that was long before the Spiders and my own people came over – a
thousand years before, something crazy like that. Then I suppose they just …
got left behind. The way I hear it, they haven’t changed much since those days.
They still own a fair bit of territory up and down the river where they are.’
Che
digested these words, thinking: the past. It made no
sense: she knew Beetle-kinden even if she could not
quite claim to be one of them any more. It made no sense. Something
doesn’t add up . It gave her a strange sense of excitement. Khanaphes – what might I learn there?
It
struck her then, and she actually jumped up, knocking back her chair. Taki was
in the air in an instant, wings a-blur and a knife in her hand. A few of the
other taverna patrons had gone for their weapons too. The war was not so very
long ago.
She sat
down, made herself give an apologetic wave around the room. Taki stood on her
chair back for a moment, wings flicking for balance, before consenting to sit
down.
A city
of Beetle-kinden without machines?
A city
of Inapt Beetle-kinden?
‘Yes,’
she said, thinking of Stenwold’s offer. ‘Oh, yes I will.’
Stenwold was enjoying an after-lunch bowl of wine in the College
refectory when someone came brushing past behind him, murmuring, ‘The Vekken
are after you.’
His
stomach sank and he looked back. ‘Which ones?’
His
informant, a natural history master, shrugged. ‘Who can tell? They all look the
same.’
This was
Stenwold’s chance to make himself scarce, but he did not seize it. ‘They’re my problem,’ he replied, whereupon his benefactor shrugged
and made a quick exit. Stenwold braced himself mentally for another taxing
encounter. His Vekken initiative which, in their mutual derision of it, had at
last provided Collegium and Vek with something in common. Yet nobody understood
how important it was. He was trying to do what Collegium should have done in
the first place, instead of relying solely on the strength of its walls and
assuming the Vekken had been defeated a generation ago. Stenwold was trying to
make sure that there would be no third Vekken war. He was trying to build
bridges. The result of his months of careful diplomacy was that the Vekken had
at last sent four men who claimed to be ambassadors, and were more probably
spies.
Two of
them located him soon enough after the tip-off, and came marching up to stand
before his table.
He
couldn’t even tell which two of the team they were. Ant-kinden all looked like
siblings, and the Vekken seemed to have sent four ambassadors who were
absolutely identical. They stared at him now as though they had just found out
he had sent assassins to kill their families.
‘Masters
…?’ He made a motion at the table, offering chairs. They stared at the seats as
though they were venomous, then turned the same expressions on him. His Vekken
initiative had been worth it, if just for this. He had always known the dislike
of his own people for the city of Vek, inspired by two repelled attempts at
conquest, but he had not guessed at the reciprocal loathing felt by the Vekken
because of Collegium’s successful resistance. They hated the Beetle-kinden and,
because they could not see how mere Beetles could resist the might of an Ant
city-state, they feared them also. Stenwold was working as best he could to
disarm that enmity but there was a lifetime of ingrained distrust to overcome.
‘We are
aware of your plans,’ one of them said, and then paused as if waiting for him
to admit everything.
He
looked at them blankly. ‘I have many plans,’ he said at last. ‘Which ones do
you mean?’
‘You are
gathering allies,’ said the same one, speaking with the flat courage of a man
who expects his hosts to have him killed. ‘You are sending to another Beetle
city to secure them.’
That
gave Stenwold pause, but he was good at handling surprises and just drained his
wine bowl while he pondered, Now that’s interesting. If they think
thousand years before, something crazy like that. Then I suppose they just …
got left behind. The way I hear it, they haven’t changed much since those days.
They still own a fair bit of territory up and down the river where they are.’
Che
digested these words, thinking: the past. It made no
sense: she knew Beetle-kinden even if she could not
quite claim to be one of them any more. It made no sense. Something
doesn’t add up . It gave her a strange sense of excitement. Khanaphes – what might I learn there?
It
struck her then, and she actually jumped up, knocking back her chair. Taki was
in the air in an instant, wings a-blur and a knife in her hand. A few of the
other taverna patrons had gone for their weapons too. The war was not so very
long ago.
She sat
down, made herself give an apologetic wave around the room. Taki stood on her
chair back for a moment, wings flicking for balance, before consenting to sit
down.
A city
of Beetle-kinden without machines?
A city
of Inapt Beetle-kinden?
‘Yes,’
she said, thinking of Stenwold’s offer. ‘Oh, yes I will.’
Stenwold was enjoying an after-lunch bowl of wine in the College
refectory when someone came brushing past behind him, murmuring, ‘The Vekken
are after you.’
His
stomach sank and he looked back. ‘Which ones?’
His
informant, a natural history master, shrugged. ‘Who can tell? They all look the
same.’
This was
Stenwold’s chance to make himself scarce, but he did not seize it. ‘They’re my problem,’ he replied, whereupon his benefactor shrugged
and made a quick exit. Stenwold braced himself mentally for another taxing
encounter. His Vekken initiative which, in their mutual derision of it, had at
last provided Collegium and Vek with something in common. Yet nobody understood
how important it was. He was trying to do what Collegium should have done in
the first place, instead of relying solely on the strength of its walls and
assuming the Vekken had been defeated a generation ago. Stenwold was trying to
make sure that there would be no third Vekken war. He was trying to build
bridges. The result of his months of careful diplomacy was that the Vekken had
at last sent four men who claimed to be ambassadors, and were more probably
spies.
Two of
them located him soon enough after the tip-off, and came marching up to stand
before his table.
He
couldn’t even tell which two of the team they were. Ant-kinden all looked like
siblings, and the Vekken seemed to have sent four ambassadors who were
absolutely identical. They stared at him now as though they had just found out
he had sent assassins to kill their families.
‘Masters
…?’ He made a motion at the table, offering chairs. They stared at the seats as
though they were venomous, then turned the same expressions on him. His Vekken
initiative had been worth it, if just for this. He had always known the dislike
of his own people for the city of Vek, inspired by two repelled attempts at
conquest, but he had not guessed at the reciprocal loathing felt by the Vekken
because of Collegium’s successful resistance. They hated the Beetle-kinden and,
because they could not see how mere Beetles could resist the might of an Ant
city-state, they feared them also. Stenwold was working as best he could to
disarm that enmity but there was a lifetime of ingrained distrust to overcome.
‘We are
aware of your plans,’ one of them said, and then paused as if waiting for him
to admit everything.
He
looked at them blankly. ‘I have many plans,’ he said at last. ‘Which ones do
you mean?’
‘You are
gathering allies,’ said the same one, speaking with the flat courage of a man
who expects his hosts to have him killed. ‘You are sending to another Beetle
city to secure them.’
That
gave Stenwold pause, but he was good at handling surprises and just drained his
wine bowl while he pondered, Now that’s interesting. If they think
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