They had gone over the complement of the Collegiate delegation, so in his mind there was a concise list.
'It's very simple,' Sulvec had explained. 'It is better for the Empire if word does not reach Collegium of what has happened until much later. Certainly not word brought by their own people. Therefore…' He had made a dismissive gesture with one hand, which had abruptly ended up with it raised and open, facing Vollen. Therefore kill them.
Sulvec had spared him seven soldiers. The Rekef force inside Khanaphes was not large, but that should be enough.
They burst in through three windows at the front of the building, two of which had not even been shuttered. The sound of the third window's wooden frame giving way was the first warning the Collegiates had of an attack.
'Into all the rooms. Drag everyone out to the main hall,' Vollen snapped at his men, setting himself down beside the front door. He could hear various sounds of confusion from the house, but no outright panic yet. 'Tell them that they'll live so long as they cooperate,' he added. It was not true but it might be effective. He wanted them all rounded up, as peaceably as possible, and the entrance hall was the quickest place for it. His men were already spreading out, some to the downstairs rooms, others heading up the stone steps to the landing and the bedrooms. Once the residents were gathered in one place he could put them up against a wall and make an end of them all together. Vollen was a neat-minded man.
He waited, looking at the blandly ceremonial decorations with which the Khanaphir had adorned the hall. They were different to those in the Imperial embassy, and yet they might as well have been the same. Their hosts clearly had a taste for the meaninglessly ornate – like all those little carvings they put everywhere.
His men were returning now, and he began his count.
The fat man came first, ballooning out his nightshirt and complaining vociferously. He had a half-full bottle in his hands and nearly tumbled down the full length of the stairs, saving himself only by clutching at the soldier who escorted him.
'What in the wastes is going on?' he demanded of Vollen. 'I'm a Master of the College of Collegium, curse you!'
'Shut up,' growled Vollen, and backhanded him into silence. In the ringing echo of the blow the fat man reached up to touch his reddening cheek and there were actual tears in his eyes. His flabby lips phrased words of protest, but no sound emerged. Vollen smiled approvingly.
The others were appearing now. A half-dozen servants had been rounded up by two of his soldiers, young Khanaphir men and women, wide-eyed but docile, being herded like beasts out into the hall. Best to kill them as well, Vollen decided. No witnesses, then. Not that this will be any great mystery, but let them wonder about it nonetheless.
The older man and the proud-looking woman were being hustled after them. He wore a loosely belted robe that bared his dark chest, wiry with grey hair, and thin enough for Vollen to have counted his ribs. The woman had obviously succumbed to the Khanaphir heat, for she was wrapped in a bedsheet and he guessed she was naked beneath. She was a good-looking piece of flesh as well, for one of inferior kinden. For a moment he wished he had more liberty and time to spare on this mission. She would have proved a welcome reward for staunch Imperial service. The Rekef came before personal pleasure, though, and besides, his men would all want a piece. That was bad for discipline, and this was not the Slave Corps, after all.
'Hurry it up,' he hissed, mostly to himself. There was another coming now from upstairs, a black-skinned Antkinden who was fully dressed, even to the now-empty scabbard at his hip. The soldier with him kept a few steps behind, well out of striking distance. Of the lot of them, he was the only one who looked dangerous.
There was a flurry of activity further along the landing. A small figure flitted out and over the rail, landing so close to Vollen that his forehead and Vollen's palm were just an inch from touching.
'Vollen, isn't it?' Trallo began, with a cheerful nod. He was fully dressed, and Vollen guessed he had been flying in and out this night already. They had not expected him to be here.
The Fly was now smiling up at him. 'What's going on?' he asked, looking around the academics and the soldiers.
'Just stand with the others, Fly-kinden,' Vollen told him sharply.
'Now, wait, you know me and Ambassador Thalric…' The sentence died as Trallo registered Vollen's expression. Vollen saw something click into place in the little man's head, an understanding quicker and deeper than any to be found amongst the Beetles.
He goes first, Vollen decided. If anyone has a chance of escaping, it's him. 'Keep a stern watch on that one,' he instructed his men.
The last of his force was leaning over the landing rail now, waiting for orders.
'Where are the others?' Vollen demanded of them.
'That's all there are, sir,' one of them reported. 'We've gone through every room.'
That's not right. There was that woman who had met them when they arrived, and most of all there was the ambassador. Something else was niggling at him too, but he could not immediately place it.
'Where's your ambassador?' he demanded of the old man.
'Abed,' was the dignified reply. 'My name is Berjek Gripshod and if you have diplomatic business, at this late hour, I shall assist you.'
'There's nobody else here, sir,' the soldier left on the landing insisted.
Vollen put a hand out to pincer the old man's chin with thumb and forefinger, the heat of his sting already warming his palm. 'Where,' he said again, 'is the ambassador?'
'She was here.' It was the Beetle woman. 'She's been here all day, and I saw her going to bed.'
How did she know? was Vollen's immediate thought, because he understood instantly that the woman Cheerwell had somehow fled the embassy already, abandoning her companions to their fate.
He had a sudden and unwelcome conviction that she would be somewhere with Thalric. The two of them had seemed too close for Imperial propriety.
'Where is the other woman? The…'What was the name now? 'Coggen.'
'Dead,' Gripshod explained. 'Some days back.'
Vollen released him, stepping back and levelling his hand. It seemed to him that he had heard something of that, now it was mentioned.
'What is going on?' the old man asked, rubbing at his jaw. 'You must be mad.'
'Vollen, listen to me,' Trallo spoke quickly. 'Vollen, there are other ways than this. There's no war between Collegium and the Empire – not yet. Do you really think that this will go unnoticed? Vollen, nobody wants these kind of complications, really, when you think about it clearly, come on-'
Vollen turned his open palm on the little man, choking off the words. Fly-kinden – loathsome, treacherous vermin, and this one most of all.
'Deal with them,' he snarled.
The crossbow bolt took him by surprise, lancing into the back of the man standing nearest to the Vekken prisoner. Vollen's own stingshot went wild as the Fly-kinden ducked desperately away. There was another Vekken on the balcony. There were two of them? Of course there were two of them! So little had been seen of either of the Ants that somehow the two had become one in his mind. The ambassador's had been the absence that Vollen had fixated on.
The soldier on the balcony turned his sting towards the newcomer, but the Vekken had closed already, and they were sword to sword instantly.
'Kill them!' Vollen shouted. 'All of them!' The first Vekken was now wrestling with another of his men, holding both wrists away, trying to bend the Wasp backwards. Vollen turned back to the Beetles.
The fat man moved. It was a ponderous lunge at the man next to him, but unexpected. The bottle smashed over the Wasp's head, and one thick hand closed about the man's sword-hilt and wrenched the blade from its sheath, hard enough to spin the Wasp half around. With a grunt of effort he drove it into the disarmed soldier as hard as he could. It punched into the man's armour, leaving a savage dent and knocking the man off his feet. The Wasp's sting flashed, more by instinct than intent, knocking the fat Beetle backwards.