‘It was done by design, General. I am sure of that,’ Drephos said. ‘You’ve not seen the last of them.’
Alder nodded gloomily. ‘Do you believe it about their ruler?’ he asked. ‘Again, I don’t trust it. All these Ants look the same to me.’
‘I believe it implicitly, because it is the only way the matter could reasonably be accomplished,’ Drephos said. ‘While he was King, no matter what order he had just given, his people would still be waiting for his word. They would never lay down their arms. They would always think that some further move could be made in the game.’
‘Game?’ Alder surveyed the dead Wasp soldiers that were, one by one, being hauled from before the palace gates. ‘This is a game for you, is it?’
‘For all of us, General, and you can’t say you didn’t know the stakes. No, the King had to go, and he knew it.’
‘So he killed himself, or had his generals kill him,’ Alder said tiredly. He had read the report. The first Wasp soldiers had burst into the tunnels beneath the Tarkesh throne room to find their King slain. The tacticians of Tark had been waiting there peaceably, accepting their fate. They had been put to death, of course. There was no sense inviting further trouble by letting them live.
‘I’ve sent a messenger for the Supply corps,’ Alder added. ‘The administrators, the Auxillian militia, the garrison and the slavers – they’ll all be here in a day, perhaps two.’
‘And for you the conquest goes on?’ Drephos asked him.
‘I have orders to move west,’ Alder confirmed. ‘There are two Fly-kinden communities to take into the Empire but I’m not anticipating a fight there. Then my information is that there is another Ant city-state offshore, and some Mantis savages in the woods that we can root out.’
‘I wish you luck with it, General.’
Alder frowned at the halfbreed. ‘And where will you be, Colonel-Auxillian, that you’re wishing me luck?’
‘I have arranged a transfer to the Seventh for myself and my people, General. I have given you the tools to unpick an Ant city, but the Seventh is yet to be thus supplied. They are listed to march on Sarn eventually and, besides, their more immediate destination is of interest to me.’
Alder shrugged, one-shouldered. ‘If you have wheedled such orders, then so be it.’ He glowered at the artificer briefly. ‘I don’t like you, Drephos. You’re a worm, and don’t think I don’t know how much you hate us.’
Within the shadow of his cowl, Drephos smiled thinly. ‘But…?’
‘But you have accomplished a great deal here,’ Alder admitted reluctantly. ‘I shall note it in my report.’
‘You’re too kind,’ Drephos said. ‘If you do not mind, General, I will return to the camp. I have business to take care of before I bid you a final farewell.’
A few fires were lit, well hidden in hollows to escape unfriendly eyes. They had marched a long way, far enough that they were long out of the reach of the Ant minds left in Tark. Parops and his men had thus no clue as to the fate of their city, but it seemed clear that it would be one of two results: either Tark would bow the knee or it would be overwritten on future maps by some Wasp name, a new town dug out of Tark’s ashes.
His men were as dispirited as he had ever seen soldiers be, and he shared their despondency. They were creatures of routine and loyalty, creatures of the city they were born in, conditioned to obedience there, knowing nothing but the will of Tark and its monarch. Now they were alone. Six hundred and seventy-one Tarkesh men and women out in the wilderness, on the road to Merro, with no idea of where they could go or what could be done next.
Between them, they had food for less than a tenday, even if carefully rationed. There were few of them with the ability to live off the land, since it had never been needed, and all of them had left family behind. Parops himself had abandoned his unfaithful mate whom he now missed beyond reason.
There seemed barely any point in continuing, and Par-ops found the burden of responsibility intolerable. Though ground down with misery, at least his soldiers could look to him for orders. He had never wanted this role. They had made him tower commander simply because he had a good head for logistics and it was considered a position where he could make the least trouble with his unconventional thinking. Now unconventional thoughts were all that could save them, and he could not seem to muster any.
‘How are you feeling?’ Nero came fluttering down beside him.
Parops gave him a look that was all the answer he needed.
‘No sign of any pursuit, anyway,’ the Fly said. ‘Got other things on their minds, I’ll bet. Any thought to what you’re going to do next?’
‘If I had a free hand,’ Parops said flatly, ‘I would lead my men back to Tark and attack the Wasp camp.’
‘Because that would be suicide,’ Nero said.
‘Exactly. But my last orders don’t allow that, so I have to think of something else.’
‘Well I’ve had a couple of thoughts if you’d like to borrow them,’ Nero offered.
‘Anything.’
‘Get your men to Collegium,’ Nero said. ‘I’ve got an influential friend there who’s dead set against the Empire. He’s on the – what do they call it? The Assembly.’
‘Collegium’s too far,’ Parops countered. ‘We cannot travel through most of the Lowlands in the hope that some friend of yours will take in six and a half hundred homeless Ant soldiers. Not to mention that if the Kessen see us tramping down the coast, they’ll wipe us out.’
Nero nodded. ‘I can see your point there. All right, Parops. I’ve been a good friend to you – or as good as I could be, yes?’
‘For a Fly-kinden, I suppose.’
‘High praise there. Right then, I’m going to suggest two courses of action, and you’ll not like either of them. All right? One of them is what I’m about to do, and the other one’s what you could do. You don’t have to, but I’m out of ideas if you don’t. First off, I’m going back.’
Parops stared at him. ‘You’re mad.’
‘It’s a loyalty thing, Parops. You should understand. Not to Tark, I admit: loyalty to my friends. I have always tried to be loyal to my friends. Because I travel a lot and have no certainties, and I never know when I’m going to need a friend, for a bed, for a meal, or to get me out of prison. And Stenwold and me, we go back twenty years.’
‘His two agents, or apprentices – the halfbreed and the other one?’
‘The Commonwealer, yes. I have to find out what happened to them. Probably they’re dead, but I have to know. Because Stenwold would want to know.’
‘They’ll catch you,’ Parops said. ‘You’ll end up a slave, or dead.’
‘They won’t catch me,’ Nero said, ‘because I’m not going skulking in like a thief. I’m just going to walk straight up to them: Nero the famous artist, perhaps you’ve heard of me? Happened to have a lot of black and yellow paint spare. Maybe you want a portrait. You know the stuff.’
‘They will kill you or enslave you,’ Parops said firmly.
‘You were going to kill me too, at one stage. I’m good at not being killed. I’ve done it all my life,’ Nero said. ‘I owe Stenwold, and he would want to know.’
Parops shook his head but found he did not have the strength to argue. ‘So what is your suggestion for us? Is it as mad as that one?’
‘Madder,’ Nero said, giving the first smile anyone there had seen for a long time. In a low voice he explained his plan, and men around them began raising their heads as Parops’s mind put out the information.
‘We cannot do that. It would be-’
‘Suicide?’
‘Worse. We’d be slaves. My people would never agree to it,’ Parops stated.
‘Wouldn’t they? There’s an Empire coming this way, with armies to spare, and you’ve got seven-hundred-odd highly trained Ant warriors. So who would turn you away?’
Parops just stared at him.
‘Will you at least think about it?’ Nero pressed.