from those poor bastards down there, and their families will get to know about it in the worst way. And, besides, if some platoon of Bee-kinden, hundreds of miles from home, does decide to go it alone, you think they’ll be welcomed any, in Tark? Or anywhere else? And home for them is now within the Empire’s borders, so any man jumping ship will never get to see it again.’

Salma nodded. ‘I should tell you something, I think, at this point.’

Nero and Parops exchanged glances. ‘Go on, boy, don’t hold it in,’ the Fly-kinden prompted.

Salma’s smile turned wry. ‘I didn’t come here just for Stenwold’s war, or even my own people’s war. Not just to fight the Wasps, anyway.’

Totho nodded, remembering. Salma had barely mentioned the lure that had drawn him on this errand, which had originally been Skrill’s errand alone. Totho had almost forgotten that himself, amidst the catalogue of his own woes.

‘Don’t keep us in suspense,’ Nero said.

‘A woman, I’m afraid.’ Salma smiled brightly. ‘I came here after a woman.’

‘A Wasp woman?’ Parops asked.

‘No, but I’m told she’s with the camp. With some order of theirs, the… Grace’s Daughters, is it? No, Mercy’s Daughters.’

‘Never heard of them.’ Nero said. ‘So what about it?’

‘I will be leaving Tark at some point,’ Salma said, ‘whether your monarch approves or not. Because she’s out there somewhere and I have to find her.’

Nero’s glance met that of Parops. ‘Must be wonderful, to be young,’ the Fly grumbled. ‘I almost remember it, a decade of making a fool of myself and getting slapped by women. Marvellous, it was. Your mind seems set, boy.’

‘I mean what I say.’

‘Then at least choose your moment,’ Parops said. ‘Work with the city and let us get to trust you. Because there will be a sortie sooner or later. We’re not just going to sit here and watch them ruin our walls, you realize.’

‘Forgive me, but so far your city doesn’t seem interested in working with any of us,’ Totho pointed out.

‘That was then,’ Parops told him, taking the jug from Skrill and taking a swig from it. ‘Now you are, nominally, on our side, and people want you to talk to them.’

Salma’s grin broadened. ‘Now that’s unfair. There was a delightful Ant-kinden lady earlier who wanted nothing more than for me to talk to her.’

And at that there was a rap on the door and, when Nero opened it, she was standing right there, the Ant interrogator, staring straight at Salma.

Alder made a point of not wearing armour. Not only should there be some privileges for a general, but he hated being fussed over by slaves and servants, for with one arm he was unable to secure the buckles.

The largest tent in the Wasp encampment was not his living quarters but his map room. If assassins chose to head for it at night in search of generals to kill then that was entirely agreeable with him. He had sent a call out to his officers to join him, and if he had known that an Ant tower commander had dubbed them ‘tacticians’ he would have found it highly amusing. The term might just fit himself but, as far as planning this siege went, his was a perilously lonely position.