Her eyes locked his and he knew she would kill him if she could. He would have no choice but to kill her in exchange. It was as it should be and either he would die or he would remember this contest for ever.
Tisamon found he was now breathing heavily, feeling the skin tight across his chest and side, the healing burn where Thalric had caught him at the fight over the Pride. His seared shoulder throbbed in agony yet it seemed distant and he could ignore it.
They had reached the endgame. He still had no idea who she was but he would swear now that she was no Wasp agent, for if the Wasps could call on such as this they would rule the world already.
He fell back ten paces, dropped into a new stance, claw held low but angled upwards. She fell into a stance of her own, with that sword gripped double-handed and high, the point aimed downwards. A perfect complement.
He waited for her to come at him.
Whole ages seemed to pass, with the two of them frozen in place, each waiting for the slightest move from the other to set them off. He became aware that the Spider girl had not moved after all, was still cowering back against the wall where he had left her. There was another voyeur, too, a man watching from a doorway. It was all immaterial.
And then she stepped back out of her stance, as though they had simply been playing at a practice bout and she now had other things to do. Tisamon fought the immediate instinct to do the same, holding his pose, but she just stood there now, looking about her, and he could have killed her at his leisure.
She spoke, her face full of confusion. ‘Where is this place? This is not Shon Aren.’ She saw him there, as though noticing for the first time. The sword in her hand seemed almost forgotten. ‘Mantis-kinden? Am I in Y’yen, then? But why?’ She approached him, quite without fear or hostile intent, and from the corner of his eye Tisamon saw the man who had watched them darting forwards,
Instantly his claw was in motion, bringing the stranger up short with the edge close to his throat. The strange woman merely watched without alarm or recognition.
A Spider-kinden, Tisamon saw — there had been far too many in his life recently. This specimen was a long-haired man of middle years, his hands empty, teeth bared above the blade that menaced him.
‘And who are you?’ Tisamon demanded. ‘Tell me quickly or I’ll have done with you. There are too few answers tonight.’
‘Oh, I know of your kind’s enmity towards mine,’ the man replied, as calmly as he could muster. ‘My name is Destrachis and I’m with this lady here, whose name is Felise Mienn.’
‘Destrachis!’ the woman exclaimed even as he said the name, although not with much love, and with no sign that she saw the claw at his throat. ‘What.?’
‘We are in Collegium, Felise,’ Destrachis explained carefully.
‘Yes, you are,’ Tisamon confirmed. ‘And someone had better explain to me exactly what we were fighting about.’
‘You. ’ She seemed to see him again and her eyes narrowed. Instantly his blade was away from Destrachis and he was falling back into his stance again.
‘I saw you with him,’ she said. ‘You must be one of his creatures. Tell me where he has gone.’
‘Where who has gone?’ Tisamon asked her
She spat back, ‘Thalric! Thalric the Wasp! Thalric of the Empire. Your master, is he not?’
‘He is not,’ Tisamon said firmly. ‘He is my enemy, as he clearly must be yours. You seek his blood?’
She nodded, seeming more lucid now.
‘Then if I knew where he was bound I would tell you,’ he confirmed. ‘And this here is your creature, is he?’
She looked at Destrachis coolly, but it was a moment before she responded. ‘He. I was travelling with this man. He. Destrachis brought me here.’
Tisamon began to relax again, until he heard Arianna’s voice calling them. All three of them turned to her: a young Spider-kinden girl in a torn and muddied robe.
‘You really want to kill Thalric?’ she asked hopefully, and Felise nodded in a single sharp movement.
‘He will leave Collegium tonight,’ Arianna explained. ‘He is travelling to Vek.’
The name of that city meant nothing to Felise, it was clear, but Destrachis murmured, ‘West of here, along the coast.’
‘Then we, too, must go to Vek,’ Felise said. ‘We must go now. We could catch him on the road.’
‘Vek it is,’ Destrachis confirmed, somewhat wearily, casting a cautious glance at Tisamon. ‘All right if we make our exit? Despite what just happened, we’re really not your enemies, honestly.’
‘I see that,’ Tisamon folded his claw back along the line of his arm.
‘I’ve seen her fighting a few times, now,’ Destrachis said, ‘and I’ve never seen anyone walk away from it.’
‘It was a pleasure and an honour.’ Tisamon stared at Felise thoughtfully. It was as if the woman he had been fighting had been rubbed away, suddenly replaced by this confused foreigner, but to his surprise she turned and gave him a curt bow, bringing her sword, point lowered, up to her breastplate. It was a token of respect he often had used himself in the company of other Weaponsmasters, and he returned it with a slight smile.
Destrachis was already heading away and she followed him with a single backwards glance. Tisamon stared after her, and even as Arianna approached, he waited until the woman Felise was out of sight before he turned his attention to the Spider girl.
‘Please let me. ’ She had stopped out of his reach but. having seen him fight now, she knew how fast he could move. ‘I really do need to speak to — him. It’s about Thalric’s plans. Please take me to him. in chains if you must.’
He felt the fire of combat drain out of him, leaving him tired and bruised, more thoroughly exhausted than he had felt in a long time. There was no desperate need to kill within him, not now. It had been burned out of him during the fight with Felise Mienn.
‘Stenwold himself will decide what to do with you,’ he declared, and motioned for her to walk ahead of him.
Seventeen
The Ant-kinden shot all at once, the arms of their crossbows a vibrating blur with the force of the bolts let loose. Salma saw half a dozen men drop, mostly shot in the head or throat. Even with their targets lit up by the working lamps, it was a fine display of shooting.
Basila and her people were already moving. She took half her force forward with drawn swords, while the others spun the wheels of their crossbows to recock them. Salma had a moment’s hesitation before he went with them, catching them up with a flurry of his wings and diving at once into the fray.
Most of the men they fell on were Wasp-kinden artificers, unarmoured save for their working leathers, and some of their slaves. There was no time to distinguish or apply any mercy, though, and Salma knew that the Tarkesh had none to apply. Eight or nine utterly surprised men were caught unawares, cut down where they stood, and then two of the Ants were running on towards the nearest in the line of towering airships.
There was another hollow explosion from within the camp as Basila’s tactics of distraction continued. One man, a suicide from the moment he set out, was running through the tents of the Wasps and throwing grenades at random. Salma could only imagine the confusion.
Other Wasp soldiers were coming at them now. Most came running from the nearest rows of tents, unarmoured, some barely clad, but there were already some in the airships only now making themselves known. A second hail of crossbow bolts raked across the enemy approaching from behind, taking all but two from their feet. Salma turned to deal with those remaining two, who now hesitated, suddenly wrong-footed by their comrades’ demise. Giving them no time to react, he stabbed one through the throat and then planted his blade in the other’s bare chest. He glanced around for the Ant crossbowmen and saw them advance down the line of airships, loading as they did. Totho was still among them, he was glad to note, busy slotting another magazine into his repeating crossbow.