Authors: Adrian Tchaikovsky
Two pairs of eyes regarded it in silence before Termes said, in a remarkable display of politeness, ‘The likeness of yourself is very good.’
Stenwold hadn’t thought so, but he suspected that Collegiate aesthetics made higher demands of representational art than would Vekken tastes, and that for Ant-kinden the face was the least part of identifying fellows. ‘Do you know what occasion this was?’ he pressed them. They fell silent again, although he could almost hear the hum of their internal dialogue. He turned to look at the piece himself, conceding that it was nothing much: a competent piece of work, acids etching on copper. The technique was slightly old-fashioned now, since machines existed to cut a much crisper image. Still, Stenwold himself was recognizable, and he could have named a few of the other faces even had he not known who they were meant to be. He remembered that day well, even at this remove: standing on the steps in front of the Amphiophos, before the crowd – a show of solidarity and triumph. There was Lineo Thadspar, who had been Speaker at the time. There was Balkus, the Sarnesh renegade, and over there was Parops, the Tarkesh exile. Also there was Teornis, of course, and Stenwold’s stomach lurched on seeing the handsome, smiling Spider-kinden, backed by his grab-bag of mercenaries and Satrapy conscripts.
‘I do,’ said Termes. Enough displeasure permeated his normally level tone to let Stenwold know that he did indeed understand.
‘I think you know me well enough to accept that I would not bring you here merely as an insult, or to offend you. I hope so, anyway.’ This was the crucial point. They would now leave and his work would be undone, or they would stay and he could continue to build his tottering bridge towards them.
Again they were silent, hidden thoughts darting between them. He allowed them time.
‘Speak your piece,’ said Termes eventually. It sounded hostile but their continued presence indicated his victory.
‘The artist has here created a view of those left in possession of the city, after your siege was lifted,’ he said. ‘Contained in this etching is Collegium’s great secret: why we have not been conquered, by Vek, or by the Empire.’
And now the Spiderlands will try its hand, apparently. We are the pearl in everyone’s oyster, it seems.
Their eyes were focused on the picture once again, seeking some hidden weapon amidst the background, some coded message. He let them look. The secret he mentioned was in plain view. Any College student could have named it by now, but the Vekken were not used to thinking in such a way. He was trying, against all tenets of Ant-kinden culture and nature, to wrench their collective mind around to it.
‘Do you see?’ he asked, eventually.
He assumed they were going to say no. Termes was about to, he was sure, but one of the others, Accius he thought, said, ‘We see.’ There was a moment of silent disagreement between them, suggesting Termes plainly did not, but then the answer was made plain to him and he fell into step with the other two.
‘Collegium itself could not stand against the Vekken army,’ Accius stated. ‘The siege was relieved from without.’
Almost, but not quite.
‘The lesson goes further than just the one engagement or just the one war,’ Stenwold replied. ‘Our strength is in our friends, in those who will give of themselves to keep us free.’ He could almost catch the thought that flew between them. ‘I know you think that walls and swords and automotives provide a surer strength, and that if you rely only on yourselves, nobody can let you down. Well, that’s true, and we’d all be fools not to strengthen ourselves as much as possible. We’d be fools to rely entirely on the grace of others. That’s Helleron’s folly, and that’s why Helleron fell so swiftly to the Empire – and will fall again.’
‘It did not fall. It climbed down of its own accord,’ Termes noted acidly.
‘Oh, I agree. I’ll not defend them.’ Stenwold sighed. ‘There was a time when swords and walls and well-trained soldiers were enough, and a city-state could stand on its own against all comers, hold the rest of the world at sword’s length.’
The time of the Ant-kinden, although I’d not be so tactless as to say it.
‘That time is gone.’
They showed no reaction, just waited.
‘The Empire brought that to an end,’ Stenwold went on. ‘The Empire, which controls dozens of cities, and draws its power from them all. No single city can stand against it – Tark was not the first Ant-kinden city that fell to the Imperial armies. Any city that pursues a course of isolationism is conniving at its own destruction for, when the next great aggressor comes, whether it be the Empire again, or the Spiderlands, or even the Commonweal, that city will fall for want of friends.’
‘We are not blind to what you mean,’ Termes stated.
‘I mean more than you think,’ Stenwold warned him. ‘Yes, I am offering you Collegium’s hand of friendship, and I will break heads and twist arms in the Amphiophos until I get the city behind me. We do not want a third war with Vek. Nobody has profited from the last two. All that has happened is that both of our cities were left weaker at the end.’
‘That is true,’ agreed Termes. Ant voices were never expressive, but there was the slightest hint there of a degree of emotion kept otherwise submerged.
‘So let us talk about Tsen.’
The sudden juxtaposition did not seem to throw them. ‘You are proposing an alliance,’ Termes observed.
‘Not the alliance you mean,’ Stenwold told him firmly. There was a moment of silence, and he could see their minds working on that. No hands dropped to sword hilts – they did not leap to the conclusion that Collegium would league with Tsen against them. He had brought them that far towards Collegiate thought.
‘I am proposing an Alliance between Vek and Tsen,’ he said quietly.
‘Impossible.’
‘Entirely possible. Look behind me: Sarnesh and Tarkesh soldiers standing side by side.’ Stenwold realized belatedly that the etching did not show the different Ant-kinden skin-tones, but he knew they would remember who had been ranged against them. ‘Tseni and Tarkesh soldiers fought alongside Sarn against the Imperial Seventh at Malkan’s Folly. What I am trying to tell you is that the world has changed.’
‘The Tseni will never accept this,’ said Termes disdainfully.
‘But you would?’ When the Vekken did not respond, Stenwold continued: ‘If the Tseni could be brought to it, would you? I am offering to broker a truce, at least, between your cities. Collegium will then stand with a hand out to each of you. You cannot deny that Sarn has profited well from its trade with us. We offer the same to you, and you will have to trust the Tseni just as they trust you, because if either should break faith, then the aggressor will find Collegium set against it, and perhaps Sarn as well – and even the Ancient League states, and who knows what else. I know the Ant-kinden understand the value of strong walls but, these days, walls of stone are not enough. A treaty may be only paper, but a wall of paper can be stronger than stone. If Vek continues to stand alone then one day its walls will not suffice, and it will fall. It will not fall to Collegium, because we have no armies, but inevitably the day and the enemy will come, and it will fall.’
‘You threaten us,’ Termes challenged him. ‘You use your peaceful nature as a club.’ For a moment Stenwold thought he had lost it all, but then he thought over the man’s words again.
Humour?
Without any clue evident in face or voice, it was impossible to tell, but it would not be the first time he had sensed a sardonic edge to this particular Vekken.
‘This city has survived on its ability to make and keep its friends,’ Stenwold said. ‘We will act as broker between Tsen and Vek, if not to forge a friendship, then at least an understanding. Your understanding is that the best way to be strong and safe is to vanquish your enemies, but if you make them your friends, you are stronger still.’
‘You give us much to think about, Master Maker,’ Termes told him. ‘We accept the fact that your proposal is important, and must be considered carefully. It runs contary to our way of life, but you are correct when you say that the world has changed. Malius will travel to Vek with your words. The king shall hear them.’
‘I can ask no more than that,’ Stenwold confirmed. ‘And for that I thank you.’
Because Collegium is about to lose a few old friends, I think, and so we are in great need of new ones – or at least of losing old enemies.
He was keenly aware of the image of Teornis beaming down on them all. His choice of room was now beginning to oppress him.
When the three Vekken had filed out, Stenwold waited a good ten minutes – his own thoughts darkening and lightening in turns – before he called, ‘You can come out.’
This room had another advantage, besides its ornament, for the Moths had built it with a secret space. A wooden panel behind a hanging was pushed aside, and Kratia of Tsen stepped out. She regarded Stenwold warily.
‘Well?’ he asked her.
The blue-skinned Ant grimaced. ‘You are a very dangerous man and I should kill you here and now.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘We’re alone.’
‘Are we?’ She looked around. ‘How am I to know that there aren’t more of these little coffins hidden in the walls? You could have the entire Sarnesh army waiting to leap out on me.’ Her tone was light, but deliberately so. She was shaken enough that it showed, even through her Ant reserve. ‘An alliance between Vek and Tsen?’
‘So the rumour goes. You and your people have shown yourselves adept at spreading rumours, but I think our citizens will find that one interesting.’
‘How can you think that it will work? The Vekken—’
‘The Vekken claim that you’re the unreasonable ones.’
‘Very clever, Master Maker.’ She folded her arms. ‘They will take advantage of your trade, but they will be waiting for the chance to bring another army here.’
‘Oh surely,’ he agreed. ‘But all the time they wait, they will grow prosperous and more comfortable, they will profit from new ideas and inventions, they will send their students to the College – as spies at first, but also as scholars. Eventually their time for aggression will arrive, and if we have held them off long enough they will then ask, “Why? Why fight to take what we can be given? Why give away everything we have already gained?” ’
‘You think so?’
‘It worked with the Sarnesh,’ Stenwold declared. ‘I would be the first to admit that the Vekken are a harder shell to crack than Sarn ever was, but they’re not mad and they’re not monsters, merely frightened. The first war with Vek came about after the Sarnesh alliance was signed. They assumed we would turn on them, because it’s what they would have done. They think – forgive me but it seems that most Ant-kinden think – of survival and security in terms of eliminating threats. And so we come to you.’
‘Are
we
a threat?’ she asked, playing the innocent.
‘If someone had asked me a few tendays ago, I’d have said no. Now you’ve had the chance to run around Collegium a while, yes. Commander Kratia, you are yourself a very subtle woman, capable of doing a considerable amount of damage in this city just by some well-chosen words. However, I believe that your actions spring from the same motive as the Vekken siege: you want safety for your city. But in your case, safety from Vek. I am now offering this, just as I am offering Vek safety from you.’
‘Master Maker, you do not understand. Vek is three times the size of my city.’
‘Then I suggest you invest in a few allies. May I suggest the city of Vek? They’re ideally placed to assist you. Or do you think all my words were for the Vekken only?’ A barbed piece of deception, that, to place her where she could believe she was gaining an advantage over them, as though she and Stenwold were conspiring together, when in fact . . . ‘Besides,’ Stenwold added, ‘Tsen may be small, but it’s clear you make up for it in artifice. You may find that profits you more in trade than ever it did in self-defence. Perhaps you, also, would like to send a message to your city and its court.’
‘And if they say no?’
‘You disappoint me. The Vekken have already worked that one out,’ Stenwold said. He felt absolutely merciless in taking all the deeply held tenets of Ant-kinden society and twisting them in his hands. ‘What do you
think
will happen, if you say no but the Vekken say yes?’
The
Migrating Home
’s funnels had belched smoke for two miles of coast, but the sails of the other vessel only came nearer. Jaclen Courser had taken a good look at it through her glass: a swift and slender corsair with a magnificent spread of grey canvas, slowly but inexorably outstripping her own labouring vessel. Laszlo had watched their own ship’s progress, shaking his head. The steam engine below was a charcoal-burner, and not a bad piece of artifice for something ten years old. The oil-burner aboard the
Tidenfree
would have shifted the
Home
along a good deal faster, but whilst engines gave a steady push come wave or weather, with a favouring wind a good sailing ship would always outreach them.
Jaclen had conferred with Laszlo. If they were due for this mummer’s show, then they would have to give the other vessel no reason to think the
Home
was playing them false. If the pirates suspected a trap, they might put an arrow into everyone on deck before they boarded.
I will get through this game of Maker’s without losing anyone from my crew
had been the thought written plainly on Jaclen’s face. The pursuing ship would expect them to use all efforts to outrun it, and so she had ordered the
Home
’s own mast to be cranked into place and its sails spread. It was to little actual purpose, since the Beetle vessel scarcely made better headway and its crew were no sailors. They spent as much time steering it away from the rocks of the coast as they did trying to put distance between themselves and their hunter.