'What?' she snapped, and pushed him in the chest, hard enough to make him stagger. She tried to follow up, but now he had the measure of where she was. In a moment he was holding her against his chest, her forehead on his shoulder. She did not dare look up and see what unguarded expression he wore.
She had expected him to let go, while he made some other barbed comment, but instead he stood quite still, his breath rising and falling against her.
'Thalric…' It felt strange, comfortable and horribly guilty all at once. She kept expecting the spectre of Achaeos to loom large in order to castigate her, but it seemed to have absented itself since enticing her to this place. 'What if I told you now that I could open the doors to this room, from what I have learned in the carvings here? Would you say it was just artifice?'
His breath quickened. 'You can open this room up?'
'I don't know, for sure,' she said. 'But the carvings say I can, if I try.'
'Then I'd say it was magic and not care who heard me,' he said quickly, but she knew that was not true. Achaeos was right: belief is easy in the dark, but soon banished by sunlight. If we ever get out of this he will invent some explanation to settle his mind.
She pulled away, was held tight for a moment and then released. Oh this is wrong. Stenwold would be mortified. In fact the list of people who would recoil from her was long: Tynisa, Achaeos, Totho… How many was she betraying by feeling this way about a Wasp, a Rekef Wasp? About Thalric.
It had been growing on her since she spotted him in this city, a face if not friendly then familiar, amid an ocean of strangers. It had been growing since she found such common territory with him, her opposite number, her old adversary. Now, looking at his face, she did not any longer automatically think of the cells in Asta and Myna, of the interrogation and what he would have done to her, for the Empire's sake. The past had reclaimed its own. She had acknowledged the account was settled, through what he had done later.
'I remember Myna,' she said, and saw him stiffen, expecting rebuke. 'The second time, I mean. I remember that you gave yourself up for the resistance – and for me.'
'These things never quite work out how you plan them,' he said.
I remember Collegium, too, and the signing of the Treaty of Gold. That moment we were able to speak freely, before the diplomacy claimed him.
She felt a wellspring of emotion about to burst, and fought it down. Not now. Not here. But how strange that it should come to this. 'You try and rest,' she advised. 'You look as though you need it. I'll work on getting us out of here.' Thirty-Seven We have reached a turning point, I think, was Accius's conclusion. The two Vekken were crouching in the shadows of the archway that linked the Place of Foreigners to the square fronting the Scriptora. They had, from one vantage or another, been watching the pyramid since last night, taking turns to sleep for short periods, knowing that the sleeper would wake the instant the sentry called on him.
Last night they had tracked the fugitive Beetle ambassador, street by street, silently and with grim determination. The Wasps had helped. The Vekken had followed Cheerwell Maker's trail by watching the sky and hunting the hunters. Their chase had been tireless, careful, and the Wasps had never guessed that they were acting as beacons in a greater pursuit.
They had been in time to see the Maker woman and her co-conspirators bearded at the pyramid. They witnessed the Wasp advance, one fugitive captured, the other, along with Maker, disappearing into the edifice itself. Two Wasps had followed them. There had been a sound.
Cheerwell Maker had not returned from inside that pyramid. Nor had any of theWasps, either her companion or their pursuers. The Imperials above had fled the structure, seemingly without cause or warning.
The Wasps still keep watch, Malius noted. They believe as we do, then, that they are still within.
There was a moment of silence between them, an understanding close enough that even unspoken words were not needed. Neither one said, We could let this rest here, but each knew the other was thinking just that.
I do not like that place, Accius decided. It is an irrational reaction, but something I cannot define disturbs me about it. He compared his perceptions with those of Malius, and was comforted to find the same disquiet in his colleague. The behaviour of the Wasps cannot be fully accounted for. They fled very swiftly, from nothing that was apparent to us. I cannot say what, but some other force is at work here – some force as yet invisible to us. We can see only its effects.
Agreed. Malius hunkered down lower, while checking the action of his crossbow. Again there was a pause in their thought-conversation, each steeling himself.
Our suppositions to date are challenged. It was Malius who voiced this silently. The Collegium ambassador's game is not so simple as one of loyalty or betrayal. There is division in the Imperial camp also. We came here to determine the Collegiate plans, and how they might affect our city. We know less now than we thought we did yesterday. We cannot return without gaining more concrete information. Otherwise we would have failed our city.
It is clear, then, that whatever the Collegiate ambassador is up to, it is substantially more complicated than we thought, Accius agreed with a sigh. Only a proper interrogation will reveal it, and for that we must catch her alive. And for that…
We must follow her, Malius finished. They both felt the strange dread exercised by the pyramid, but each took strength from the other.
I feel that this journey shall only be one-way. Accius was saying what they had both been thinking. There is something down there, something that I cannot give a name or shape to. There is only one way to do this. We must separate.
I shall- Malius started, but Accius overrode him. No, I shall. I shall venture within. You must stay hidden up here and I shall report to you all I encounter down below. If I meet the ambassador, I shall relay her explanations to you. If matters come to their worst…
I shall find my way home, Malius stated firmly. No matter what, I shall take what you learn there back to our city. Your sacrifice shall be known. I only wish there was some other way.
None suggests itself, none to be achieved with honour. Accius took a deep breath. I fear.
Take strength from me.
I do.
They shall know, back in Vek, that you did your duty. Malius shifted position, eyes still on the pyramid. The sky above was darkening towards dusk, the square empty of life. What words for your comrades?
None but the usuaclass="underline" that through me the city shall prosper, and our enemies fail. Accius stood up slowly, seeking for inner calm. The alien, hostile city all around them seemed to encroach, to loom and threaten.
I shall speak personally to your mate and children, Malius assured him. I know you are fond of them. Is there any specific message?
What more could I want for my children, since they enjoy the greatest gift already? They will be brought up as soldiers of Vek. Accius slung his crossbow. The Wasps will see me as I approach the pyramid.
If they move to attack you, I shall draw their attention, Malius assured him. A death or two should serve. I shall be with you, brother.
Accius nodded, the bond of Art between them more potent than any clasping of hands, and then he was moving at a swift, low run out towards the pyramid and up the steps. Within moments, he was lost amongst the statues. They had tied Osgan professionally. At least they had tied him in a chair, their rope-work rough about the elegant Khanaphir carvings, his hands bound together behind its back, palm pressed to palm, to stifle his Art.
They had even given him some wine, feeding two bowls of it to him messily, perhaps simply to keep him quiet. It had cleared his head a little, but he still had no real image of what had happened at the moment they caught him.